Author: wrestlebard

I'm a gay man with an active imagination.

In the Mean Time

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I have a major project due today, and it’s sucking up all my creative juices (which sounds much hotter than it really is). Never one to want to leave you hanging, I’ve pulled together some pics of a model crush, Andrew Stetson.

A reader drew my attention to Andrew, based on my going on and on about hot bodies with tattoos. Andrew has both, and I was instantly smitten with him. The sight of Andrew toweling off, bare-assed in the bathtub, can get me up and eager any morning.
He’s quickly become the basis for a fictional character in my wrestling world. I’ve written him as smart, smooth, and cunning with a penchant for both inflicting humiliating suffering and getting the shit kicked out of him, depending on the context.
Of the many things I like about Andrew, the repeated pics of him tugging at his underwear is certainly one of them. The clear outline of his cock underneath his tighty whities doesn’t leave much to the imagination, which frees me to deploy my imagination elsewhere, such as devising scenes of Andrew helpless in someone’s over-the-knee backbreakers, his underwear hooked underneath his balls and that handful of pleasure squeezed tight in his opponent’s fist, just for humiliating kicks. Andrew stripped bare, beaten senseless, and splayed out vulnerably on the floor is quite an inspiring image for a wrestling kinkster like me.
Andrew is one of the most frequent characters to show up in my wrestling fiction fantasies to date, and he’s part of a story line that includes at least two more scenes to come pitting his tattooed gorgeousness against two other hardbody hunks. Once my current project is put to bed, I’ll enjoy an opportunity to finish up some matches I’ve been toiling away on for a couple of weeks now. Wish me luck! If all goes well, Andrew and his stunning blue eyes will have my full attention once again.

Another Side of Wrestling

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I can’t attest to really anything about JuicyLads.com other than the previews and non-member site. It appears to be, primarily, a jack-off site with a lot of straight British boys pleasuring themselves or having help from a woman. Trying to capitalize on our little corner of the gay porn kink world, they have previews of two wrestling matches out.

Apparent headliner, Britboy aka Steve, looks familiar to me. I’m thinking I’ve seen him, perhaps as one of the endless line of go-go boys featured by Chris Geary. When I have time I will likely dig some more to see if I can find him elsewhere. He’s stunning, and he’s featured in the two wrestling matches available for preview. He’s hotter by a factor of 20 with a hairy torso than smooth, but I’ll take what I can get.
The clip from his tussle against a tattooed boy in the briefest of speedos looks entertaining. I get the impression we’re watching two testosterone-charged pretty boys genuinely testing their muscles, speed and endurance against one another. Some occasional gimmicks pop up, like a little less than convincing test of strength, and the final victory pose is transparently scripted. Other than that, some nice grunting, tossing, and dominating.
The setting is a little reminiscent of BG East’s early Private Bouts rompus room. Very little geography to work with, and some exercise equipment must be carefully avoided. I’d generally give it a weak score for set up, except that this sort of tells a hot story. These are two muscle studs at the gym late one night, clearing away the equipment, laying down some mats, and stripping to their speedos to see who can come out on top.
Although Britboy is the headliner and muscle face, the boy in green wins me over (as he does Britboy). At first, his haircut is distracting me. He looks like he just rolled out of bed and took some scissors haphazardly to his own head. But once he mounts Britboy and handily controls the muscle stud underneath him, I find myself warming up to him. Once he climbs on top to snarl and growl while flexing out a double bicep victory pose post-match, I definitely want to see more of him owning Britboy. The rest of the products at JuicyLads don’t really speak to me (straight guys jerking or getting sucked by women just doesn’t do it). So I don’t imagine this wrestling as a side dish is enough to get me to pull out my credit card. But the side of wrestling is tantalizing, and I’ll keep my eye on the menu in the future.

Pecs in the News

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My “thing” for hunky newsmen is well-established. Just last week, I was going on and on about my nomination of Anderson Cooper to be a new gay superhero. A couple of days ago, Towleroad pointed me toward a snarky piece by the NY Times fashion writer, bemoaning the “Anderson Cooper effect” of newsmen dressing casually, and particularly in tight t-shirts in order to show off their buff physiques. Apparently, we are to believe that this is a tragedy. Apparently the good old days were better, when any old white guy with jowls and elbow patches on his sport coat could be trusted to speak with the voice of authority. I assume the NY Times fashion writer must have in mind those same good old days when people of color and women were entirely absent from the news media and the only images of gay people to be found on camera were pencil mustached sissies with bows in their hair.

