Author: wrestlebard

I'm a gay man with an active imagination.

Believing the Promise

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I stumbled across the MySpace page for Rock Hard Wrestling announcing an August ’09 launch of this new internet wrestling company featuring A&F looking young models with rock hard bodies and wrestling skills. Omnipresent hottie Zack Jonathan/Vazquez looks like the headliner. A couple of recent BG East wrestlers also look like they’ve signed up. Brody Hancock (who you can see as Reese Wells – naked, hard, and ball-bashed in BG East’s Ball Bash 2), must be a magician, because he has that skinny little frame, but when he flexes his biceps, out of no where, they’re huge!

Ray Martinez is also pictured for RHW (also in BG East’s just published Undagear 15 as Rio Garza, with legs for days, hot and sweaty… you know how much I love that!).

The only action I can find from RHW is this short clip of Brock squeezing out a submission from a nicely suffering Zack with a figure-four leg lock. Brock’s face looks like he’s 13 years old, but he still manages to sell the fierce victor looking with disgust at the defeated muscle-stud at his feet. And again, he lifts his (what look like) skinny little arms and pow, out pop these massive guns! Perhaps that’s his charm: he looks like an outclassed, skinny kid then – boom – out come the bulging biceps and – pow – he slaps down a vicious finisher. I’d buy that!
I can’t find much else about Rock Hard Wrestling, and August is nearly over with the rockhardwrestling.com link remaining dead. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

What Turned Me Gay (again, not really)

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It was a couple of years after Tarzan the Ape Man came out that I finally saw it. I was a teenager, and I almost couldn’t quite believe that Miles O’Keeffe was real. I thought his face wasn’t well suited to Tarzan. He looked more like a fashion model than the king of the jungle. But that body… the loin cloth… and the scene where he gets bearhugged by the African warrior… what a source of ecstasy! Seeing his nearly naked body getting tossed around like a ragdoll still makes me light-headed. Those incredibly long, muscled legs were entrancing, with the peek-a-boo loin cloth offering an occasional glimpse of bare, beautiful butt cheeks.

It wasn’t until much later I saw the Ator movies, but I was all over the Sword of the Valiant as soon as it came out. What a disappointment… the pageboy haircut and the dumbfounded look on his face throughout the movie was pretty much the opposite of sexy. However, the scene of Miles shirtless, tortured on the rack, surely sowed the seeds of my recessive S&M traits. His acting career never really took off, but those skin shots of Miles O’Keeffe from my early adolescence taught me the vivid lesson of what joy there was to be found in seeing such a strikingly beautiful male form.

Good Grooming

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My fixation on pecs is fading, but one last post on the topic that has captured my attention lately. While I don’t support cosmetic surgery, implants, or other artificial means to enforce only one standard of beauty, I am a big supporter of good personal grooming. It doesn’t take a big effort to keep hairy chests tamed. I’m not suggesting that any hair makes for ugly pecs. In fact there are excellent examples of beautifully hairy-chested men. I’ve been contemplating a reality-TV host battle royal in my wrestling fiction, the Producer’s Ring, to pull Mike Rowe into the story. Hirsute Aussie Hugh Jackman is already a fan favorite in the Ring. My hunch is that both of these hotties groom extensively, yet maintain beautifully hairy chests.

But when all one can see is hair, it’s time to get out the trimmer. Alec Baldwin in his younger days was so handsome, but the only thing visible below the neck was that carpet of hair. You could lose an earring in there if you’re not careful.
Justin Theroux has a fantastic body, and different shots of him show that he sometimes shaves his chest, sometimes not. As long as it doesn’t get in the way of the view of that anatomy-chart of a body, he can do ANYTHING he’d like. Justin has made one appearance in my wrestling fiction, the Producer’s Ring, mostly as an excuse to write up some body worship.
Then again, sometimes an entirely bare chest is a little creepy. It could be that he’s naturally blond and his body hair just isn’t so visible (or he’s still waiting for puberty to finish), but Hunter Parrish’s hairless bod creeps me out just a bit. Hunter shows up as a jobber a few times in the Producer’s Ring. There’s something about him getting worked over that’s very satisfying.
Finally, I want to mention my deep appreciation of the beautiful rack on Tahmoh Penikett. I suspect his First Nation heritage might account for his minimal body hair, but from some angles, you can catch just an ever-so-light patch of hair just between his gorgeous pecs, right above his sternum. Tahmoh figured in one of the first matches I wrote up for the Producer’s Ring, and as I think he’ll be making a follow up appearance soon.

Mullets and Missing Links

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I feel like an archaeologist stumbling across the missing link. Obviously others have known about the Union of Wrestling Forces International (UWF) long before I ran across some of their matches on YouTube. But as an armchair enthusiast, I just discovered it. UWF, as far as I can tell, looks to be about two-thirds WWF, one-third Ultimate Fighter from the early 90’s. The action is fast and sweaty, with strikes and grappling, clearly scripted but with a lot of genuine contact mixed in. It looks Japanese, but at least a few of the clips I find have Russian(?) subtitles and commentating, perhaps from a rebroadcast.

