Author: wrestlebard

I'm a gay man with an active imagination.

Earning a Shot, continued

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I’m not trying to start anything here, but I have to note that SteelMuscleGod has been silent on his video posts with Adam400m posting twice in the past few weeks, looking more massive, tanned, and cocky-confident than ever. Okay, so I am trying to start something here, and that something is more video postings from SMG. As it is, he and Yann are in danger of looking like last year’s news right at the moment that Adam is piling on new muscle and pleasing his slack-jawed worshipers. It’s really no wonder Adam so handily dispatched the French phenom who posts old material. Last I thought about it, SMG was swooping in to kick the Frenchboy while he was down.
SMG pulls hard on Yann’s hair, prying the demolished hunk up to his knees. “Flex for me,” SMG commands darkly. Yann sways on his knees, his right leg almost entirely numb from the damage inflicted by Adam. “Flex for your god!!!” SMG yells at Yann, a speck of saliva inadvertently flying into the Frenchman’s face. Adam has taken SMG’s place, leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his massive chest as he watches with a pleased smile.
Yann swallows hard, his chest heaving in exhaustion and fear. He blinks his heavy lidded eyes rapidly before biting his lower lip and lifting his right arm, crunching out his massively peaked bicep impressively. SMG watches, crouching over the decimated muscleboy domineeringly. “That’s it,” he mutters. Yann’s mouth drops open as he gasps, past the point of exhaustion, his right arm dropping limply at his side as he once again sways unsteadily on his knees.
“You’re big,” SMG snarls in words that sound impressed but in a tone filled with contempt. “You may even be bigger than me.” SMG leans low, lifting his right arm and flexing his bicep inches in front of Yann’s face. “But size isn’t the same as strength, and I’m infinitely more powerful than you, mortal!” SMG pumps his bulging arm slowly, his peaked bicep flushing more massively with each pump. Finally, he stands up again, staring down at the fallen contender.
“Your most muscular,” SMG barks. “Let’s see it!” Yann closes his eyes, his face toward the ceiling in exhaustion and resignation. “Show me!!!” SMG snarls angrily. Jutting his chin defiantly forward, Yann sucks in a deep gulp of air before grasping his right wrist in this left hand in front of him, flexing his muscled torso. The striations in his pecs pop, his abs separating in incredible detail. The veins on his thick arms rise to the surface, as Yann flexes obediently.

“No, no, look at this,” SMG dismisses the French hunk. Pounding his right fist in the palm of his left hand, SMG crunches out his most muscular pose. His abdominal muscles flex hard, the distance between them disappearing between the mounds of muscles notably bigger and better defined than the Frenchman’s. His delts and arms freeze in solid slabs of muscle, and his pecs slowly crunch hard, the contraction rolling from the center of his chest outward. SMG’s jaw drops open in concentration, even as the corners of his mouth rise as he watches Yann’s eyes roaming up and down the length of SMG’s stunningly displayed frame. “Just tell me now that I’m your god,” SMG says, his voice strained as he continues his powerful flex. “Just say it now, and I’ll spare you more torment.”

Yann swallows hard, his eyes dazed, soaking in SMG’s towering body. He licks his lips quickly, his chest starting to pump harder again. Breathlessly, Yann whispers, almost in awe, “No.”

A Tie Is Not a Win

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I’ve gushed about Portuguese footballer bodybeautiful Cristiano Ronaldo before. His thick, vascular legs are built for nothing if not for an oil wrestling match up featuring some doomed hopeful getting his skull crushed between them. Now Nike has an interesting behind the scenes montage featuring Cristiano in the locker room. It’s not nearly as salacious as it might sound, but his swagger as he makes his way through his world is sweetly cocky. This looks like a man who believes every worshipful word written about him. Which reminds me: Cristiano Ronaldo will truly become a superstar only once he shows up for a wrestling match with me in my backyard (there, it’s written… he must believe it).

Since I believe everything in writing, also, I must believe the report from the New York Post that Cristiano was fuming at Vanity Fair for forcing him to share his underwear-only cover with Ivory Coast rival football hottie, Didier Drogba. Considering the Ivory Coast/Portugal World Cup opener ended in a 0-0 tie, I smell an All-Star hardbody fued that will surely only be settled in a private jock strap match in my homoerotic wrestling imagination.

