Author: wrestlebard

I'm a gay man with an active imagination.

Classic Fresh Meat

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Ashton Kutcher is a recurring character in my wrestling fiction. I introduced him into the world of my celebrity wrestling fantasies facing off against Swedish buzzsaw, Alexander Skarsgård. Ashton, a classic heart throb clown with a smoking hot body and sadistic underside, expected to make short work of the rookie Skarsgård. What Ashton expected and what he got were two entirely different things.

Luckily for Ashton, in the world of my wrestling fantasies, producer Eli Brody snapped up Ashton’s humiliated ass (not to mention his severely punished balls), and immediately hired him as an executive assistant. Ashton has made several appearances in multiple matches so far, proving himself to be a quick learner when it comes to middle management and a cunning, merciless, sadistic opponent in the ring.
Superherofan, God bless him, has posted these caps of a new movie trailer with Ashton, in which he appears for an entire scene shirtless. This is exactly why Ashton is the stuff of my wrestling fantasies. His body is gorgeous, his face is classically handsome, and he can’t help but display that shit-eating smirk of his that makes me imagine him as a cocky, smart ass stud who is consistently underestimated, which leads to sweet suffering for his devastated opponents.

With new pics of a mature Ashton looking good enough to lick from head to toe (seriously, I’m offering), I’m confident that his job with Eli Brody will remain secure for quite a while to come, along with his name on the card of many more matches in the future.

Driver’s License, Please

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I’m STILL stuck in bed, and it’s not the good kind of stuck in bed. I think I’ll be presentable in a day or two, though. Thanks for all the kind wishes.
I’m not feeling particularly creative today, so I just thought I’d put a shout out to a series of amateur photos from Grapplers Planet that I keep coming back to… again and again and again. This “Hornets” wrestler is simply captivating. I swear, I thought this was a painting the first time I glanced at it, it’s such an iconic piece of art with such an iconic looking invincible, Aryan grappler. My hope is that, in whatever state he resides, he is of legal age. Since I don’t know that for certain, I’ll keep my comments restrained.
Holy.
Hell.

Incredible.
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Despite Joe’s certainly wise counsel that I should stop masturbating and make sure I get plenty of fluids and rest as I recuperate from the crud, I have all this time on my hands… Seriously, no masturbating? I think that cure may be worse than the disease. As I contemplate the bitter medicine that Joe prescribes, I find myself drawn by a familiar infatuation with beautiful butts.

Perhaps it was spending so much intimate time (in my imagination) with Alan Ritchson as I wrote a fictional wrestling match with him competing against model Jared Prudoff in the first round of the tournament to determine who will be hired as Brody Productions’ newest executive assistant. Alan has one beautiful, round ass that he displays so generously.

With nothing to do but wipe my nose and ponder, it’s the image of beautiful, round cheeks that keep intruding on my thoughts. A sweetly muscled ass is truly a thing of beauty.
My two favorite wrestling asses these days have to belong to Derek da Silva and Tyrell Tomsen (particularly when Tyrell is in competition shape). I’m not entirely sure how Derek’s opponents are able to restrain themselves from constantly grabbing his massive glutes. The fact that Derek is also so stunningly flexible makes his body an infinite wonder of both power and grace.
When Tyrell is in his shredded shape, his butt is hypnotic. When he works up a layer of sweat, and then snaps his brutal biceps around his opponent and lifts him in the air in an overpowering bearhug, it’s Tyrell’s striated, rock hard, flexed ass that I can’t take my eyes off of.

One of the most beautiful, classic displays of an ass put to good use has to be Jay Austin’s thonged derrière as he squeezed Max Dare in Hard Pros 1. That stunning muscle working hard and dominating Jay’s screaming opponent tells the whole story, from start to finish.

Other folks probably see other things in a fevered delirium. As Joe tells me, I should probably be conserving my bodily fluids for more important tasks as my body fights off whatever crud has invaded it. But I can’t help myself. More importantly, I don’t really want to help myself. In the ache of illness, the joys elicited by the images of gorgeous muscled asses make my misery endurable.

