Author: wrestlebard

I'm a gay man with an active imagination.

Livin’ La Vida

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Ricky Martin has publicly come out as gay! I don’t know why this is so exciting to me, but it is! I still remember that awed, sexual excitement at seeing Ricky stun everyone when he performed out of nowhere at the Grammy’s in 1999.

I first saw the news yesterday on Towleroad, the source of all relevant news to my life. Now the announcement is everywhere. Ricky posted online that, as he’s preparing a memoir, he decided to let himself be freed from baggage and come out.
I probably don’t have anything unique to offer to the analysis of Ricky’s announcement. Has it already been noted that he’s a hunky daddy? He’s beautifully tattooed? He’s smooth as butter?
So perhaps it isn’t such a mystery why this makes me so excited. On pretty much every count, he’s my sort of Latin lover (spread the word).
I know that not everyone is safe or able to come out publicly, so I think anytime one of us says it out loud and proud, he deserves plenty of support and encouragement. When he’s a gorgeous hunk of a man, all the better!

Users Behaving Badly

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The internet is quite a forum for letting it all hang out. I certainly don’t share the depth of intimate details with perfect strangers that I encounter face-to-face, that I’m willing to share with personal strangers who remain faceless on the other end of an internet connection. The medium is a remarkable venue for confession, community, and self-disclosure. Clearly, it’s also a medium ripe with opportunities to behave poorly.

I’ve noticed an uptick in the number of people attempting to comment on this blog using non-Latin-based characters and embedded with multiple links. While I sincerely appreciate the international following that the blog might attract, just be forewarned that any comments with embeds will be rejected, and the only non-English comments permitted will be those written in Swedish (ask Swito). I do my best to be a generous host, so I expect my guests to behave themselves appropriately. Embeds with potentially dangerous links are bad manners. To those of you who might want to comment with embeds linked to spyware or other noxious tricks, I think someone needs to sit you down and teach you a thing or two about manners.
Similarly, the large number of notes I get each day notifying me that I’ve won Britain’s national lottery are just bad form. No I will not give you my bank account number so that you can deposit the millions of pounds to which I have miraculously become entitled. I won’t give you my bank account number so that you can give me your dead husband’s millions in oil revenue from Africa. I won’t give you my bank account number in order to assist you in a most profitable business venture. I could not, would not in a house. I could not, would not with a mouse.
I’m just talking about good manners. Don’t try to steal what doesn’t belong to you. Don’t prey on the naive. Don’t bilk the simple-minded or gullible. It’s just bad form. And to those of you who persist in angling to cheat and steal, trick and betray, I can only hope that someday someone will powerslam your ass so hard your teeth rattle, climb on top of your chest, pin your throat to the floor and spit in your face until you submit, relent, and think better of your bad behavior in the future.
Manners, gentlemen. Manners.

Let the Games Begin

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I really do appreciate your patience. Some of you have been sending me emails asking when the secretarial pool tournament will start in the Producer’s Ring. I hope to post the first match of the tournament later today. To recap, you the readers selected our 8 finalists to participate in an elimination tournament to determine who will be hired as Brody Productions’ new executive assistant. The voting was enthusiastic. The nominees were all highly qualified. But in the end, as always, there were winners and losers.

The first match of the secretarial pool tournament pits blond ambition against tall-dark-and-handsome. 6’2″ Alan Ritchson is making a play to step behind the camera and get a piece of the real action in the entertainment industrial complex.
Alan has received abundant exposure through both his modeling work and television credits. Clearly everyone recognizes what Alan brings to the table: that huge, smooth body, and in particular that squeezable, round ass.
As a contender in the secretarial pool, Alan walks a fine line between cocky self-assurance (which, as you know, is an absolute must), and overconfident entitlement (which, as you know, can be disastrous).
What will determine whether Alan claims victory or falls to disaster is the 6’3″ beauty, Jared Prudoff. Jared’s glowing brown eyes and gorgeous stubble are entrancing. He’s a long, lean fashion model with unbelievable abs.
I applaud any runway fashion model that keeps it hot and hairy. Jared clearly trims extensively, but that chest, lower abdomen, and those legs are fantastically fur-lined.
Is it me, or is Jared frequently showing off his pits? Not that I’m complaining, of course. And the shots of his amply filled package illustrate that Jared’s got the necessary equipment to impress in the Producer’s Ring. The only question is whether those abs, the legs, and his overt sensuality will be enough to overcome the freight train that is Alan’s body, butt and assurance of his own destiny to succeed.