Anyway, I was initially feeling a little defensive of my gay superhero, Anderson. Sure, he can take care of himself. I have no doubt Anderson could put that “buff physique” to good use cracking the NY Times fashion writer like a walnut with those awesome biceps (I’d buy a ticket to that show). But on reading the article in question, the reporter also calls out a new face/body I’d not noticed before.
Jason Carroll is officially my newest newsman crush. And speaking of crush, just imagine those guns wrapped around you in a bearhug. I realize that I’m playing into the argument of the NY Times article, that the news is more about entertainment and sex than news (has someone been reading my wrestling fiction!?). But short of a time machine back to the 1950’s, the days of the valiant (old white) newsman with a paunch and horned-rimmed glasses are over, and I’m pretty okay with that. Until there’s a revolution overthrowing the global capitalist hegemony and tearing down the culture of the commodification of everything, I say bring on the buff boys of CNN!

To ever (ever, ever, ever) put Jason in a sport coat and tie would be ridiculous. It’s like those expensive sports cars parked on the street with the ugly canvas draped over top of them. If you’re going to leave something beautiful out in public, show it off, for God’s sake! To be honest, at first glance, I think Jason looks just a little bit too tweezed for my tastes.
But then he flexes those softballs on his upper arms and suddenly I can find absolutely nothing at all wrong with this man. Look at those bulging shoulders and pecs (as if you could tear your eyes away from them)! He’s pretty smooth on camera. I totally buy the assessment that he looks like he just pumped out 20 push ups and his taking every opportunity to flex his fantastically vascular guns. And frankly, I prefer my horrific world news delivered this way.
Jason Carroll is now on my radar and starring in my imaginative fantasies. He clearly doesn’t have the news credibility and polish of Anderson, but I think if Anderson were willing to take on a sidekick, they’d make an unbeatable superduo. The bitter queens will likely continue to misdirect their self-hatred toward Jason’s gorgeousness, but I for one am picturing some nasty muscle domination and humiliation that only two sadistic gym bunnies could deliver. I have a strong suspicion that there will be a new tag team wrestling match in the Newsmen division in the near future.

What the Hell?

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What the hell is Starz? Oh, wait… I actually have a subscription package that includes that cable channel! Who knew? Now that Superherofan has pointed out for me that there’s a new series on Starz called Spartacus: Blood and Sand, headlining lots of muscleboy gladiator nakedness, I know!
Who the hell is Andy Whitfield? From the looks of things, he’s the man of my dreams (who knew?)! His casting credits are seriously thin, but I’m ready to promise to buy every ticket to every movie he makes from now on (particularly if he shows his beautiful bare ass).

Who knew that the first century Roman slaves had asses as smooth as… well, as smooth as babies’ bottoms?! That is one shapely set of glutes, and the tan line is fantastic. For the love of God, someone has got to reach out and squeeze two handfuls of that for me! I do note that Andy’s Spartacus appears to have a shaggy, nasty head of hair and beard, but otherwise his body hair appears remarkably well-groomed, perhaps even overly so for some tastes.

I haven’t found the channel among the rats nest of unused cable channels that they force me to buy in order to get my Dexter/True Blood/Tudors fixes. But from what Superherofan reports and what the Starz website promotes, there’s an abundance of hunky male nudity, bondage, fights and sex. Is Spartacus the new fix I need to tide me over until the last season of The Tudor’s hits the air? Who knows?
With stunningly hot Andy Whitfield naked, beaten, bare-assed and bound, I for one am ready to find out!

