wrestlebard

Evolution

January 7, 2016January 7, 2016 wrestlebard1 Comment

It took me a while to catch up, but I finally migrated my Can-Am Max membership to their new portal. I have to admit to feeling a little miffed at the way they went about the new launch. Forcing me to resubscribe while leaving my existing account attached to archives never to be updated seemed unnecessarily convoluted and a pain in the ass. But I finally got around to it, and I have to admit, the new Max is significantly superior in function and form. The first thing that caught my eye was the media attached to the new release of DeCrotchery 11.

Jobe Zander takes on muscle rookie Cody Cummings

I wish there were a more user friendly search option on the Video page, but once you find a particular product you’re interested in, all of the available media, is available and attractively displayed. No more hunting and pecking back and forth between photos and video clips, doing shot in the dark searches for models or keywords in titles. The video access is much more integrated, and the photos are incredibly high quality and high definition. Ironically, the membership portal is significantly superior to the storefront public access, where searching for a particular wrestler or product remains a maze. But landing on the DeCrotchery 11 page, there’s exactly one stunning fact that bowls me over: Jobe Zander is fucking ripped!!!

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jobe as taut and toned, and fuck it all if it doesn’t look sensational on him. Now, it’s the same Jobe, mind you. If you find his wrestling banter annoying, and I know some of you do, you will continue to find it annoying. But the packaging is, for my tastes, astonishingly high quality.

The veteran makes Cody Cummings suffer .

“Suffer, boy!” Jobe snarls as he place kicks hot, bearded hunk Cody Cummings in the ribs while the meaty rookie tries to climb up to his hands and knees. The story revolves around muscle stud Cody coming with some wrestling background and those huge muscles to defy the juggernaut that is Jobe’s ball bashing resume. Jobe makes the most of his best asset by locking the beefy rookie up in a reverse bearhug and repeatedly, violently thrusting his gargantuan package pounding between Cody’s ass cheeks. I want the FastPass for that ride, please!

But honestly, I may need reconsider my longstanding rhetoric about, and the legend that is, Jobe’s huge package. Of course, it’s still huge in DeCrotchery 11. His body fat has significantly shrunk, but that mammoth mountain of meat between his thighs appears as pendulous as ever. But damn it all if Jobe’s muscle carved ass doesn’t keep distracting me from marveling at his “centerpiece.”

My favorite: an over-the-knee backbreaker with a ball twist chaser

There are 4 clips currently available in the new Max site from DeCrotchery 11, and Jobe is mostly manhandling Cody beautifully thus far in the match. Considering my weakness for a long suffering OTK backbreaker, his repeated success in stretching the muscle boy out across his knee and clawing the fuck out of his crotch is sensational.

You can taste the sweat pouring off both of these wrestlers.

Cody works up a sincere sheen of sweat early going, and Jobe’s dark, SoCal tan isn’t far behind. He repeatedly demands that the rookie give a reading of the likert scale, 1-10, for how brutal he’s making Cody suffer. “One!” the rookie snarls through gritted teeth, clutching his tortured testicles. Jobe is thus challenged to turn the dial way, way up to merit a reluctant, screaming, brutalized reappraisal from the hard-to-impress muscle hunk.

I’ll keep watching the serial release of DeCrotchery 11 in the new Max, and I’ll enjoy continuing to explore the backroads as well as the new territory the portal takes me to. They promise multiple daily updates, which was a major complaint of the old Max: stagnant content updated unpredictably. Technology often baffles me, so I should probably be the last one to critique producers’ timeliness in developing new ways to exploit it for our enjoyment. But like most of you, I’m a consumer, with opinions, and I’m happy to see Max slicker, more navigable, and so far, updated often enough to slake my unending thirst for fresh content. Now, about that storefront public portal of yours, Can-Am…

Has Jobe just fucked with the wrong rookie hunk?

Fantasy League

January 6, 2016January 6, 2016 wrestlebard10 Comments

Once upon a time, I was infatuated with two particular homoerotic wrestlers who, sadly, competed exclusively on opposite coasts. The title of my overall favorite homoerotic wrestler was traded back and forth between instant heartthrob Mitch Colby, almost exclusively wrestling with BG East, and sex gladiator Rusty Stevens, who tore up the mats for Can-Am and Naked Kombat. So I mused openly about the unlikely prospects of seeing the two of them go head to head, giving my torn, torn heart a side by side, in the moment, man on man comparison to tip the scales conclusively one direction or the other.

Mitch Colby finally got his hands all over loudmouth, smartass muscle hunk Rusty Stevens in The Breaking Point.

And then, like manna from heaven, BG East released The Breaking Point, pitting my two top infatuations against one another in a mat battle to the naked, orgasmic finish (and I’m not just talking about me). So I know it can happen. The franchise players who appear unlikely to ever cross paths can, on occasion, step across the lines that so arbitrarily divide the homoerotic wrestling universe into competing production camps. And, of course, some wrestlers cross those lines seemingly daily, competing across the country, across multiple platforms, sometimes meeting up against foes they faced in other settings. But there are some wrestlers, often the ones I’m most infatuated with, who appear to stick to their well-worn paths. So I don’t dismiss the possibility entirely, but I know that for many franchise players, the chances of seeing them face off against major competitors for other franchises are slim.

Thunder’s Arena Champ Marco and BG East wild child Kid Karisma

So today I’m musing about “what if.” In this case, what if two franchise players from competing productions were to face off. Namely, between Thunder’s Arena’s champ Marco and BG East’s notorious wild child bad boy Kid Karisma, who would flex in final victory over his wasted foe once all was said and done?

Marco and Kid Karisma, both flexed for your pleasure

I like this pairing for many reasons. For one, I’m a big, big fan of both muscle hunks. Marco was my homoerotic wrestler of the month this past May, and Kid K has been homoerotic wrestler of the month on 3 occasions, as well as owning the title of my overall favorite homoerotic wrestler for longer than anyone else. But the allure of seeing these two square off is much more than just about me.

Marco – 5’8″, 180 lbs versus Kid Karisma – 5’5″, 170 pounds

They’re closely matched in size. They’re both listed at 5’8″ with Marco about 10 pounds of heavier. That all adds up, in my mind, to Kid K packing on denser, more ripped muscles. If Kid K has a strength advantage, arguably Marco may have an advantage in wrestling technique, at least as far as mat wrestling goes. In a pro ring, Kid K appears to have a boatload more experience. The margins are razor thin in all of these contrasts, though, and I wouldn’t be surprised to be completely surprised by whatever might unfold should these two meet in the ring or on the mats.

Both fantasymen are much larger than life

What really moves me most about this hypothetical and unlikely face off is the personalities involved, however. Both of these magnificent specimens are raging smart asses. They play with their food. They taunt and torment. Both studs end up on top much more often than not, and they revel in lording it over their crushed opponents. Both hunks pay generous and often appreciative attention to the sexy physiques of their doomed foes. And both musclemen make me laugh, gasp, and hard with similar portfolios of beauty, power, and wit.

Casual readers can weigh in on who you see as more likely to destroy the other, Marco or Kid Karisma. Serious fans can weigh in in the comments section as to how you see this playing out. In the BGE ring? On the Thunder’s mats? Competitive? Squash? Finishers? Let me know how your fantasies and mine line up.

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Year: Reader’s Choice

January 5, 2016 wrestlebard1 Comment

278 of you voted for which of my homoerotic wrestlers of the month you’d pick to be homoerotic wrestler of the year for 2015. The results are definitive and indicative, I think, so let’s break it down.

