Author: wrestlebard

I'm a gay man with an active imagination.

Unglaublich!

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I foster an ongoing low boiling lust for Dan, better known as SteelMuscleGod.  SMG has been the subject of several brief homoerotic wrestling fan/fantasy fiction pieces I’ve written for neverland, and the sexy stud was awesome enough to give me an interview last year that gave us all a glimpse into the mind of an online entrepreneur in the muscle worship/gay wrestling kink world.  I’ve also mentioned around here a guilty little pleasure of mine in the form of a recurring supporting character in SMG’s muscle worship and wrestling video collection who SMG affectionately refers to as “Wimpy Boy,” or on special occasions, “Bitch Boy.”  After a hiatus of a couple of years from appearing with SMG on camera, Wimpy Boy returned last autumn for some bedroom wrestling scenes that made me join the chorus of SMG fans pleading to see SMG receive a full-on muscle worship treatment at Wimpy Boy’s hands.  A couple of months ago, the god and his sidekick posted a very fun commissioned muscle worship piece they did for a certain, unnamed German benefactor of the ars erotica.  Like most of SMG’s work, it’s as much performance art as it is in the family of kink or porn.  Nevertheless, it provokes me… hard… like good art is supposed to.

“He’s just one-third of my size!” says SMG.

The context isn’t entirely clear until partway through the video, but there’s apparently a German sugar daddy online with SMG and Wimpy Boy telling the boys what he’s into.  Unsurprisingly, he’s into much of the same things I’m into when it comes to SMG, including SMG playing the role that he’s strongest at: the steel muscle god narcissist.  “Even though he’s taller than me,” SMG explains as the scene opens, referring to Wimpy Boy in a white t-shirt behind him, “he’s just one-third of my size!”  SMG flexes straining the seams of his skin tight white underarmor sleeveless top.  “Yeahhhh,” he groans/growls, “look at that.”  He kisses his own biceps.  “Tastes goooooood,” he nearly purrs.  “Damn, look at that!”

“Yeah, come on, kiss those biceps!”

I’m looking.  You’re looking.  Wimpy Boy is looking.  “Oh yeah….” SMG mutters, in awe of his own power, “so pumped up!”  As always, that accent, that deep rumbling bass of a voice is a large proportion of the total package that makes SMG such a turn on to me.  Finally, he addresses Wimpy Boy when he commands, “Yeah, come and kiss those biceps!”  Wimpy Boy obeys immediately.  SMG muscles the tall drink of water down.  “Yeahhhh, get down on your knees, man! … Oooo, yeah, that’s big!  Watch me put his face right where the bicep is, yeah.  Grab his head, just like that!”  He smashes Wimpy Boy’s nose into his bicep humiliatingly.  Wimpy Boy keeps planting his lips on the mountainous peak of SMG’s right bi.

“Scheisse!… Unglaublich!… Stein hart!”

“Yeah, talk in German, bitch!” SMG commands, apparently filling a special request from the benefactor online with them.  “Tell him how good and strong these biceps are!”  The first words out of Wimpy Boy’s mouth are entirely muffled by the peak of SMG’s left bicep shoved against his lips.  But eventually he mutters, “Scheisse!  … Unglaublich… Stein hart!”  (Shit! … Unbelievable…  Rock hard!) There’s more German, but that’s as far as my memory of my high school German classes go.

Wimpy Boy is still “in training”

There’s a fascinating (for me) subtext in this 22 minute session.  Apparently like me, the German benefactor wants to see tongue on muscle worship action.  However, Wimpy Boy has said no to that.  SMG tries to make up for it by hungrily sucking on his own biceps extensively.  He spits on his muscles and makes Wimpy Boy rub the saliva across his sculpted physique.  But although the German on the other end of the line asks repeatedly for it, Wimpy Boy adamantly refuses.  No licking.  Frankly, it’s a point of near crisis in the fantasy, I think.  Worshippers don’t clench their jaws and say, “Nein.”  Awed, devoted worshippers don’t refuse their gods.  SMG, however, does a delightful pivot, explaining to the camera conspiratorially that Wimpy Boy is still “in training.”  “He will learn how to do it!” SMG explains with a twinkle in his eye, building the tension between his defiant worshipper and the promise of divine intervention.

“He’s nothing but a puppet to these strong biceps!”

“Yeah, rub your face into that fucking bicep!  Grrrrr.”  I don’t know how to put into text the extremely sexy groan, growl, rumble SMG produces from deep down inside that big chest of his.  It’s insanely sexy.  “He’s nothing but a puppet to these strong biceps.”  Not a moment too soon, SMG takes off his skin tight underarmor top.  Wimpy Boy’s eyes go wide, fixed on his god’s gorgeous pecs.  SMG commands his worshipper to stand behind him, giving us/the German an unobstructed view of SMG’s incredibly lovely body. Wimpy Boy’s hands reach out and begin stroking and massaging SMG’s biceps, shoulders.

Wimpy Boy gasps: “Scheisse!”

At one point, just as Wimpy Boys hands roam forward to cup SMG’s pecs, SMG flexes a most muscular, his pectorals flashing rock hard (stein hart!) in the worshipper’s hands.  “Scheisse!” Wimpy Boy gasps, feeling the power pulsing in the palms of his hands.

“Rub it good.  Feel the massive strength and power.  Fuck, yeah!”

Despite their German sponsor pleading again for Wimpy Boy to suck on those biceps, he won’t do it.  He will, however, join SMG in spitting on his god’s huge biceps.  He’ll obediently massage the spit lubricated muscles of SMG’s arms, shoulders, pecs and abs, his long, lean fingers caressing and squeezing every bulge and crevice.  “Rub hard,” SMG instructs his worshipper.  “Rub it good.  Feel the massive strength and power!  Fuck, yeah!”

Hell.  Yes.

I think it’s the German’s idea, but SMG demands that Wimpy Boy take his shirt off.  Hell, yes!  Their German benefactor wants to see a side by side comparison of Wimpy Boy next to SMG.  Both men chuckle at the thought.  And sure, Wimpy Boy is skinny.  He’s incredibly lean.  He’s flat as a pancake.  And still, there’s something about the combo of the two of them, bare chested, side-by-side, that seriously tweaks my kink more so than a solo session of SMG making love to the camera.  I absolutely nurture my own little personal fantasy of some 1-on-1 with SMG, but I’d give that up in a heartbeat for a full-on session of 2-on-1 with SMG and Wimpy Boy in tandem.  SMG groaning and growling and rumbling; Wimpy Boy muttering awe and adoration in Deutsch; me working some tag team action with Wimpy Boy on SMG with me going absolutely anywhere and everywhere Wimpy Boy isn’t ready to, and then perhaps SMG wrapping up Wimpy Boy is some completely dominating holds for me to let my fingers do the walking all over the long twink’s bod.  SMG would be barking instructions to us both, of course.  Yowza.

“This is getting so hot! Ready to finish you off!”