More Olympic Spirit

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I feel the fever. The winter Olympics in Vancouver are less than three weeks away. Hot, hard toned, world class athletes will soon assemble in one critical mass of muscled gorgeousness. I’m already feeling the winter chill thawing (in my pants). Beautiful bodies can’t help but sprout when determined young men train for world class performance.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m unfortunately not in the know when it comes to winter sports. So many of the cold weather activities require so much bundling up, I simply have no idea who’s a hardbody muscle stud worthy of worship underneath all the gear. If only more ice gods would take their cues from now-retired skier Jeremy Bloom and show off more fantastic skin (or Dutch speed skater Jan Bos at the top of the post today).
Thank God for Mats Roger Jensen, the Norwegian speed skater who strips to his underwear to show off his freakishly massive thighs. Sweet mother, I’d give a body part to feel that power squeezing me. I’d pay money to see it squeeze someone else. If you know Mats personally, please pass along the offer. I haven’t yet really started to “follow” speed skating, but I’ve never seen a race that hasn’t turned me on, particularly when I’m in one of my legs-fetish moods.
An helpful and knowledgeable reader passed along to me the recommendation to check out Henrik Lundqvist, the Swedish hockey goalie. The procession of objects of lust that Sweden produces is seriously mind-boggling. I think the idea of covering up Henrik’s sweet body with all that hockey goalie gear is criminal (at least a misdemeanor).
I’m looking for some more tips on who to lust after in Vancouver. My internet searches are pretty awful on the subject. As someone who isn’t a devotee, I’m not even certain who’s made their respective teams. Beautiful young American speed skater, Trevor Marsicano, looks like he’s got the legs to trade scissors with Mats. Yes, this is the third speed skater I’ve mentioned, suggesting that I’m particularly enthralled with massively muscled thighs these days. Speed skater muscle butts are also nearly unbeatable (though I’d like to give that a try).
Evan Lysacek has the idea. When you’re not covered from neck to toe in spandex (which has it’s own pleasures), unbutton your shirt and show off the toned torso. Watching figure skating, as sport, doesn’t get my competitive blood pumping. Seeing some hardbodies in spandex that hugs the curves of their tight butts does, on the other hand, get blood pumping, at least locally.

I know many of you out there are up on winter sports hunks, so through me a bone. Particularly those of you in Nordic countries that actually track these sports with enthusiasm, fill me in on who should be catching my eye and sparking my imagination in Vancouver in a few weeks.

Alpha Dogs

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I’m venturing into a highly controversial topic today, I realize. I fully expect the hating to begin the moment after many of you read this. But it’s on my mind, and I simply have to name it.
A beautiful man who loves his dog is incredibly hot. A hunk with other animals simply doesn’t do it for me. George Clooney and a pot-bellied pig is more creepy than sexy to me. And don’t get me started on cats. But a gorgeous man with a dog gets his sexy-quotient (SQ) multiplied by at least 10. If he’s shirtless as he’s walking his dog, like Orlando Bloom here, his SQ is multiplied by 20. If it’s a terrier, I have to adjust myself.
The dog-factor in the SQ is pretty indiscriminate. Just love a dog, and a hunk get’s an SQ boost. But some hunks are seriously into their dogs. David Duchovny, the voice of Pedigree, takes pet companionship extremely seriously. He can be bundled up in his puffy coat and skull cap, but seeing him patiently walking his dog down the sidewalk makes him as irresistible as if he was naked. I know he’s a recovering sex-addict, but I’ve got to admit I’d throw that in a restroom stall and loiter till I’m exhausted (not that I ever do that…).
Justin Theroux, who is far, far more talented and beautiful than his credits would suggest, is a dog advocate and hardbody hunk who makes me sit up and bark. He’s already appeared in my wrestling fantasies, but with his dog stretched across his lap, I’m feeling desperate for some obedience training. My fantasy wrestling match between Justin and Michael C. Hall is one of my favorites for the overlap of wrestling, body worship, and the fight for dominance.
Some gorgeous men hardly need the extra push to put them over the lust-line. As if Hugh Jackman could get any more desirable, his family dog clutched under one arm makes me swoon. In my wrestling fiction, I’ve featured Hugh getting ripped apart by Daniel Craig, but finding no evidence that Daniel is a dog-guy, I’m thinking Hugh could have an edge in a rematch. Any man who’s had to learn how to be alpha dog in his own home has to have an edge in a fight over one who hasn’t learned the art of canine dominance training.