Alpha Dogs

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I’m still feeling crummy, but these pics of Ryan Gosling, via Just Jared, are cheering me up quite a bit.

I assume Ryan must be bulking up for a new role. I most heartily approve of his transformation into a muscle stud. He’s gorgeous and sexy as hell already, but fill out those pecs some and he’s broken out into a whole new category of hollywood hunk.
I think he has more talent in his little finger than most actors have any prayer of ever having. So if he has that much talent in just his little finger, just imagine how much more talent he must be amassing as he adds sweet muscle mass to those arms, pecs and shoulders! (I’m not sure if the anatomy and math all add up, but you know what I’m trying to say).
In any case, I’m officially in love with Ryan Gosling. From these photos, he clearly loves his dog. By the transitory properties of infatuation, I think that means that I must love Ryan Gosling’s dog. It does not mean, however, that I must love that pooch’s haircut. Clearly some straight boy thought that would be a good idea. Regardless, Ryan Gosling is an alpha dog and muscle hunk in the making that I’m eager to see much, much more of.

More than Muscle

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An upper respiratory infection has sidelined me from some of my work this weekend. I’m noting that it was just this past Thursday that I was feeling beaten and battered by a ridiculously busy workday, and 48 hours later, I’m ill. Working too hard sucks, and it definitely appears to make me susceptible to the crud. So, word to the wise…

Grandma’s advice aside, my sincere intent is to finish the second match in the Secretarial Pool audition tournament in my wrestling fiction, the Producer’s Ring. You should see the new match posted at some point today. This match features first round hopefuls, Nick Auger and Jakub Stefano, battling it out for their shot at power.
Some of you out there have let me know, in no uncertain terms, that you are fierce supporters of Nick. He was clearly the highest vote-getter in the online poll to determine who the eight finalists would be. I’ve been informed that some of you are seriously committed to seeing Nick all the way to the end of this tournament, and that you can see no other option than his ultimate victory over all of his competitors. Of course, if it were that simple, I’d hardly need to write the story, now would I?
On the other hand, Jakub has received absolutely no fan mail or appeals to see him succeed in the competition. While it’s true that he isn’t quite as stunningly dominant a physical specimen as Nick (very, very nuanced shades of gray, if you ask me), I’m honestly surprised that the Czech internet sensation appears to have no one in his corner. Makes me feel a little bad for him.
My sympathies are not the issue at hand, though. This is a match between two big, BIG and powerful boys who’ve been handed the chance of a lifetime. Even if Nick has an edge in power, they’re far too closely matched for the victory to be determined by sheer muscle. Something else will have to tip the scales… cleverness, sadistic zeal, sexual exploitation, focus… something will have to come into play to determine the tale of the tape.
I hope that no one is too disappointed, one way or the other. I just call ’em like I see ’em.

Crowning a New Champion

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Rusty Stevens capped off his meteoric rise in my wrestling fantasy rankings with the final segment of his battle with Aryx Quinn in Can-Am’s Arena 2. The plot of the match is described explicitly enough on the website, so I don’t think I’m giving too much away. Aryx finishes off Rusty with his “Kiss of Death,” knocking out the bigger man cold. He wakes Rusty up with his erect cock sliding between Rusty’s magnificent ass cheeks, and proceeds to force feed him orally and then plow him from behind.

No offense meant to Aryx, but he’s furniture to me as I watch this. My eyes are for Rusty alone. He’s simply gorgeous, with a body I just want to reach out and grab from every angle. The scene fades to Aryx on his back with Rusty sitting on his cock and power bottoming, facing Aryx’ feet. Rusty is fierce even with his opponent’s cock up his ass. The magic happens, though, when he skillfully spins around on Aryx’ cock to face his head. Still planted on top of him, Rusty leans forward, kisses Aryx’ neck, and then slaps on the same “Kiss of Death,” knocking Aryx out cold.
Rusty drives home the point that he didn’t take kindly to Aryx’ beginning the screw him while he was still unconscious by returning the favor. Rusty’s stunning ass is hypnotic as he pumps his helpless opponent into submission. Somehow, they finish everything off with respectful, mutual appreciation, eagerly suggesting that they’re both ready to face off and do it all over again.