Giving Good Face

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Bradley Cooper sent many a hearts a fluttering, at least in the stills released for the dubiously conceived A-Team movie. Bradley has a little more grit-look about him than the original Face, Dirk Benedict. I had many a fantasy about Dirk Benedict as a kid (hey, I think I smell a What Turned Me Gay posting coming on…). Bradley’s fantastic, long, fit body is sweet enticement to relive my youth, but I’m holding out for the DVD release.


Bradley has already made an appearance in my wrestling fantasies. He was in a three-way battle with Justin Timberlake and Ryan Reynolds for the Green Lantern feature soon-to-be released, which translated into him being in a three-way, balls out battle of domination between the same three hardbodies in the world of my wrestling fiction. Bradley strikes me as a hunk with smarts, and he brought a winning game plan into the arena with Justin and Ryan. Sadly for him, the execution wasn’t quite as winning as the game plan. The point at which Ryan has Bradley in a kneeling rear choke, and then takes the opportunity to twist his neck around to lick the sweat off of Bradley’s cheek, it’s all win-win-win from that point forward for me.
With nice beefy pics of Bradley as Face, I could definitely imagine him needing another shot in the Producer’s Ring. Alpha Dogs should always go to the head of the line for a second chance at glory in my homoerotic imagination.

The Wrong Beach

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While the remaining pool of applicants in the Secretarial Pool auditions take a rest for a little while longer, my eye has been captured by a new modelboy crush.

Steven Patenaude is his name. He’s apparently a Seattle-based male model with über pouty lips, a smokin’ smooth body, and fantastically hot tattoos. At least, the tats look fantastic for what I’ve seen of them. I’m still looking for a full on shot of Steven from the back… preferably naked, but I’ll take what I can get.
As opposed to the massively muscled boys that often capture my attention, Steven looks more shredded/whipcord, which is no less intoxicating for me. Steven could be in the pipeline for a feature role in the Secretarial Pool himself someday. Those legs may be thin, but they look to me like they could crack coconuts.
The shots I’m finding of him oiled up and enjoying the beach just put me in the summertime mood. Why don’t I see stunning male models in their underwear hanging out at the beach? Clearly, I’m going to the wrong beaches. I’m off to try a new beach, in search of hot n’ spicy, nearly nude bodies like sweet Steven.

No Comparison

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This was Zac Efron at the beach a year and a half ago. Now I don’t have anything against twinks in general. But this just doesn’t make me sit up and take notice. There’s a little too much pubescence at work here for my tastes.

Here’s Zac at the beach a couple of weeks ago. I’m taking notice. He’s still on the twink side of the hot boy spectrum, but he’s put on some serious muscle poundage in the last year and a half. His lats alone give this a definitively post-pubescent shape that is much more my taste. Towleroad refers to this as Zac’s “Daniel Craig moment,” I assume in reference to Daniel’s iconic image emerging from the surf layered in slabs of beef that make even straight men have to adjust their pants.

So I wouldn’t go quite so far as to say Zac’s recent pics are somehow comparable to Daniel Craig’s 007 hotness. In fact, if I were Mr. Craig, I might take offense at the comparison. Hell, I might even have to go so far as to insist on teaching the young muscle twink a lesson in bare naked bath house NHB celebrity wrestling.
Daniel is undefeated and, frankly, untouched in my homoerotic wrestling fiction. Zac, on the other hand, is 0-1, having suffered a crushed nose as a result of James McAvoy’s facebuster with a cum shot to the face finisher, just for good measure. True, James is my undefeated lightweight buzzsaw, but is any twink so naive as to believe that he could stand face to face with the longshoreman pornbody muscles of Daniel Craig? I think I could imagine that…

Aussie Dreams

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I’m in an Aussie sort of mood, and what better way to appeal to an Aussie sort of mood than naked Hugh Jackman? Hugh has made two appearances in my wrestling fiction, once going pec to pec with Daniel Craig and once as a guest referee with is thumb on the scales (sneaky bastard).

Hugh’s appearance in X-Men Origins: Wolverine was nearly more tease than I could handle. The implication was that there was plenty of muscleman Hugh nakedness, but it was all so coy and lasted little more than two frames at a time. Still, I have HD and a pause button, and what I see is a stunning specimen of bulging Aussie muscles.