Wimpy Boy won’t go some places, but he’s delightful where he does go.  Obeying their German sponsor, he rubs his long, lean torso against the rippled topography of SMG’s abs and pecs.  Because SMG is a wrestling fetish object at heart, he grabs Wimpy Boy in a bearhug and makes him suffer.  He drags Wimpy Boy to his knees, grinding his pecs into the flat torso of his overwhelmed worshipper.  “This is getting so hot!  Ready to finish you off! Rub… it… in, so … fucking… goooooood!”

“What, you don’t like it?  I’ll make you like it!  I’ll make you love it!”

When Wimpy Boy drops to his knees and kisses SMG’s 6-pack, ripple by ripple, again there’s more than a nod to the wrestling kinksters among us.  SMG crushes Wimpy Boy’s face into his abs to teach him not just to peck, but to linger.  “That’s it, bitch boy.  What, you don’t like it?!  I’ll make you like it!  I’ll make you love it!”  He swallows him with his muscles, smothering him between his pecs, then shoving Wimpy Boy’s face deep in his armpits.  Wimpy Boy’s scalp turns dark red underneath his pale blond hair as SMG crushes his face into his muscles.  He pounds Wimpy Boy’s forehead against his chest and then drags his nose back and forth.

Wimpy Boy is due for more discipline!

As I said, this is beautiful performance art and it totally gets me off.  SMG’s physique is a wonder, and his exhibitionism is truly entertaining to watch.  His body is, indeed, astonishingly developed and noticeably bigger and more defined since his early days mattress wrestling with Wimpy Boy a couple of years ago.  I’m also struck with the unseen character in this video, the German online typing instructions, commands, pleas.  I love this guy, despite knowing absolutely nothing definitive about him other than that he speaks German.  But as is so often the case, the element that catches me by surprise in its provocativeness for me is Wimpy Boy.  He may be a Wimpy Boy (I’m beginning to suspect he’s definitely not), but he’s definitely a stud who persistently catches my eye and turns me on.  30 seconds left in the video, he’s watching up close as SMG spits on his arms again.  One last time, the German pleads for him to open wide and taste his god.  SMG backs up, shoving that gorgeous bulge into his face, and playfully asks if Wimpy Boy is ready to take the next step.  “Wanna lick!?” SMG probes.  Determined, with a defiant grin on this face, Wimpy Boy adamantly and immediately states, “No.”  SMG laughs again.  “Train him, bit by bit,” SMG promises.  “He… will… do it!”

“Wanna lick?!”

Let’s keep working on him, SMG.  I predict you can wear him down into total submission, or you possibly could awaken a surprisingly fierce twink badass.  Either way works for me.

“Train him, bit by bit.”

Oh, and two words: baby oil.
Oh, and three more words: wear your glasses.

Best of…

wrestlebard10 Comments

The best of BG East in 2012 poll results have been posted.  Joe’s also posted a summary of the winners,  implying that he and the popular vote may have parted ways at several points.  Same for me, I think.  Honestly, I can’t remember who I voted for in several categories, despite the fact that I voted just a few days ago.  It’s probably the remnants of my anti-inflammatory and pain meds working their way out of my system.

Sexiest  Match: StripStakes 3 – Morgan Cruise vs Damien Rush
I do like numbers though, and I’m happy to see a few more data points available than just who won. For example, Morgan Cruise’s rip ‘n strip ‘n force to cum rookie welcome of Damien Rush in StripStakes 3 scored the trophy for sexiest match in 2012, but check the stats.  The match I voted for, Cage Thunder and Lightning Rod’s insanely sexy 2-on-1 destruction of achingly adorably Stinger in Masked Mayhem 9 was just 1 percentage point behind.  I think the heat of this competition deserves seeing Cage Thunder and Lightning Rod tag team once again, this time against Morgan and Damien!
Best Mat Battle: Matie Rookies Eli Black v Jake Jenkins

I was with the herd in selecting best mat battle.  Jake Jenkins and Eli Black’s Mat Rookie confrontation is a match I think will stand the test of time.  And it was 20 percentage points ahead of 2nd place!  When we do a best of the best vote for the next decade anniversary or 100th catalog of BGE, I think Jake and Eli could contend for the title against a broader field.

Best Ring Match: Babyface Brawls 2 Austin Cooper v Cameron Matthews
I can’t remember for certain, but I think my vote for best ring match went with runner-ups Jonny Firestorm and Jake Jenkins in Jobberpalooza 12: The Works, rather than category winners Cameron Matthews and Austin Cooper for Babyface Brawl 2.  I wouldn’t argue with that outcome at all, really, even though just 5 percentage points separated 1st and 2nd place.  I thought that was a very competitive category with several very worthy contenders.

Top Babyface: Jake Jenkins
For best babyface, I think I again went with the herd in picking winner Jake Jenkins who pulled it out by 6 percentage points over Austin Cooper.  There are extremely fierce fans in both of these boys’ camps, so I’m not surprised they rose to the top.  I’m sort of pleased that of the two, Jake topped Coop.

Top Heel: Jonny Firestorm

Honestly, I just can’t remember who I voted for top heel, but it could have been winner Jonny Firestorm who beat out equally likely candidate I may have voted for, Kid Karisma, by 11 points.  Since there was no category for most mindblowing forearms (next year, people!), I’m glad Jonny tucked this one under his belt.

Best Squash: Jopperpalooza 12: The Works Jonny Firestorm v Jake Jenkins
Best squash was not close at all, but I sided with the 17% of decisively swung for Kid Karisma’s gorgeous, sexy beatdown on Skip Vance in Mat Mayhem 23 rather than category winner Jonny Firestorm and Jake Jenkins for Jobberpalooza 12: The Works.  I’m glad The Works got a shout out somewhere in the poll results, though.  And the writing was on the wall, really, with Jake voted top babyface and Jonny voted top heel!

Jobber of the Year: Rio Garza
Jobber of the year went to fan favorite Rio Garza by 9 percentage points over my pick, Skip Vance.  Rio’s got an extremely loyal and not infrequently aggressive (to the point of rude) fan base that makes this result unsurprising to me.  For my tastes, however, Skip is much more a classic jobber and entertaining sell.  Rio’s awfully entertaining to watch job, too, though.

Debut of the Year: Eli Black
Again, I think was with the herd in picking Eli as the best debut of 2012 by 12 points over Damien, though this could easily have gone a different direction and I’d have been entirely on board.  It feels like Eli’s been at BG East for years and years, which suggests to me why this was, as Eli would be happy to tell you, his year!

Best Spotlight Release: Wrestler Spotlight: Austin Cooper
Best spotlight release feature was an 11 point spread between Eli and category winner Austin Cooper.  While this doesn’t surprise me, and if I were a betting man I’d have put money down and made money back on this outcome, I placed my vote for last place winner Denny Cartier because his Leopard’s Lair 4 anchor position was fucking AWESOME, and essentially 4 barnburner and brutal bouts for the price of 2.  I love, love, love me some Denny Cartier and one of my fondest wishes for 2013 is to see him tap into a nasty streak and headline a new category for next year’s voting: best heel turn!

