Author: wrestlebard

I'm a gay man with an active imagination.

Short Cuts

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I won’t name names, because that ALWAYS gets me in more trouble than it’s worth. I’ll just say that the same disappointing thought has occurred to me more than once recently as I’ve been sampling homoerotic wrestling new releases.  This recurring thought is, Grabbing crotch does not make wrestling homoerotic.

100% homoerotic wrestling featuring (among many other elements) Mitch Colby grabbing Derek da Silva’s crotch in Crotch Crushers 1.

Do you know what I mean? I’ve seen an anecdotal rise in the number of wrestling products marketed to you and me in which the most homo and/or erotic content is almost entirely limited to a crotch grab. Now, I love a nice crotch grab. That goes for all sorts of contexts and purposes, actually.  The feel of a pulsing, raging cock in my hand is absolutely intoxicating! Two raging cocks in my hand, and I’m guaranteed to have a hangover the next morning. I do not have anything at all against the homoeroticism of taking another man’s cock firmly in hand, per se.

Jobe Zander looks like he’s searching for his keys at the bottom of his purse in Can-Am’s DeCrotchery 3

But my beef, so to speak, is the over reliance on this device to sell wrestling as gay. I realize that there’s a sub-fetish contingent out there with a particular kink for watching and/or experiencing cock abuse. While I don’t count myself in that particular tribe, I can appreciate and get turned on by some cock control as a tool of soul crushing erotic domination. But if that’s really the only element in a match that might distinguish it from a TBS prime time mainstream episode of plasticized canned wrestling drama, then it’s just got one toe on our side of the fence, as far as I’m concerned.

Gino Liotta and Joshua Goodman engage in mutual crotch crushing as just one element of steamy action in Crotch Crushers 2.

Running across a bevy of barely homoerotic wrestling trying to take a short cut with crotch shots as credentials for checking in with you and me as gay-oriented has started to grate on my nerves.  So sure, you squeezed his balls… if you’ve got a disinterested look on your face, it sort of douses the heat. You grabbed a handful of whatever is stuffed down the front of his trunks, okay. But, if neither your hand nor his suffering seem to sell me that you’re about to rip him apart out of a primal lust to own his muscled body, then the stagecraft wears thin.

Friend of neverland, Ben Monaco, convinces me long before he goes for Alex Arias’ crotch that he’s all-in for homoerotic wrestling in Mat Rookies 1!

All this begs the question, of course, what it is that distinguishes some wrestling as homoerotic and others as something else. Of course, mainstream wrestling can turn me on (when it isn’t pissing me off with over-the-top homophobia). Just about any wrestling itself speaks to me as homoerotic almost by definition.  But I propose that there’s an ontologically different beast that is homoerotic wrestling. I’ve danced around this topic many times in the past. It’s a know-when-I-see-it sort of concept, in large part. It also overlaps with the cliche of “chemistry” between wrestlers, which is nearly impossible to quantify but, nevertheless, is unmistakable when its absent. I don’t know that I can put a finger on the baseline requirements (for me), but what makes something distinctively homoerotic wrestling always hits me on many levels.

Muscleboy Tyler St. James checks for a hernia in Pro Sex Fight 8.

Of course, explicit sexuality never hurts to sell wrestling as homoerotic. A suck, a fuck, a kiss even (especially), and I’m a long way to being sold that this wrestling is all about me and my kink. Hell, just having the boys talk openly about the eroticism hanging in the air between them is plenty to suck me in, and when it’s done right, eroticized banter will rev me up a hundred times hotter than an going-through-the-motions post-match fuck.

Reese Wells works 5 different angles at once in dishing out dominating abuse over  Jobe Zander’s package in Ball Busters 1.

It doesn’t require explicitness, though. It can be the fixed gaze of one wrestler and the self-conscious glance at the ground by the other that piques my homoerotic wrestling gaydar. It can be the intimacy of the setting, the gear, the lighting even, that contribute to making me recognize that this is homoerotic wrestling.  It can, and often is, one wrestler so narcissistic that he convinces me that, if humanly possible, he’d fuck himself into a stupor if that annoying opponent of his would just get the fuck out of his face.

Michael Vineland works the joystick from behind in Pro Sex Fight 8.

The best in the business push the homoerotic button from the instant the camera brings them into focus. Homoerotic wrestlers of the month Cage Thunder and (spoiler alert… keep reading at your own risk… oh, wait, too late!) Lightning Rod aka KV are beautiful examples. A half a second after I see their eyes lock onto the body of their opponents like sizing up a juicy filet, I understand without a doubt that the combat that’s about to unfold is first and foremost sexual. They communicate a hunger to grab hold of and consume their opponent that’s instantly arousing. The crotch grab is perfectly homoerotic when they latch on and threaten to rip an opponent out by the roots, because of everything else they’ve done to make it clear that they get off on this!