There’s even a little wrestling kinkster payoff in the movie, if you’re patient. He starts off boxing with a superhuman size/strength mutant in order to win some information from him. In a clean boxing match, Wolverine/Hugh is completely outmatched. Like any good heel, he doesn’t let that stand between him and victory.
Tossing the gloves, Wolverine/Hugh leaps up to the turnbuckle, launches himself through the air, and drops a licktastic, muscle pumped, vein popping elbow down on his opponent’s head. The shape that Hugh got into for this movie is incredible, and there’s nothing to be done but to worship this man. Watching him ham it up pro-wrestling style only confirms what I’ve known for some time: that Hugh is a man of my wrestling fantasies.
Sweaty, veins bulging, hairy beast that he is, Hugh must be worshipped. Or, if you’re Daniel Craig starring in my wrestling fantasies, Hugh must be pec clawed with his face smashed deep up your gorgeous English musclebutt. Either way, it’s a win-win for me (and Hugh, the way I write him).

Any Day, Anytime

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I completely get it why some of you aren’t going to find these beach pics of Christopher Meloni hot. I think you’re absolutely missing out on some fine, gorgeous man-worship, but I get it. He’s looking a little bloated around the middle. I think it’s the fault of a poor choice of trunks, though. You can still see the outline of his hot muscled abs. Absolutely gorgeous hunk of man meat here, so if you don’t get that, mores for me to love.
Nothing about Christopher Meloni fails to ooze sexy. Did you see Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle? I swear to you, before I recognized that it was Christopher, I saw him in his grotesque, horror flick inbred freak get up (literally named, “Freakshow”), and I thought to myself, “That’s one gorgeous hunk of man disguised under all that makeup.”
It took me about a minute of listening to his voice before I nailed it. Yes, that’s a man straight out of my fantasies.


Christopher has a recurring character role in my homoerotic wrestling fantasies. He has a nasty attitude. He cheats whenever he needs to and can get away with it. He’s sent more than one young buck hopeful to the hospital. And slowly, so slowly, he’s finally been tamed and is turning into a blunt tool of the producer’s for punishing young muscle stars who’ve grown too big for their britches.

Yes, oh yes. I’d climb into the ring with that any day, anytime.

Promises Kept

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I’ve been hard on poor Zack Johnathan (aka Zack Vazquez) in the past. Of course, he’s deserved it. He’s ruined more than a few wrestling matches that I’ve been hot to watch, due to his poor salesmanship, his shit-eating self-conscious grinning, and his weakness in delivering or taking receipt on punishment in any convincing way. His body is incredible, but he’s been getting on my nerves in the ring.
I’m so pleased to report that Zack has entertained me pretty much from start to finish in his latest match for Rock Hard Wrestling. I’d have given this pitch a pass if it hadn’t been for my complete trust in the bulls eye delivery of Zack’s opponent, Brody Hancock (aka Reese Wells). This is a “revenge” match after Brody appropriately punished the model boy early in RHW’s inception. Zack arrives ready to even the score.
And shock of shocks, Zack delivers!!! His banter is much less self-conscious. He occasionally lets that shit-eating grin peek out, but he pretty quickly twists it into a focused, dominating sneer every time. And Zack’s wrestling is significantly improved, in my opinion. Zack delivers combination holds like a pro. Early in the match, he yanks boy-Brody off his feet by his throat, suspending him over his head in a sweetly convincing choke. Then smooth as silk, Zack slides Brody’s body down his own into a confidently snapped-on high bearhug. And without too much melodrama, Zack quickly sprints across the ring and drives Brody’s back into the turnbuckle. This is way more delivery and skill than I’ve come to expect from Zack.
Of course, by no means is this sale all about Zack. Dependably, Brody works this match with like the hard, hot workhorse he always is. His gear is a distinct improvement, and I’m thinking Brody is packing on some more muscle on that whipcord body that he’s making good use of. In answer to Zack’s cocky taunt, “How did you like my choke?,” Brody answers by raking Zack’s eyes across the top rope and demanding, “What did you think of that, huh?!” Later in the match, Brody has Zack pinned chest-first in the ropes, at which point he reaches over Zack’s head and shoves his fingers into the model boy’s nostrils, prying Zack’s nose upward. The gratuitous baseball pump at the end of round one illustrates the marvels of Brody’s beautiful body, though I have to note that he’s packing on enough muscle that I’m no longer wondering where he’s hiding those guns.
But still, for all the crap I’ve given Zack, I just have to say again that he just about redeems himself in this match. He’s working hard and innovating, such as countering a camel clutch by muscling his way to his feet with Brody still clamped to his back. Zack’s boston crab tapout submission totally sells me in a way that I just haven’t bought Zack’s submissions in the past. His kicks to Brody’s hamstring and smooth transition to a figure-4 leglock are polished. Even a blown gambit inside-outside the ropes suplex reversal manages to sort itself out without too much stretch of the imagination.
My one remaining complaint is a bit of off camera audio assistance that I’m finding distracting. Again I say, if the production quality wasn’t so excellent here, perhaps they could get away with some sound effects, but the picture is just too crystal to manage artificially-enhanced blows. Both boys are stomping and pounding pretty damn effectively on their own, so I really don’t think it’s at all necessary, at least not with these two. Zack as a serious contender is so nice to see. Our little boy is growing up, and his delivery of one of my all time favorite holds near the end of the match is commanding, convincing, and sweetly erotic, dominating, and humiliating. Nice work, Zack.