With 28% of the vote, Ty Alexander wins the plurality as the reader’s choice homoerotic wrestler of the year. Ty worked for it. Ty always works for it. Both in the ring and in the world of social media, the Trophy Boy is a perfect study in having a plan and executing it to perfection. Fans love his bubble butt, ever tightening, taut twink bod, and his reckless enthusiasm for running face first into one steam roller after another. Ty has such a following because homoerotic wrestling fans love a full throttle, unapologetically erotic wrestling jobber. I suspect that July’s homoerotic wrestler of the month also owns this poll in part due to his ability to mobilize his social media following, which I think is indicative of the next level of the homoerotic wrestling business. Fans respond not only to Ty’s sensational sell in the ring, to his succulent body, to his endless ambition, but also to his commitment to exist, on a day to day basis, in our Twitter and FB feeds, to weave the fantasy of a hot, horny, humpable young stud into the fabric of our day to day lives. As I said back when I anointed him HWOTM in July, I think there’s a whole market waiting to get tapped by serious franchise players like Ty loving it, living it, and making us continue to peek behind the scenes of a wrestling shoot to fantasize in all sorts of new ways about the sexy studs living their wrestling dreams.

Mad Mykel brought him to his knees in Ring Releases 3.

Mason Brooks ripped Ty apart in Florida Fights 5.

Making a major play in the polls for second place with over 21% of the vote was 2015 rookie Sensation (with a capital S!), big, bulging, beautiful, buff, blond, blue-eyed, bombshell beefcake Biff Farrell.

I have to think Biff has got to make a very strong showing for this year’s rookie of the year in BG East’s Besties. He certainly grabbed my attention, and I know captured the homoerotic wrestling imaginations of a whole lot of us with incredibly impressive appearances in an amazing 4 new releases in his rookie year. It’s a rare newbie who makes such a splash at BG East to earn his way into 4 releases, 3 of which are stand alone single matches, 1 of which he’s even the title character for! Fans love his look, his magnificent muscles, his obvious enthusiasm for professional wrestling, and his sensational, muscled ass (I know, that’s part of his magnificent muscles, but it deserves it’s own mention). I’ve also been on the big Biff bandwagon for the duration because I’m growing more and more infatuated with the character he’s selling better and better with each match. Fans love a big, muscled babyface rookie who can, from the start, take it every ounce as successfully as he dishes it out. I believe the sky’s the limit with my December homoerotic wrestler of the month, and I’m just saying a prayer to the homoerotic wrestling gods that he hasn’t peaked too soon, because I hope to see a lot more of him in 2016.

Lon Dumont gives fans what they want, forcing rookie Biff to flex.

Biff learns what BGE heels do with pretty faces in Rookie Wreckers 2: Biff’s Beating.

Biff’s first babyface victory, wrecking his own rookie in Ripped Rookies 2: Backyard Battle

Biff finished very strong, determined to cut short Joe Mazetti’s epic Comeback.

Coming in third in the voting with 13%, sophomore heel rising Kayden Keller grabbed hold of hearts and loyalties (not to mention balls) with a vengeance in 2015.

Kayden only appeared in 2 releases for BG East this year (though it seems like more, doesn’t it? honestly?). But that was enough to keep his fans gagging for more. If his showing in the polls demonstrates anything, I think it shows us that homoerotic wrestling fans always, always have a place in their fondest fantasies for a sensational, sadistic, explicitly erotic wrestling heel. He abundantly earned his HWOTM title for October by selling one of the best surprises in homoerotic wrestling for 2015, getting sleepered out cold by the shockingly eager erotic debut of little, lithe, lovely Leo Tomasi. I know there are some fans who saw that as a major blow to Kayden’s obvious play to climb the ranks of BG East’s resident, reigning heels, but I found the unexpected drama to be probably the most compelling wrestling narrative of the year. And in case you haven’t seen the match, suffice it to say that despite Leo’s shocking moment in the sun (with Kayden’s face shoved where the sun don’t shine), the 6’2″ powerhouse heel doubles down on the total soul and body crushing domination before all is said and done. It takes a whole lot of man to heel, match after match, and even more of one to get completely owned and humiliated by a jobber and STILL come out with his heel cred shiny. Kayden Keller is every ounce that man.

Kayden is a heel who can multitask in Ring Releases 2: Triple Release

Kayden showed us a whole new side in Ring Releases 3.

Congratulations to all the winners this year, and thank you all for a sensationally sexy year in homoerotic wrestling!

Happy New Year 2016 – Part 4

January 4, 2016 wrestlebard2 Comments

This is the final of 4 installments in my New Year original homoerotic wrestling fiction. Or is it?…

……………

(Continued from Part 3)

…………….

Okay, remember all that shit talk I told you earlier about humiliating Drake in our one-on-one private bout a year ago? This wasn’t the same Drake Marcos. He was honest-to-god crushing my windpipe, backing me into a corner. So much rage! I’m pretty sure if this was the Drake Marcos I’d faced a year ago, I’d have been lucky to have escaped without a trip to the emergency room. My ears were starting to buzz from the lack of oxygen, and fuck it all if I wasn’t nursing the hardest erection of my lifetime!

Suddenly I was sucking down ragged, gulping breaths with my windpipe cleared. I dropped to my knees, clutching my throat, momentarily not knowing what the fuck just happened. The mat bounced and shimmied beneath my knees as I heard pounding blows punctuating the buzzing in my ears. Blinking rapidly, clearing the tears from my eyes, I saw bodies flying in front of me. Check that, once the fog cleared, it was Drake’s body that was flying in front of me.

Clearly, Trey had taken advantage of his opponent’s distraction. Scooped up in the golden boy’s arms, Drake’s feet arced high through the air as he was slammed with authority to his back. I pulled myself up to my feet with the aid of the ring ropes, but my eyes were locked on watching Trey viciously pry Drake up by a handful of hair, scoop him up in his arms again, and body slam him back to the mat violently. Drake’s lower back arched high off the mat in agony until Trey’s naked heel stomped hard into the Cheshire Cat’s lower abdomen, driving his hips back to the mat with a thud.

I admit to more than a little satisfaction watching Trey straddle the Cheshire Cat and angrily yank the singlet straps off his opponent’s shoulders. With one swift jerk, he ripped the singlet completely off Drake’s legs. Left in nothing but a sweat soaked leopard print thong, Drake tried to roll away as Trey pursued him across the ring. Snagging the back of the thong and yanking hard, he pulled Drake up to his hands and knees just long enough to land a swinging place kick to the balls from behind. Drake gasped, falling to his right shoulder, both hands clutching his balls

Trey took just a few seconds of deep, recuperative breaths before reaching down and dragging Drake up to his knees again by a handful of hair. From behind, the golden boy snapped on a full nelson and dragged his prey to his feet with authority. With his chin shoved into his upper chest, Drake dangled like meat on the hook as Trey walked him across the ring to where Kid Leopard was filming at ringside. “Ooo, leopard print thong?” Trey cooed through his syrupy Southern drawl. “What’s The Boss going to say when you’re crying like a little bitch in his signature leopard print thong?”

Drake growled like a wounded animal, which earned him a quick trip to the nearest turnbuckle for three nasty revenge face plants. Trey released the full nelson and spun Drake around. Locking his arms around him, the golden boy hoisted the Cheshire Cat off his feet in a spine tingling bearhug. Drake screamed, pulling his knees up to squeeze into his captor’s kidneys in a futile attempt to lessen the pressure.

I watched from the corner for a few seconds before deciding it was time to look like a ref again. Following my aching cock, I strolled over to where Trey was squeezing the stuffing out of Drake and asked if the Cheshire Cat had had enough. “Fuck you,” Drake snarled, but it was so much less than convincing this time. He was fading dangerously.

Finally, lubricated with copious sweat, Drake slid downward in the bearhug. Before he could catch his breath, however, he was shoved backward into the ropes. He sagged there, gasping for air, fighting to stay on his feet, which provided the perfect set up for Trey to snap the middle rope over top of Drake’s arms and pin him there like a stuck bug.