In Ball Bash 2, Reese Wells gets harder the more vicious Jonny Firestorm attacks his crotch! Now that’s homoerotic and hot!

There are plenty of wrestling products that push me way over the edge without ever veering into crotch grabs, fucking, or nudity even. They’re often completely homoerotic in my eyes for a dozen other elements that signal to me that this isn’t wrestling for 8 year-old boys with g-rated comic book fantasies of heroes and villains.  And equally as true, a gratuitous ball claw or tug at a cock is seldom the end-game for landing a wrestling match firmly within the circle of what I consider gay-themed, for gay eyes, wrestling kink, or homoerotic.

Unmasked and unsheathed, Stinger swells with excitement as Homoerotic Wrestlers of the Month Cage Thunder and Lightning Rod batter his stinger mercilessly.

As the photos I’ve attached to this post illustrate, the crotch grab is a delightfully hot tool in the tool belt of the accomplished homoerotic wrestler.  When it’s dished out in measured quantity, it’s fantastic! When placed as an integral component of an onslaught of unmistakably homoerotic content, the crotch grab is often precisely the point at which I lose all self-restraint. However, and I’m not naming names, but I just need to say it: solely based on a wrestler grabbing his opponent’s crotch, it doesn’t make it homoerotic wrestling. A one-trick pony gimmick in an otherwise lukewarm bath of run of the mill wrestling does not a homoerotic wrestling match make.

Snake Bite

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While I’ve been out of commission and swimming in corrugate, Alex has continued to perfect his craft by writing a new installment in his highly acclaimed American Wrestling League (AWL) series for the Sidelineland wrestling fiction group.  Alex’ character Danny Chase generated a lot of buzz when he debuted in an earlier AWL match, so I anticipate a lot of interest in seeing Danny back in the ring, especially when regular readers learn that this new work, “Snake Bite,” is another “side hustle” match in the Men’s Wrestling Alliance (matches billed for those with your and my tastes in mind).

In over 3 years, I’m pretty sure I’ve posted about my frequent kink for big vs. small wrestling. Alex dishes up a delightfully deviated differential between Daring Danny and his unexpected opponent at MWA, Snake.

I’m not as certain whether I’ve waxed poetic about my occasional fetish for erotic shower scenes, but that’s also an element in Snake Bite that worked me hard when I read Alex’ new work. There’s something powerfully intimate and, when done right, a perfect extension of the eroticism of dominance and humiliation when wrestlers slap down their junk and measuring tapes in the ring and then finish up cementing the pecking order together in the shower. There’s just something about soap, lather, water sheeting and streaming over muscles, that become a short cut to my arousal. Set within that context the drama of hard fought wrestlers who’ve pounded out their rivalry in the ring, and it turns absolutely golden. Sprinkle in the fact that said ring rivalry is also a grudge match, and I’m breathlessly soaking in a second (or third) wave of satisfaction with locker room scenes like the one Alex serves up in this story.

Need I say it again? No, but I’m happy to repeat myself: Alex’ writing is superb. His description of the action is seamless and beautifully paced. His characters haunt me for days after I first read them. We’re incredibly fortunate to get to enjoy what Alex is writing.  On behalf of Alex and me, let me just remind you that now it’s your turn! Get to putting your homoerotic wrestling imagination to good use (other than working yourself into a quivering mess), and put word to page to share with the rest of us at Sidelineland!

The Evolution of a God

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Dan the Steel Muscle God promised me a follow up interview after our provocative conversation several weeks ago. Now that I’m resettled, I’m doing some pre-interview prep. If you have any questions you’d like me to ask him, let me know. In the mean time, SMG has continued to serve up sweet, up close and intimate looks at his every inch!  The formula that guides SMG’s web presence has you and me squarely in his cross hairs. His weekly body worship sessions are an intoxicating combo of a mouthwatering physique, a knee-weakening voice, and a downright charming, lighthearted personality.  Anyone into hot, natural muscle to admire live and interactive should find plenty to satisfy in the quirky, funny, sexy performances of SMG.

Dan the Steel Muscle God is looking directly at you!

