Author: wrestlebard

I'm a gay man with an active imagination.

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

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I’ve been so busy with the holidays that I’ve grown tardy with my pick for December’s homoerotic wrestler of the month. BGE came out with a boatload of catalog 85 new releases to vie for our affections, of which all three Matmen 21 matches (D’Amato v Reid, Colby v Riley, and Goodman v Stanton) have wrestlers with a shot at a favorite-of-the-month nod just about any day. Backyard Brawls 7 shines an adoring spotlight on Denny Cartier and newcomer lean-n-mean Attila Dynasty. Motel Madness UK: New Breed gets legitimate credibility for the -of-the-month club for my growing infatuation with furry Sasha and wrestling kink spokesman Ashley Ryder. And I have to mention that I love the look of both Joah Bindao and smoking new face, MJ Vergara from Ringwars 18. Thunder’s Arena definitely has boys in the running this month, including Zack, Uno, and Frank the Tank for their contributions in Battle of the Male Models (1 & 2), and the unique candidates for homoerotic wrestler of the month in Santa and his Evil Elf. Rock Hard Wrestling has four worthy contenders for the title, including Travis Storm, Max Powers, Cody Nelson and Chris Cox. I’m sure I’ve forgotten someone, and it seems a crying shame to have to pick only one out of this excellent field. But they don’t pay me for self-pity (okay, so no one pays me at all for any of this…), so I’m just going to call it like I see it:




I know, I know. You were totally expecting me to say Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!). I’ve gushed so much about Mr. Joshua’s fantastic story development in Matmen 21 that I just feel like someone else needs the light of day apart from Mr. J and his concession to be the object of body worship and to wrestle with his suitor to see if Randy Stanton has what it takes to tame and claim Mr. J’s package. Frankly, shockingly, the mind-blowing rock hard muscle ass of Santa from Thunder’s Arena nearly propelled the jolly saint into my -of-the-month title (who’d have thought!?). And Travis Storm from Rock Hard Wrestling is going to have to get some special title of his own for now two standout rookie performances that are raising the bar at RHW. But if I’m truthful with myself, and with you, it’s Denny’s turn for the title.



Watching Denny’s smooth moves in Backyard Brawls 7 against a serious rookie competitor triggered both crazy lust and profound respect from me. There aren’t many homoerotic wrestlers currently in circulation who possess the mat wrestling credibility that he has, as far as I’m concerned. When Atilla starts talking trash almost immediately in Backyard Brawls 7, Denny crouches low and hikes up his baggy shorts, bouncing from foot to foot and looking like someone’s just put dessert on the table. Everything about him delivers the singular message that Denny is a mat opponent to be taken very, very seriously.



When he stretches out the rookie and strums Attila’s six pack like an acoustic guitar, Denny begins to add “homoerotic” to that awesome wrestling credibility of his. Peeling down to their briefs, the rookie reveals brief, flashy, lime green low-risers with a shiny fashion plate. All-business-Denny, on the other hand, sports relatively demure mid-rise undergear grays, and there’s just something about them that are about 3.5 times sexier than the rookie’s flash. His thick hairy legs and gorgeous round ass probably contribute to the math, but it’s also the cocky, self-assured lack of a need for any additional sparkle that makes Denny absolutely shine in my book.



I was so pleased to see Cage Thunder call out Denny as his current wrestler-infatuation in his interview with Joe at Ringside at Skull Island. Now that would be a match of the decade! But I adamantly insist that either Cage Thunder’s mask or Denny’s trunks would absolutely have to be removed for that set-up to be believed (preferably both). That would simply be non-negotiable.



Denny has been in search of his wrestling persona since he arrived at BGE five and a half years ago. His been the devastating tactician. He’s been the young pup needing to get schooled by a savvy veteran. But I think Denny’s potential lies in the formula of Backyard Brawls 7. He dishes out the high impact moves just as hard as he takes them. He’s inexplicably underestimated from start to finish. He may not be as “pretty” or as shredded or as big as some of the boys he faces. But every angle of his body, every lightening fast move and counter, every grunting, resentful submission and every crowing, gloating victory says that this boy not only can wrestle, he loves to wrestle. He relishes it, and the stiffer the competition, the more he enjoys the fight to outmaneuver, overpower, and humiliatingly dominate the young buck wannabes knocking at the door of BGE for a bite.