Kid Leopard climbed up to the ring apron to get a better angle on his handsome protege all trussed up and vulnerable. Trey shrugged his own sculpted shoulders out of his singlet straps and pulled the yellow fabric down his shredded torso, glistening with sweat. “Like what you see?” he asked, startling me out my reverie, staring at the stunningly sexy tableau set before me. “Fuck, yes,” I said with a chuckle, hovering just a couple feet away to watch with fascination.

Trey stepped forward, prying Drake’s knees apart with legs and shoving the handsome stud’s head backward by his chin. Leaning over him, Trey shook his head, sending a shower of sweat raining down on Drake’s captured face. The Cheshire Cat squirmed, attempting to pry his arms free. But he suddenly went limp when his opponent traced his index finger down Drake’s throat, between his lightly hairy pecs, slowly, meanderingly down his taut abdomen, and inside the pouch of his sweat soaked thong. Drake groaned with reluctant pleasure, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

Gently, Trey tugged Drake’s balls and swollen cock out. His cock bobbed eagerly, almost fully erect and quickly getting topped off by Trey’s hand jerking him still harder. Trey looked at me sidewise. With a subtle jerk of his head, he invited me closer. Me on one side, Kid Leopard and his camera on the other, Trey grabbed my wrist with his free hand while continuing to stroke Drake’s pulsing rod. The golden boy pulled me still closer, pressing the palm of my hand against his own rock hard left pec. He flexed, sending a charge of electricity up my arm. Slowly, he dragged my hand across his sweaty torso, down his rippling abs. Firmly, he pressed my palm against his growing package. “Hoh, fuck…” I managed to mutter with every ounce of coherence I had left.

“Help me out of this,” Trey whispered, licking his lips. I swallowed hard. My heart pounded in my chest so hard I could hear it. I knelt at his side and pulled the singlet down his long, smooth legs. He wore nothing underneath, so his massive cock spilled out gleefully and bounced as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, stepping out of the singlet.
As I rose to my feet, Trey dropped to one knee, sliding the leopard print thong off of Drake’s hairy thighs. He pried open Drake’s jaw and shoved the tiny patch of dripping wet fabric into the Cheshire Cat’s mouth. “Here,” Trey pulled me in front of him guiding my hands to take his place working Drake’s throbbing tool. The golden boy’s right hand on my wrist guided me as I jerked his vulnerable opponent. Drake’s sweaty, naked body shivered in front of me, his eyes half lidded, staring at me with some combustible mix of bitter rage and desperate lust. Trey pressed his naked body close behind me.

Even as I cupped Drake’s balls with my left hand, I felt the golden boy unzip my trousers from behind and tug free my full erection. His left hand wrapped around my side, pulling me hard against the distracting pressure at the base of my spine. His right hand began tugging at my cock, working in time to the same rhythm with which I was pounding out Drake. I slowed down. The golden boy slowed down. I sped up, he sped up. I could feel his hot breath in my ear, leaning over my shoulder, watching his naked opponent writhing with rising ecstasy. I sped up. Trey sped up, and both Drake and I moaned at the same pitch. I slowed down, squeezing harder. Trey slowed down, squeezing harder, and Drake and I both gasped. Enfolded in the arms of one wrestling infatuation, the white hot cock of another pulsing in my hand, I came. Drake came.
The smell of cum and sweat was intoxicating as Trey held me tight, squeezing out every last drop. I suddenly sucked in a deep, gasping draw of air. I don’t know how long I’d been holding my breath, but my heart was pounding and my lungs were burning. There was a sweet tenderness about him as Trey slowly released me. Another sly wink made me smile. Then Trey unceremoniously freed Drake’s arms and yanked on the rope, catapulting the Cheshire Cat sprawling into the middle of the ring. I had to laugh out loud.

The glistening, naked, bronzed golden boy took a slow lap around his opponent. Hands on his narrow hips, Trey studied Drake’s naked ass long and hard before finally straddling the Cheshire Cat and dropping to his knees. Leaning forward on his left elbow, he slipped his right forearm across his opponent’s throat and rolled to his back, pulling Drake on top of him. Drake’s heavily lidded eyes snapped open wide in shock. The leopard print thong still filled his gaping mouth. Trey’s smooth legs wrapped around Drake’s hips, his ankles locked together tightly across the Cheshire Cat’s lower abdomen. Slowly, Trey stretched his body, pulling down on Drake’s hips with his legs and up against his throat with the chokehold.

Drake’s exhausted cock sprang back to life, bobbing and jerking as Trey bore down on him. His face turned blotchy pale, starved for oxygen, consciousness slipping away. Trey’s baby blues smiled up at me, letting me know it was time to do my job as ref again. I knelt on one knee next to Drake, absentmindedly stroking my own reanimated cock still hanging from my unzipped trousers. “What do you say, Drake?” Drake’s throat constricted, struggling to swallow. “I don’t think you’re going to be able to say it, big D,” I whispered into his ear. Again, his throat constricted, struggling to swallow. Finally, his right hand tapped frantically at Trey’s right knee.

Trey threw his opponent rolling off of him. We both climbed to our feet. Facing Kid Leopard and his camera, I hoisted the golden boy’s wrist into the air in victory. I was awarded with a full body, naked golden boy hug, before Trey turned back into the crowd pleaser he is by flexing his phenomenal physique with one foot planted on the Cheshire Cat’s ass.
“And… cut,” Kid Leopard shouted, dropping the camera and looking down at his slowly rousing protege with contempt. Shaking his head, he gave Drake a halfhearted kick in the ass before leaving the ring without so much as another word.
“Really, pleasure to meet you, Bard,” said this stunning, ripped naked man who moments earlier jerked me to one of the dizziest climaxes I’ve ever experienced. Suddenly self-conscious and star struck all over again, I stumbled over my reply. “I’m… uh… pleasure has clearly been all mine.” He gathered up his yellow singlet and climbed out of the ring. I watched his picture perfect ass every second as he strode toward the back rooms to clean up.

“You… mother… fucker!” I was abruptly shaken out of my reverie by Drake’s raging rant. “You just fucked with the wrong wrestltler.”

(….to be continued?….)

……………

One particular author to whom I gave an advanced copy of this story quickly, and somewhat adamantly insisted that he would write the “sequel.” I’m looking forward to what happens next for a particular blogger and a notorious jobber. Again, Happy New Year, everyone!

Happy New Year 2016 – Part 3

January 3, 2016 wrestlebard3 Comments

Original fiction, inspired by the erotic wrestling hunks of BG East…

…………….

(Continued from Part 2)

Abruptly, he climbed to his feet and walked over to my corner, shoving a finger in my face. “Fuck you, Bard!” he shouted. “I’ve taken your shit online for over a year, and I’m not taking your shit one more day.” He shoved me in the chest, backing me into the corner. My adrenaline was pumping overtime in the heat of the Cheshire Cat’s intimidation offense. The heat of the moment made my cock swell, pressing uncomfortably inside my tight trousers. I glanced outside the ring at the Boss, wondering if this was one of the wheels within wheels that made sense of why I’d been invited to “guest referee”: to be on hand for Kid Leopard’s protege to work out a little retribution on an unsuspecting blogger in front of his mentor. Drake towered over me, staring down his nose as I felt my face flush with the rising impulse to fight back, despite my “neutral” assigned role.

Not that I needed to. Trey’s long fingers suddenly appeared between Drake’s powerful thighs and wrapped around the Cheshire Cat’s balls like a vise. Drake’s knees buckled and knocked together comically as he gasped for air, slack jawed. All that rage and ruin in his eyes glazed over as he duck-stepped backward under the control of his opponent’s crushing grasp from behind. Trey looked over Drake’s shoulder and gave me yet another conspiratorial wink. “You said I can twist his balls right off, right ref?” the bronzed beauty asked playfully..

