Author: wrestlebard

I'm a gay man with an active imagination.

Jamming the Gaydar

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I like to think that I have a fairly sensitive and accurate gaydar. I realize not everyone believes in gaydar. But I do, and I exercise mine regularly. Some things throw off my gaydar, though. A south Georgia accent, for example, always triggers my gaydar for some reason, despite my certainty that not all men with south Georgia accents can be gay (though I’ve known quite a lot!). Another thing that can mess with my gaydar is the sexually secure straight man.
Fortunately/unfortunately I don’t encounter many sexually secure straight men, so it isn’t often an issue. Most straight men I meet, even the “open-minded” and “affirming” straight men, are powerless to avoid letting their insecurities show. The awkwardly averted gaze, the mention of his girlfriend/wife apropos of nothing, the knee-jerk retreat to sports talk when surrounded by too many women or gay men… straight tells are easy to pick up. But a seriously secure straight man is a novelty that makes me have to check myself, in a good way. Joe at Ringside at Skull Island posted the link to a sweet story about a nationally ranked amateur wrestler, Hudson Taylor, who’s an outspoken advocate for gay rights. And he’s straight. And hot… as… hell, and totally messing with my gaydar.
Australian Rules Footballer and musclegod, Nick Youngquest is also straight (I’m convinced), and explicitly happy to be the object of gay men’s lusts. And lust is exactly what I do when I see these fantastic images of Nick’s hardbody that he displays so openly and proudly in calendars and gay magazines.
Online pal Swito virtually introduced me to the wonders of Nick-worship (thanks, Swito!). Nick tweaks most every kink I’ve got, particularly once he started collecting ink. The cleft chin drives me insane. He has a solid body built for laying the hurt on other thickly muscled men. And he shares his beauty so generously.
Swito and I are working on introducing Nick as a character into the fictional wrestling universe of the Producer’s Ring. With Nick’s natural cockiness, confidence, and ability to straddle the world of fierce footballer and stunning seducer, I predict he’s going to be a big, big star (in any universe).

Still More Olympic Spirit

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Closing ceremonies are this weekend, but the winter Olympics are just now seriously heating up. Of course the formal competition has been hard hitting, but I’m referring to stumbling across an homage to the beauty of the American winter Olympian bodies. In answer to the inspiring photo shoot of Canadian hardbodies, the Americans have this provocative answer.
The flag bearer for the team of American hunks is gold medalist snowboard crosser, Seth Wescott. Fantastic look here for Seth, with his low risers revealing the underwear and that solid, sculpted torso on display underneath his unbuttoned dress shirt. I simply have to imagine that Seth would be the one to slam Canadian snowboard crosser, Rob Fagan, in the center of the ring and then relish the joy of making him scream in pain as Seth drags him by his hair to have his head driven into each and every turnbuckle. Gold medalist, indeed.
Snowboard halfpiper, Louie Vito is built for pro-wrestling. Despite being only 5’4″, he’s got the look of a fabulous heel. He’s the champion sagger here, with his happy trail knocking at the door, and he’s displaying his fine ink with a cocky I’ll-soon-have-your-head-crushed-against-this-bicep look to him. In head to head, body to body competition with, say, naked Canadian freestyle skier Kyle Nissen, I’d have to give the edge to Louie delivering some acrobatic arial assaults that lay poor Kyle out cold. Then, of course, Louie would do an air guitar routine to celebrate, with his knee pinning the Canadian’s chest.
Silver medal ice dancer Charlie White has a seductive, sexy hunk babyface air about him here. Can’t you just picture him climbing through the ropes with his naive “good will win out” grin on his face as he pumps his fist, mugging for the crowd? How much more delightful it would be to see Canadian Warren Shouldice dive through the ropes and destroy the blond hero in complete humiliation. Warren’s over the knee backbreaker would set a fine table for a smorgasbord of torso punishment on the suffering babyface. Canadians would definitely claim a gold, bringing the medal count to 2-1 for the Americans.
Cross country skier Andy Newell also has a babyface hero look about him, which is ominous to see for those rooting for the Americans in this competition. Andy’s body looks lickable and good for light reading. He must have impressively sized balls to explain his showing off his modest bicep so proudly. I think Andy would put up an impressive fight against Canadian freestyle skier, Ryan Blais. In fact, I think this would be a close fought battle that would grow progressively nastier as babyface heroes get increasingly frustrated and decide to take short cuts that bend the rules. In the end, though, I’m picturing Andy dazed and disoriented following a series of a half dozen snap suplexes, allowing Ryan to hook the leg, get the 3 count, and then spit in Andy’s stunned face. Who knew the Canadians could get so fierce and nasty? Apparently making the medal count even at 2-2 is driving the boys from the North to new lows.
Oh my. Talk about babyfaces. 19 year old American speed skater, JR Celski looks like a lamb heading the slaughter here. Sadly, this pic is prior to JR’s fantastic pec ink that he put on display after a race in Vancouver recently, but still, it’s provocative to see the young stud looking like he’s about to jump right out of those jeans. Unfortunately for eager-beaver JR, if he were to find himself in the ring with Canadian speed skater, Francois-Olivier Roberge, he’d be nothing but a plaything for the Canadian. This would have the crowd aching for Francois-Olivier to put the kid out of his misery, but the Canadian would be sadistically prolonging the humiliation by yanking JR up by the hair repeatedly on the 2 counts. I think the Canadian would finally and decisively deliver the message that Canada is in it to win it with a bouncing, smiling torture rack. Canada would be up 3-2.