Stop Searching No More

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SteelMuscleGod wants you! And let’s face it, you want him, too. Perhaps I should just speak for myself: I want him. (Oh hell, who are you kidding? You want him, too).
As SMG waits and watches YannS challenge Adam400m for a crack at his godliness, he’s dropped a new video asking us, his worshippers, if we’ve found anyone else as delightful as he is. Have you failed to find anyone as ripped? “Well, stop searching no more, because you’ve hit jackpot.” The voice, the accent, the supremely (shall we say, divinely?) cocky strut, and yes, indeed SMG, you have the muscle to back up your boast.

SMG sells hard. “If you really want to see real hard action, yeah, this is the place to be.” When it comes to my lustful adoration, it’s true: SMG is in the driver’s seat. He’s crushed Adam into a quivering slab of beef worshiping SMG’s pecs. Now he’s just waiting to see if Yann can earn his shot at unseating the god.

Just look into those eyes! Yann might want to think twice about whether he wants a piece of that. (I hope he still does!). SMG has promised that he’s ready to wrestle for his worshippers. Whoever emerges from the Adam v Yann challenge, I think he’s going to find his work cut out for him.

The Main Course

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JoshH has been intentionally provocative in a series of comments on my post about Rio Garza’s journey through the world of wrestling. In short, the question comes down to who brings what to the table in comparing the products of competing homoerotic wrestling companies. While I don’t really think of NHB has particularly homoerotic, it has to be said that homoerotic wrestling kinksters (present company included), must comprise most of their business. The bouts are generally sincere little mat scraps with an air of a frat house throw down. Clearly, NHB is playing to our tastes, though, as evidenced by the very, very brief trunks that typically have a hard time covering the young athletes’ sweet asses.

What makes me think of NHB with respect to my conversation with JoshH, is that Denny Webb (aka Cameron Matthews) is in their recent release of Battling Bodies 54. Danny/Cameron has shown up a lot for BGE work in the past couple of years, in both their homoerotic and straight products. He’s also prolific as an indy pro, and he just did a new product getting pummeled by a massive bodybuilder for Thunder’s Arena.
With each incarnation, Denny/Cameron brings a different performance. I think that’s impressive, in and of itself. The indy pro work of his that I’ve seen has him as an adolescent never-say-die scrapper who’s often outweighed and outmuscled, but who nevertheless gets his licks in. For BGE, he’s the babyface who sells suffering like the pro he is, showing off that astonishingly round ass as he’s pummeled convincingly. I confess that when I saw Cameron wrestle in a jock strap for the first time, I actually swooned for just a moment! For NHB, though, Denny/Cameron sticks to the goods that make all his performances work: his strength, speed, and impressive skills. It also doesn’t hurt that his speedo just can’t resist climbing up his crack.
On the same recent release that Denny stars in, I can’t help but take a second look at the other bout starring gorgeous, tall hardbody Connor Flynn and the ass-tastic sensuality of Chuck Rowen. Chuck’s ultra skimpy speedo never stood a chance of covering the muscled expanse of his glutes (thank God!).
It seems like I’ve been jonesin’ for shorter-than-average swimmer bodies lately, so it should be no wonder that Chuck is giving me whiplash. Squeezed and tossed by his much bigger opponent, Chuck is a delight to watch. Mounted on top of Connor with his thick legs and round ass on display, Chuck connects all the dots between frat house romp and homoerotic wrestling kink.
Back to my conversation with JoshH, I’d say that NHB is on the opposite end of the homoerotic wrestling kink spectrum from Can-Am. There really isn’t much fantasy at all in NHB, just hard, sweaty boys, silently battling it out with nothing but their barely clad bodies. Can-Am, on the other hand, invests in sets, scripts, costumes, and the thoughtful display of pornboys telling a crowd pleasing story. BGE seems to me to be somewhere in the middle, with a little fantasy and lovely body worship counterbalanced with a general emphasis on athleticism and an indy pro feel. I think that JoshH and I are in agreement about the scope of the playing field. Our sparring appears to break along the lines of where some talents may be wasted by one company versus another.
As JoshH and I battle it out over relatively fine distinctions of homoerotic wrestling kinks, I just want to clarify for all that I’m a supporter of the industry and all its contributors, particularly those who generously show off their gorgeously round glutes (I’m looking at you, Cameron!).