“Fuck yes!” I replied a little more enthusiastically than the ref probably should. Trey’s face screwed up in concentration which, judging by the effect on Drake, signaled still more pressure being applied to crushing the Cheshire Cat’s testicles. Drake dropped hard to his knees, doubling over and clutching at the claw latched onto his balls. Like a felled tree, he slowly collapsed to his side. Trey yanked his hand free from between his opponent’s legs and smiled down as he watched Drake writhe and wriggle in the fetal position.

I stepped forward, but stayed a couple of feet away. “Are you ready to submit already, Drake?” I asked, not because I thought in a million years that he’d submit just yet, but just to rub it in that he was getting fucked over good right now. “Fuck you!” he snapped back, in exactly the raging, wounded tone I’d expected.

I stepped back out of the way as Trey bent forward and grabbed Drake by the ankles, rolling him to his back. Spreading his opponent’s legs wide apart, Trey drove his naked heel hard into Drake’s crotch. The air exploded out of Drake’s lungs. The blow was so savage even my balls felt just a twinge of sympathy pains. I backed all the way into the corner and leaned against the ropes as Trey yanked his opponent’s ankles wide apart again and stomped viciously into his lower abdomen. By the screech of agony, I guessed that the head of Drake’s cock took a glancing shot from the blow.

Smoothly, Trey rolled his opponent over, stepping his left foot over the back of Drake’s legs and hooking his ankles under his arms. Wrenching his opponent’s legs backward into a Boston crab, the golden boy squatted low, cranking Drake’s lower back into a sick, sick angle. Fuck, that’s gotta hurt, I was thinking a half second before Drake screamed, pounding his fist angrily to the mat.

“Was that a tap out, Drake?” I asked, hurrying forward and dropping to one knee next to his handsome face. “You calling it quits, Drake Marcos?!” I shouted when he didn’t immediately answer me.

“Fuck, you, Bard!” he spat furiously, sucking down the pain. I stood and shrugged, “Wrestle on, then.” Impressively, the Cheshire Cat pulled his upper body up to rest on his elbows. Trey struggled to keep his balance, which allowed just enough give in the hold for Drake to crawl a couple of feet forward on this elbows and grab a rope. He pulled on the rope, twisted his body, and kicked hard all at the same time. Trey tumbled forward, gracefully rolling up to one knee.

As Drake dragged himself up to his knees by the ropes, I couldn’t help but enjoy the observation that sweat was already dripping from his forehead. Trey’s yellow singlet was also sweat stained where the fabric plunged so intimately into his ass crack. From the pressure in my crotch, I was pretty sure I was also just a little “stained” myself, but that was a fleeting thought as all my attention was riveted on the action unfolding before me.

Trey charged forward, reaching down to grab his opponent’s ankles again. Smoothly, Drake swept his left leg hard into the back of the golden boy’s knees, dropping Trey unceremoniously to his ass. With an astonishing burst of energy, the Cheshire Cat dove on top of him, sliding wetly to his side and locking his long, powerful legs around Trey’s midsection. I knew exactly what Trey meant when he bit his lower lip and his face flushed beet red. Those fucking legs are sensationally strong. And Drake knows it. Slowly, Trey fell backward to his elbows, fighting against the pressure rearranging his internal organs. Drake lifted his torso up onto his right elbow to bear down that much harder. A groan of exquisite agony escaped reluctantly from Trey’s lips. Bending sideways, Drake reached down and latched his left claw onto his opponent’s balls in revenge. That groan churning out of Trey’s chest exploded into a scream of panicked pain.

Honestly, I swear, the whole scene was so sensationally hot that I completely forgot my job. “Fucking ref!” Drake snapped angrily at me. “Ask him if he’s done now, you bastard!” It took me a few seconds to come to my senses, but sure, I crossed the ring and leaned over Trey’s screwed up face. “Are you ready to submit, Trey?” I asked, most definitely not wanting to hear an affirmative answer. Biting his lower lip so hard I was afraid he’d bite right through, he shook his head violently side to side.

“No love, Drake. Wrestle on,” I said, backing toward a corner. Drake’s wrist twisted as he wrenched violently on the golden boy’s distended pouch, bulging between his clenched fingers. Trey screamed again, louder this time. “Ask him again, ref!” Drake demanded angrily. I ignored him. Trey knew how to make this all come to an abrupt end, and me asking him again wouldn’t change anything. “Ref!” Drake shouted at me again. “You fucker!”

A solid, pointed jab to Drake’s gut gave Trey enough room to suck down some air. Another flailing gut punch made the Cheshire Cat’s ankles pop open. Trey rolled to his side, freeing himself from those vile scissors. Drake quickly rolled up to his hands and knees, his left arm wrapped protectively across his tenderized lower abdomen.

Drake dove across the distance between them, but Trey rolled with the momentum. They tumbled across the mat until Trey came to a halt mounted atop his opponent’s chest. Swiftly sliding forward, he pulled on Drake’s head and rolled to the side, snapping his ankles together and bearing down in crotch-to-face headscissors. If I were watching this at home, I’d be preparing to push pause and rewind right around that moment. Drake’s lips pressed involuntarily against his opponent’s ample yellow pouch made me hard as granite. The golden boy pulling on his opponent’s hair, squeezing his flexed thighs in waves of skull crushing pressure was almost too arousing to resist unzipping my trousers then and there. Suddenly, I noticed The Boss’ camera trained on me, I’m pretty sure zoomed right in on my tented crotch. Watching him watching me watching them for someone else to watch us all. Fuck, this whole scenario just turned insanely meta.

Trey’s whimper of pain drew my eyes and The Boss’ camera back to the real story. No shit, Drake was biting his opponent’s balls! Trey’s legs popped open as he rolled to his back, the Cheshire Cat’s teeth still latched to his testicles through fabric of his singlet. I had no idea Drake had that level of rage bubbling up inside of him! Even as he let go of his mouthful of tasty agony, he hooked Trey’s knees with his shoulders and rolled the golden boy up. Prying his opponent’s legs apart and pinning Trey’s feet to the mat on either side of his head, Drake had the pretty boy pinned squarely to the mat.

“Count him out!” Drake snarled at me, but I was already dropping to my stomach, checking that, indeed Trey’s shoulders were square to the mat. “One!” I slapped the mat hard next to Trey’s head. “Two!” I barked. Suddenly Trey’s entire body coiled and uncoiled violently like a spring. Drake tumbled backward as the golden boy dragged himself to the nearby ropes to begin pulling himself off the mat. I had only reached my hand and knees when Drake charged into me, grabbing me by the throat with his right hand and dragging me to my feet. “What the fuck was that!?” he shouted into my face, spit flying. “You call that a count!?”

Happy New Year 2016 – Part 2

January 2, 2016January 3, 2016 wrestlebard2 Comments

Just a reminder that this is a work of fiction, the product of my homoerotic wrestling imagination inspired by the sensationally sexy wrestlers Drake Marcos, Trey Dixon, and Kid Leopard Happy New Year, readers!

………..

(Continued from Part 1)

…………..

I might be embarrassed to admit I jerked off to nothing more than the text of that email, but I know you, dear reader, popped wood just now, too. Trying to look cool, I managed to restrain myself exactly 13 minutes before replying to Kid Leopard’s email with a concise, definitive answer: Hell, yes.