But you and I aren’t just anyone. We’re among those with a particular appreciation for the eroticism of wrestling.  And from the very first YouTube clip I stumbled across of SMG years ago, he’s been stroking my wrestling fetish with remarkable clarity. 90% of SMG’s online presence is solo, so the actual wrestling content is relatively sparse. But that said, of that 90% of solo time, right near 100% of it includes a nod to what turns you and me on hardest. SMG talks (a lot!) about using his gorgeous, steel muscles to squeeze and crush you. A close up session focusing on his lickable legs are punctuated (exclamation points) by purring commentary of how much SMG (and you) would enjoy feeling those thighs wrapped around your body and slowly squeezing the air out of your lungs. He explains that his double bicep flex staring down into his webcam is the view you’d see after he’s brought you to your knees and made you submit, quivering, to his dominating power.

SMG tames a contender trapped between his steel trap steel muscles.

While I find plenty in SMG’s solo work to hit the spot, he does occasionally recruit a buddy to appear with him, and with increasing frequency his buddies are up for wrestling the Steel Muscle God. My favorite so far is a compact cut of prime beef who nearly rivals the Steel Muscle God in some body part side-by-side comparisons.  SMG did a scissorfest jockstrap mat match with this satisfying entree a couple of months ago. That match ended with a shocking nut shot for which SMG promised fans that some form of strict discipline would be enforced on the demigod challenger in a future confrontation.

SMG threatens to break another contender in half across his bulging shoulders!

While I’ve been out of contact with the internet, SMG has since posted a mattress match against a surprisingly sexy, skinny, goateed scrapper whose physique is nowhere near the caliber of steel muscle godliness, but who instantly has a snarling, fuck-you-and-your-steel-muscles attitude that catches me off guard. He’s no babyface muscle boy. He’s lean with downright skinny legs. I’d easily overlook him in a crowded bar. But he’s game in a big, all-in way that turns me on even more than it clearly irks a contemptuous SMG.

You could do your laundry on that 8-pack while SMG presents his suffering opponent up like a cat showing off his mouse.

SMG’s on-camera wrestling repertoire is expanding rapidly, and I’m enjoying (to say the least) watching the evolution. He’s been primarily a scissors and bearhugs man from what I’ve seen of him in the past, but with this new skinny, cocky loudmouth, SMG unleashes a menu of hot pro wrestling holds that display his power and beauty as beautifully as they demonstrate his total control of his opponent.

Tongue wagging, SMG makes eye contact to let you know this is all for you!

Spend even a few minutes with SMG, and you’ll learn quickly that he’s ALL about pleasing his fans. His devotion to his worshippers is coming through in an incredibly sexy way as he’s growing more creative and confident in his dominating stylings. He mugs for the camera, usually silently (though sometimes he speaks directly to the fans) signaling that every step of the way, he’s serving up his suffering opponent for the pleasure of the viewer. His sexy sense of humor peeks out with a wink and a wagging tongue as he does chiropractic work on his opponent in several backbreaker variations.  Racking the boy across his bulging shoulders, SMG shoves the lucky bastard’s face into the camera to demonstrate the chumps total humiliation for our enjoyment.

SMG looks stunning as he rains down verbal humiliation on his helpless “challenger.”

SMG’s cocky banter flows like liquid gold, punctuated irregularly by the grunts and gasps of the outmatched mere mortal nearly getting ripped limb from limb. So many of the qualities that I particularly find arousing in homoerotic wrestling are wrapped up in the godly, bulging, ripped to shreds body. SMG is always telling a story, and I just can’t overstate how sexy his deep, purring voice is. He’s completely generous with his incredibly gorgeous body, demonstrating every muscle and crevice from every angle an adoring fan might want to study. He seems to intuitively understand that a worship-worthy body like his is only truly actualized when it’s used, stripped to nearly nothing, to dominate a punishment sponge like his latest doormat buddy.

A homoerotic wrestling steel muscle god!

After reading some of what I’ve written about him, SMG commented to me privately a couple of months ago, “You sure are a big SMG fan!” Truer words never spoken. I look forward to more homoerotic wrestling steel muscle godliness, and I hope to get that second interview soon!

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

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I’m late on selecting a homoerotic wrestler of the month! So let me slice through the preliminaries quickly. The nominees who turned my crank in June new releases are: Jake Jenkins, Jayden Mayne, Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!), Christopher Bruce, Denny Cartier, Joah Bindao, Austin Cooper, Patrick Donovan, Skip Vance, Kid Karisma, Cage Thunder, Lightning Rod, Stinger, Jonny Firestorm, Mitch Colby, Joe Robbins, Morgan Cruise, Diego Diaz, Chace LaChance, Eli Black, Jason Kane, Ethan Andrews, Josh Steel, Steel Muscle God.