Best Abs: Eli Black
Best abs was a surprisingly (to me) narrow victory of 2 points by Eli over Jake.  What makes for “best” when it comes to bodies and their parts is, obviously, subjective, however my vote went for Lon Dumont by a mile and a half.  At the risk of pissing off Eli, I just have to say Eli’s phenomenal 8-pack seems to me to be about 60% conditioning and 40% mass, whereas Lon’s anatomy chart abdominals (the whole pacakge: serratus, obliques, abdomini) are a more aesthetically balanced and all around stunning beauty.  I don’t begrudge Eli’s victory at all, mind you, but I just shake my head and contemplate my vast distance from the herd when I see that Lon placed last.  For me and my tastes, I think this calls for a Lon v Eli gut bash in 2013.

Best Bulge: Mr. Joshua Goodman
I was, however, right in the middle of the pack in voting for best bulge winner (by 4 points) Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!), who slapped down his junk to power hit past Gabriel Ross’ anaconda.  There wasn’t one candidate in this field that couldn’t easily own the title, and I’d go so far as to say that this year was a bumber crop of mountainous packages. Now the task for 2013 is for one of those club boys that he likes to take home and challenge to wrestle for the chance to put Mr. J on his knees, to literally shock the pants off of Mr. J and finally, finally, finally unleash the beast within.  I guarantee I’ll buy three copies of that release!

Best Butt: Kid Karisma
Best butt was a horse race between category winner Kid Karisma and 2nd place finisher (by a nose) Cameron Matthews.  While we can’t go wrong with any of the contenders for this title, I’m happy to admit I voted for and was campaign chairman for Kid K’s glorious glutes to grab this title.  Again, I say, the ferocity of this competition clearly warrants a Kid K v Cameron rip ‘n strip ring battle to be decided by who makes whom kiss his ass. I’ll pay a premium for a front row seat to that one!

Best Body: Rio Garza
Best body again revealed the distance between me and the herd, with Rio Garza taking the title by 4 points over 2nd place Austin Cooper.  Arguably, this could be the most subjective of all of these wildly subjective categories, because what bodies turn us on follow such divergent tastes in bodies among wrestling fans.  If this were strictly about physical conditioning and muscle mass, the 2 bodybuilders at the bottom of the heap, Magnus and my choice Lon Dumont, could have easily vied for the top spots.  Again, this line of reasoning makes my loins ache to see Magnus and Lon in a head-to-head catchweight ring match of bodybuilding beauties.  However, 21% of fans preferred the body of beautifully proportioned, lickably smooth Rio, which I get, despite my tastes drawing me strongly elsewhere.

Hottest Liplock: X-Fights 34 Gabriel Ross and Drake Marcos
The final category placed me back among the masses in selecting the blazingly hot X-Fights 34 match between Drake Marcos and Gabriel Ross, obliterating the competition with 54% of the vote!  Truth be told, I could easily be tempted to swing for the incredibly sexy and, yes, I’ll say it, wrestling romantic liplock that Enforcer slapped on Maskador in Masked Mayhem 10 as the ripped hunk hung battered and helpless in a tree of woe, halfway to being entirely unmasked.  I admit it: I’ve also gotten off to that scene from Spiderman where Tobey Maguire hangs upside down, his masked half pulled off, as his co-star sucks hero face.  Gorgeous fantasy!  But holy hell, the heat generated by Drake and Gabriel could heat Reykjavik for year!
What a year!  BG East pieced together an incredible collection of outstanding homoerotic wrestling, and all of the nominees and the entire catalog of 2012 releases deserves all this and much more credit.  Nicely done, gentlemen! 

Enjoy

wrestlebard1 Comment

There are less than 12 hours for you to register your votes in BG East’s Best of 2012 poll, so get to it!  My last post, urging you to fulfill your civic duty and vote, generated some consternation from a couple of folks concerned about my electioneering.  I hear your concern, and I respect it.  But I humbly point out, this isn’t rocket science.  Have some fun with it, my friends.  Campaign for your favorites.  Enlist random friends to sign up and stuff the ballot box with your slate of picks.  Lighten up and enjoy.  It’s homoerotic wrestling, after all, and if there’s anything that should guide us in reflecting on it, it’s enjoyment.

Rio’s Bad Day: Nominee for Best Spotlight Release of 2012

More to the point, we the electorate can’t really go wrong in this one.  Unlike national elections for public office, it’s not like there’s any one potential candidate who could rip apart the fabric of civil society.  To assist, not to campaign, let’s take a look at the nominees for best abs as they appeared in 2012 releases.  Seriously, there is no “wrong” choice to be made (and you can select a write-in candidate).  So have at it!

And the nominees for Best Abs of 2012 are…

Eli Black
Austin Cooper
Alexi Adamov
Lon Dumont

Jake Jenkins 

Your Civic Duty

wrestlebard5 Comments
There’s no category for most phenomenal forearms, but you can vote for Jonny Firestorm as  Best Heel of 2012.

I’m still recovering from a wrenched neck, but I wanted to broadcast loud and clear your moral imperative to vote in the currently (and briefly!) running, first ever (I believe), BG East year-end review fan poll.  We have 14 categories to vote for our favorites of the 2012 BG East releases, and the decisions are brutal, I tell you!  I just submitted my ballot, and I found it seriously tough to pick from the extremely fine field of contenders.  The Best Bulge category alone took me about 20 minutes to painstakingly research, because how do you decide between the pendulous packages of Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!), pretty Pete Sharp, Jobe Zander, Dylon Roberts, and Gabriel Ross!?  I don’t want to unduly influence the democratic process, so I’ll try to refrain from telling you who to vote for (though, seriously, people, check out my first day of Christmas present before you register your vote for Best Butt!).

For your consideration: Kid Karisma is up for Top Heel and Best Butt

This blog is also abundantly quoted in the year end celebration from BG East in which they announced the poll.  I feel like I say it a lot, but it bears repeating, the boys at BG East (both in front of and behind the cameras) are true friends of neverland, not just because they produce the top tier homoerotic wrestling products available, but also because they indulge me with permissions to use their copyrighted materials.  And most importantly, they’re just good guys… generous, understanding, and having just as much fun making these wrestling fantasies happen as you and I enjoy consuming them.  Whoever comes out on top of the polls, BG East is chocked full of winners in my book.

Lon Dumont is nominated for Top Heel, Best Abs, Best Butt, AND Best Body!

Now go vote, because polls close this Sunday, January 20, midnight EST.  And if you do want me to tell you who to vote for, just ask.