Now, I know what you’re probably thinking. If you’ve seen even half as many Kid Leopard matches as I have, you’d also be suspicious of any completely unsolicited, gratuitous, too-good-to-be-true offer of an unearned gift from the most diabolical character in homoerotic wrestling history. As we sorted out the details and travel arrangements, I nursed a thoughtful skepticism about what ulterior motives might be hidden behind this offer of a wrestling fantasy come true. But I’m pretty sure that I provide the Boss’ business one of the most prolific and enthusiastic sources of free advertising in the form of over 6 years of lovingly blogging about the sexiest homoerotic wrestling I’ve ever seen, most of which has been produced by Kid Leopard. I’ve even written a lot of the match descriptions you read of new wrestling products on the BG East website, taking nothing more than some advanced review copies of the DVDs as compensation. So sure, I knew there was much, much more than met the eye when I boarded the plane for south Florida. But of all the ways this could go terribly wrong, I honestly thought I was too much of an asset in the Boss’ business portfolio to get screwed over too much.

The last time I walked into BG East’s Florida facilities, I was all sorts of nervous about the prospect of getting schooled by a hot young pro homoerotic wrestler. This time, I was feeling significantly less pressure, but no less excitement. Drake met me in shorts and a t-shirt at the front door with nothing but a contemptuous snarl. Without a word, he turned and walked toward the ring room. I chuckled as I followed him, perversely pleased to see that our last encounter was still festering inside the Cheshire Cat. “Clean the ring!” I heard Kid Leopard bark angrily as I walked through the door. Drake seemed to sulk as he grabbed a bucket and a mop and climbed up to the ring apron, starting to sanitize the mat reluctantly, but obediently.

“Well if it isn’t Bard!” The Boss shouted, grabbing me by the hand and shaking it with uncomfortable pressure. It wasn’t the first time we’d met. I’d spent several awed hours with Kid Leopard and some of the back office boys a few years ago when I had an opportunity to make a pilgrimage to BG East’s main campus outside of Boston. “Of course, you’ve met this little punk already,” he hooked a thumb toward Drake, who was doing his best to ignore us.

We waited another half an hour for Trey to show up. According to the Boss, Trey had been showing up later and later in direct proportion to the number of fan letters he receives. Prima Donna or not, I was tongue tied and star struck when he strolled in and flashed those baby blue eyes at me briefly. Literally, I was a little weak in the knees just catching sight of one of my wrestling infatuations in street clothes. Kid Leopard gave him a cursory dressing down for his tardiness, but critical comments seemed to bounce off of the bronzed stud unnoticed. Soon enough, the Boss sent both wrestlers to the back rooms to get into ring gear and get this show on the road.

I’d received no instructions about what I ought to wear as guest referee. I can think of no more than about 3 matches that I’ve seen BG East bother with a referee, so this was sort of uncharted territory. I pulled a pair of black trousers and a white t-shirt out of my backpack and asked if Kid Leopard approved. “No,” he said with his customary bluntness. Without explanation, he left me alone in the ring room for a minute before returning with a stretch poly white and black vertically striped referee shirt in hand. “Wear this,” he said without any interest in my opinion. Not that I expected Kid Leopard to express a lot of interest in my opinion. The shirt was a size “small,” and I, dear reader, am not. “Go on, Mr. Abs,” Kid Leopard smirked, referencing my online avatar. “Squeeze those muscles in nice and tight.”

My shoulders and upper arms strained the seams, but I managed to slip into the skin tight top. It clung to my abs and molded across the expanse of my pecs. The Boss nodded approval with a smirk. I unbuttoned my jeans and slid them off with Kid Leopard watching appraisingly. Fuck, standing there in boxer briefs with the leading legend of the homoerotic wrestling industry watching me strip made my cock throb. My heart was pounding in my chest as I slipped on the tight black trousers I’d brought with me. “Mmm-hmmm,” The Boss grunted passing approval. “That’ll do just fine.”

While we waited for Drake and Trey to return, Kid Leopard filled me in on the background of this match. It was a special request match for a wealthy fan. The wrestlers were custom ordered, and, to my surprise, so was I. “He insisted,” Kid Leopard assured me. “Trey and the punk, in the ring, no-holds-barred, with blogger Bard as guest referee.” Setting aside the momentary swelling I got from the ego stroke of being in someone’s fantasy line up, I asked what, exactly, you need a referee for in a no-holds-barred wrestling match. “To declare the winner,” The Boss snapped impatiently, clearly bored by my ignorance. The match would be recorded by none other than Kid Leopard himself, for just one pair of eyes to ever see.

When Trey and Drake were ready, Kid Leopard ordered me to climb into the ring as he pulled a small handheld camera up in front of his face. “All right, kiddies, make this a good one!” he shouted. Trey strolled into the ring room first. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Kid Leopard announced from behind the camera, “arriving at 5’10” and 155 pounds, Golden Boy Trey Dixon!” My jaw dropped to the floor. Trey wore the matte yellow wrestling singlet he rocked so sensationally in Gear Wars 4. Holy fuck, it was painted on and edged into every sensationally sexy crack and crevice of his insanely fit body. Honestly, there’s not a spare ounce of anything on his shredded physique. I had to adjust my cock pressing at a painful angle in my tight trousers before Trey had even hopped up to the ring apron. He ducked underneath the top rope and turned to the camera, flexing a double bicep and pursing his lips seductively. Barefoot, bronzed, dirty blond and blue eyed, he was sexier in real life than on video, and I for one would not have been able to imagine him being any sexier than what I enjoyed of him on video. He flexed and preened as Kid Leopard zoomed in on his stunning display of muscle and beauty. When Trey finally concluded the pre-match muscle show, he turned and strolled confidently across the ring, subtly, almost too quickly for me to catch, giving me a sly wink as I openly stared at him. He hopped up and sat his muscled ass across the top turnbuckle in the next corner to the right of the one in which I stood.

Drake marched into the room with an unmistakable chip on his shoulder. He wore that sexy white singlet with blue and black trim that he sported in Mat Scraps 2, at least until Ray Naylor ripped it off of him and used it to choke him. His pale skin and hairy chest were a stark contrast with his perfectly smooth, bronzed opponent. His lightly hairy legs were noticeably thicker than when I’d felt them squeezing the air out of my lungs a year earlier. Barefoot and babyfaced, Drake’s sweet ass stretching the seat of his white singlet made my cock twitch with the tactile memory of feeling those glutes squeezed in the palm of my hands. Today, the Cheshire Cat refused to spare a half second for a flash of that handsome smile that always turns me on. He also didn’t waste a second for the camera. “And now arriving ringside,” the Boss announced, “at 5’10” and 165 pounds, the Cheshire Cat of wrestling, everyone’s favorite jobber, Drake… Marcoooos!” Drake visibly bristled at being announced as everyone’s favorite jobber. He slid underneath the bottom rope and backed warily into the corner opposite his opponent, refusing to tear his eyes away from anything other than the Golden Boy.

Frankly, I expected a pro wrestling match to be more scripted than this, but I took the bull by the balls and decided to call the competitors into the middle of the ring to give them a lay of the land. They were almost exactly the same height, about 4 inches taller than I am, bumping pecs and staring angrily into each others eyes. “This is what you’ve got to work with today,” I explained, looking up at them. “There are no fucking rules.” I said with a smirk. “Trey, you want to twist his balls off, go for it,” I said with a chuckle. “You want to pull his hair, be my guest. You want to tie him up in the ropes, and take my word for it when I say that’s fun to do with Drake, so, make it so, big boy.” Drake tore his eyes away from his opponent to stare down at me indignantly. Trey also glanced at me with a wry grin. “The winner,” I continued, “will be the first to pin his opponent’s shoulders to the mat for a count of three, or make his opponent tap out, or force a verbal submission. I’d say, ‘fight fair,’ but in this case, fighting fair is for chumps. So…,” I paused for comedic timing and stared back at Drake glowering at me, “…fight fair, Drake.”