The field is full of former HOTM and overall favorite title holders, so you know that there are more than a handful of obvious front runners. Now that I have internet access again, rest assured you’ll be hearing my justifications for most of these nominees in detail in the coming weeks. But I’m tardy for the task of giving the nod to just one dish from this mouthwatering buffet of beef and brawn, so without further ado, my pick for the new homoerotic wrestler of the month is…

Okay, so this isn’t “just one.” And I can name a few readers who are instantly hating on me for my pick. First of all, Cage Thunder recently chastised me on Facebook for having never tapped him for the title. Some will cry unfair lobbying, to which I reply, yet again, there’s nothing “fair” (or “balanced” for that matter) about my tastes. It’s not the first time I’ve been thrilled to reward blatant self-promotion, and knowing that Cage Thunder wants it from me could easily make it that much more fun to tease him by withholding it, even when he’s earned it. But there’s no doubt about it, he’s earned it and I’m thrilled to give it to him (so to speak). I’m also painfully aware that there are plenty of us who can’t get enough of the pretty, baby face muscle boys (including me, 7 days out of 10), and those words do not describe either Cage Thunder or Lightning Rod. Hot as hell? Yes. Gorgeous bodies paired with brilliant, full-on explicit homoeroticism? Absolutely. But pretty? Not a shred of it. Baby face? Never for an instant. Muscle boys? Doesn’t quite capture it.  Turned my crank the hardest with all four of their expert hands? Unquestionably!

Lightning Rod and Cage Thunder can’t quite believe Stinger is ready to wrestle them both.

Regular readers are aware that I’m terrible about discussing spoilers without a shred of forewarning or shame. So let me just say up front that anyone who doesn’t want to know the unmasked identities of anyone in BG East’s Masked Mayhem 9, stop reading here and don’t look at any further photos below. I respect your desire to continue in suspense if you haven’t seen the match yet. You know I’m all about the drama! But I’m certain that I’m likely about to bust right through the curtain and if you haven’t already recognized Stinger and Lightning Rod from the promotional pics, you’ll likely figure it out soon enough if you keep reading.

Stinger trapped in the unfriendliest of unfriendly territories.

This is only the second time in the history of the HOTM title that I’ve felt forced to select co-honorees.  The first time this happened, I felt compelled to select both Mitch Colby and Brook Stetson in BG East’s Sunshine Shooters 4 because of the way their sweat and power blended and pulsed as one mass of gorgeous mat muscle. There was just no way for me to disentangle which of them was the one shoving me over the edge. My rationale is similar this time around, but now it’s tag team partners Cage Thunder and Lightning Rod teaming up at such a perfectly matched pace that they’re working me into a lather as one, awesome, homoerotic wrestling machine!

What the hell was this kid thinking?!

Their opponent is all by himself, desperate to redeem himself from some unmasked humiliation he’s suffered in the BG East ring and on the mats in the past. Stinger’s tag team partner has, reportedly, left him high and dry. Personally, the spoiled, beautiful youth storyline is so achingly perfect I suspect that The Boss may have had a hand in Stinger’s abandonment. And like the eager young face he is, he quickly slaps away Cage Thunder and Lightning Rod’s skepticism that he can continue solo. His baseball biceps are pumped. His lovely pecs are primed. He’s ripped to an astonishingly lean fighting trim, and he’s got all the bluster and fool hearty confidence of some superhero’s sidekick striking out to make a name on his own.

One perfectly tuned homoerotic wrestling machine!

Enter the perfectly oiled (I wish) machine that is my homoerotic wrestler(s) of the month. Lightning Rod is unmistakable to regular BG East fans. That body, the humorless, sexy-steely gaze, and, once almost all is said and done, that epically gorgeous cock (whose praises were sung in The Boss’ interview with Joe a while back) can belong to only one master heel. Cage Thunder is also well known to BG East followers, but as to his secret identity, I have no insights. However his body is lean and powerful; his swelling cock struggles to escape his trunks almost from the beginning of the match; and his mastery of babyface bashing is rivaled only by perhaps 2 or 3 BG East legends that I can name.

Between a rock and a hard place

What do you get when you pair two legendary master heels in masks against a paragon of youth, beauty, and completely outmatched enthusiasm? Well, I don’t know what you get, but I get off, repeatedly, and as soon as I can rehydrate, again and again. They play with Stinger like two cats toying with a mouse. It’s slowly sadistic. The eroticism builds like a two-page crescendo. Individually, they keep Stinger off balance and battered. The young hero manages some offense, but like the tide, there’s nothing that’s going to turn back the onslaught of these heel partners.

Stinger’s stinger seems to appreciate his double-team agony!