The final hope for the Americans to keep this respectable would rest in the hands of figure skater Evan Lysacek. I have to admit, I was a little surprised at just how hot Even looks here, including the provocative lightening tattoo pointing to his moneymaker. As evidenced by Evan’s gold medal performance in Vancouver, he is one cool cat when under pressure. Face to face with young Canadian speed skater Denny Morrison, I’m picturing Evan launching a highly scientific breakdown of the Canadian with patience and precision. Babyface Denny would be struggling to keep up, but Evan would stay one step ahead of him, concentrating on high impact moves to the lower back to leave young Denny writhing in pain and helpless to defend himself. All the momentum would be swinging Evan’s way, as he schoolboy pinned struggling Denny to his back in the center of the ring. Denny would struggle to pull his shoulders free, but the ref would count: 1… 2…. But just as overconfident Evan pumped out a double bicep to seal the deal, Denny would hook his gargantuan legs under Evan’s shoulders, flipping the American to his back and leveraging his superhuman quads to pin Evan’s back to the canvas for a shocking 3 count.

Whew! This is the competition I’ve been waiting for! The Americans fielded a fantastic team, but the Canadian’s managed to come out on top in 4 decisive victories. Go Canada!

Missing a Ball Gag

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There probably isn’t a lot that hasn’t already been said about Joe Rogan’s “documentary” about the stalker who always watches him change after jiu-jitsu training. There’s probably even less that actually needs to be said. Still, I feel compelled to take note of a few points:

1. Joe Rogan is a sizzling hot hunk of man… until he opens his mouth. Generally I don’t get into such things, but a ball gag would transform Joe (back) into the worship-worthy muscle god that he was before he talked. The fantastic tat, the smoking hard body, the jiu-jitsu… then he talks. It’s like an angel food cake that’s been iced with pickle relish. Something so right gone terribly, terribly wrong.
2. Joe is way, way into being stalked. From the intro to this video, I thought Joe and his buddies were planning a homophobia-fueled, locker room beat down on Joe’s admirer. As it turns out, Joe gives a running monologue that includes his explicit permission to ogle him as long as the stalker doesn’t touch him. “You know what,” Joe confesses, “I don’t give a fuck… you don’t touch it, don’t go crazy with it… You got your own shit, dude. Everybody’s got their own kink. You got yours. I got mine.” Sounds good to me. I’m definitely checking out Joe’s dick, balls, and ass the first opportunity I get.
3. Joe refers to his cock as his “hog.” (See #1, above).