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month6’6

wrestlebard1 Comment

I wrenched my back a few days ago and have been in constant pain ever since.  I suspect it was a combination of that last spill off of Ben Godfre’s skateboard and my fireman’s carry of the pretty boy up the stairs to tie him to the bed.  I’ve had a ton of things to write about, but I’ve just felt too miserable to bother.  Clearly, I’m not as young and resilient as I used to be/think I am.  The pain is subsiding as I promise myself to get back to my yoga routine once I’m entirely healed, so I’m back to finally get down to business long overdue: naming the first homoerotic wrestler of the month for 2013.  The winner of the title is, of course, the wrestler who appeared in a December release who turned me on more than any other.  Nominees this month are relatively sparse.  No new catalog from BG East.  Rock Hard Wrestling posted two hot matches: Ethan Andrews putting a Bodybuilder Beatdown on luscious muscleboy Brodie Fisher, and Austin Cooper tying lovely muscle punk Josh Steel up in knots as Coop’s Conquest.  I’m still not tracking exactly when Thunder’s Arena releases their matches (if for no one’s sake but mine, I wish they put out release dates!).  However, I believe Big Sexy and Angelo’s match in No Holds Barred 26 was a December release, as was (I think) Bodybuilder Battle 55 with huge Johnny Bravo and mouthwatering Python as well as Mat Wars 33 with Big Sexy putting Python on gorgeous display.  And if they were December releases, then surely No Holds Barred 27 with Dominic and Angelo, Bodybuilder Battle 56 with Johnny back to devour Tak, and Mat Wars 34 with ripped Braden taking on equally ripped Brad Barnes are as well.  Muscle Domination Wrestling, the new kids on the block, posted Morgan Cruise (with facial hair) reworking over big farmboy Tony Law in Sweaty Stud Contortion, and a members-only match with Morgan reasserting his corporal ownership of Damien Rush’s balls in Sexual Domination.  Steel Muscle God and his Britboy wrestling hookup, Connor, qualified with a novelty beatdown on a frighteningly skinny kid who goes by “Slim Studman.”

Top-notch wrestling that tweaks my personal kink was not well represented in the depth of this field in December.  However, there were a couple matches that stood out for me as particularly eye catching, and one wrestler in particular that sold me more satisfyingly than any other this time around.  Better late than never, my new reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month is…

6′, 205 lbs: aptly named Big Sexy

…Thunder’s Arena’s Big Sexy.
I had to check 3 times to convince myself that this is the first HWOTM title for Big Sexy, because somehow that just doesn’t seem possible.  He lives up to his name in such a literal way!  How he’s failed to grab hold of the title with both hands before now is a mystery.

In this particularly attention grabbing case, his opponent is a guilty pleasure of mine. Python is such a mouthwatering muscle stud!  Those insane biceps are nothing short of phenomenal, but I have to say it’s Python’s massive muscle glutes that I’m a little obsessed with.  This kid desperately needs to loosen up, but if this were an award for eye candy of the month, this entire post could easily be about bicep boy.  As it is, though, the title is homoerotic wrestler of the month, and in that foot race, gorgeous Big Sexy leaves his “little” opponent in the dust.  But the journey is delightful to watch!

That…. ASS!
The opening camera angle is of Big Sexy, from behind, staring out the window waiting impatiently for the eye candy to arrive.  This is a stroke of directing genius, my friends, because as much as I’d like to sink my fingertips into Python’s luscious ass, I’d like to fall on my knees and worship the astonishingly sexy ass of Big Sexy.  His glutes make me gasp every time I see them.  It’s a sculpted ass of pure muscle.  My guess is that Big Sexy’s genetics, unlike Python’s, don’t afford him a platinum ass by default.  Without having pumped out endless squats, I would guess that Big Sexy’s booty would be flat as a board.  Thankfully, Big Sexy has, obviously, pumped out those endless squats, building muscle fiber by muscle fiber a powerhouse ass to make me desperate to grab him by the hips and plow that moneymaker for a decade.
Personally, I’d settle for googling all over how awesome Big Sexy is.

Python tries to smack talk way, way, way out of his league when he criticizes Big Sexy’s trunks (“Am I wrestling a watermelon!?”) and his body (“Big Sexy?  Little!”).  “I’m also six feet tall,” Big Sexy snaps back.  “What are you?  5’1?… You’re like a midget, man!”  They do some side by side comparisons of their guns, along with some appraising squeezes.  Big Sexy suddenly turns to the camera and pleads, “What are you all doing to me!? I wanted someone to wrestle, not… google all over how awesome I am!  Look at this!  This is Big Sexy!  I’m here… all day.”

“You’d better not be flexing!”

About a third of a second after the wrestling starts, Big Sexy is mounted across Python’s muscled back, slapping him in the back of the head humiliatingly.  In classic Big Sexy fashion, for every one part physical domination, he mixes in a heaping helping of two parts verbal domination.  “I wonder how much your bicep would take before I break it?” he murmurs, locking Python’s veiny python outstretched vulnerably.  Python huffs and puffs like a steam engine, trying to power his way to freedom, while calm, cool, collected mat veteran Big Sexy exerts absolutely no more effort than absolutely necessary to keep the muscle kid compromised.

Big Sexy is a fan pleaser, first and foremost.

With Python’s face smashed into the mat and Big Sexy controlling him handily with a simple half nelson, Big Sexy slides toward the camera and smiles at his fans. “You see, guys,” he says, pointing at his beautiful torso, “I work on these abs for you.  It doesn’t matter what he’s doing over there,” he dismisses the steam engine muscle punk huffing away in a vain attempt at escape.  “Don’t even look over there.  This is it,” he crunches his abs and flexes his left bicep. “This is perfection.”

Big Sexy leaves his muscle punk opponent nowhere to go but down.

There’s a truly gorgeous moment early on when Python launches an offensive, locking up Big Sexy’s left leg and neck in a muscle-encased small package.  With stunning control, Big Sexy rolls the kid over, breaks free his leg, an reverses, not only wrapping Python up in a tit-for-tat musclelocked small package, but then standing up and parading him around upside down and folded in half.  Holy hell, that’s both impressive and incredibly hot!

“Kiss it.  Kiss it!”

As with most Thunder’s matches, there’s a heavy hit of screwing around, friendly bullying in this match.  For example, channeling my older brother from my early childhood, Big Sexy nearly rips Python’s left leg out of his pelvis in a vicious small package, and then forces Python to kiss his own knee… just because he can.  “See, just do what I want!” Big Sexy explains.  “Things’ll go better for you.”

Tragically, I can’t find this perfect move in the video!

This is technically not a squash, I suppose.  At least, Python has some offense and some superhuman strength to hoist his much larger opponent over his shoulders.  There’s a still from Thunder’s Arena of a shot of the Sexy One suffering just a bit in the most appropriate hold ever placed on Big Sexy: a reverse bearhug (though I swear I can’t find this hold in the match itself).  A little more grinding of his crotch into that infinitely fuckable ass and this could easily morph from frat house hijinks into full on, explicitly homoerotic fare.   In a sweet moment of promise for Python, he force feeds Big Sexy a deviled egg as he has the Sexy One’s trapped solidly in a side headlock.

“Not so tough down there, huh, are you?”