Cleaning House – 2011

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Welcome to the newly redecorated neverland! Yesterday was an auspicious beginning to the new year, with record stats for the blog. About 2,250 page views from around 850 visitors made New Years Day the busiest ever around these parts. It’s exciting to welcome a lot of new readers to the conversation about beautiful men and the wonders of homoerotic wrestling kink.



Return visitors will notice the new decor and some house cleaning. The dawn of a new year inspired me to clean out the cupboards and slap on some new paint. I’ve relegated the miles-long labels list to the bottom of the page in favor of bumping up the search tab for folks who want to look up their favorite posts and infatuations. I’m hoping to keep the counters clear of clutter and more easily navigated, so the design is relatively simple and streamlined. I hope you enjoy the new digs.



Lucas Kerr recommended the color scheme. He’s a poser granola/earth-tones sort of guy. I put him to work yesterday, lending a hand with the New Year’s cleaning. He owed me, after getting sloppy on New Year’s Eve and passing out with his dirty boots on the couch, that bastard. He didn’t wake up until about 2 in the afternoon. I was ready for him, though.



For having a well-deserved, raging hangover, he was remarkably resilient when I trapped him in a side headlock and paraded him around the living room. He threatened to puke, but when I rubbed his handsome face in the mud stains he left on my couch, he seemed to finally believe me that he’d pay much more dearly if he threw up. Still, he managed to squeeze his head free after a couple of minutes of the humiliation. Truth be told, he’s got a few inches in height and about 20 pounds on me, so I shouldn’t have been surprised that he was able to put up a fight.



Of course, putting up a fight just made the whole situation that much hotter for me. Lucas has quite the pleasing, lean bod, and other than moments of fighting off his hangover nausea, he gave me a run for my money when I commenced with exercising the discipline he so abundantly earned. We locked up briefly when he figured out what I had planned for him. With his reach advantage, he held off my advance for a little while, but with his pounding hangover headache, it was inevitable. I yanked him forward, pulling him off balance, and then reversed momentum quickly, sliding my right foot behind his left ankle and dropping him to his fine, fine ass. I had his ankles in hand quickly, and I took great pleasure in dragging him on his ass across the living room, through the kitchen and into the guest bedroom where I’d cleared enough space to put the mattress on the floor.



Again, the naughty bastard managed to rally more than I’d have given him credit for. He wrapped me up in a bearhug, which I’m not ashamed to say that I enjoyed immensely. Flinging me onto the mattress, he made a quick attempt to wrap those long, lean arms of his across my throat in a rear choke. Again, I’m not above sharing with you that when he wrapped those hard, muscled legs around my waist and locked his ankles together across my abdomen, I harbored a moment of indecisiveness with regard to whether losing this battle might, in the end, win the war. But pride ultimately tipped the scales, along with a strong sense that justice needed to be served.


He couldn’t apply the choke for shit. I tucked my chin and waited as he tired himself out trying to gain position. Eventually I managed to squeeze my right hand between my back and his abdomen far enough to claw his balls through his jeans. Holy shit, he screamed like I’d actually ripped them off. He lost all concentration and will to defend himself then, and it didn’t take long at all for me to school boy pin the pretty boy with one hand punishing his balls and the other pulling his face into my crotch. 



He submitted, which cost him his jeans. For the second fall, he never saw the light of day. He was doubled over from a knee to the gut, his head stuck between my knees, and his arms pried behind his back with absolutely nowhere to go. He says he submitted, but I swear I didn’t hear it, which is why I drove him face first into the mattress. He turned into such a whiny bitch about not playing fair at that point that I really got pissed. I started working over his lower back relentlessly (“What’s that? You submit? I’m sorry, I can’t quite understand you…”). Rapid fire knee drops beat whatever fire was left right out of him. I took a couple of minutes to sit on his back and yank his bikini whites up his ass crack, the better to spank his sweet round glutes, one whack for every $10 it was going to cost to get the couch reupholstered. I’m sure I overestimated, but whatever. His ass was angry red and hot enough to roast marshmallows over before I was done.


He was threatening to puke again, and I believed him. So I finished the session with a single leg crab that made him cry, with a final addition of a ball claw with my free hand that made him scream. Truth be told, I probably had one too many pre-champagne toast drinks myself on New Year’s Eve, and we both dozed on the mattress a little while after I felt like revenge had been fully achieved.