4. I’d really like to know what Joe’s aforementioned kink is… and does it involve a ball gag?

Prometheus Bound

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What is the relationship between a homoerotic wrestling kink and bondage? Is the wrestling kinkster a subset of S&M bondage kink? Are they kissing (punching) cousins? Is it all the same, just packaged differently?
Like Prometheus bound or St. Sebastian, the image of a muscled hunk suffering in restraints is essentially homo-provocative, I think. Power captured, virility claimed, challenger conquered… the bound hardbody certainly tells a story that rings true (and rings my bell) to what gets me so hot and bothered about wrestling. The virile, arrogant young hot shot with all the confidence in the world in his powerful muscles and determination to be victorious is highly eroticized for me at the point that he is restrained, made vulnerable, and suffering in the humiliating realization that he has been bested.
The bound hunk shows up regularly in homoerotic wrestling. Is Paul Perris, with his arms bound at his sides in a rope and suffering the sadistic whims of Bart Tyler, essentially the same provocation that makes me hard at seeing Paul Perris body scissored, writhing and immobilized in pain? The wrestling hold is, after all, simply another means of binding a hot hunk in sweet vulnerability.
Still, I’m not so sure it’s all the same thing, at least not to me. Some days I’m hot for a hunk tied up like a rack of lamb, but somedays I’m not. My tastes for bondage with ropes, chains, shoelaces (etc., etc., etc.) are inconsistent. Justin Pierce finding himself literally tied in knots with the boxing tape that was moments ago wrapped protectively around his wrist is not always the scene that I keep rewinding over and over again to see until I’m driven irresistibly to climax. Sometimes it is, but not all the time.
But Brad Rochelle sobbing in pain cracked backward across any opponent’s knee is always, always, always instantly gratifying to me. The humiliation of Brad taped into the corner of the ring, hanging in unconscious humiliation between beatings is a sweet sight, but seeing the Enforcer tie him up with nothing more than Brad’s own arms twisted around his own neck like a Christmas bow is, without fail, guaranteed to make me salivate.
Affectively, then, the hunk bound and the hunk wrestle-bashed is not necessarily the same (again, at least for me). The elements are almost identical: the battler suffering, paralyzed, captured, and claimed. But the means of achieving his vulnerability seems to make a difference. Mr. Perpetual Erection, Dino Serra, is always in need of a severe spanking. Admittedly, suspended from the ceiling certainly displays his most impressive muscle more vividly than almost any other means of his destruction. Frequently, watching him be bound, stripped, and have his cock and balls worked over with sadistic glee is entirely filling: check please! But it isn’t as invariable as watching Dino’s erection get slapped around as he’s squeezed between the thighs of his grinning opponent.

Of course, sometimes the bondage with other than human restraints and the wrestling domination is indistinguishable. When Brooklyn Bodwrecker and Shane McCall tape Brian Powers into the corner, and then proceed to drive Brian’s partner, Liam Ryan, inverted and crushed against him… well, where does the bondage begin and the wrestling humiliation end? For that matter, where does BBW begin and Shane McCall end? The scenario of immobilizing capture and sadistic humiliation is complex, creative, and frankly an impressive feat of physics and human ingenuity.

Perhaps it doesn’t really matter. If we just follow the lead of our cocks, I suppose like any form of art, we’ll know what tweaks our kink when we see it. Still, it all makes me wonder what is the essence of the wrestling kink that gives me (and so many of you) so much pleasure. Not all bondage does it for me, by any means. Even the bondage that does it for me a lot of the time doesn’t always do it for me. But wrestling hardbodies telling the story of cocky competition to decide who’s on top and who’s destined to suffer the humiliating defeat at the hands of the better man… these are always what gets my blood pumping in all the right directions.