The boys in this America vs. Japan tag-team match are handsome, though the Americans have mullets and a few too many Big Macs packed on, particularly compared to the long, lean Japanese competitors/performers. Gene Lydick had a face made for Hollywood, though.
I love the Russian commentator’s continual reference to the American, “Billy Squat.” The moves are damn sexy, including a barrage of “Mortal Kombat-esque” suplexes. The boys sell the product nicely, with believable ferocity and anguish playing themselves out throughout most of the match. Kudos to ALUSyraGERAI from Lithuania for popping these up for us to see. This tends to be more the style of matches I write, mixing strikes and more classical pro-wrestling. When you author fiction, though, you enjoy the privilege of getting to include backstory, sell the suffering, and not have to depend on performers to make the script come to life.

Nips (no Tucks)

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As I continue to be in the thrall of pecs, my attention is drawn to nipples. Generally, nipples aren’t particularly erotic for me. The size and shape of pecs are the point of attraction, the grab-ability, the pound-ability. Nipple-torture in gay wrestling doesn’t really send me over the moon. Nipples that have grown deformed from too much torture are a major turn-off. But despite not really turning my crank, male nipples are pretty fascinating.

Aesthetically speaking, I think that male nipples can be “too big.” It’s entirely genetic, so no fault. I’m NOT an advocate for cosmetic surgery to create a uniform standard of attractive nipple-size. In fact, some large areolas are quite beautiful.
Male Model Jeremy Jesensky is sporting some major league nips, and, like squarehippies, I find them entrancing. I think someone turned down the temperature for the photo shoot of Jeremy in a wrestling singlet and jock strap, though, because the nips are noticeably more petite. The tats, the tits, the pecs, the half-removed wrestling gear… mmmm, this is a very, very nice photo, in deed…
Again, aesthetically speaking, niples can be too small, too. Disproportionately tiny nipples make me wonder if there was some external factor stunting their growth at some point in their development. But small nipples are not, in and of themselves, a problem. Small nips and the right bod are quite beautiful as well. Paul Rudd’s nipples are nearly too small to be beautiful, but I cut him slack because of the adorable gay guy he played in “Object of My Affection.”
Thomas Jane from “Hung” looks like he’s sporting some micro-nips in this pic, but I think the water in his shower scene must have just been cold, because they look pretty average in other scenes.
Sometimes small nipples just make nice pecs look even bigger. At the end of the day, variety is the spice of life, and big or small, nipples are simply an essential part of the beautiful male form.

Barefoot Warriors

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I saw “Conan” Chris Walker wrestling in the Southeast briefly almost 20 years ago. He stands out in my memory both for his obviously stunning body, but also because he wrestled barefoot. Barefoot wrestling in a pro-ring is so incredibly sexy, I think. It’s not that I’m into feet all that much (though feet can certainly be sexy in their own right), but there’s something vulnerable, cocky, perhaps primal about wrestling barefoot. That was Walker’s schtick for a while: the primitive barbarian warrior (around the time of Arnold’s Conan movies)

Of course Kevin Von Erich was the prototypical barefoot hunk in the ring. Kevin’s incredibly muscular legs and bare feet made him look both more graceful and menacing, I think. His bare feet accentuated his stunning legs, and I have to believe they enhanced his moves of walking the ropes, scissoring his opponents, and launching himself into the stratosphere to deliver standing drop kicks. Wrestling Arsenal, who seems to be a bit contemptuous of the Von Erichs, suggests that bare feet make jobbers look more vulnerable and ripe for a beating. But I think Kevin always looked fiercer and cockier, not to mention sexier, when wrestling barefoot.
I once found a Von Erich family website with loads of photos from their various wrestling careers and youth. There was one B&W photo of a teenage Kevin lying on his side on the ground, already ripped to shreds. He was shirtless, and he wore athletic shorts with the legs pulled up to show off his flexed thighs. His bare feet were laced together, and between his knees was a crushed watermelon. I’m SO bummed that I didn’t save that pic. I also don’t have a food fetish, but between the bare feet, the crushed watermelon, and young Kevin’s rocking bod, I could just about reach an ecstatic state just thinking about it. Most of the matches in my wrestling fiction are fought barefoot both due to the fact that I don’t find complicated gear sexy at all, but also because bare feet in the wrestling ring are a major turn on. If anyone still has that photo of Kevin and the watermelon, I’d shed a tear of joy to get a copy.