To Lucas’ credit, he was a diligent little worker around the house after that. I don’t know if he was genuinely intimidated by my threat to work him over harder if he didn’t do his chores only dressed in his underwear, or whether he’s just that much of an attention whore in love with being worshipped. Either way, I wasn’t complaining, watching his bikini-briefed ass sway back and forth while he was on his knees scrubbing the produce tray in the refrigerator.
All told, the mud on the couch was totally worth it, I’d say. And I’d say that this was a most excellent way to start the new year. Can’t wait to see what else 2011 brings!



Cleaning House – 2011

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Keeping with my New Year’s traditions, I’m taking a little time to do some major cleaning. This place seriously needs it. When male model and novice actor Lucas Kerr came by to celebrate the ball dropping last night, that bastard slapped his muddy boots all over the couch.



When he wakes up from his drunken stupor this morning (or afternoon), there’s going to be hell to pay, I tell you. I’m going to rub his nose in the mess to teach him a lesson like a naughty pup. He’s been a bad boy, and he deserves the stern spanking that’s coming to him. After his punishment it’ll be time for his penance, as I force him to help me straighten the place up, scrub the floors, perhaps put a new coat of paint on the walls, dig the expired food out of the back of the fridge, that sort of thing.

I know that you’ll insist on hearing the whole story, so don’t worry. I’ll fill you in on all the details soon.

Year in Review – Favorite Moment #1

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Surely it can’t be a mystery what my #1 favorite moment in blogging of 2010 has been.  I started tracking my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboys a year and a half ago, with Mitch Colby holding the inaugural title for months on end. Derek da Silva shook things up near the end of 2009, coming on strong, mentioning my blog on his Twitter account, and just like that, Derek kneed Mitch in the groin and brought the big man to his knees. Derek managed to hold the title a precious brief snapshot in time, though. Shortly after, Mitch’s Wrestler Spotlight was released, and largely on the merits of his sweat soaked mat battle with Patrick Donovan, Mitch squeezed Derek between those tree trunks he calls thighs until the title popped right back into his hands. That earned both battlers my #1 favorite moment of 2009.


Something unexpected happened in winter of this year though. Specifically, Rusty Stevens happened. Rusty’s performance in Can-Am’s first Arena release completely took me by surprise. After beating his jobber opponent into the mat, naked with his gorgeous pipe a-swinging as he paced around the loser, Rusty let loose with a trash talk clinic on corporate turncoat Aryx Quinn that made me dizzy with desire. Just like that, he climbed up from the hordes of hopefuls to slam Derek’s ass to the mat and ride him like a pony into the top contender spot for my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy.


Shortly thereafter, the dark horse showed up in Arena 2, picking right up where he left off, trash talking circles around Aryx Quinn. It was his “spanking the baby” dance, illustrating how, when Aryx is unconscious at the end of the match, he plans on “tapping that ass,” that pulled off Rusty’s second consecutive stunning upset. He came up on Mitch from behind and managed to snag the title as my undisputed favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy right out of Mitch’s hands almost without a fight. That swagger! That razor wire wit! The body of an adonis, the mouth of a trucker, and the wrestling chops of a serious player… Rusty settled into the top spot in my rankings like he’d owned the place from the start.



The earth shook beneath my feet the day that BG East posted their preview pics of their first summer release, The Breaking Point: Sexy, Sexier, Sexiest over at the BGE Arena. A truer word has never been spoken in dubbing Rusty’s head-to-head mat battle with none other than Mitch Colby as “sexiest.” I’d played that scenario out in my imagination enough times that the promise of a Rusty v Mitch mat battle seemed too surreal to believe. I whipped out my… wallet so fast that my ass got burned, and I waited with desperate impatience to see these two titans of my homoerotic wrestling lusts actually face off in jock straps.

Let’s be honest, here. This could easily have turned into the #1 disappointment of the year for me. I’d worked this match-up over in my own wrestling kinked imagination so often that Rusty and Mitch were in serious danger of never being able to live up to my fantasy. Would this turn out to be too much of a good thing? And most importantly, would this prove to be the game changer that managed to topple Rusty’s cocky, trash talking ass right off his throne and reinstall #1 contender Mitch with the title he really did own from the beginning?