I Need a Hero

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In a world full of politicians who check the polls before they decide whether to take a piss, where people who sell coffee are legally required to give written notice to customers that their hot beverage may be hot, where a televised same-sex kiss in prime-time still merits a parental advisory… I need a hero. I need to imagine that someone out there is courageous, selfless, and duty-bound to use his dominating power in defense of the powerless.
Oh, and this guy really has to be gorgeous with the body of a Greek god. So just to recap, Ryan Reynolds will be starring as Green Lantern in an upcoming production that I will be desperate to see. Ryan Reynolds in a skin tight superhero outfit… that image has been blatantly plagiarized from my erotic imagination. Well, not really, considering Ryan already played an anti-hero in Wolverine.
Ryan plays the smart ass comic so well, I’ll be interested to see if he can pull off the larger than life, inherently melodramatic portrayal of a defender of the universe. In my imagination, of course, he had to win this role by literally beating out both Bradley Cooper and Justin Timberlake at the same time, which he succeeded in doing in a all-naked double choke-out (how else?).
Also previously announced, Australian hot commodity, Chris Hemsworth will be starring soon in the movie adaptation of the Norse god turned comic book hero, Thor. I was seriously doubtful about this casting, but I’m getting more convinced with each new shot of Chris I see. He’s clearly putting on slabs of muscle.


Chris and his brother, Liam, were recently photographed in a fight (well, sort of…), outside a bar in Hollywood. The snarling look on both Hemsworth boys’ faces has inspired me to start thinking about a brothers team tournament in the Producer’s Ring. Indicative of his skyrocketing Hollywood career, Chris has already shown up twice in the Producer’s Ring, both times getting seriously (and satisfyingly) worked over.

The most recent casting announcement to tickle my fantasy is Chris Evans as Captain America. Chris has the body of a gay pornboy, and any movie with him fully clothed is blatant disregard for his true calling. His hairy torso is just about the most sexual thing I’ve seen on the big screen. His body was almost too distracting in his previous foray into superherodom, as Johnny Storm in Fantastic Four.

Like Ryan, I think Chris has an extra burden of toning down his natural comedic skills to play it straight, particularly for Captain America. Of course, he’s already the stuff of my wrestling fantasies, appearing against Ryan in an early match in the Producer’s Ring. In that match, both boys had to battle their inner class clowns to stay focused on hammering the smirk off of each other’s faces. Chris took a particularly savage turn in that bout, surprising even himself with the depths he would plumb to conquer his hardbody opponent.
Reynolds, Hemsworth and Evans are excellent answers to my need for a hero these days. I’m fully supportive of more superheroes in my life. So squeeze into that spandex, pump up the pecs, and take on evil with that cocky self-assurance that, in the end, whether you start the fight or not, you’ll be man enough to finish it.

El Matador

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Towleroad’s Sportraits strike again. I’ve now been introduced to the wonders that are Roger Huerta.