More Olympic Spirit

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So I don’t actually know what the magazine Chatelaine is suppose to be about, but it’s my new favorite publication in the world. You do not have to be a Canadian woman to eat up what they’re serving with their expose’ of naked Canadian winter Olympic hunks. Until I can find a similar treasure trove for other nations, Canada officially is fielding my very favorite winter Olympic team of athletes. Take freestyle skier Warren Shouldice shown above… better yet, leave him all for me.
Another Candian freestyle skier, Ryan Blais, is sporting that “oh-you-caught-me-in-my-underwear-and-ski-boots” pose. It turns out, Ryan didn’t make the Canadian team, despite kicking major freestyle skier ass (speaking of, I think Ryan’s got a fantastically muscled one). I would be willing to offer my consolation and sympathy in whatever form Ryan would like. But the ski boots are not coming to bed.
Rob Fagan of snowboard cross is made for the ring, if you ask me. Those pecs need some serious pounding, and that mop of hair is asking to get yanked as he’s dragged from turnbuckle to turnbuckle.
Kyle Nissen, seen here strategically placed behind his freestyle skis, looks to me like he’s got attitude… and that he doesn’t manscape too much. Both of those are hot qualities in a winter Olympian, if you ask me. Put down the skis, Kyle, and remove the gloves.

Finally, long-track speed skater, Francois-Olivier Roberge illustrates why speed skaters make me so delirious. Sadly, Francois-Olivier’s legs are cut off in this pic, but the thickness of his right quad and the shape of that left glute are hinting at the world class wonders of a speed skater’s anatomy that bring me such joy.

Only 7 days to go of obsessing about the best bodies that winter sports has to offer. Go team Canada (naked)!

In the Eye of the Beholder

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A couple of weeks ago, someone was talking about the diversity of bodies and talents in the BG East stable at the BGE yahoo group. It seems every so often, we fans can get catty and hypercritical in our assessment of the homoerotic wrestling boys. Someone made a generous counterpoint, saying that even the boys that don’t have “the best bodies” offer something tasty to wrestling. Among the list of classic twinks with perhaps less than perfect bodies, Rafe Sanchez was mentioned.
Huh? I had to re-read the sentence several times. The proposition was that Rafe Sanchez is someone who doesn’t have the best of bodies, but we love him for his other talents. What the….?
The conversation reminded me how subjective beauty is. I, for one, find Rafe’s body simply stunning. Rafe, for another, is also clearly enraptured by the sight of his own physique. He routinely requires his opponents to worship him, which, in turn, makes me adore him even more.
I get it, that Rafe’s not exactly a bodybuilder. He’s not as thickly muscled as, say, Rio Garza. He’s not as sincere as, say, Mitch Colby (the champion homoerotic wrestling pornboy of my heart). He doesn’t have the wrestling chops of Kid Vicious, or the pendulous balls of Josh Goodman.
But I would certainly not meet this fine, fine body at a bar and think to myself, “Well, he doesn’t exactly have the best body.” Rafe is a tasty, tasty treat. He oozes sex. I can smell his intoxicating pheromones emanating off the screen. His ass is imminently squeezable. His pecs are clawable. His abs are evidence of some healthy workouts and a seriously high metabolism. When he sneers arrogantly, it drives me nuts with an impulse to grab him roughly by his shaved head and clamp my mouth onto his. And he’s in love (love, love, love) with his beautiful, long cock that stands at perfect attention; and loving yourself is an aphrodisiac if you ask me.

Not to ruin the suspense for anyone, but I for one am more than happy to see a familiar whipcord-tight, fantastically stubbly chested hardbody in the newest update on BG East, in Masked Mayhem 6. That body in a masked, erotic, competitive battle in the ring is golden.
Thankfully, diversity is the spice of life. Perhaps the hardbodies that turn your crank might leave me limp. I don’t begrudge anyone who would take a pass on pounding Rafe. But as for me, he’s an instant erection, never disappointing, and someone I wouldn’t be able to tear my eyes away from in any setting.