My joy knew no bounds when I popped in the DVD and sat back to watch The Breaking Point: Sexiest. Mitch was simply huge, a mountain of a man. No longer the svelte fitness competitor of his recent appearances, Mitch was the epitome of a big-n-beefy battler. He just took up so much fucking space in that Florida sunroom! It’s not like a lot of people could dwarf the 6’0, 200 pounds of lean muscle that are Rusty, but Mitch did it the instant he stepped on the mat. Rusty instantly did what Rusty does best: he launched a psychological attack on his opponent’s ego to leave him flat-footed for the physical assault to follow. He threw a couple of jabs at Mitch’s weight and fitness, calling attention to his own sliced to shreds physique. But there’s just no denying the look of intimidation that sneaked across Rusty’s face frequently as the two titans locked up. This was not going to be the walk in the park that Rusty, in his supreme, cocky self-confidence, probably had in mind.

They wrestled hard. They both had sheets of sweat pouring off of them before the trunks got ripped off. It was a back and forth battle, with both hunks determined not just to win, but to tame their opponent into true submission. Mitch’s size advantage started to swing momentum decisively his way about after about the halfway point. He squeezee the air out of Rusty in a fantastic bearhug, shaking the pornboy like a rag doll. Rusty countered with a completely unexpected toe suck to tame the beast he’d awoken in Mitch, but Mitch would not be denied. The #1 contender beat a final submission out of Rusty before lording over the wasted champ, pumping on Rusty’s gorgeous cock until he popped.



What makes one my favorite homoerotic wrestler, though, is not always the score card at the end of the match. In this case, Mitch threw everything he had at the title holder, weaving together a smoking hot story of homoerotic domination. But Mitch never managed to successfully “tame” Rusty. Rusty remained feisty and fierce even with his cock completely under Mitch’s control. It’s Rusty’s smart mouth that made the razor thin margin of victory not in the match, but in my rankings. Sitting squarely on Mitch’s face, about halfway through the match, Rusty preened as if he was about to cum with the sheer exhiliration of the moment of domination. With a chuckle in his voice, Rusty snarled down at Mitch, “I’m thinking you may want to give, but then again, my ass is in your face.”



And again, I was helpless against Rusty’s razor wire wit woven seamlessly through his sweat-soaked, grunting and grinding, hell bent on a humiliating homoerotic wrestling performance. Mitch won the battle, but Rusty held onto the title as my very favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, and that, my friends was my favorite moment of 2010.



It didn’t hurt that the BGE website referenced this very blog in the description of the match, but I swear to you, this would’ve been my most favorite moment of 2010 in any case. Even as I toast to the reigning champion at year’s end, I’m eyeing what 2011 might hold for the pornboy rankings. Trent Diesel has been coming on strong, a major workhorse earning his homoerotic wrestling credit with a steady stream of performances, mostly over at Naked Kombat. Rusty’s performance in
Raging Stallion’s Brutal was, frankly, underwhelming (not that I think that was Rusty’s fault, but he was simply underutilized). Either way, the title seems to be under serious contention again, with Trent looking like he could overtake the champion through sheer hard work and tenacity (not to mention his jaw-dropping physique, aesthetically perfect tats, and speaking of aesthetically perfect, have you taken a look at Trent’s ass!?).

2010 was indeed a fantastic year for me, and hope it was for you as well. For all the readers who keep me honest and the readers who egg me on, for the producer’s and back office boys working the homoerotic wrestling business for a living, and for the hardworking hunks, both pornboy and non-pornboy, wrestling their asses off for our entertainment, I especially lift a toast of joy and appreciation for you all. For Rusty, Mitch, Trent, Mr.
Joshua, Lon, Landon, Bobby, Enforcer, Denny, and the steady stream of generous, hot and sweaty boys doing the hard and certainly not risk-free work of homoerotic wrestling, I toast to your good health and continued success in the coming year.

Year in Review – Favorite Moment #2

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My second favorite moment in blogging in 2010 has been the rise of the collaborative spirit in my little homoerotic wrestling fiction universe. Late last year I started a sister-site to my homoerotic wrestling fiction collection, the Producer’s Ring. Sidelineland was intended to be a place where writers and readers could share their original fiction, give and receive feedback, and collaborate on projects. I’ve posted several of my non-Producer’s Ring-related fiction there, including some BG East fantasy fiction as well as my stab at a reader-request superhero piece that I’m getting more and more into as I’m starting to write chapter 4.