It was the moment that Rusty spun around on his opponent’s cock in order to take charge from “the bottom,”… that’s the precise moment when Rusty ripped the crown from Mitch Colby’s head and claimed the title as my new favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy. Rusty’s fierceness in transforming his humiliating defeat into a final reversal, all the while owning Aryx even with Aryx’ cock up his ass, earns him the undisputed title.
Mitch’s MySpace page recently suggested that he was hitting the gym for his next wrestling match. So while Mitch is now the #1 contender (step aside, Derek), I’m hoping that the competition will be heating up soon. Mitch managed a pretty rapid reversal of fortunes when Derek da Silva spanked his ass and claimed the crown for a couple of months last Autumn. I’m eager to see if Mitch kicks it into overdrive in order to kick Rusty’s ass to the curb, and back into second place.
The king is dead. Long live the king.

I Need a Hero

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I was initially very excited about the concept of Heroes when it premiered a few years ago. I ate up the first season eagerly, particularly pleased with the beautiful bodies of Milo Ventimiglia, Adrian Pasdar, and Sendhil Ramamurthy. All three of them immediately claimed starring roles in more than one of my wrestling fantasies.

The second season lost me. I just lost track of it entirely about halfway through. A friend encouraged me to give it another try. I recently finished off both the second and third season, and I’m hooked again. They pulled the story back on track and continue to keep the story and the characters evolving. They also understand the particular joys of introducing to us new, hardbodied heroes along the way, such as Justin Baldoni.
He only appeared in a couple of episodes, but he immediately grabbed me. Even before his post-shower shirtless scene, I was a fan. An Italian boy with a stunning Roman nose on a chiseled, handsome face simply can’t be wrong. Pack on some sweet, shredded muscle, and my jaw can’t help but drop open.
As I wiped away the drool that formed at the corner of my slack jaw, I wondered why I haven’t seen much, much (much) more of sweet Justin. He swims in and out of Heroes far too quickly, and otherwise it looks like he’s mostly a daytime soap opera boy. Not sure why he hasn’t yet been discovered for much bigger and better things yet. I suspect in the Producer’s Ring, his time will be coming soon!

Classic

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I took advantage of some fire/flood sale prices at BG East recently to snag some VHS tapes way, way cheap, including a compilation tape of long, hard, hot scissors. It’s like the sampler plate at Red Lobster… a little of every headliner, tasty entree to make you salivate. What this compilation reminds me is that my kink is not satisfied by just one hold. Even the delights of a savage scissor can get old. Again, to return to food metaphors, it’s like a three course meal of all desserts. Sure, the first several bites are awesome, but the sheer lack of variety can make even chocolate cake seem boring.

Then I came upon some long scissors featured in Kid Leopard’s X-fight with ballet boy, Joey Smit. The description of this match from the website says that watching how KL “uses is feet to manipulate Smit’s big hard dick out of his bursting bulging pouch will leave you gasping.” This is truth in advertising, gentlemen. I was breathlessly awed.
KL cooks up the perfect recipe of erotic stimulation and punishing pain on poor Joey, blurring the lines between the two in just the right pacing and proportion. He has Joey’s arms nelsoned, and KL’s ankles are locked together across Joey’s lower abdomen. Joey is gasping, wincing in pain when KL hammers down on the pressure. Then, wordlessly, KL unlocks his ankles and uses the ball of his left foot to stroke Joey’s flaccid cock inside his grossly inadequate pouch. Joey groans, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Then in a flash, KL snaps his ankles together and squeezes until Joey cries out in pain.
Then again, wordlessly, KL unlocks his ankles and starts stroking Joey’s cock. Back and forth, he alternates the pain and the pleasure. Joey’s cock, God bless him, swells before our eyes. Joey clearly doesn’t require the services of an off camera fluffer to work up the obvious heat for this scenario. KL is playing the ballet boy like an accordion, pushing buttons and squeezing and making Joey irrepressibly hard. Back and forth, KL scissors and then strokes, scissors and strokes, as Joey’s cock swells and finally pops free from his pouch. As you could have guessed, he’s a big, happy boy, and his fully erect cock bobs from side to side as KL continues alternating between squeezing and stroking.

