Author: wrestlebard
Name That Tat
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Contending with Joe
It’s Who You Know
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| Cameron Mathews v Rio Garza – Can-Am’s Pro Bashed Triple Threat |
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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
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.
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.
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.
Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month
It turns out, I totally buy the marketer who dubbed Ace’s action on the mat with Antonio as Thunder’s Arena’s hottest. Story is, Ace catches Antonio trying to hotwire his truck… while it’s still in the garage. Characters are established immediately (e.g., Antonio isn’t all that bright; Ace is aggrieved). Thunder’s reports these boys at just about the same size, but Ace manhandles Antonio like Saturday’s laundry. Antonio, for his part, actually has a legitimate bid here for the homoerotic wrestler of the month title. It’s not because he wrestles particularly well or convincingly. In fact, this is a remarkably one-sided match in which Antonio is pounded, twisted, pried and prodded mercilessly, without putting up much of a fight at all. But damn it, he looks like he’s actually ashamed for having been caught trying to steal Ace’s truck! I pretty much buy that Antonio takes his humiliation like well-deserved penance for his sins, and a big man who sucks up his deserved punishment without whining about it is awfully hot. But then again, in this scenario of Antonio doing penance, that makes Ace the hand of God, and that’s just that much hotter.
Ace tosses 220 pound Antonio over his shoulder, walks him through the Thunder’s house, and dumps him on the mat. Ace looks hungry as he slips on his gloves and rips off his t-shirt and jeans, his huge, gorgeous legs and ass possibly never better displayed than in his neon green zebra-stripe trunks. Ace proceeds to dish out Antonio’s punishment eagerly, determined to teach the red-handed boy a lesson he’ll never forget. But what strikes me immediately here is that Ace’s mat work is… well… so fucking intimate! I mean, wrestling and full-contact fighting are always a hair’s-breadth away from full-on simulated fucking. That goes without saying. But with Antonio taking his punishment in shame and Ace eagerly climbing on top, pressing their faces together cheek to cheek while grinding his crotch into Antonio’s lower abdomen… damn.
With Antonio on his back, Ace has Antonio’s right arm in an armlock that looks like the poor thief’s elbow could snap at any moment. “Oh, yeah… oh, yeah….” Ace whispers as Antonio grunts in bursts of pain. “Come on… come on…” Ace whispers with just a hint of pleading in his voice. Shut your eyes, and you’d swear these boys were fucking. Wrapping up Antonio’s head between Ace’s thighs, Ace crows, “Put that head where it belongs!” Flexing his glutes rhythmically, he snarls, “Feel that!? Huh!?”
Ace takes Antonio to the brink of being sleepered out cold, and then rips the hunk’s board shorts off of him. Ace starts to taunt him. “You got no life in you! Why you got no life in you boy? You wanna just lay there like that? Huh!?” He folds Antonio up and sits his big, glorious glutes down in the truck thief’s face humiliatingly. In barely adequate metallic white posing trunks, Antonio can only grunt as Ace slaps his vulnerable ass and crows, “I got you all kinked up now!” And indeed, things take a fantastically kinky turn, as Ace marvels at his own handiwork, looking down at Antonio spread-eagled helplessly underneath him. Ace reaches down and claws the truck thief’s balls, and like me, Antonio gasps.
Asses Named
Name That Ass
The "Good," the "Bad," and the "Ugly"
Kevin is a sexy musclestud. The pics of him relaxed and smiling for the camera illustrate that he’s classically handsome with a retro stash that works for him (wouldn’t for just anyone, though). He’s got a mouthful of teeth, and you know how I like that. He’s gorgeously fit – simply beautiful to look at. Bud sees what I’m talking about instantly as he squares off against Kevin in the BGE wrestleshack. Like always, Bud is immediately bent on dominating his opponent, controlling and punishing him, as foreplay.
I’m not saying that Kevin becomes unattractive – not by any means, in fact. He matches Bud ounce for ounce in pouring sweat off of his gorgeous, hardworking muscles. His physique seems to get both harder and bigger with every move and counter move. But particularly when he opens his mouth wide and sticks his tongue out with a primal, grunting growl emerging from deep in his throat, he’s just fantastically ugly. Kevin looks like he wants to take a bite out of Bud, to make lunch out of one of Bud’s thick pecs. He seems suddenly dangerous, resentful, ferocious and unpredictable.
Most men would undoubtedly keep Kevin and his chomping teeth and lapping tongue at arm’s length, but Bud reacts just the opposite. Never one to be intimidated (never), the more primal Kevin becomes, the more intensely Bud becomes determined to wrap him up and tame him. Well, perhaps not “tame” him… Bud mounts and muscles this hunk around, Kevin’s tongue darting and lapping hungrily every moment, until Bud finally has the sweaty hunk entirely under his control. At that point, Bud becomes equally hungry, planting his mouth across Kevin’s gaping maw. Their jaws flex and pump, as if both chewing on a tough piece of steak. The wrestling is intense and hard fought, but in the last five minutes, who gives a crap!? Bud and Kevin clearly don’t, and neither do I.








































