I was thrilled to see reader contributions start to come in for Sidelineland in 2010. Nipmuck, Austin, Swito, Bearhugs and Robeboy have all put up some hot wrestling fiction text to share. I find that reading the wrestling fiction of others is a major turn-on. Stepping into the imagination of another wrestling kinkster and being drawn to the details that spark their kink arousal is potent, intimate, arousing stuff, as far a I’m concerned.



Another sweet turn-on has been collaborating on stories with other authors. I can be a little bit of a control freak, so I wasn’t sure how this would turn out. When Swito first proposed a joint project, I was eager but cautious. He was keen to get his hands into the plotline of the Secretarial Pool in the Producer’s Ring, just as I was loosing some steam with that plot. Swito’s got a soft spot for Andrew Stetson, and he’s got something understandably hard for Andrew taking a beating. So Andrew’s surprise beatdown and fall from grace at the hands of Aussie Rugby centerfold Nick Youngquest emerged from Swito’s first authorship and my filling in some details here and there. Part 2 of that story was also a joint effort, with me picking up the primary text as Nick handed Andrew over to Ashton for a full squash reckoning of Andrew’s overdrawn accounts.

A third collaboration with Swito last Spring was 95% his concepts and text, with me just tinkering at the margins. He wrote the fantastic scenario of Chris Hemsworth getting a reality check on his way to collect the fame and fortune that’s just about to cash in from playing the Norse god/superhero Thor. My #1 vampire crush, Alexander Skarsgård, was one Swede none to happy that Hollywood passed over true Norsemen to hand the legendary role to an upstart Aussie.

This autumn I was approached by Bearhugs who wanted to suggest a match for me to write, but I cleverly turned the tables on him and made him co-author the piece with me. The story of a closet-case conservative political operative who gets worked over physically, sexually, and psychologically by a hot sado/wrestling kinked “threesome” (also the title of the match) was very much a joint effort.

To follow up, Bearhugs recently sent me a pro-wrestling match of his own (now posted at Sidelineland as “Shane’s Big Break,”) cleverly turning the tables back on me with a cocky little challenge for me to write “part 2” of Shane’s Big Break, as the action continues in the locker room. Never one to back down from a challenge (and, not surprisingly, turned on by it), I’m already  working on a draft of how things turn from bad to worse for poor Shane who was just hoping for a square shot at pro-wrestling stardom.


The final collaboration that I’m celebrating this year developed from an email request from Metellus. He’s been hands-on every step of the way as we’re working to bring his BG East fantasy match to life, soon to be posted at Sidelineland. Metellus has supplied the protagonist (breakout blond South African sixpack model, Cobus Jonker), and together we’ve selected for his debut bout one of the most merciless masked musclehunks that BGE has to offer, The Enforcer. At first glance, it seems like Cobus finds his way into the ring with BGE’s resident beast-of-few-words out of sheer chance, but he turns out to be no doe-eyed rookie being led like a lamb to slaughter. Enforcer has his big, strong hands quite full, and the boys of BGE can’t help but be impressed with Cobus’ bid to set up shop as their new resident babyface heel.



Damn, I love this! Even my massively endowed imagination (if I do say so myself) couldn’t have thought up all of these fantastically hot scenarios on my own. The give and take, the ins and outs of homoerotic wrestling fiction collaborations have been thoroughly delightful, inspiring, and absolutely arousing. As I toast to a year of working together, I’m also hoping to read more from the imaginations of more wrestling kinksters in the new year, and looking forward to continued successful collaborations to come!

Year in Review – Favorite Moment #3

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My third favorite moment in blogging in 2010 came from my innauguration of a non-pornboy division in my ranking of favorite homoerotic wrestlers. I’ve been blathering for more than a year about my favorite pornboy homoerotic wrestlers, but I decided a few months ago that the non-pornboys needed a division all their own. Up against the likes of Mitch Colby, Derek da Silva, Rusty Stevens and Trent Diesel, the wrestlers who stay shy of pulling out their cocks and unloading a climactic, gasping explosion on top of the loser of the match beneath them are at a severe disadvantage in the magnitude with which they stroke my homoerotic imagination. But they’re entirely delightful and entertaining and provocative in their own way, and so a nonpornboy favorite homoerotic wrestler division was created to share some love with them as well.