When they unmask Stinger, it’s little surprise to see the ridiculously juvenile face howling in anguish underneath. His body is so idiosyncratic and unforgettable, if you’ve seen Stinger wrestle unmasked, you saw this coming. But the depths of viciousness that my joint homoerotic wrestlers of the month delve into, especially after the unmasking, takes my breath away. This match becomes a masterpiece when Cage Thunder and Lightning Rod are double-teaming the little Stinger. Like one, two-headed wrestling monster, they crush and pummel, slam and squeeze the withering, unmasked young hunk with four-handed holds that boggle the mind. My favorite by far is Stinger draped backward across the turnbuckle, Lightning Rod nearly ripping his head off by hanging on Stinger’s neck from behind, and Cage Thunder instantly yanking down the babyface’s trunks and slapping the little stinger to life until the battered young hunk’s cock is raging in Cage’s hands.

His mouth says no, but his swelling cock screams, “Yes!”

Like the experts they are, my homoerotic wrestlers of the month draw a straight line between masked pro wrestling and explicit, wad-blowing homoeroticism. The pleasure of dishing out body and soul-crushing domination works both of them into a doubly explosive finish, baptizing the naked babyface, knocked out cold in the center of the ring, with two showers of victorious ecstasy.  Hot from the start and downright incendiary near the end, Cage Thunder and Lightning Rod are unquestionably my homoerotic wrestlers of the month!

Teamwork!

AC on Top

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I’ve been unable to post for a couple of weeks, and it’s felt like going without chatting with a good friend. At some point I really ought to spend some time contemplating how blogging about my homoerotic wrestling kink has impacted me. But that must wait for another day, because gloriously I now have internet access again!  I’m ticking off those new year’s resolutions, and loving every moment of my life right now. I have a new job that rewards me a little more proportionally to the contribution I make to my workplace. And more pertinent to my absence from the pages of this blog lately, I have a new home a couple of thousand miles away from my last base of operations. Since last you heard from me, I packed up, drove across the country, and have set up shop in an entirely new-to-me city that I’m already quickly learning to love. And today, my new place was wired for action

It’s official: AC plays for out team!
I wonder how new geography will affect my musings in neverland? Ah, but no, that question belongs in the “another day” category. For today, let me just marvel at the juiciest bit of news to fire up my homoerotic wrestling imagination in months: Anderson Cooper came out. This is relatively old news in the fast twitch, ADHD, 24-hour news cycle now, but since this is my first chance to reflect on it here, I have to say officially that this news rocks!
Guns a-blazin’!
Setting aside the catty bullshit that has been oozing out from every corner of the gay world, with virtual eyes rolling and tongues tut-tutting about how everyone already knew about this poorly kept secret, I think anytime anyone says their truth out loud, it’s a good day. And Anderson is a hot little piece of white meat who has already inspired a full-length fantasy in my homoerotic wrestling fiction all on his own. In my Producer’s Ring collection, Anderson starred in the first match of the regular Newsmen series (after the initial sequestered beach round robins featuring the likes of my first celebrity wrestling fiction stars, including perennial objects of lust like Carter Evans, Rob Marciano and Chris Cuomo).
AC has reason to be cocky in Producer’s Ring action.
In his first and, to date, only appearance in the Producer’s Ring, Anderson fought a grudge match against that touped Fox News pretty boy Bill Hemmer. Like most of my homoerotic wrestling fiction, this match works out some of my personal issues, as evidenced by 1) the context is lube wrestling, and 2) the gay silver fox owns the Fox News lovely in body and soul, hoisting Hemmer across his shoulder and heading to the locker room to stuff something down Hemmer’s throat to shut him up for good.
Upgrading the already impressive guns to grenade launchers
Just like in this world, Anderson in the Producer’s Ring has been behind the scenes pumping up those lovely guns of his and building his made-for-tv body bigger and more beautifully. And as so often is the case in my fiction, art imitates life (and surprisingly, life often imitates art!), and AC is already prominently featured in some late breaking news in the Newsmen division, taking center stage from the recently MIA Carter Evans (who in real life apparently followed his wife to California for her work opportunities, ripping him from my morning routine watching him report life from the NYSE).
Beauty, brains, brawn… a lethal concoction in the Producer’s Ring!
AC is all right with me, in this universe and in the universe of my homoerotic wrestling fantasies.  I look forward to seeing much more of him (hell, I may even check out his talk show now), and you should expect to see much more of him in a Producer’s Ring story coming soon!

Truly Sexier and Sexier!