The ink is fantastic. The muscles are stunning. The face is devastatingly handsome. This man is art.
The fact that he’s a mixed martial arts fighter makes him almost too good to be true. Mounted on top of his opponent with those thick legs crushing his man, his gorgeously tattooed arms raining down punches into his defenseless opponent’s face… jaw dropping beauty and brutal beast all rolled up in one… again, this is art.
So I’ve discovered since beginning to obsess about him, that Roger Huerta was the first UFC fighter to be featured on the cover of Sports Illustrated. It’s no wonder. This man was made to be photographed… well, that and licked from head to toe.
He cleans up nice and gives good face. He’s also a seriously hot stallion in bed. Very, very nice find. Thanks, Towleroad, for the introduction.

Bodies Over Time – Fast-Forward Edition

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This is a bodies-over-time post in fast forward. Rio Garza (aka Ray Martinez, aka Alan Valdez, aka Alan Arturo) has been quickly making quite a name for himself (well, several names). I first caught a glimpse of him on YouTube preening and flexing and begging for followers about a year ago. His little boy face on top of the body of a sculpted musclegod is hard to tear your eyes away from.

Rio (let’s just call him Rio) is marketing himself from a lot of different angles. I respect that. As he ages, it will undoubtedly be harder and harder work for him to maintain the body of an adonis, so cash in when the work is plentiful and relatively easy. Modeling and competing as Alan Valdez, his rock hard body has been photographed in a state of physical perfection. When his physique is entirely on game, he’s massively muscled, vascular, shredded to bits and completely devoid of body fat.
Battling for BG East as Rio Garza, this beautiful boy is just a half step off of the physical perfection he’s been documented to achieve in some of his modeling shots. Personally, I think his appearances with BGE have been his best wrestling work. I suspect that even the very latest releases starring Rio from BGE may have all been filmed several months ago, because from product to product he appears similarly massively muscled and cut like crystal. He may not have the 0% body fat of some of his modeling work, but he isn’t far off that mark, with his abs ready for some heavy duty laundry. I think BGE has also captured Rio looking confident, despite being owned over and over like the muscle jobber he’s fated to be. His opponents clearly recognize the remarkable physical specimen he is, and they work his muscles like concert pianists, striking every chord to perfection.
Wrestling for Rock Hard Wrestling as Ray Martinez, Rio is noticeably less sharply defined (though no less stunningly gorgeous). He looks decidedly less confident for RHW than BGE, which I suspect may be due to the relative directing skills of the companies. RHW hasn’t yet drawn from Rio the type of performance that truly capitalizes on his muscle jobber potential. The other RHW boys with some legitimate wrestling skills (of various stripes) do some entertaining work making Rio/Ray suffer, but they don’t dabble in the worship side of things like BGE has done. Rio/Ray appears to always be geared up in tight, if expansive, trunks for RHW, whereas BGE has talked him into putting his gorgeous ass on display, wrestling in a jock strap.
Now Rio/Ray/Alan appears to be about to grapple for Can-Am. They just posted some teaser pics with him appearing side-by-side with Aryx Quinn for another installment in their new Arena series. Can-Am is touting Rio as theirs exclusively, which seems a little like closing the corral gate well after the horse has gotten loose. As always, Rio looks like a tasty treat. He’s yet another step down from his competition form, though, both less sharply defined and less developed. The stills are all photo shoot poses (no action shots), but he’s appearing so far in very brief yellow trunks. I think both Aryx and Rio were in better shape when they faced off in BG’s Bad Boys, but so far, the Arena series has been entirely a loser-gets-fucked product, so if they’ve scored Rio in his first fuck scene, this product is going to fly off the shelves.
I must say, though, that Rio/Ray/Alan also looks a little less happy with each bit of salesmanship he stars in. His little boy smile in his early modeling pics are absolutely adorable. BGE captured some happy moments from the coverboy, looking awfully pleased with himself with his devastating body about to be devastated. His appearances for RHW have showcased him looking a little put out, like he’s feeling a little impatient with the workday to be over with. His stills for Can-Am look downright morose. However, if the sour look is a result of developing a new fierceness on the mats, or if it arises from a virginal foray into loser-gets-fucked action, he can pout all he wants: he’ll still be golden with the fans, I’m sure.