Lon Dumont was my inaugural champion nonpornboy. Good God, that man turns me on. He’s got a pro polish wrapped up in one gorgeously muscled, shredded to bits, tight little package built for taking big boys by surprise and kicking their asses.



Lon’s instant top contender was the BGE boy with a wrestling portfolio nearly as massive as his balls: Josh Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!). Lon’s history with BGE makes him look like a rookie, but there’s nothing rookie about his command of the ring and his opponent’s bodies. Mr. Joshua, on the other hand, has been one of the most prolific BGE battlers, and he seems to be going stronger now than ever, showing up in 3 different releases this year, and looking as stunningly muscled and outrageously in love with himself as ever. From go, it was a close call between Lon and Mr. Joshua.



So perhaps it should be no surprise that Mr. Joshua caught up with Lon and smacked his fine, athletic ass into second place just a few weeks ago. That’s my #3 favorite moment in blogging in 2010: the game changing performance of Mr. Joshua in Matmen 21.



I thought Mr. J’s performance in this summer’s release of Demolition 14 was fantastic new territory for him. He not only slapped his pendulous balls down across Austin Raines’ lips, he taunted the overmatched scrapper with talk of teabagging. Still, there was something missing from Demolition 14, something I still longed to see in a Mr. J match (other than an unobstructed view of his legendary credentials).



I have nothing against innuendo, mind you. I’m (obviously) a major fan of implication and allusion. But I’ve been waiting for too long for a Mr. Joshua match that just says it straight out: Mr. Joshua both desperately needs and undeniably deserves to be the object of some lustful admirer’s body worship. Randy Stanton shows up in Matmen 21 and cuts right through the innuendo. Randy wants a shot at Mr. Joshua’s rippled abs, beautiful pecs, and sweet, shapely ass, and he’s willing to wrestle for it.



Sorry to spoil the suspense for those of you who haven’t seen it yet, but in the end, Randy isn’t quite up to the task. That said, he puts up a surprisingly enthusiastic fight. He strokes Mr. J’s washboard. He claws at his pecs. He digs his fingers into Mr. J’s round ass with a lustful exhilaration that comes straight from my crotch. When Mr. Joshua finally turns the corner, perhaps having to work a little harder for it than he’d expected, he racks Randy across his statuesque shoulders and claws at the rookie’s crotch for his trouble. Mr. J doesn’t just crush his suitor, he beats him senseless and then lingers in the delight of humiliating him with a body-by-body comparison of their relative physiques. Randy’s a hot slice of tasty goodness, but he’ just no match for stunning size and aesthetic proportions of Mr. Joshua.



I LOVE this storyline! This completely gives an outlet to my unrequited lust over Mr. J’s erotically charged nonpornboy body. I’ve complained about Mr. J playing it coy for quite some time, but his performance in Matmen 21 shuts my mouth (metaphorically… you know I’m seldom at a loss for words). The concept of a veteran nonpornboy putting his body on the line against a hard, amorous hunk jonesing to turn him into a pornboy is just brilliant. It finally gives a full helping of the homo to match Mr. J’s quality entertainment wrestling credibility.



Not only did Matmen 21 earn Mr. J the title as my new #1 favorite homoerotic wrestler – nonpornboy division, it also solidly ranks as my #3 most favorite moment in blogging in 2010. I’m ready to pre-order any future match with Mr. J bringing another hot and randy hunk back to the matroom to see if he’s finally met his match and found the stud worthy of dominating and taking full possession of the priceless treasure that is Mr. Joshua’s intoxicating body. It’s the awesome depth of entertainment Mr. J has produced in the past and the promise of more fantastically hot, high stakes wrestling in the future, but most of all, it’s Mr. Joshua’s game changing performance in Matmen 21 that earns my #3 most favorite moment in 2010.

Year in Review – Favorite Moment #4

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The Vancouver Winter Olympics come in at #4 on my list of my favorite blogging moments of 2010. I particularly appreciated the trend this year to cast scantily clad hardbodies athletes in magazines in order to promote the competition, national pride, and team spirit.



I also appreciated the opportunity that the Olympics provided me to learn from so many readers who are much better informed concerning winter sport than I am. I had several tips come in that helped me suss out where to focus my attention in order to catch the hottest meat on snow and ice.