But honestly, Python comes across little more than a gym bunny learning that eye candy is not the same as wrestling dominance.  Big Sexy stretches his boy’s muscled body out gorgeously, both toying with the kid and demonstrating his commitment to his fans by showing off his captured prey.  At will, he rolls Python’s shoulders flat on the mat. “Not so tough down there, huh, are you?” he mutters effortlessly as the muscle kid continues to huff and puff in pain.

“Decent,” Big Sexy concedes.

Demonstrating his complete control of the moment, he abruptly calls off the action and explains that he needs to chat with his fans.  With dialogue successful in both welcoming muscle worship and withering the ego of his opponent, Big Sexy flexes his sweat soaked body as he towers over the camera.  “Go ahead, you can show what you think you have.  They might want to see something like that,” Big Sexy sounds doubtful as Python pumps his mountainous right bicep at the camera.  “Everyone’s got a market.  Twinks sell pretty well, you’re doing okay.”  Python, of course, is no twink.  He has more muscle mass in one tricep than a bona fide twink has in his entire body.  But then again, Big Sexy probably has more muscle mass in one quad than Python has in both his legs.  Big Sexy is not easily impressed.  “Decent, I’ll give you that,” he mutters, his praise more damning than outright contempt.

Crushing his opponent alive, Big Sexy shows off that gorgeous ass and gives his fans a wink.

He is unquestionably big and sexy.  His mat wrestling is stunning, even when he’s going easy on a flat footed rook.  He sweats with the best of them.  His trash talking is top tier.  And most enjoyably of all for me, particularly in this match, Big Sexy knows, appreciates, and is out to please his fans, with more than a nod and wink, showing off his own fantasy muscle body as well as displaying his muscle punk opponent’s eye candy deliciously.  I’m sure it’s long overdue, but then again, it’s about time he shaved off that nasty ass beard, finally pulling it together for a performance that solidly convinces me that there’s just no other choice to be made.  Big Sexy is my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month.

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month: Big Sexy

Cleaning House – 2013

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I’ve been imagining fashion model Ben Godfre as a top shelf homoerotic wrestling god and behind-the-scenes power hitter for years.  One glance at his Timoteo underwear shots and I was hooked.  Of course, my imagination transported him into a high stakes homoerotic wrestling universe in which Ben is the first in line among equals comprising the ranks of executive assistants to a post-apocalyptic titan who rules the world with the simple rule that the most arousing homoerotic wrestling performances are what really matters in the entertainment industrial complex. In the Producer’s Ring in which this fictional version of Ben resides, the only audience that really matters is the gay wrestling kink audience.
In a further blurring of the lines between my fondest homoerotic fantasies and real life, 2012 saw the announcement that Ben Godfre was leaving behind the world of between the lines innuendo and dipping his suckable right big toe in the gay porn world.  I know, you’re thinking I’m delusional, and that my over-achieving erotic imagination has finally made me lose the ability to distinguish between fantasy and fact. You’re wrong (this time).  Ben not only signed a contract with Raging Stallions/Falcon Studios, he wrote, directed, and starred in his own solo porn production successfully released last month.  My friends, this is starting to line up very nicely with the wildly successful career path I pictured for Ben three years ago in my fiction!  Coincidence?  Most likely.  Then again…*
Oh My Godfre – Ben Godfre classes it up at Falcon Studios
When the doorbell rang at about 6 pm on New Year’s Eve, the surprise wasn’t that Ben Godfre was standing on my doorstep.  His agent called ahead to let me know to expect him and his posse of skater boy fashion models planning on co-opting my place to do their New Year’s Eve damage.  No, the surprise was that there was no “posse.”  There was just this stunningly handsome, six-foot stud, milky hazel eyes, mussed dark brown hair, painted on black jeans, tank top.  Now, to clarify, I wasn’t disappointed, of course.  Just surprised.  “Where’s the posse?” I asked, my voice cracking just a little.

He looked away, pulled up his shirt (showing off that gorgeous torso), and pulled down the front of his extremely low-rise black denim.  His lovely trouser snake slid partway out, already semi-erect.  “Oh! there it is. Please come in,” I immediately replied.
“So, what do you want to do?” I asked, looking around at the mountain of alcohol and finger foods I’d laid out for “the posse.”  “Strip gin rummy?” my handsome guest replied.  Fuck, yes! I thought to myself. The chance to actually beat the pants off of Ben Godfre!?

Fuck me if 30 minutes later I was in nothing but my briefs, while the 6-foot fashion model porn boy still had everything but his socks on.  Godfre plays a mean game of gin rummy!  I was a little self-conscious about showing so much skin in front of the chiseled physique of my guest.  I mean, I’m in shape, but I’m no Ben Godfre.  But for a ridiculously gorgeous male model, Ben’s surprisingly engaging and a witty conversationalist, and he put me quickly at ease.  We chatted about various topics.  His career path was foremost on my mind, but Ben was a little coy about talking much about the porn-turn.  “It’s hot,” was pretty much all he’d say.  “I’m having fun with it.”

“Damn, that looks a lot more comfortable,” he said, putting down yet another 2-card draw gin (fuck, he’s got all the luck!).  By rights, it was my turn to lose my briefs, but Ben waved it off.  I get the impression that hanging around in his underwear is where Ben feels most at home.  So discarding the card game, he peeled out of his jeans, plugged in house music from his iPod, and gave me a little private dirty dancing routine.  When he started lap dancing, I was already staining my CKs with pre-cum.  That ass, sliding up and down my lap… happy new year, indeed.

I was ready to lose all self-control then and there, but Ben tugged me out of my chair (briefs at full staff), and asked me if I skateboard.  My answer (“not for that past 30 years”) earned a crotch-warming grin from the tattooed pretty boy in front of me.  He pulled out his skateboard (not euphemistically… this time) and made a few laps around my place.  I experienced only a moment of angst about my hardwood floors, but watching his nearly naked muscles flex and stretch as he flew gracefully around my furniture was… well, it was like nothing I’d ever experienced before.  He made me show him what I’ve got, which was mostly falling on my ass.  Ben insisted on giving me a lesson (note to self: bend your knees and lean into it is excellent advice for so many life activities!).  I felt stupid for a bit.  Old.  Uncoordinated.  But damn it all if some hands-on tutorial from a smiling Ben Godfre can’t bust right through my self-consciousness.

It was Ben’s idea to play some 1-on-1 quarters, too.  Last time I played quarters was only about 20 years ago, so I was marginally more skilled at that than skateboarding.  Godfre, on the other hand, is, as seemingly with everything, brilliant at it. We played with shot glasses of tequila.  I averaged about 3 out of 4, which would’ve blown my old fraternity brothers out of the water 20 years ago.  Godfre, however,  made about every 9 of 10.  I was doing shots at about three times the frequency he was.  I was a mess well before midnight arrived, while he was (as clearly as I can remember) steady as a rock.  Again, I had every reason to feel inadequate and a squanderer of a lifetime opportunity to get a male model turned porn star drunk.  And yet, Ben was charming and disarming.