Some hunks are definitely pushed across the line of lustworthiness for me by knowing that a dog loves them. I go back and forth with Zachary Quinto. Some days, his round, round ass and long lean body make me pant. Some days, not so much. These days, knowing that he walks his Irish Wolfhound in flip flops, and I’m entirely in the fan category. He’s simply got to make an appearance in my wrestling fiction soon. Not that he’ll necessarily win, but win or lose, he’s the stuff of my fantasies.

Jake Gyllenhaal, Justin Timberlake… the list goes on and on. Not every hunk of my dreams is a dog person. But those that are dog lovers turn me on even more than they otherwise would. To have a dog in your life suggests to me a maturity, a patience, and a deep understanding of what it means to have to prove your dominance by putting someone else on their back until they submit. And that is what it’s all about.

Welcoming the Surprise Guest

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I’m still a little flush from the muscle competition at Bodybuilding.com yesterday. The image in my mind of James bent over Eightpak’s knee, his trunks wedged high up his crack, and Eightpak spanking his athlete’s cheeks is still seared into my brain. What an image like that does to me brings me to today’s musings: uses for a wrestling hard-on.

For me, the hard-on opens up a whole smorgasbord of opportunities. A sweet, hard fought battle is arousing enough to witness, but the appearance of hard-ons indicates that observer and observed are on the same page in recognizing that wrestling is about sexual domination. Competing companies handle the hard-on differently (so to speak) it seems to me, so for today I want to just consider BG East’s treatment of the wrestler’s erection.
What to do with the hard-on once it graces us with its presence… Jarrett Cole and Jake Omega take time to simply welcome each other’s hard-ons with gentle, appreciative awe. They take turns stroking each other’s hard-ons from outside their trunks. Jarrett’s index finger tracing the heft of Jake’s hard-on suggests a literal, comparative measuring of one another’s manhood. I also have to imagine Jarrett’s mind is already ticking off the things he’s planning on doing with Jake’s impressive tool.
I’m not sure who this cheerful stud is from BG East’s roster, but he shows another approach to the appearance of his opponent’s sizeable erection. He simply grabs the thick shaft and gives it a tug. Frankly, clawing his balls would probably inflict considerably more pain, but when hard-ons arrive on the scene, wrestling isn’t entirely just about strategic advantage. The hard-on begs for being touched, grabbed, held and squeezed, letting your opponent know that his arousal is noted and will be dealt with directly.
Here we see Gabriel’s defensive grab of Mike Martin’s cock. Stripped, hammerlocked and choked, Gabriel feels Mike’s hard-on knocking at the door of Gabriel’s naked ass. With remarkable presence of mind, Gabriel uses his free hand to squeeze inside Mike’s trunks and grab hold of his knocker. Knowing Gabriel’s work, we must wonder whether this is actually defensive, though. He very well may have in mind enhancing Mike’s pleasure in order to better facilitate showing him the hospitality of welcoming him across the threshold.
Jarret Cole’s approach here deserves a second look. He has his opponent beaten down on his stomach in the center of the ring. This pleases Jarret, obviously. Unpacking his own hard-on, Jarret slides it inside the back of his opponent’s trunks, capitalizing on both the friction of the fabric and the frottage to feed his hungry python.
And speaking of feeding, for those of us orally fixated, the erection demands special attention. Here, Dark Rogers, one of the princes of the aroused altercation, cracks his light-headed opponent backward across his knee. Seeing the kid’s pleasure inches away from Dark’s mouth, Dark applies some mutually gratifying mouth and teeth action. Now this is the proper way to capitalize on an over the knee backbreaker!
Perhaps the most common scenario is illustrated here by one of the men of my dreams, Rafe Sanchez. Rafe’s own hard-on is screaming out at him for servicing. His command of Sebastian Rios has engorged Rafe’s insatiable member. Conveniently enough, he finds Sebastian’s face trapped, inches away from his throbbing cock. Grabbing a handful of hair in his right hand and cupping the back of Sebastian’s head in his left, Rafe rubs his opponent’s head humiliatingly into his erection. The force feed, both inside and outside of trunks, epitomizes the rewards of victory.
What’s still missing? In the interest of modesty, I’ve left out the pics of hard-ons put to good use in pec frottage. Most of the rest are variations on the theme: hand to cock, cock to face, cock to ass… One technique that I wasn’t able to put my hands on was the bodyscissors transition to capturing the suffering man’s erection between your feet. Christian Taylor is in prime position for this move here, if he just unlaced his ankles, bent his knees up further, and captured Jonah’s cock in the arches of his feet. I’m not entirely sure why that makes me see stars, but I’m a huge fan of this move on tape and in real life, both giving and receiving the joy. Of course there’s the dick slap, the figure-four force feed, the anal probe standing, seated, spooning, etc., etc., etc.
This is what makes mainstream pro inevitably inadequate, at least on its own. Straight grapplers who can’t manage to get themselves worked up are always at least a little disappointing to me. The generous welcome of the raging erection is a joy of infinite variety, to be welcomed like an esteemed guest, honored with lavish attention, and satisfied with relentless hospitality.