Speed skaters continue to be my most anticipated winter Olympic eye candy. The massive, mounded, shredded thighs packed into lycra are just unbeatable. When there’s an unmistakable bulge at the crotch screwing with the aerodynamics, so much more the better.



I confess to getting a little caught up in the patriotic melodrama of the event this time around. Typically, I’m teflon when it comes to “for the motherland” plots. But even I, a guilt-wracked, privilege-ambivalent American, had to admit that seeing Canada win hockey gold was awfully satisfying.  And I still say Canadian hockey man-of-the-moment, Sidney Crosby, looks like Brad Rochelle!



The best moment of moments, and I predict a precursor of things to come, was boarder hotty Scotty Lago getting caught on camera with his bronze medal wrapped around his tiny little waist, pulling up his shirt to reveal his sliced-to-shreds abs and hip tat, in order to allow an eager fan to lick the bronze medal dangling in front of his crotch. Scotty was rushed out of Vancouver in a flash. Apologies and recriminations were made. There was an official gasp of scandal. But I think Scotty is just ahead of his time. The Olympics are bound to get more overtly sexy in the future. The victorious competitor with a body built for worship is all about sex. Sure, there’s national pride. Sure, there’s the profound satisfaction of being the best you can be, and that being better than anyone else. But let’s face it, like all animals, we compete to determine which buck gets first pick in mating season. I say leave Scotty alone, and if he ever needs his bronze medal shined again, he can give me a call any day.



While I still say that the cards are stacked against the Winter Olympics when it comes opportunities to lust over the world-class athletes (too much gear!), I had a fun time keeping one eye on Vancouver and the other eye combing the internet for more exposés on the hot, hard bodies of winter sport. For the monster thighs, massive bulges, and hi-tech lycra bodysuits of the future, the Winter Olympics rank #4 for my favorite moments in blogging in 2010. I raise a glass to toast the drama, the thrill of competition, and most of all, the world class bodies.

Year in Review – Favorite Moment #5

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If you were tracking my musings this time last year, you may remember that I did my own “best of 2009” countdown. I’m reprising the tradition as I reflect back on another year of finding a ridiculous quantity of things to say about beautiful men, wrestling, and especially beautiful men wrestling.




Again, if you were tracking my musings this time last year, you may also remember my bitterness at the end of 2009 as a result of Italian adonis newsboy Chris Cuomo getting shafted (linger on that image a moment…) and yanked off of my morning television into the oblivion that is 20/20… or is it 60 minutes… or Dateline…. one of those news programs that I have far too much of a life to be watching on a weekend evening.
To kick off my 5 most favorite moments of 2010, I’m reflecting with deep appreciation on the new crop of news hunks that the networks are now beginning to harvest. I was sure it was going to happen, but it seemed like an eternity before hot new meat popped up to catch my eye in the morning news. When Matt Gutman showed up on ABC covering the oil spill in the gulf, suddenly the morning news grabbed my attention like it hadn’t managed to do since Chris’ exile.

So my discovery of Matt is the “moment” I’m appreciating, but I’m also happy to have seen plenty more of Matt on the oil soaked beaches of the gulf, and then covering the tornado ravaged Southeast, and more recently in harms way as Haiti rioted. I’m pulling for Matt to get a desk job soon, so that he can be a more regular fixture of lust and we can see those dimples up close. As long as he continues to keep his shirt unbuttoned to give us a glimpse of that hot, hairy chest, he will remain my favorite new fantasyman from the world of journalism.

Matt’s debut in my homoerotic wrestling fiction (it was inevitable) was at first glance, perhaps, inauspicious. He submitted to David Muir in a Mexican Ceiling hold variation, despite the ringside encouragement of his mentor, Chris Cuomo.


When Chris’ nemesis, Carter Evans dives into the ring looking like he’s eager to take a bite out of the beaten rookie post-match, Chris intervenes in defense of his protegé. Matt cements himself as an anti-hero object of my lust by Pearl Harboring his now-former mentor and double-teaming the Italian Stallion with his new BFF, Carter. I expect to see more of all parties involved showing up in my homoerotic wrestling imagination in 2011, needless to say.

And I’m delighted to add that there are a bevy of newsboys ready to join them. A real life shake up at CBS’ The Early Show has catapulted Chris Wragge and Jeff Glor into my sights. I’ve also been taken with the appearance of CBS newsboys on the rise like Ben Tracy and Whit Johnson.