Ink from Behind

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Back ink works for me. Particularly a broad, muscled back makes for arguably the best canvas on the body. When utilized well, the body perfectly compliments the art and the art perfectly compliments the body. Case in point is perennial tat-boy favorite, muscle wrestler masochist extraordinaire and still in the running for my favorite homoerotic pornboy wrestling favorite rankings, Derek Da Silva. Every inch of Derek is astonishingly hot, but I could sit and stare at him from behind for days on end… okay, okay, his fantastic bubble butt is at least 30% of that, but most of the appeal is his broad, powerfully muscled, gorgeously inked back, especially when it has a sheen of fresh sweat… and he’s sitting on someone’s face.

Tattooed Hunks gives me a nearly daily fix of hunk ink, and I’m always particularly excited when some hot back art pops up. There’s just something intensely sexual about back ink. It’s obviously not something that the inked hunk himself can really admire, at least not conveniently. Rather, it’s an intensely personal text for the lucky boy who gets to see him stripped from behind. This is the view that you get when you’re on top, looking down at his stretched out back, your hips positioned against (and pumping) his ass. This is the essence of erotic intimacy – beautiful aesthetics paired with orgasm.

I’m a sucker for colorful ink. To whomever could send me some full on pics of this young stud’s artwork, I’d owe you bigtime. Not that there’s anything wrong with this view. Tats like this that traverse traditional modesty lines drive me insane. The back ink that stretches down onto his ass cheek simply demands that he unbuckle that belt and slide his cheek out from underneath his pants. That’s what good ink does anywhere, I think. It involves the whole body in telling a story. It draws the eye across the lines of muscle and ink, calling to you to feel, admire, and worship the beautiful male form.

Next to Appear on My Credit Card Statement

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Last week I mentioned (not for the first time) my love-hate relationship with Mr. Joshua Goodman’s crotch. Just to taunt and tease me viciously, in the last BG East Arena update, there are preview pics of the upcoming match with Mr. Joshua’s crotch (and the rest of him).

It looks like Mr. Joshua will square off against erotic never-say-die twinkboy on the rise, Austin Raines. The product is another in the Demolition series, and from the preview pics, I’m not entirely sure who gets demolished. Both boys look like they get some licks in (metaphorically speaking). And there are several, lingering shots of Mr. Joshua with his hand shoved down the front of his trunks, making my eyes water just a bit (as always).
This looks like it may be a step up the homoerotic scale a bit, though. It looks like both Austin and Mr. Joshua treat one another to some painful ball claws (and that’s got to be quite a handful for Austin to handle!). Perhaps even more enticing, it looks like Mr. Joshua may finally be seriously rubbing his opponent’s face in it. Where do I get in line for that ride?
Match 3 on the same DVD looks like it features Lon Dumont destroying a baby-baby-baby face. KL made my day over at the yahoo group for BGE Headquarters, letting us know that this product is available for sale even prior to the new catalog release. I can already hear the shuffle of dollar bills escaping my wallet…