This may require me to purchase the entire match now (you sneaky marketing bastards!). This is just what I like when I’m in the mood for an X-fight. Hot, hard bodies leaving me entirely convinced of their arousal and their enthusiastic buy-in of the wrestling kink. Classic.

Bard’s Ass Get’s Kicked

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This day is kicking my ass! Holy hell, I’m in danger of losing my hard-fought momentum to post something new each day. That would suck at this point, since I’m closing in on less than three months to go of a full year of daily posts.

But as I say, this day is beating the crap out of me as I run from meeting to meeting, and I’ll I can do is stand here and take it. If I’m going to get the crap beat out of me, I can think of so many more satisfying scenarios. They pretty much all involve Mitch Colby (no surprise).
So wish me luck that I can stumble across the finish line today, and forgive me if this is a little bit of a half-assed post for your reading enjoyment.

More Alpha Dogs

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Have you read Joe’s recent post over at Kubla Kong entitled, “My Dear Old Dog?” It’s a fantastic, thoughtful, and eloquent reflection on what a canine companion has to teach us about ourselves and our humanity (and, frankly, theirs as well, I think). My mind keeps wandering back to Joe’s post as my own dog lays her head on my lap and drowses off.

I have to wonder about a man that doesn’t own a dog. It’s not a fatal character flaw to be unconnected to a canine, but it just makes me wonder. Are they just “in between” dogs, still grieving the death of a beloved companion before they open their heart again for a new relationship? Do they travel too much to be capable of proper care of a dog (…get a new job)? Or are they truly flawed, and not drawn to the shared life of the pack?
As I’ve mentioned, having a canine-better-half makes a man exponentially sexier than they otherwise would be. Take for example, Jon Hamm. I know that he makes men and women melt, but for me, I haven’t been entirely sure that he’s lustworthy. He’s been a possibility, but not a certainty for my affections. Then I find pics of him walking his dog, and I have no uncertainty left. He’s a hot, gorgeous man who will be adored.
John Krasinski is another handsome boy that I’ve been on the fence about. I’m immediately drawn to him. He’s one of Squarehippies’ husbands, so clearly his worship worthy. He’s long, lean, hot-yet-cuddly. He has great comedic timing, which I think translates directly to prowess in love-making (just a theory). But is he someone that I can’t help but lust over?
Seeing him playing with his fiesty pup, it convinces me that John is, without a doubt, “my type.”
I’ve been off the fence for quite a while about Ryan Gosling. He’s one of my favorite actors these days, and he’s got an incredible sexual energy about him at all times.
Put a dog at the end of Ryan’s leash, and he’s just hot as hell. Check out the banner pics for this fan site of Ryan’s, and you’ll understand why I say that I’d give my unborn child to trade places with his dog. His depth as an actor, I’m sure, is directly related to his capacity to be loved by his dog. I don’t know the science, but it’s what I know, nonetheless.
On the other hand, I didn’t really think that Bradley Cooper could get any sexier, but seeing him walking a dog does the trick. The fact that Bradley’s beefed up for his role in the new A-Team movie (jury is way out on that one!), doesn’t hurt, either.
Finally, I consider the complex case of Kellan Lutz. He’s quickly carved himself into a musclegod. He’s handsome and hot as hell. And yet… somehow, I’ve not been entirely moved to worship at the feet of his young hardbody. He’s everywhere these days, advertising underwear and showing up in more and more movies. Still, all the pieces haven’t fit for me to recognize him as someone I must lust after.
Then he goes jogging with his dog, and I’m infatuated. In fact, there are photos of Kellan with his dog everywehre. He must be okay.
In response to Joe’s musings on his old dog, I just want to conclude by saying that, as certainly as I know that a man’s comedic timing is directly related to his prowess as a lover, I’m absolutely and unshakably convinced that whatever heaven exists, dogs get to decide who gets in.