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If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousands times: winner of “best casting on television” for all time is True Blood. Hands down. The show has fed my homoerotic wrestling fantasies since season 1. My celebrity homoerotic wrestling fiction has featured True Blood sex machine Ryan Kwanten being dominated and milked dry by the likes of Jamie Bamber and Shemare Moore, before pulling his act together and besting giant powerhouse Jason Bruening.

Ryan Kwanten in post-coital existential crisis in last night’s True Blood.

Vampire Bill, aka Stephen Moyer turned out to be quite the nasty heel in his underhanded tag team victory alongside Sam Trammel, risking an English backlash in London taking down one of my long-time personal favorites, Russell Tovey and soon to be Hobbit-dwarf, Aiden Turner.

Stephen Moyer checks out Alexander Skarsgård’s pecs (and who blames him?!)

I hold the belief that, in the aggregate, the sexiest men on the planet are the Swedes, and at the head of the pack is True Blood vampire sex stud, Alexander Skarsgård. This explains why Alexander crushed Ashton Kutcher into the mat, shutting the sexy funny man up for good in the Producer’s Ring (at least in front of the camera). Soon afterward, he settled a score for national pride, showing Chris Hemsworth precisely what he thought about the idea of an Aussie being cast as the Norse god, Thor.  I’m not sure who I could imagine besting the 6’4″ blond bombshell on the rise, but if there was one person in my homoerotic wrestling imagination who might pull it off, it very well could be True Blood’s newest resident hunk, Christopher Meloni.

Low rise is never low enough when it comes to the long, lean, gorgeous body of this Swede!

I simply cannot get enough of Christopher Meloni! He came roaring into my homoerotic wrestling imagination making erotic sculpture out of Milo Ventimiglia and Adrian Pasdar, with a little help from his tag team partner Sendhil Ramamurthy. The scene-stealer that he is, Christopher was quickly cast in a singles competition against fantasyman Teddy Sears, showing that Christopher is born to heel.  Still another match was scheduled that was supposed to see Chase Crawford bring badboy Christopher down a rung, but with charisma like Meloni’s, Crawford was destined to be broken (literally). With Christopher’s ego swelling dangerously, the production team in my homoerotic wrestling universe had to take matters into their own hands, and it was finally gorgeous fitness model Ben Godfre who brought the vicious heel to heel, followed by each member of Eli Brody’s executive team taking their shots and pent up frustrations out on the humbled hunk.

Christopher Meloni brings his Chippendales routine to TB.

Not one of these True Blood hunks has faded from my fantasies, and with Christopher packed so tightly into a muscle-bulging designer suit in the past couple of episodes this season, I was aching to the core to see him unleash the beast. Last night he finally gave a hint of what drives me insane, peeling slowly, teasingly out of his suit coat and tie and making me drool to watch him unbutton his dress shirt and slide it slowly, so slowly off.

Bulging shoulders, powerful pecs, a fantasy body sending imaginations exploding!

Fuck, this man is hot! He clearly worked out just right to get into True Blood shape.  He’s bulging in all the right places, lean and sculpted in the rest. He’s biceps and shoulders are huge, rock hard, and pulsing with vascularity.  Damn, I can guarantee we’re seeing now-company man Christiopher Meloni back in bulging trunks and climbing into the ring again in a homoerotic wrestling fantasy borrowing heavily from the brilliant casting of True Blood!

Christopher Meloni’s days in my homoerotic wrestling fiction are most definitely not over!

Chasing Rio

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JoshH gave me a heads up that Rio Garza, who competes in fitness competitions as Alan Valdez, won the Model Universe 2012 Overall title last week! Our little boy is all grown up, and just like legions of homoerotic wrestling fans, the fitness model world can’t take their eyes off of Rio’s ripped, gorgeous body. 

Reports are that Rio/Alan longs to be the most successful Mexican fitness model in history. While I’m no expert, I have to guess that he can check that box as he hoists his Model Universe trophy overhead. His proportions and fitness, particularly when he’s ripped, are superhuman! I’d expect to see a physique like this in the Louvre, or reclining in a toga on Mr. Olympus, so a Model Universe competition victory for this smoldering beauty seems somehow anti-climactic.

JoshH has mentioned to me often what an epic score it was for homoerotic wrestling fans when lovely Rio dipped his suckable toes into our corner of the pool. If you’ve lived under a rock for the past 3 or 4 years, you may not know that he’s wrestled for Rock Hard Wrestling (as Ray Martinez), for BG East, and for Can-Am. He’s featured in the just-past BG East catalog getting caught up in between some tough daddy-cub conflict in his self-titled Rio’s Bad Day. Rio’s Revenge is still on the list of “most popular titles” for Can-Am. Mr. Model Universe 2012 at the mercy of sadistic underground wrestlers putting on the show for gay eyes is, without a doubt, quite a score for homoerotic wrestling fans!