The Next Chapter

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Have you checked out Joe’s new writing group via Ringside at Skull Island? It’s just a week old, and already fun, interactive, and yanking hard on my wrestling kink chain. The rolling question for February is what celebrity do you want to see get his ass kicked, and who should do the kicking. I put in a plug for Sean Faris to get beaten senseless by either Brad Pitt or Fergal Devitt, whichever of them finishing off with their beautifully muscled asses planted on Sean’s face. Joe helpfully suggested a nice double-team scenario to enable both of them to make Sean suffer and get themselves off at the same time.

I’m seriously into Joe’s 15-minute free for all format. He’s started a celebrity wrestling story with Paul Walker strutting arrogantly to the ring. Contributors can then submit the next move of the match, each of us taking no more than 15 minutes to write what happens next. In all, three of us have contributed to what has become a seriously nasty bout with Italian heartthrob, Raoul Bova.
I haven’t discovered yet why these two are so fired up to fuck each other up, but clearly there’s something going on here. Paul didn’t let the Italian Stallion finish climbing through the ropes before launching a blindside attack on the hirsute stud (my contribution).
In a classic match up of blond, bronzed, blue-eyed surferboy vs. smoldering, dark, hairy hothead Italian, Paul and Raoul have traded crotch blows, headlocks, DDTs, eye gouges and bearhugs.
Hard feelings and hard cocks are growing quickly as the match unfolds. Promises are being made to mess up at least one of the pretty-boy faces in the ring. This is classic golden boy meets tall dark and handsome, with a side of sadistic sexual overtones. I can smell the sweat flying off of both of these hunks, I swear.
Where will the match go next? Who will ultimately emerge victorious, and how will he decisively humiliate his opponent and claim his prize? Sign on, read up, and write your next chapter in this wrestling kinkster’s dream. See you there.

More Olympic Spirit

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A few more provocative reflections on the winter Olympics. Apparently U.S. bronze medalist snowboarder Scotty Lago has left Vancouver “in disgrace” after these photos surfaced on TMZ. I’m a little unclear as to the melodrama of his shameful retreat. Are we seriously to believe that winning an Olympic medal is not getting most of these honored athletes laid? This photo only shows some playful, simulated oral sex. I would bet a lot of money that there are many, many more world class athletes getting blow jobs for packing some fresh metal on a ribbon these days. This should be a disgrace? And look at the abs and torso tat on Scotty! Does anyone believe that this hot young hunk wasn’t before, during, and after the Olympics enjoying groupies willing to worship that tight little body? Oy.

From It’sABeautifulLife and Chatelaine, I’ve also found some nice pics of Canadian winter Olympians looking quite studly and more than a bit suggestively posed . Biathlete Jean Phillippe Le Guellec is spread wide and straddling his long pole.
Similarly, freestyle skier Vincent Marquis is double fisting his pole. Now this is a world class body! I do love a curly head of hair to drag hardbody hunk around the ring with.
Put Vincent in the ring with Steve Omischl, another freestyler, and we have the makings of pure gold for all parties, if you ask me.
Ski jumper Stefan Read has abs made for pounding! I’m desperate for a jockstrap matchup between Stefan and “disgraced” Scotty Lago. Now this is what I’m talking about the winter Olympics needs more of!

A Little Closer

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I keep myself at arm’s length from mainstream pro wrestling these days. Too much homophobia; uninteresting stories; plasticized bodies. Mainstream also frequently leaves me with a need to pop in explicitly homoerotic wrestling to write a happy ending to the story. So why waste time with the middle man? The clever minds at BG East understand the potential of cross-promotion, though. They dangle teasers from New Pro Wrestling in the BG East updates to tempt me back to consume some more mainstream pro products. The latest Arena update at BGE nearly gave me whiplash. I scrolled through the teaser pics from New Pro 8 not expecting much to hold my interest. But then I got a look at Flyguy.