Trey chuckled as he turned and strode back toward his corner. I backed quickly out of the way, just in time for Drake to attack his opponent from behind. He closed the distance in a sprint and swung his right knee savagely into Trey’s side, before quickly grabbing the back of his head and charging toward the corner. Trey’s beautiful face was pounded viciously into the top turnbuckle. The bronzed beauty’s knees buckling underneath him made me question if this match might just be over before it started.

Drake was like a dog with a bone. As Trey sagged to his knees, the Cheshire Cat pounded the golden boy’s face into the middle turnbuckle. When Trey collapsed flat out on the mat, Drake mounted his back and pounded his face into the mat. Holy fuck, I’d never seen Drake so vicious or in such total control.

(Continued in Part 3)

Happy New Year 2016 – Part 1

January 1, 2016January 3, 2016 wrestlebard10 Comments

My tradition for many years was to publish some original wrestling fiction here at neverland to ring in a happy New Year. Now, most of the wrestling fiction I’ve written has starred known homoerotic wrestlers, celebrities, male models, etc., but for my New Year’s canon I always indulged in writing myself into the narratives. Making quick work of one of my New Year’s resolutions, I’m posting a new homoerotic wrestling scenario here over the next few days in serial format. While everyone involved in this narrative is a real life hunk, let me just clarify that this is a work of fiction. Fans of any of these fine men, cut me a break. It’s all imagination and fun (for me). If your homoerotic wrestling imagination makes you picture this scenario completely differently, don’t send me your hate mail, just sit your ass down and write (and share!) your own original wrestling fiction! And most importantly, have a happy New Year, wrestling fans!

To be honest, no one was more surprised by the outcome of my wrestling match with Drake Marcos than I was. Well, Drake was obviously shocked senseless to find himself on the bitter end of an ass whooping by a mere blogger. But with precious little wrestling experience, I fully expected a homoerotic wrestling pro like Drake to take me to school. The handsome industry insider was famously tutored in the harshest realities of hardcore, low down, balls out grappling by none other than The Boss of BG East himself. Drake wears his spine tingling apprenticeship at the hands of nasty, nefarious, notorious classic heel Kid Leopard like a badge of honor. Seriously, he can’t shut up about being the protege and heir apparent to the living legend. He had me pretty well convinced that I was essentially climbing into the BG East ring with Kid Leopard himself, and as a long-time fan, I’m not ashamed to admit I was entirely intimidated and, perhaps, just a little terrified.
I’ve documented that match elsewhere, so I won’t rehash too many of the glorious details. Well, I can’t help myself but savor at least some of the details again here. Suffice it to say that the first two thirds of that late night session in the BG East ring presented me one of the steepest learning curves of my life. Full disclosure, the Cheshire Cat (as I’m fond of calling him) is significantly younger than I am. He’s also taller. And, as I mentioned, he’s more experienced. So it should be little wonder I was out-hustled and punished hard by Drake as the night wore on. Not that I wanted to be anywhere else in the world than stroking his sensational thighs as they crushed my body. He’s long and lean, but the kid’s got incredibly strong (and sexy) legs. True enough, I was choking on the pain, but reaching around and grabbing that meaty ass, staring down that shit eating grin permanently stretched across his handsome face, I was hardly disappointed with my pro wrestling ring initiation thus far.

The lid was completely blown off, however, when I managed to muscle my way free from yet another bear trap. In an upper body comparison, I’ve got the Cheshire Cat beat bad. So although it took some work, I finally broke free and slipped behind the young pro. I may not have had any significant pro wrestling experience, but when it comes to being intimately familiar with the size and scope of the BG East catalog, I’m fucking world class! I’d studied every Drake Marcos match publicly available. I watched this cocky kid going down in flames time after time, and one thing that even a casual homoerotic wrestling scout will tell you is that Drake Marcos gets off on getting choked. Slipping my big bicep across his throat, I tightened up slowly. And right then and there, I was convinced that this whole match had just taken a 180 degree turn. I knew I had the cocky pro all buttoned up the moment I saw his cock crawling up his lower abdomen, stretching the pouch of those tasty, tight pink briefs.

Once I knew just where to apply pressure, I played the Cheshire Cat like strumming a guitar. I felt the heat pulsing off of his body, straining underneath me. He was hating it. And he was loving it. He tried to pry arm away from his throat. Not that I couldn’t easily thwart him, but I swear I could feel it in the way his body sagged against me that despite himself, he didn’t want to be free. He wanted to be in my control. He wanted to get dragged to the edge of consciousness. There were spurts of reluctant fight writhing in my arms, but the writing was on the wall. Drake Marcos was all mine.
Again, the photographic evidence of the fun to be had with a barely conscious, completely crushed homoerotic pro wrestler at your mercy is available elsewhere. Hung like dirty laundry from the ring ropes and turnbuckles, I snapped pics with my phone to savor later, and to document for the homoerotic wrestling world the precipitous fall of a rising pro wrestler. Dragging his hot, sweaty body to the middle of the ring, I claimed one last trophy: a close up photo of those pink briefs ripped off his sexy body and shoved down his throat.

The best way to silence Drake’s trash talk.

Again, no one should be surprised that after everything was said and done, Drake’s bruised ego desperately tried to spin his humiliating defeat. Online, he claimed my pics were photoshopped. One minute, he was trying to convince his astonished army of fans that this crowing blogger had chloroformed him. The next minute, he was arguing that his split personality betrayed him, and all my pictures were nothing more than evidence that he wasn’t in his right mind around the time he was getting tossed around and tapped out.
I admit it. Watching Drake wriggle and writhe on the line was irresistible. I didn’t need to poke him. It wasn’t necessary for me to rub it in, publicly humiliating him in front of all his wrestler buddies and adoring fans on social media. I didn’t have to have such fun at the Cheshire Cat’s expense. It was just such a fucking pleasure.

The Boss and his Vice President’s of Pain when I met them during my BG East Pilgrimage in 2012.

Fast forward about a year. I was actually starting to feel sorry for Drake just a little, watching him struggle to come up with some new excuse for how his sweet ass got owned by a blogger. But the biggest surprise of all was getting that email from Kid Leopard, the Boss himself, inviting me to take my infatuation with all things homoerotic wrestling to a whole new level. My besting of his protege clearly hadn’t gone unnoticed. My raging crush on yet another BG East hunk, Trey Dixon, also had not escaped the Boss’ attention. So the Boss had an offer he knew I would be completely incapable of refusing: be a “celebrity” guest referee in a no holds barred ring match between Drake and Trey.

(Continued in Part 2)

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Year

December 31, 2015December 29, 2015 wrestlebard5 Comments

Hopefully we’ll have an opportunity to vote on the BG East year end Bestie awards soon. In the mean time, I made my own selections of the wrestlers that grabbed me hardest month by month (I skipped a couple months because life just keeps me from it every so often). My homoerotic wrestler of the month title is a difficult call to make most months. I’m turned on by so much of the fine new releases that I enjoy on a regular basis. But of the matches I’ve seen, the HWOTM title gives me a short list of the wrestlers I enjoyed most over the year.

Not that these are necessarily my top picks of the year. There’s probably some way to do a statistical analysis on the between group versus within group variances (Jose can probably tell us). Some months may present a tighter, higher caliber field than others to choose from, so a “loser” on any given month might have beat the fuck out of a winner in a different month. But I think my top wrestler in a new release in 2015 is guaranteed to be among the 10 HWOTM I called out this year, even if the runner-up might not be.

Anyhow, statistics and logic problems aside, before I can talk about the 10 HWOTM title holders in 2015, I need to anoint a December title holder. It’s a day early, but I’m going ahead and calling the competition for which wrestler turned me on hardest in a December new release. The last piece of the puzzle and the reigning HWOTM as we move into the new year is…

0106_lg

…big, bulging, buff, beautiful, blond, babyface, blue-eyed beefcake, Biff Farrell.