I ♡ JMD

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This man needs your help. No, it’s not help taking his underwear off the rest of the way (tragically). This is James Dawson Martin, a Brit boy who’s shown off his body and development of his stunning form all over the internet.
There we go again. I see a cleft chin and suddenly I must obey the pouty lipped muscle god attached to it. James released this YouTube video a couple of days ago… sort of (I think he just recycled another video). He’s calling for fans to vote for him to be the 2010 BodySpace spokesmodel.

Holy… shit. I apologize for offending the delicate sensibilities of so many of you, but I can’t think of anything else to say when I start talking about James’ body. I’m a vascularity junkie, as you probably have picked up. To this junkie, James’ legs are straight up crack. Oiled up, pumped up, and legs spread… must obey James… must vote for James… James is my master…
Okay, I’m on board, and I’ve elected myself the homerotic wrestling kink chairperson of the James Dawson Martin campaign for the 2010 BodySpace spokesmodel title. A few hundred unique visitors check out this blog daily, so I’m thinking if each of us vote for James and also recruit three people to join us, the gay wrestling kink caucus can generate a couple thousand votes for him easily. So put on your “I ♡JDM” buttons, and go to Bodybuilding.com today! It has to be today, because voting is open for only 24 hours. This is not the time to be fashionably late, boys. James needs us between 9:00 am Pacific Standard Time on Friday and 9:00 am PST on Saturday to vote for him. It took me a while to scroll through the mere mortals competing against him (“Envied Body,” indeed?), but you’ll find him listed as “Jammer Jay.” James hasn’t yet won a previous round of voting, which is atrocious. He could crush eman88mph like a grape with his 17.2″ arms and 44″ chest. Did I mention he’s 6’3″ tall? Holy shit (oh wait, I already said that).
James has his own website. Not surprisingly, you need to pay to see much of the goods. You can find him on YouTube working out and loving the camera. But the key is that today, Friday January 21, 2010, James needs you to find him on Bodyspace.com, in order for him to be able to rise above the dross and shine like the gold plated muscle god he clearly is. This muscle god needs you. I’m thinking if we put him over the top, he owes us a throw down in the ring with my current champion homoerotic wrestler.

Potpourri

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I have a few odds and ends to share today. First, I’m ripping off a great idea from superherofan. He keeps a running pic in the margins of his “current #1 crush.” Since I can never get enough of my favorite homoerotic wrestling boys, I decided to include a similar pane just to keep straight who’s the running champion of my heart. Just to remind everyone, it’s still a close competition. Gorgeous post-structuralist tattoed god of pain, Derek Da Silva, is certainly the #1 contender for the title after he lost it a couple of months ago. But just barely holding on to the homoerotic wrestling championship (in my eyes) is still beautiful Mitch Colby.