Midnight came and went, but it was a bit of a blur on my end.  I seem to remember toasting the New Year mutually naked with insanely delicious cosmos he made for us (yet another thing the kid excels at).  There was more skateboarding, but I think it was almost entirely him doing the boarding with me just watching his naked gorgeousness rolling around me.

I woke up late on the 1st in my own bed and, tragically, alone.  Remember, this was right in the middle of my 12 days of Christmas presents, and so even a little dehydrated (I don’t get hangovers), I went to the tree first to find Mason Brook’s nipples delivered via Santa.  “What’s that?” The voice seemed to come from nowhere.

It was Ben, flat on his back on the floor with his feet on the couch where he slept the night/morning.  I grabbed us both glasses of water and then explained the whole homoerotic wrestling Christmas wish list thing.  I showed him the pics of Mason to illustrate the idea.  “Nice nipples!” he said unprompted (I swear).  I agreed, of course.  “What’s he like when he wrestles?”

I started describing Mason’s debut match with Blaine Janus, focusing on Mason’s surprising readiness to get down and dirty for a rookie, but then caught myself a minute into the match description.  “I’ve got it upstairs,” I said.  “Let me pop it in the DVD player, and you can see for yourself.”

Ben liked what he saw.  A lot.  In fact we spent the next three hours sampling from my rather extensive collection of homoerotic wrestling videos.  Ben was fully erect and gently stroking his pornboy cock almost the entire time.  Surprising trivia (at least for me) included that he was not nearly as into Brad Rochelle, Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!), or Jake Jenkins as much as I am.  On the flip side, he was fucking crazy for Kid Vicious, Kid Karisma, and Rusty Stevens.  It was after he sampled about 5 minutes worth of Rusty’s match with Mitch Colby that Ben abruptly turned to me and said, “Fuck, let’s wrestle!”

To recap, I had a 6-foot, muscle sculpted, gorgeously inked, magnetic eyed, naked, and erect fashion model turned porn star on my couch insisting that we wrestle.  You do the math.

It started with Ben wanting to experience some of the holds we watched on DVD.  He asked for a reverse bearhug like the one Mitch Colby worked on Rusty in their match.  Now I’m considerably shorter than Ben and not nearly as strong as Mitch, but I’m not ashamed to say that I did okay.  The porn kid was groaning and flailing, and when I slid my cock between his skater boy thighs, he gasped, “Oh, fuck!”  He requested a figure-4 choke ala Kid Karisma’s finisher against lovely, lanky Christian Taylor.   He did not have to ask me twice, I assure you.  And he polished his pulsing rod like crazy the closer I got to choking him out cold.  But things really started getting interesting when he whispered he wanted a Kid Vicious-style OTK backbreaker.  I scooped him up, paraded him around the living room a while to let his vulnerability sink in, and then slammed him across my knee, pinning his naked body there racked backward over my thigh.  And I thought he was fully erect before!  Holy fuck, that juicy whopper bouncing and swaying as he moaned, head hanging upside down, was mind blowing!  There was never a chance in hell that mouthwatering meat was not going to end up in my mouth (a la, KV), which seemed to take Ben by surprise at first.  He jerked, seemed to even protest a moment.  But my hand shoving him down by his throat and my mouth working his cock like a Hoover settled him right back down.  A lot more moaning, but he took it like a pro.

After I had my fill with him draped over my knee, I dumped his gorgeous body unceremoniously to the floor and stepped on his face, pinning him to the hardwood and flexing (just to give him the full effect of a homoerotic wrestling humiliation).  That’s when he suddenly yanked my foot out from underneath me and dropped my ass to the couch.  The “let’s try that hold” game was officially over and done with, and an intense session of competitive tussling took it’s place.  To be sure, this kid is a trained athlete with very impressive strength, lightning reflexes, and superhuman balance.  When he slapped on a tit-for-tat revenge bearhug, I had a moment of panic that not all of my ribs were going to get out of this in tact.  But having been humiliated by this adonis at gin rummy, indoor skateboarding, and quarters, I finally found something I’m better at than Ben Godfre.

The kid had no idea what to do about a pec claw, and what hot hunks of meat he has to claw!  I literally made him cry, dragging him up off his knees to his feet with my fingers sunk deep into his pectoral muscles.  I mean, actual tears streamed out of the corners of both of those gorgeous eyes!  Holy shit, that was pure magic.

A stump puller stretched the lovely skate punk out beautifully, the back of his head resting on my fully erect cock as I held onto his right ankle and stretched the naked puppy’s hamstring out until it actually quivered.  First, let me just clarify that Ben keeps his ass trimmed, but he’s not shaved smooth.  Very nice.  Second, let me just reiterate that his right hamstring quivered, jerking and jumping like a trapped animal.  He screamed that submission with total panic in his voice.  Damn, that was sweet!

He scored one submission on me.  I took an inadvertent (I think) knee to the temple, making my head spin.  When it stopped spinning, the punk had me folded over on my back, my ankles trapped in his armpits and his pulsing cock pinning my face (he like that move from Kid Karisma).  Sure, I submitted.  After about 10 minutes.

But the rest of New Years 2013 was all Bard, baby!  A standing abdominal stretch showed off my opponent’s muscled body so beautifully, but the tough son of a bitch wouldn’t submit in it… until I reached around with my free hand and crushed his balls.  Technically, I’d say there were about 5 submissions in that hold (“IsubmitIsubmitIsubmitIsubmitIsubmit!!!!!!!”).  Pulling a page out of a titan that both Ben and I appreciated together, I threatened to rip his gorgeously tattooed right arm apart at the elbow, trapped between my thighs.  Paying homage to Rusty Stevens, I not only made him submit there, but I also fucked with his head, alternately commanding him to stroke his cock and then stop stroking, working the kid up to a frothy lather completely under my control.

I dragged his gorgeous body on his hands and knees around the living room by a fistful of hair once he was pretty much wasted, swimming in his own sweat and broken in body and spirit.  Again, with a nod to Rusty, I made my fashion model pornboy give me a naked pony ride in total submission, steering him around the furniture with my finger fish hooks in the corners of his mouth.  When I slid my hips forward and tucked my cock between his ass cheeks, the bad boy of fashion actually whimpered.  The horse cock hanging from between his legs as he carried me another lap around the couch made it clearly evident that I wasn’t the only one enjoying the moment.

The kid is a trooper, I tell you, and I think he could easily fulfill almost every ounce of the homoerotic wrestling fantasy I wrote for him starting three years ago.  He’s every bit as hot as hell as he looks.  He could charm a cobra with those hypnotically intense eyes.  He’s an incredible athlete.  And more to the point, he’s got a taste for the erotic power of wrestling kink… now.

Other assets Ben Godfre has to recommend him further into the gay fetish scene and, particularly, solidly into our camp?  He knows how to be slack-jaw-dominated and to work up a head of steam every step of the way.  He takes a bare handed ass slapping session like a pro.  He gets only harder when tied up.  He tastes like honey, and he has the stamina of a marathoner.