Biff turns thoughtful sizing up the competition.

Frankly, it was a very close call as to whether it was Biff or his opponent, the titular character in The Comeback 2: Joe Mazetti, who turned me on hardest. Joe gets the nostalgia vote, and he sensationally sells the story of a classic heel who can’t, despite his best intentions, turn over the new leaf he so much longs to. Just the thrill of getting to see Joe looking so fucking huge, fit, and fierce is incredibly satisfying, much less getting to see Joe wrestle like he never left the ring in the first place.

Biff savors the taste of making a man suffer between his thighs.

But Biff narrowly rips the title out of Joe’s hands the moment he drops the heel daddy with a sucker shot to the gut and lords it all over a writhing, wriggling Joe, laughing and sneering with Joe’s nogging crushed like a tin can between Biff’s gargantuan thighs. This is a whole new Biff. This is a hungry, brutal, vicious Biff, with a big, bulging sadistic button sticking out and snarling Joe punching that button with abandon.

Biff is such an impressive hunk of man. It’s a joy, and just a little relief, to see his personality come through as 3-D as his bulging, beautiful muscles do. True, the Comeback king puts the buff kid out cold before all is said and done, but it’s that contemptuous, sadistic streak shining through in Biff’s riding time that makes me take a 2nd, 3rd, and 4th look at him as officially graduating from the ranks of the rookies. He plays with and plays off Joe’s larger than life delivery. Gorgeous as fuck, built like a brick house, and now with character complexity and suspense, Biff came on way, way strong to finish 2015.

Biff Farrell is the total package and my homoerotic wrestler of the month.

So somewhere in the pack of my 2015 HWOTM winners, there must be a homoerotic wrestler of the year (HWOTY). I know these are my picks, and it’s all about who turned me on month to month, but seriously, I want to know. Who do you think should be neverland’s HWOTY? Just to warm up for the BG East Besties, vote below for the neverland homoerotic wrestler of the year.

February 2015 – Jonny Firestorm in BG East’s Fan Fantasy 2

March 2015 – Stefan Ramos in Muscle Domination Wrestling’s Six Pack Bash 7

April 2015 – Lon Dumont starring in BG East’s Wrestler Spotlight: Lon Dumont

May 2015 – Marco starring in Thunder’s Arena’s Mat Wars 47

June 2015 – Marco Carlow starring in BG East’s Undagear 23

July 2015 – Ty Alexander starring in Jonny Firestorm’s Custom Combat

August 2015 – Logan Vaughn starring in BG East’s Florida Fights 5

October 2015 – Kayden Keller starring in BG East’s Ring Releases 2

Frey Eagle TV - 8 of 200.jpg — November 2015 – Eagle starring Thunder’s Arena’s exclusive Black Friday release of Frey vs. Eagle

December 2015 – Biff Farrell starring in BG East’s The Comeback 2: Joe Mazetti.

A Year in the Life

December 30, 2015December 29, 2015 wrestlebard1 Comment

With 2015 coming to a close, it’s time to reminisce. I published 100 posts this year, and readers added up an astonishing 493,000 page views in 2015. Most readers (by far) find their way to the home page of neverland, tracking the most recently published posts from day to day. Fascinatingly, the second most viewed page was the About neverland page, which sort of warms my heart because it’s text intensive (so you weren’t just chasing pics) and, well, all about me and my philosophy of blogging. By far the most popular pic clicked on this year was of hot, hairy chested Damien Rush crunching out a most-muscular pose with his masked undoing hovering ominously in the background.

vlcsnap-2014-01-09-09h52m35s222 — Damien’s most muscular grabbed readers most.

Readers also clicked most on my review of the Gazebo Grapplers 17 match pitting jungle boy Lorenzo Lowe against hot jobber Tim Messina. You also seemed to be as infatuated with the pulse pounding 2015 debut of big, bulging, beautiful, blond, blue-eyed beefcake Biff Farrell, clicking directly through to my adoring review of his introduction to the homoerotic wrestling audience in Lon Dumont’s Wrestler Spotlight DVD. Of course, these stats are systematically biased toward older posts (you’ve had less time to rack up clicks on December posts, for example). Which makes me think that my September review of Hunkbash 15, although only the 3rd most viewed blog post of the year, may actually turn out to be the hotttest click over time. And I can certainly understand why. I’ve nearly worn out my DVD of Logan Vaughn’s divine, titanic thighs squeezing every ounce of resistance out of every inch of supplicant-in-training Trey Dixon. There are tastes du jour and then there are exquisite, timeless dishes that we’ll be savoring for years to come, and I have to believe that Trey crushed into sweaty, slack jawed worship at the bare feet of Logan is going to be a keeper.

Neverland readers originate from across the globe. English-speaking United States, the United Kingdom, and Canada are, in order, the top ranking origins of the most readers. Germany comes in fourth place with over 13,000 page views, edging out Australia. France, Japan and Mexico round out the top 8 countries of origin of homoerotic wrestling fans checking out the latest here at neverland.

Click-throughs reveal what I’d expect. I spend most of my time reviewing BG East products, so little wonder that over 14,000 of the click-throughs this year were of readers checking out the source material at BGE. Most of the other click throughs were to brother bloggers like Wrestling Arsenal, Inner Jobber, Beefcakes of Wrestling, and Ringside at Skull Island. I do have love for more than BG East, of course, so I’m glad to see there were over 2,500 click throughs checking out source material at Can-Am, over 2,500 to Cameron Matthews‘ site, and over 1,800 to Muscle Domination Wrestling.

david2 — The moment I get my hands on (a pic of) David Muir shirtless, you will be the first to know!

Those of you using search engines to find your way to these pages typically know what you’re looking for, most of the time using keywords “sidelineland” or “neverland wrestling.” Fascinating me to no end, the next most common search engine keyword earning a click to neverland is “David Muir shirtless.” Google it, and sure enough, neverland is ranked #1. Again, consider my heart strangely warmed by the newsboy love that clearly many of you share with me. Those of you searching for a particular wrestling crush sending you this way were most likely to be seeking out Lane Hartley or Lon Dumont.

gio — Favorite moment #5: Gio plays for our team!

As for my favorite moments of 2015, one of the most fabulous reveals that I celebrated on the pages of this blog was my current top newsboy crush, Gio Benitez, coming out to his adoring public via Instagram photos of sunning his magnificent muscles next to his then-boyfriend Tommy DiDario. When he then documented his Paris marriage proposal via social media, getting down on one knee (Tommy said yes, of course!), a newsboy homoerotic wrestling lover champion tag team was born in my imagination. Every time I see Gio’s gargantuan biceps straining the seams of his suit coats as he reports on GMA, I no longer need to imagine what those hot, bulging muscles look like shirtless, thanks to Gio sharing the wealth and proudly showing off his, and his fiancee’s fabulous muscles in 2015. I’m still waiting for my wedding invitation.

One of those little moments that probably blew right past most readers but tickled my crotch just right this year was a snarky little exchange I had with none other than BG East Boss himself, Kid Leopard back in February. In my relentless pouring over and critiquing the nominees for BG East’s 2014 Bestie Awards, I adamantly announced that Kirk Donahue did not deserve to be in the running for Best Ass. You know what a smart ass I am, so of course I poured it on thick, speculating that the eventual winner of the category ought to bend Kirk over his knee and spank that adorable, yet not outstanding ass until he confesses who he fucked to get the nomination. Well, my smart assedness earned me a firm, slighty chiding message from Kid Leopard, who I assume is nominator in chief, explaining that I was completely off base in my disregard of Kirk’s award worthy butt. Getting a virtual slap on the wrist from the Boss both tickled and aroused me so much that I promptly published a public service announcement clarifying that, with additional persuasive evidence offered by the Boss, Kirk’s ass is totally nominatible. Of course, I was still a smart ass. And I still say Kirk’s ass is sensationally fuckable, but nowhere near deserving of a top 5 ranking in the exceedingly hot field of BG East butts. But anytime Kid Leopard calls me into his office to slap me around a bit, it’s going to be on my list of favorite moments.

character_study_joe_lally_014_1 — Aussie fashion model Jarrod Scott inspired my homoerotic wrestling imagination this year.