Cameron and Paul make Rio reconsider if he really wants to be a pro wrestler!

While Rio is living large on the stage of his fitness competition life, his journey through homoerotic wrestling products has been a tougher row to hoe.  It’s no wonder that every sadistic bastard in wrestling can’t wait to get their hands on his award winning physique. “Pretty” can be like a giant red target on the lickable ass of a fitness model, and muscleman lovely Rio is dripping with pretty.  Put him in the room with a couple of high flying indy pro veterans like Cameron Mathews and Paul Hudson, and just sit back and wait for the double team pec claw and neck breaker combo to bring godlike Rio to screaming, humiliated submission.

Rio shoves his lust for revenge in Jobe Zander’s face.

I’ve complained about Rio often not quite striking a selling combo of erotic and wrestling to fully satisfy my homoerotic wrestling fetish. However, his more recent appearances are scratching an itch that I’ve long longed for an ambitious Mexican fitness model to scratch. Exacting revenge on frequent tormentor Jobe Zander, the Latino adonis’ schoolboy pin, slapping down his junk on the throat of the notorious heel, is poignant homoerotic character development for an innocent, naive poser like Rio.  It seems like Jobe has finally, finally, finally awakened the beast, and whether Rio ends up on top or not, a fitness model flex with his balls dangling in his opponent’s face can feed my hunger for quite a while!

Sweaty Rio opens wide for dominating muscle god, Kid Karisma.

There’s probably nothing tastier for my taste buds than the first sight I caught of Rio wrestling, on the receiving end of a schoolboy pin this time, with the battering ram of my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler, ripped red-headed musclegod Kid Karisma resting on his chin, in BG East’s Undagear 15. Rio’s wrestling “prowess” back then wasn’t what was yanking my chain, and the confrontation earned nothing but dripping contempt from the Karismatic one, whose tastes and opinions I tend to follow with somewhat worshipful adoration.  But the visual contrast of these two fantasy men, with rippling Rio coated in sweat and flat on his back with his jock-strapped ass cheeks vulnerably spread at the mercy of Kid K’s flexing physique does all sorts of wonderful things for me. With “legitimate” mainstream fame under his belt, I have to wonder if new release Rio’s days are numbered. Likely, they already were, I imagine, as the producers of new content dip into their unreleased catalog to keep muscle-in-trouble fans sated with suffering Rio. While his homoerotic wrestling career left me flipping through other pages at points, I whole heartedly agree with JoshH on two points: homoerotic wrestling fans were lucky to see his likes performing our fantasies, and he deserves a hearty congratulations and best wishes for more modeling successes to continue. Keep flexing, Rio!

Family Drama… the Most Brutal Drama of All!

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I’ve recently put pen to page for the first time in months, writing new homoerotic wrestling fiction. The break in this long dry spell feels like a fresh spring shower. It’ll probably be a while before I have something in shape to publish, but in the mean time, Alex has written a piece especially for the Producer’s Ring that has me dizzy with delight.  For those who don’t know, the Producer’s Ring is a creation of mine, comprised of a universe in which geopolitical power has been subsumed under the elites of the entertainment-industrial complex.  The most powerful man on earth is Eli Brody, who makes all of the most important decisions in casting the hunks of entertainment by relying on homoerotic wrestling competitions. It’s a quirky universe formed out of my own kinks and fantasies, pitting celebrity muscles against one another in ranging degrees of explicit erotic competition. One of the more explicit venues in the Producer’s Ring is the series of “Focus Group” matches, set in a Seattle bathhouse. With an all-gay, sexed up audience looking on, celebrities desperate to demonstrate that they’ve got what it takes to win fans battle in nothing but a terrycloth towel (though I don’t think anyone has managed to keep their towel on through an entire match). “Winning” is as much about inspiring the sexual fantasies of the Focus Group as it is about coming out on top in the bare naked physical confrontation.  It’s been a while since I’ve posted a new story to Producer’s Ring, but yesterday I had the pleasure of publishing a Focus Group match written by Alex.

Chris Hemworth dripping wet.

Alex has done a fantastic job of capturing the quirks and idiosyncrasies of the Producer’s Ring, and he’s written a stunningly sexy brother-on-brother Focus Group confrontation between Chris and Liam Hemsworth.  As if in reply, the Chris Hemsworth PR machine (in the real-life universe) just allowed Thor to be captured soaking wet and ripped to shreds wrapped in terrycloth at the beach.