He also makes a killer fry up in nothing but an apron.  Holy shit, this guy is a Renaissance man for the 21st century!  If this is the way 2013 starts, I think this is my year, without a doubt.  I’m on top of the world, kicking fashion model porn star ass, and recruiting homoerotic wrestling fetishists to our ranks.  And once Ben buffs the skateboard marks out of my hardwoods (naked), I’ll slap him on that gorgeous ass and send him back into the world with strict instructions to contact a couple of homoerotic wrestling producers to break into the scene that this kid was absolutely made for.  You can all thank me later.  Happy New Year, all.

*This is entirely a work of fiction, and I have no evidence that Ben Godfre, in fact, takes career advice from this blog or my homoerotic wrestling fiction.  But if he wants to, I’m ready to help.

On the Twelfth Day of Christmas, Santa Brought to Me…

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On the first day of Christmas, Santa brought to me Kid Karisma’s picture perfect ass.

On the second day of Christmas, Santa brought to me Ben Monaco’s luscious, furry pecs.
On the third day of Christmas, Santa brought to me Steel Muscle God’s tree trunk thighs.
On the fourth day of Christmas, Santa brought to me Skip and Christian’s wrestling romance.
On the fifth day of Christmas, Santa brought to me Darius’ muscle-packed trunks.
On the sixth day of Christmas, Santa brought to me Kid Vicious’ domineering sneer.
On the seventh day of Christmas, Santa brought to me Lon Dumont’s insanely ripped back.
On the eighth day of Christmas, Santa brought to me Mason Brook’s intoxicating nipples.
On the ninth day of Christmas, Santa brought to me Cage Thunder’s mouthwatering cock.
On the tenth day of Christmas, Santa brought to me Drake Marcos’ wrestling kinked smile.
On the eleventh day of Christmas, Santa brought to me Jonny Firestorm’s gorgeously sculpted forearms.
“On the twelfth day of Christmas, Santa brought to me…”
The final wish I whispered into Santa’s ear felt like possibly the most daring fantasy of all.  I was incredibly fortunate to get to spend about half a day with a certain homoerotic wrestling god about a year and a half ago.  The master of the house, this iconic heel turned wrestling producer showered generous hospitality on me, showing me every corner of BG East headquarters where many of my fondest wrestling fantasies have taken place.  Near the end of my visit, he invited me to join him as he sat down at his computer and pulled up the unedited photos of the upcoming BG East catalog (Catalog 89).  I stood behind his chair, looking over he shoulder as he clicked through literally hundreds of pics, zipping past most, and then pausing to soak in a particularly titillating shot.  “Mmmmm,” he’d mutter appreciatively, “look at that!”  A photo of Mitch Colby’s hot muscled bod draped helplessly across the top turnbuckle, about to be battered by big Vlad Varek made my host groan and made my cock ache.  I got the first outside glimpse of masked mountain of muscle Magnus force feeding his monster cock to fellow rookie Surge, to the soundtrack of my host letting out a little gasp of pleasure as he paused on a shot from behind Magnus, dwarfing his opponent, as Surge’s hands worshipfully cupped Magnus’ massive glutes.  My host would fly through dozens of photos and then something would catch his eye, and when he paused on a shot long enough for me to soak it in, I’d see it.  A particularly sexy angle, a display of exquisitely tortured muscle, an incredibly hot grimace of agony or sadistic, sexy leer. His taste, his eye for what speaks most directly to my own homoerotic wrestling kink, was astonishing to witness, and his commentary as much as the graphics left me slightly dizzy and hard a rock.  With that memory crystal clear in my mind, I whispered to Santa, I want to see just a glimpse of what he sees.  And on the twelfth day of Christmas, Santa brought to me an entire collection of what catches the eye of the man who has pretty much defined my homoerotic wrestling kink, an astonishingly beautiful montage of moments directly from the desk of Kid Leopard.
Dawn breaks over the lake at BG East.
Skrapper rolls out of bed, ready for a day of wrestling
Drowsy Christian Taylor looks for breakfast, with pretty Pete Sharp in the background
“The irrepressible Lon Dumont” saddles up to the counter with his gorgeous recruit, pretty Pete Sharp
“Since you like bespectacled wrestlers,” the note from KL says, “here Nick Rush laces up beside a contemplative Lon Dumont prior to their match with Austin & Jake.”
Beauty, grace, power: Jake Jenkins takes to the air
Stunningly handsome and beautifully proportioned: All-American Austin Cooper

Bespectacled (thus extra hot) Lorenzo Lowe looks like the meat sandwiched between Jonny Firestorm and Kid Vicious
Lobolito watches as Drake texts illicit photos to neverland

Canadian Beef: The Boss included in his bundle of Christmas presents this never before seen (but much anticipated) preview of Ben Monaco and a new massive, hairy muscle beast due out in the next BG East catalog!
News Flash: Liam Ryan is bearded, bulked up, and ready for one of the most epic returns to BG East wrestling ever in 2013!

Did Kid Leopard’s eye for homoerotic wrestling mold my tastes, or does he simply have instinctive insight into what turns me on?  Either way, like Santa, Kid Leopard is an incredibly generous friend of neverland, and his generosity and genius continue to turn me on like nobody else can!

On the Eleventh Day of Christmas, Santa Brought to Me…

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On the first day of Christmas, Santa brought me an entire fashion show featuring the profound beauty of Kid Karisma’s world class ass. On the second day of Christmas, Santa brought to me Ben Monaco’s furry, flexing pecs. On the third day, Santa brought me Steel Muscle God’s mountainous legs. On the fourth day of Christmas, Santa brought me some steamy romance between Skip Vance and Christian Taylor. On the fifth day of Christmas, Santa brought me Darius’ astoundingly overstuffed trunks. On the sixth day of Christmas, Santa brought me Kid Vicious’ orgasm-inspiring sneer. On the seventh day of Christmas, Santa brought me the breath-stealing wingspan of Lon Dumont. On the eighth day of Christmas, Santa brought me the magic nipples of Mason Brooks. On the the ninth day of Christmas, Santa delivered the seductive unwrapping of Cage Thunder’s gorgeous package. And yesterday, Santa sent the handsome smile of the Cheshire Cat of Homoerotic Wrestling, Drake Marcos.  Just two days left before this song is over, and I just slept on the couch next to the skeleton of my former Christmas tree, anxiously anticipating what the big man would deliver today.

“On the eleventh day of Christmas, Santa brought to me…”
I had the overwhelming pleasure of sharing an unexpected meal with a certain iconic pro badboy of BG East about a year and half ago (actually several of them, but one in particular that is the subject for today).  The conversation was delightful and provocative.  The company was gracious.  But I repeatedly caught myself staring, infatuated with one certain body part of one of my hosts.  Santa knew exactly what I was talking about as I waxed lustful about that wildly distracted lunch, because this morning I found a made-to-order series of pics of the astonishingly erotic power and beauty of the incredibly massive and gorgeous forearms of none other than Jonny Firestorm.