My third favorite moment of 2015 was a little self-generated pride and joy I felt in getting my ass back to what really started neverland in the first place: writing homoerotic wrestling fiction. In August I took the flimsy excuse of Details Magazine identifying their top 31 male models, to write up a first round of homoerotic pretty boy wrestling fiction. I have yet to complete the tournament, though Sean O’Pry, John Halls, and Jarrod Scott more than ably earned their way into the semi-finals. What may not have been as apparent on your side of the screen was the pleasure I had in getting back to exercising my homoerotic wrestling imagination. I’ve gotten back to the keyboard several times this fall, and I anticipate 2016 getting me back to the online homoerotic wrestling fiction publishing business again. I’ll keep you updated.

12202024_1728558944044918_825688879_n — Super sexy Drake “Blogger Bait” Marcos, Ty Alexander, and Kayden Keller.

My second most favorite moment in blogging this year was the feast of homoerotic wrestler Halloween costumes I got to enjoy, and share, in early November. Ty Alexander, Kayden Keller and Drake “Don’t-Call-Me-Jobber” Marcos partied hearty on Halloween this year and gifted you and me some hot shots of their sensationally sexy superhero costumes. By way of introducing himself to me, and by extension, you, adorably hot red-headed rookie twink Charlie Evans also sent some shots my way of his Iceman costume for Halloween this year. As soon as homoerotic wrestling studs send me unsolicited (or at least, lightly solicited) photos of themselves roaming the real world, I’m aroused and the moment is indelibly etched onto the list of most memorable moments.

0106_lg — Man-of-my-dreams Scott Williams

My top, very most favorite moment in blogging for 2015 took place in the comments section. Casual readers may not think to check the comments, but you do so at the risk of missing hot gems every so often. Such was the case when I posted one of my long, adoring, full throttle fanboy infatuation pieces on my long-time homoerotic wrestler crush, Scott Williams. Scott shared his appreciation that his fans are still gagging for it, assuring us that he is “still keeping in shape and wrestling privately here in Boston and when I travel…always will love it and will always make you proud on the mats or in the ring!” He signed his comment “Sending bearhugs – Scott Williams.” I have since seen glimpses and snippets of evidence (follow the likes of Ty Alexander on FB, and you’ll see what I mean) that Scott is, indeed, still climbing into the ring, and he remains incredibly, profoundly, astonishingly sexy fit still today. I think it’s a crime against homoerotic wrestling fandom that Scott is keeping his wrestling work out of the publicly consumable sphere these days, and I think you should, at this very moment, send an email to BG East pleading with them to convince this classic hunk to cum out in a new release in 2016. In the meantime, that virtual bearhug from one of my longest running wrestling crushes still keeps me warm at night.

0213_lg — Scott takes full possession of favorite moment #1.

So, 2016. I’m hoping it’s a year for getting back to what has been the most fun for me over the past 6 years. Be it resolved that I will publish homoerotic wrestling fiction in the coming year. Be it also resolved that I will snag some fresh new wrestler interviews, because the lack of interviews in 2015 was, in retrospect, tragic from my perspective. I’ve also been not-so-subtly angling for an opportunity to be your Every-Joe-Fan at an honest-to-the-homoerotic-wrestling-gods taping of a match, and I see no reason why 2016 shouldn’t be the year that that invitation doesn’t show up in my mailbox. Those are a few of my hopes and dreams for the New Year. Hope yours is hot, sweaty, and includes some OTK backbreakers.

Poser Pounding

December 29, 2015 wrestlebard1 Comment

0304_lg — Van Skyler debuts in the ring.

Clearly, I was pretty damn enamored with BG East’s recent release of Gut Bash 11. I’ve fawned over the BG East debut of Chet Chastain’s IRL tag team partner, Brice “Big Mamma” Moore. I loved Lon Dumont’s rookie wrecking of adorable Carlos Ortega so much that it put Lon back on top of my rankings of favorite homoerotic wrestlers. And now I need to complete the trifecta with a loving treatment of the third match, starring Van Skyler’s ass making it’s pro ring debut.

Yep, the rest of him is in this match as well, and there’s so much sizzling hot sexiness of every square inch of Van. His heavily lidded bedroom eyes and lush, thick lips… his stunning arms, torso, and legs… starring in his sophomore match, Van is a star in the making, as far as I’m concerned. He’s dizzyingly pretty, paired with magnificent muscle quality and quantity. Everything about him adds up to HUGE potential in this business.

0320_lg — We are indebted to you, Flash LaCash.

But… That……….. ASS! When Flash LaCash peels Van’s sweat soaked body off the mat by the back of his trunks, giving the rookie a tight, wet wedgie, I’m convinced that this kid could own this industry. And making me love him just that much more: he doesn’t bother trying to dislodge his trunks from his crack. Let that glute roam free range, Van. You are a nascent homoerotic wrestling god.

0330_lg — Flash LaCash is pretty. There, I said it.

I was lukewarm on Flash the first couple of times I saw him, but he’s done significantly more than grow on me in the mean time. I waffled back and forth on his 70’s-forward stash, but fuck me if the full beard he’s sporting in GB11 doesn’t pound the lumbersexual button I had no idea I possessed. Flash is that provocative combination of card carrying, devastatingly dangerous badass attached to a heart meltingly handsome, dare I say, beautiful face. Those eyes, staring deep into my soul with a mischievous twinkle, could get me to do all sorts of boundary crossing. I suspect most fans aren’t as wooed as I am by Flash’s cred as a babyface, but it wouldn’t be the first time I zig when the rest of you zag.

I’d warn you that I’m about to deliver a spoiler, but is there anyone on the planet with eyes to see these two side by side and still be surprised that Flash squashes the stuffing out of Van? It’s the classic tale of the pretty boy with so many abundant assets lovingly crafted in the gym, getting pulverized by a pro who hates pretty posers. Of the 3 matches in this collection, this is truest to the gut bash format. Determined to terrorize the poser right out of the ring for good (the homoerotic wrestling gods forbid!), Flash is brutal and relentless. His genuine contempt for gym bunnies who think two peaked biceps and a 28″ waist are sufficient to earn you a shot in the wrestling ring inspires a muscle bashing focused almost exclusively on the rook’s coverboy abs.

0348_lg — Van sucks on it (his own sweat-soaked sweat sock, that is).

Van takes the beating with equal parts grit and suffering such that I’m hopeful for the pin-up boy’s future in the business. He sells it, and in the hands of such a totally dominating pro heel, his grade A beef is served up juicy and rare.

So much sweat. So much muscle. Such a fabulous contrast of experience, look, style, and appeal. I’d love to rip a plaid flannel shirt off Flash and rub baby oil all over every bulging inch as I stare, enthralled, into his riveting eyes. But I’m just saying that Van Skyler’s ass needs it’s own Wrestler Spotlight. I also think it needs a blogger sitting ringside, because I am very, very eager to get to see this dazzlingly beautiful boy shake off the freshman jitters and shock and awe some more appreciative opponents with that world class moneymaker of his.

0322_lg-1 — Van is in position to be a major player in 2016. Please.

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