Sweet. The sight of this gorgeous bodybuilder absolutely destroying his much smaller boy-next-door babyface opponent immediately puts me at full attention. His tattoo doesn’t hurt his appeal for me, either. His jewelry looks like a serious hazard in the ring… I’m surprised the insurance company would allow something like that.
The description of this match at New Pro doesn’t quite name this as a squash, but I have to believe that’s what this is. Per my comments earlier this week on what works about a squash for me, Flyguy’s work throwing Wildfire around like a child puts me way over the top. From the preview pics and video, it appears that Flyguy has his totally dominating, sadistic way with his plaything.
While I don’t quite buy the end of this match, I give total credit to any man with Flyguy’s physique who can pull this off. In the ropes, suspended upside down, bodyscissors intending to apply maximum pressure on torquing the boy’s back in the wrong direction… it looks like Flyguy commits to this, and I appreciate it. I don’t buy this as the match finisher. The illegality of it makes the submission a little nonsensical. But for showmanship and sell, it makes me smile.
I still feel the need to keep mainstream pro at arm’s length. The Wal-Mart-ization of pro wrestling still leaves me longing for a more regionally based industry, with better skills and more wholehearted performances. New Pro 8 makes me want to pull Flyguy a little closer than arm’s length though. Perhaps trading bearhugs…
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Battle of the Gods, finale

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Despite what you may have heard, I’m not delusional. It’s not just a figment of my imagination that Adam400m and SteelMuscleGod are engaged in mouthwatering muscle competition. After both bodybeautifuls have been absent new posts for many weeks, on Monday SMG posts a fantastic new, snarling, flexing, bouncing, shirt ripping, open challenge to all comers to measure up or shut up and worship him like the god he is.

Then, less than a day later, Adam400m shows up out of nowhere to show off the freakishly superhuman vascularity in his forearm. It’s as if he just couldn’t stand letting SMG have the most recent video out, so he tossed a 15 second bone to remind everyone that he’s worship worthy and ready to be sized up.
In late December, the same scenario played out, with Adam400m posting just two days after SMG. Three weeks earlier, SMG posted a cum worthy display of cockiness, followed less than a day later by Adam400m showing a new clip of his monster quad workout. It’s not just my imagination. These muscleboys are in a battle of the gods, vying for worshippers and snapping and snarling at one another implicitly.
Speaking of my imagination, last I filled in the story of this battle of the gods, SMG had managed an astonishing reversal. Crushing Adam into the wall, SMG was leaning over and verbally humiliating his dazed rival slumped defenseless on the floor.
“You’re a big boy, but you’re no god,” SMG spits. Dragging Adam up to a seated position by a handful of hair, SMG wraps his right arm around Adam’s head and slowly curls Adam’s face tighter and tighter against his flexing pec. “Look at that muscle…” SMG growls, clearly in lust with his own physique. “Look at it!” he suddenly shouts, commanding Adam to open his eyes. Adam’s eyes flash open obediently, finding his nose being crushed against the rock hard slab of muscle of SMG’s right pec. The scent of SMG’s sweat, testosterone and adrenaline fill Adam’s nostrils. SMG pumps his right arm, grinding Adam’s face deeper into his smothering chest. “I think you’re ready,” SMG says after Adam passively suffers his humiliation without protest for a full minute. ” Grabbing the back of Adam’s head in both hands, SMG position’s Adam’s mouth directly on top of his right nipple. “Suck the tit of your new god, mortal!” SMG barks. “Lick it, now!”

Adam no longer realizes where or when he is. He’s disoriented and exhausted. Without conscious will on his own part, he finds himself automatically obeying his opponent. He plants his lips around the perimeter of SMG’s nipple and traces its circumference with his tongue. Adam savors the salty flesh in his mouth, beginning to suck, massaging the tip of his god’s nipple with his eager tongue. Adoringly, he wraps his arms around SMG’s waist and presses his face harder against SMG’s chest, abandoning his claim to believe himself a worthy rival any longer.

A low, animal-like groan come deep in SMG’s throat. He smiles down at his obedient worshipper, before his eyes wander adoringly across the mounds of muscle of his own body.