This is not trick photography.  Jonny’s right forearm really is that big!

The left one is equally as stunning!

The shoulders, the biceps, the triceps… Jonny’s gorgeous from head to toe, but those mountainous, hairy forearms blow my mind!
Am I over-sharing if I report that this pic just made me cum? Ah well, it’s not the first time, now is it?

These shots take me right back to that lunch a year and a half ago as I struggled to stop staring at the wonders that are Jonny’s HUGE forearms!  And just like then, Jonny proves once again that he is both a stunningly hot object of lust as well as a genuinely generous and gracious hunk.  Thanks, Jonny (and Santa)!

On the Tenth Day of Christmas, Santa Brought to Me…

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On the first day of Christmas, Santa brought me a whole collection of treats to satisfy my obsession with Kid Karisma’s ass. On the second day of Christmas, he delivered Ben Monaco flexing his beautiful pecs. On the third day, Santa brought me Steel Muscle God flexing his rib crushing legs . On the fourth day I found underneath my tree ice melting romance between Skip Vance and Christian Taylor. On the fifth day of Christmas, Santa sent me Darius displaying an assortment of gorgeous gear stuffed with his muscles. On the sixth day of Christmas, Santa delivered Kid Vicious, sneering and punishing and promising more to come (and possibly my long awaited interview!). On the seventh day of Christmas, Santa brought me the insanely shredded back belonging to long-time infatuation of mine, Lon Dumont. On the eighth day of Christmas, Santa sent the eye-catching nipples of seductive new mat man, Mason Brooks. And yesterday, on the ninth day of Christmas, Santa dropped an entire storyboard worship-session devoted to the jaw dropping coup de grace of masked erotic wrestler Cage Thunder.  Santa’s got my homoerotic wrestling fantasies by the shorthairs, and never before have I had such an impulse to oil down a big, furry, bear daddy belly and shoot all over a white-haired saint.

“On the tenth day of Christmas, Santa brought to me…”

As regular readers know, my turn ons span a range of wrestlers, wrestling genres, body parts and builds.  It hardly needs explaining that the moment my ninth day of Christmas present whips out his power tool for an explosive victory finale that I’m nine tenths of the way there myself.  But just the impressive flex of a striated latissimu dorsi can give me a knee buckling surge, not to mention razor sharp trash talk or even a knowing wink at the camera.  But another newbie to the homoerotic wrestling scene this year reminded me that I’ve got a special hard spot reserved for wrestlers who clearly communicate that ripping off their clothes and going toe to toe with another barely clad battler turns them on!  I’ve seen more than my fair share of “homoerotic” wrestling that requires those quotation marks around the word “homoerotic” because the boys in question look a little bored and/or repulsed by the task at hand.  I’m not talking about the narcissist who can’t take his eyes off his own lovely image, or the snarling heel who looks infuriated by the mere sight of his prey daring to step into the ring, but rather the awkwardly flat footed combatant who looks embarrassed for himself, bored with his opponent at best and actively fighting his own impulse to run away from the open eroticism at worst.  On the flip side of that continuum is someone like who Santa brought to me this morning, and that irrepressible smile that has earned him the moniker of Cheshire Cat from me because that gorgeous teethy grin grows from ear to ear when he steps on the mat and sees a mountain of muscle flexing back at him.  He obviously loves homoerotic wrestling from the inside out, and that smile paired with the instant bulge in his trunks leaves no mistaking that this kid wants it every bit as much as I do.  That smile alone says it all, and straight from my whispered fantasies, on the tenth day of Christmas Santa brought to me that gorgeously kinked grin of charming newbie Drake Marcos.

From the first glimpse I got, I referenced Drake as “that handsome young man”

There’s a doe-eyed quality there, accentuated by the dimples, that disguise the lustful delight Drake demonstrated when he got his hands all over lovely Gabriel Ross.
I still say he and John Fugelsang need to rip ‘n’ strip wrestle as an erotic brother battle (then tag team).

Flat on his back, totally compromised, about to be humiliated, and you know by that irrepressible smile that he wouldn’t trade the moment for anything! 

Gorgeous, handsome, joyful, instantly aroused… Drake Marcos’ smile speaks directly to the wrestling kinkster inside of me.  He adorably indulged my wish list fantasy, and for that, he and Santa made this tenth day of Christmas extra hot!

On the Ninth Day of Christmas, Santa Brought to Me…

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I’m getting seriously worn out this Christmas season by the shocking generosity of a certain mature bear daddy in red and a whole lot of his sexy, homoerotic wrestling helpers who keep sliding erotic fantasies underneath my tree.  On the first day of Christmas, Santa brought me the aesthetic perfection of Kid Karisma’s ass. On the second day, he brought me Ben Monaco’s furry pecs flexing for me. On the third day of Christmas, Santa brought me Steel Muscle God showing off his new quad development . On the fourth day I found underneath my tree  some heart and crotch warming romance shared between the reigning royal couple of homoerotic wrestling, Skip Vance and Christian Taylor. On the fifth day of Christmas, Santa delivered Darius’ most beautiful bulges. On the sixth day of Christmas, Santa got me on the line with Kid Vicious, who delivered his patented sneer that never fails to make me pop.  On the seventh day of Christmas, Santa brought me the glorious, shredded V that is Lon Dumont’s beautifully muscled back. And yesterday, for the eighth day of Christmas, I received a series of shots of the magical nipples of seductive rookie and surprisingly nasty Southern boy, Mason Brooks.  I’ve got a knee to the groin for anyone who suggests there is no such thing as Santa, because that bearded belly boy has demonstrated without a doubt that he can produce!

“On the ninth day of Christmas, Santa brought to me…”
There are now more needles under my tree than on it, but I’ll be damned if it’s coming down for at least another 3 days.  Good thing, too, because to what did my wondering eye appear this morning beneath the mostly bare branches, but a heart-stopping erotic wish come true in the form of my #1 favorite masked wrestler sharing his most impressive muscle of all.  So sure, telling Santa I want an eyeful of the monster dick of a certain sexy veteran heel for Christmas felt like a risk.  But by the pressure rising from his lap as I sat there, I shouldn’t have been surprised at all to discover that for the ninth day of Christmas, Santa brought me a whole storyboard featuring the rising bulge and climactic unleashing of the legendary cock of none other than Cage Thunder.

Cage Thunder’s square cuts start to feel the strain

Speedos can barely contain him

A jock strap gorgeously frames him 

Cage Thunder poised for domination

CK briefs filled to capacity by a muscle straining for liberation
These bikini briefs are nearly bursting at the seams!
Cage Thunder’s cock emerges like it has in so many of my dreams!
Yes, Santa, yes, yes, yes!!!

Cage Thunder has pointed that gorgeous cock at the faces of so many lucky opponents, and for Christmas this year he pointed it right at me.  Once again, Santa comes through with stellar success, and once again I’m infinitely grateful for the generosity and bare naked beauty of Cage Thunder!