Another addition to who and what I’m tracking these days is a new find to my favorite links. PiledriveU has started his own hard-hitting blog of some of his favorite wrestling moves. What I continue to like about him is his readiness to paint himself (and you… and me) into the scene. His blog, Piledrive U, is a steamy hot challenge daring you to see if you can stand up to the devastating, humiliating abuse he has in store for you. He promises to school us over at Piledrive U. See you in class.
My final reflection for the day is born out of gratitude, yet once more, to the sharp eyes and sharp wit of 1000 Holds. As I’ve documented, Billy Jack Haynes gets at least a little credit for turning me into the gay wrestling kinkster I am today. I was an adolescent when I first saw Billy Jack climb into the ring. He was ripped to shreds, by far the most muscular wrestler I’d ever seen, and I was instantly in lust.
1000 Holds has a nice, brief Billy Jack match from what I think of as the prime of Billy Jack’s physique. Nostalgically, my favorite memories are from before he was quite this massive. When he was about five years younger, he wasn’t quite this thick and invulnerable. But honestly, the size of every muscle on his body in this match is made-to-order for the professional wrestling ring of the late 80’s and early 90’s.
The commentator is in awed lust with Billy Jack, just as I am. He’s stunned when Steve Starr throws a shoulder block “and ricocheted off that massive chest… and Billy Jack’s saying, ‘come on, fella, gimme the best you got!” The commentator marvels that Billy Jack was complaining that he hadn’t had an opportunity to work out in five days, reporting that he felt out of shape and disappointed that he could only bench press 505 pounds. “He’s as fast as a cobra, strong as an ox.” “He does it all and does it well.” The only worship missing from this commentary is a reflection on Billy Jack’s butt-slap on the ref at the end of this match (I’d like to be next in line. please!).
Watching Billy Jack dispatch Steve Starr so devastatingly and quickly takes me directly back to being a teenager, staying up after everyone else has gone to bed, adrenalin pumping in anticipation of seeing Billy Jack’s stunning body climb through the ropes. It was just Billy Jack and I, really, with the lights out, only the flicker of the television screen casting shadows around the living room. I was always rooting for him to clamp on that fullnelson that no one could escape, but secretly (I’d never have admitted it to Billy Jack), my most passionate pleasures accompanied the sight of his muscles overcome, his superhuman body tortured, and his face contorted in suffering humiliation.

Thanks, 1000holds, for the flood of happy memories.

I Need a Hero

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Did you catch Anderson Cooper rushing in to pull an injured child to safety in a violent confrontation in Haiti? Anderson is one lickably handsome man, and he’s always had a conscience to go with a healthy sense of humor. But he swoops in like a superhero to rescue injured children? Good God. How much of a good little boy can this gay man be!?

I think the world could use a fresh, new, gay superhero. Like Clark Kent, Anderson could easily be the mild-mannered, boy scout newsman who, when faced with a crisis, rips off his clothes and swoops in to save the day. Yes, ripping off his clothes really is an essential component of this scenario.

“Stunningly pale” typically is not my turn on, but Anderson wears it well. All the gossip and speculation about his personal life lends him an air of mystery. Yet, like Superman, aren’t we all left with wondering how anyone could be fooled by Anderson’s asexual, on camera alter ego? Clark Kent in a business suit and wearing glasses is hardly a convincing disguise. We can all see who you really are, Superman. Even if you’re wearing a suit and tie, we’re all picturing you in your tights (or less).
The occasional buff pics of Anderson are provocative and stimulating. Look at the guns he’s got! Pow! Now that’s the body of a superhero. When he’s finished rescuing injured Haitian children (which clearly could take a long, long time), I’m feeling in need of some rescuing myself. I’m not entirely certain what sort of rescue I need, but it will most definitely involve Anderson wrapping those arms around me and lifting me. It very well may be that SuperAnderson might discover that the entire rescue is actually a trap, and I will in fact bind him with kryptonite-laced leather straps and hang him from the ceiling like the evil sadist I am (but don’t tell him, he’d prefer it was a surprise).
And who the hell knew that Anderson had a python that massive?! Holy hell, he can’t even manage that monster with two hands! It’s so big that it requires Jeff Corwin to grab hold of the head while Anderson strokes it from the other end. Now that’s what I want to see in a gay superhero! Once he’s captured in my lair, I guarantee you I’ll be checking out his snake for myself.
In all seriousness (I think I can manage that), whatever the rumors, with whomever Anderson discloses his personal life, I think he’s a beautiful man in body and soul. It’s no wonder he throws my imagination into overdrive. He’s warranted two appearances so far in my wrestling fiction, most recently beating the living crap out of Fox News smarm-master Bill Hemmer (clearly, sometimes my writing is an avenue to work out some pent up frustrations with right-wing wingnuts). Whether he’s ready to be a goodboy gay standard bearer or not, I’m glad that he’s putting his hot gymbunny muscles to good use to protect the innocent and save the world, one earthquake victim at a time.