Earning a Shot

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Joe11nj is getting into the spirit of things. He commented this weekend on my last ode to Steel Muscle God, where Joe suggested that he can imagine young muscle stud, Yann666 overcoming SMG and making the musclegod submit in a full nelson bodyscissors.
First of all, well done Joe11nj! I’m 100% in support of your hot wrestling kink imagination being fully engaged. Looking at young Yann, I see what you’re talking about. The French phenom appears to have that freakish genetic gift of tiny little joints and ridiculously massive muscles, with the gorgeous vascularity that you know I love. Looking at Yann’s most-muscular, I can indeed imagine that he would pose a serious threat to power out of SMG’s full nelson decisively.
But I have to cry foul if we jump ahead in the story to the moment that Yann drags SMG to the ground in a full nelson body scissors threatening to break his godly neck. Young Yann really should earn his way to a muscle on muscle battle of bodies with the reigning champion of my imaginary YouTube muscle worship wrestling competition. Brit powerhouse Adam400m is still the top contender to redeem himself from his humiliating beating after a back-and-forth battle with the man who would ultimately demand Adam’s obedient worship.


SMG gets to watch, his thick arms folded across his bulging pecs, leaning against a wall as Adam and Yann slowly circle one another in the center of the room. Adam outweighs the Frenchman, and he’s motivated by his humiliating defeat at the hands (legs, pecs, arms) of his god to regain face. Yann is such a cocky little bastard, though, sneering with contempt at Adam’s bodybuilder muscles as the two of them circle one another cautiously.

The Frenchman is in board shorts, which seems to be his standard gear. Adam, in his navy blue speedo, taunts Yann. “If I had little chicken legs like those, I’d hide them, too,” Adam sneers. Stopping, placing his hands on his hips, Adam flexes his tree trunk thighs, slowly rotating back and forth to display every bulge and crevice of his massive, legs. “Of course,” Adam smiles, “I clearly don’t have chicken legs like yours.”
The French hardbody spins in a blur of motion, swinging his right leg high and driving his heel into the side of Adam’s face with a dull thud. Adam’s head whips to the side from the shocking blow, and he drops to one knee, cradling his face in his hands.
“Those big muscles won’t help you much once I’ve broken your legs,” Yann says, his thick French accent making his threat of savage brutality sound civilized.

Avoiding Enslavement

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Superherofan is doing an excellent job of reminding me about the gorgeous buffet of manflesh on the Starz series, Spartacus: Blood and Sand. For some reason, I need reminding, because this series (shockingly) has not become must-see television for me. The sheer quantity of high, high quality muscles on display, frequently naked, in the context of the brutality and life-and-death gladiator competition of the Roman arena seems like it would be seared into my head as a required television destination. For some reason, it has not.

To the extent that I have watched, the concept revolves around the objectification of human life, and in particular the objectification of the smokin’ hot male muscleboy. Um… yeah… why am I not watching this series slavishly?
It’s not a lack of lustfulness for the star of the show, Andy Whitfield. Sweet God, that body is like a playground jungle-gym: it must be grabbed and climbed upon, and every inch must be explored.
Astonishingly gorgeous muscle asses appear to regularly be center stage. Frequently, they’re pumping and flexing in mesmerizing rhythms of intercourse. My imaginative powers can easily photoshop the women on the bottom out of the scenes and insert my own hard pulsing body in their place. The more-than-occasional full-frontal shot also lifts Spartacus well above other skin-fest productions that I’ve been helpless to fall in obsessive lust with.
But Spartacus hasn’t yet truly captured me, enslaved me, and beaten me into submission. All the right elements haven’t yet possessed me in the manner that I expected them to. I suspect this may be a series that ensnares through the devious devices of Netflix. Sometimes I’m not just ready for a new obsession until I’m ready.
Like Michael C. Hall who recently announced his battle with cancer, Spartacus himself, Andy Whitfield is under treatment for lymphoma. The irony is, as it always is, cruel. The epitome of virility and at the peak of physical perfection, Andy is now battling with a life threatening illness. My thoughts and prayers are for his speedy recovery, his return to full health, and his gorgeous beauty once again clad only in a loin cloth… or less.