Get Out of My Dreams (and Into My Car)

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I’m beginning to believe that there actually must be a real, live Sookie Stackhouse who can read minds – because the scene with Alexander Skarsgård naked in bed in True Blood last night was straight out of my dreams. Superherofan has some nice captures of the scene. My only problem is why they insisted on writing me out of the scene and inserting Anna Paquin. Her naked boobs are such a mood killer, though nothing could entirely take the sexy out of that glimpse of Alexander’s ass crack and his smiling face staring deeply into my eyes… (okay, in the show it was Anna Paquin’s eyes, but that’s not the way it played out in my head).

My female friends tell me that misogyny is at the root of gay male culture. Without a need to negotiate with the opposite sex for sex, so I’m told, gay men are all too happy to write women out of the picture entirely. And, true enough, there are no women in any of my gay wrestling fiction. Left to my own imagination, I’ve written them entirely out of the world. But it’s my erotic fantasy world, not my reality. Just because I’m a Kinsey 6, it doesn’t mean that I’m not happy to have female friends, colleagues, confidants… I just don’t want them showing up in my sexual fantasies.
It’s a mine field in the world of gay wrestling porn, to try to avoid the intrusion of women. A search of YouTube for wrestling vids invariably turns out countless “mixed wrestling” clips. Some of the primary sources of satisfaction for my gay wrestling fetishism also produce straight wrestling fetish works as well (with some of the same guys). It’s not that I think that entrepreneurs shouldn’t supply products for straight wrestling fetishists. But still, in the words of Lisa Kudrow, “Note to self: I don’t want to SEE that!”

Oh, to be a Wingman

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You might think from reading this blog that all I do, and all I’ve ever done, is watch television. That’s not the case, though I do admit that television certainly was my third parent growing up, and we still maintain a very close and loving relationship. I stumbled across “In Plain Sight” last week on USA. The moment Cristian de la Fuente appeared on screen, I bookmarked the show for a return visit. Just for the record, if I were a U.S. Marshall with the Witness Protection Program, I’d totally blow my cover (so to speak) for a stunningly beautiful man like that – professional ethics be damned. And he’s a lieutenant in Chile’s Air Force reserve? I LOVE Latino hunks in uniform! Usually I think of someone who appears on Dancing with the Stars as on their last legs, but I’d like to see much, much more of this Chilean stunner.

What Turned Me Gay (again, not really)

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I clearly remember seeing the episode of Hart to Hart, guest starring Mr. Universe Frank Zane. I was a pre-adolescent in a motel room on a family vacation. My family was in the room, and I desperately wanted some alone time with just me, the TV, and Frank Zane flexing. The premise of the “charity muscle show” was contrived to justify intense and deliberate body worship. The YouTube clip is heavily edited, but you get the idea of the body worship theme. Frank Zane is in his posing trunks, oiled up, with dozens of people in formal wear watching and applauding each flex. All eyes are riveted on him, as a muzak version of the Village People’s “Macho Man” plays in the background. The camera zooms in, lingering on each of Zane’s bulging muscle groups, one at a time. A woman leans over and says to Stefanie Powers, breathlessly, “My goodness! This never happens in Pasadena! All we have is a parade.” Just like that exuberant woman, my little gay heart was fluttering, too. There was something particularly erotic about the wealthy audience in tuxedos and formal dresses being entertained by the mostly naked hard body. It smacks of the voyeur or perhaps the power of dominance and submission, as Robert Wagner applauds, restrained but appreciative, as Zane flashes a side chest pose and the camera zooms in on his contracting pec and his bouncing brown nipple. For just an instant, Zane flashes a cocky grin, letting us know that he knows that he’s worship-worthy, that he’s earned our adoration, that although he’s the one almost naked, he’s in command of the moment. That is, of course, the essential plot to every bodybuilding competition, isn’t it? So perhaps this didn’t teach me to be gay, but it certainly gave me an early lesson in the erotic art of worshipping the male form, of the exchange of power between watching and being watched, of the breathless thrill of watching biceps bulge and pecs pump.

Succumbing to Temptation

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Okay, I admit, I may end up needing my stomach pumped if I continue to overdose on vampire-kitsch. You’d think that the relentless onslaught of hot hunks on True Blood would hold my attention from week to week. But my eyes have strayed, and I’m now in a love-triangle. It’s me, True Blood, and Being Human. BBC productions have a total different feel, with significantly less special effects or stunning sets. They’re leading men aren’t typically the muscled studs that come out of Hollywood (and Hollywood-like) shows. But they have a charm, and Aiden Turner and Russell Tovey from Being Human have charmed the pants off me… so to speak. Their story lines are sexy, and they’re both just adorable. Turner’s hairy chest and dark eyes are dizzying, and Tovey is one long drink of water on a hot day, with entirely useful ears for all sorts of naughty purposes. I’m also excited to see stories that indicate Tovey is an openly gay actor. I wouldn’t have guessed that I’d get into another vampire (and werewolf… and ghost) show. Others have left me uninterested. But BBC has lured me into this adulterous relationship, as I guiltily cheat on my primary love, True Blood. I’m inspired to bring this whole love triangle into my gay wrestling fiction in the very near future!