And did you see that Thomas Roberts is clawing his way up the ladder, now over at MSNBC? True fans will remember Thomas made a delightful debut in some of my very earliest wrestling fiction posts, including taking his tag team partner, Rob Marciano, by surprise in singles competition, illustrating that Thomas is a wrestling kinkster and erotic sadist in his own right (welcome to the family, Thomas!).

Indeed, Matt Gutman broke a bitter drought for me in newsboy infatuations, completely earning him my #5 most favorite moment in blogging in 2010. As the new year approaches, I’m toasting to Matt’s good health, unbuttoned shirts, muscled arms, and a lively News Division in 2011!


Between Takes

wrestlebard2 Comments

I love it that you’re reading a homoerotic wrestling kink blog on Christmas! You are such the hardcore, ironman wrestling kinkster! Or, you’re reading a back edition… or this isn’t even your holiday… but in any case, I’m taking it easy today. I’m trying not to sweat the obligatory family drama. I’m trying not to resent the cacophony of carols that have nearly bored a hold straight through my head by now. I’m trying to relax and let it all wash over me.

This time last year, I posted some of the behind-the-scenes shots from BG East, capturing the boys between slams and submissions, relaxed, smiling, and clearly just savoring a happy moment. I thought I’d reprise the theme again for another Christmas day, because these unguarded smiles on these hardworking hunks just lighten my mood.


We all take ourselves too seriously. I do it. You do it (don’t contradict me!). Hell knows, the politicians and pundits and preachers do it, particularly this time of year. So a glimpse of an almost shy smile on a granite-chiseled, merciless ring heel is a sweet reminder, I think, to just cool my jets. Whatever it is that gets me hot and bothered (in a bad way), if I just  just take a step back and remove my ego from the situation, 9 times out of ten it’s all just silliness not to be taken seriously.



There’s seriously messed up shit going on in the world right at this very moment, of course. That’s no laughing matter, but that said, in light of the serious shit, my shit honestly is laughable. So I had to wait in an insanely long line to get that last Christmas present that I put off until way, way too late. So the roads are filled with crazies. So another season of Dexter came and went and I still haven’t seen Michael C. Hall’s world class ass. None of it should be such a burden that I can’t set it down today, let the tension that I’m carrying in my body slip away, and just smile.


Okay, so I’m having trouble letting go of my bitterness about Michael C. Hall’s ass. I’ll keep working on it in between Scrabble games and slices of turkey and endless accounts of the inanity of my sibling’s miserable children (tension rising again… breathe……. okay, I’m back).


Whatever rituals you do or don’t engage in today, whatever your religious or familial proclivities, whatever the burdens you carry, my hope for you is a deep breath, a sly smile, a moment of innocent humor, and all the hot, sweaty, muscle thumping, crotch bumping, ass humping sexual pleasure your heart desires.

10 Lords-a-Leaping

wrestlebardLeave a comment

Tis the season and all that jazz. I’m feeling a little unmoored in the season of holidays this year. It’ll probably pass in time for me to get stuffed with food and feel the nostalgic adrenaline rush of receiving presents to tear open like a lion taking down a gazelle.

In the mean time, I’ve got my tongue firmly in cheek as we head into the eve of the notorious day. I’ve got a taste for the irreverent Christmas treat, the scandalous perversion of the high holy day, the middle finger flown in the face of uptight carolers. If anyone deserves a lump of coal in his stocking this year, I’m sure it’s me.



As you well know, in my brain, all good things (and most bad) lead back to hot men in various stages of undress, frequently engaged in wrestling scenarios with homoerotic undertones or, even better, overtones. Frankly, I find it hard to find hot, Christmas-themed homoerotic wrestling treasure, and that’s just sad.

I suppose the notorious day is supposed to make us all feel pre-pubescent, harkening back to a more innocent time when we couldn’t quite imagine what sex was and the most thrilling thing in the world was an unopened gift. I think that time passed for me when I was about 5 years old, though (seriously). And these days I’m all about injecting the sexy into the holidays. With that in mind, here’s my vote for sexiest YouTube santa. I think absolutely every Santa should have a six pack, a dimpled chin, ice blue eyes, (okay, so just a tad less mousse), a back tat, a tight round ass and a tightly packed crotch. Here’s hoping you have happy holiday dreams of a hardbody Santa squeezing down your chimney tonight!