Chris makes terrycloth look so good!

Chris made me a believer in packing on the beef for his divinely hot superhero performances. That  body!  6’3″ and stacked like a comic book superhero, this blond bombshell inspires an infinite supply of homoerotic wrestling fantasies in my imagination. But when I heard that Chris has an aspiring actor “little” brother who’s also 6’3″ and a tasty side of beef, my brother-on-brother fetish was absolutely tweaked. “Little” Liam is nowhere near the muscle boy that his big (BIG) brother is, but hell yeah! I’d lick him from head to toe and make him forget Billy Ray’s daughter with an over-the-knee backbreaker blow job any day of the week!

“Little” Liam Hemsworth looks to follow in his brother’s footsteps?

Thor, the Huntsman… Chris is clearly a rising stock in Hollywood. But so is Liam. The little Hemsworth got oiled up and eroticized in his breakout role opposite now-fiance’ Miley, and he’s riding a PR bulldozer in the franchise of Hunger Games. Hollywood could very well be big enough for two sexy-beast Aussie brothers, of course. But in the Producer’s Ring? Highly unlikely!

Liam glows with a sheen of sweat and perky nips.

Alex’ Focus Group match tells a story that my homoerotic wrestling imagination is aching for: Hemsworth v Hemsworth. Terrycloth towels (only briefly) wrapped around their waists… stimulated bathhouse gayboys watching on and working up a wave of passion… big, beautiful muscle on big, beautiful muscle! A backstory of hard feelings that always arise from the bullying of big brothers makes this a fantastic drama and a outrageously sexy combat.

Liam prepares for the mind games of the Producer’s Ring.

Love, love, love this match! Alex has permission to write for Producer’s Ring anytime! As for me, having watched Hunger Games and only read the first book, I just have to scratch my head and wonder what magic Liam is smuggling in his trunks to make his character in Games the leading man choice over gorgeously and adorably nerdilicious hunk with a superhero square jaw, Josh Hutcherson.

I’d kick a Hemsworth to the curb for a shot at this alpha dog!

I smell a grudge match shaping up!

Victory is Mine!

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Regular readers have heard me bitching and whining about my work life for years now. I’ve been wrestling with a bear of a job that leaves me underpaid and my labor generally exploited by others. However, I’m ecstatic to report that the mammoth project that has been weighing me down and distracting me from the great fun of posting more here and writing more homoerotic wrestling fiction has come to a thrilling conclusion. I took some vicious attacks along the way, but as of today, I have wrestled the mother fucker to his back, pinned his chin beneath my crotch, and slapped down a crowing, lingering, humiliating 3-count pin in the middle of the ring.

Shoulders pinned, leg hooked, crotch hovering at chin-level…

The size and scope of this exhausting victory cannot be overstated. I’m poised to start a new job in a few weeks, which will include an epic promotion and huge jump in compensation. I will be moving across the country in the mean time, so my availability to post around here will likely continue to be spotty. But life is good, gentlemen!

“One!…
…two!…
…three, you son of a bitch! You’re ass is mine!”

Superhero Sisyphus

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Alex Adamov as Sisyphus gets a purchase on Cole Cassidy’s ass in his struggle to rise to his feet in Old School Meets New

Yesterday, I waxed philosophical about the existential implications of a homoerotic wrestler struggling to climb up to his feet, dragging himself up inch by inch holding onto his opponent’s muscles. In a happy coincidence, I just posted a new story on behalf of Alex that features just this fantastic element, as a superhero in trouble struggles on his knees in front of his villainous opponent.

Drew Russell strains to climb Mt. Cole in Florida Fights 4

This 3rd chapter in The Cave series by Alex is climactic in every sense of the word! Holy crap, I needed IV fluids to make it through the end of the match, in which pornstar wrestler Cody, whose wrestling alter-ego is The Bat, is shocked to his core to face his arch-nemesis, Bane.

I’ve heaped praise on Alex’s writing in the past, so I won’t belabor the obvious. Alex’s writing is beautifully artful, his storytelling is compelling, and his homoerotic wrestling imagination is mindblowingly hot! If you’ve read the first 2 chapters of The Cave, get yourself to the Sidelineland collection and find yourself some private time to enjoy the culmination of this erotic trilogy. If you haven’t read the first 2 chapters, do that first before you head to chapter 3… but pace yourself. This is potent, sexy, truly homoerotic fantasy fantastic!

Send me your contributions of homoerotic wrestling fiction to share with the group, and share your feedback through the Sidelineland discussion group (which gives you instant access to the full collection of reader contributions).