Author: wrestlebard

I'm a gay man with an active imagination.

Reader’s Choice Poll – Sexy Brits

wrestlebard1 Comment

Neverland reader John let me know that he’s a big BG East fan, and he asked me an excellent question: “How about a competition for the sexiest Brit?” My answer: that’s an excellent suggestion!  Coming up with a short list of my nominations for the sexiest homoerotic wrestling Brit was a surprisingly difficult task.  I asked John to give me his top 5 sexy BG East Brit battlers, and then I painfully limited myself to add only 5 more to the short list.  I’m confident that voters will want to add some worthy hunks we’ve left off of our lists, so when you register your vote to the right, you have the option to select “other” and then name your pick in the comment section to this post.  So many mouthwatering Britboys to choose from… but which one do you think is sexiest?

In alphabetical order, here are the nominations for this month’s Reader’s Poll:

Chris Burnley – 5’7″, 165 lbs.

Chris Burnley is nothing short of striking. Of course, he can punch the shit out of an opponent’s abs, but I also mean visually striking, wrestling with his essentially hairless, milky pale, fantastically sexy body. He turned up the heat in 4 BG East matches, and with each appearance, he packed more muscle onto his bulging, pale body, always starkly contrasted by that adorable little boy face. Sexy Britboy wrestler without a doubt. Sexiest?

Rob Chandler – 5’5″, 143 lbs.

Rob Chandler has made a massive impression in his 4 BG East outings. In his first appearance, BG East described him as looking like “the bastard love child” of Aryx Quinn and Cole Cassidy. That was pretty much all I needed to know to be entranced, but catch that rock hard physique, the gorgeous ink, and the jaw dropping beer can hanging between his legs, and you’ll know why he’s on this list. As with all things around these parts, it’s far more than just the visuals, and Rob is as erotically intense a wrestler as just about any.  Just about?

Ty Garrison – 5’10”, 168 lbs.

This list would clearly not be complete without a push for Ty Garrison. He’s burned up the mats in 11 BG East matches. His body is lucious, his game face is fierce, and his wrestling is merciless. The heat he generates motivates some of the most explicitly sexual homoerotic wrestling in the BG East archives.

Neil Hewitt – 6′, 168 lbs.
Neil Hewitt has battled in 3 BG East matches, soaking up the pain like a sponge and clearly loving every moment of it. He can talk trash, he’s ready to exploit any weakness, and he’s got a pros in private attitude to turn a motel room into a high stakes pro arena. Hot bod, gorgeous blue eyes, and ready to throw down at a moments notice… that’s sexy!

Mike Martin – 5’7″, 150 lbs.

16 matches loaded with buckets of Mike Martin’s sweat are more than enough to qualify this workhorse as a contender in this poll. He’s another star of an amazingly hot collection of X and XXX fights, and even when he keeps his kit on, he’s bringing sexy to every venue BG East owns on both sides of the Atlantic. He’s got a body built for grappling, and a fight face that should make any opponent think twice. But I think it’s that heart melting, adorable smile that’s his best weapon at disarming and distracting.

Ethan Pryor – 5’9″, 170 lbs.
Regular readers know my infatuation with imagining mainstream newsmen as stars in homoerotic wrestling matches. So no wonder Matt Lauer’s little brother, Ethan Pryor, made it onto both John and my short lists to include in today’s poll. Horny, hairy, and a face meant for primetime, Ethan’s 4 appearances for BG East prove that he’s ready to add as many X’s as you like, and damn if he shouldn’t show up as a Hollywood leading man! When Daniel Craig hangs up his gig as 007, I’m lobbying for Ethan to take his place!
Steve Ranger – 5’8″, 172 lbs.

Wowsers! Talk about buckets and buckets of sexy sweat! Steve Ranger has caused a tidal wave with his lickable, powerhouse body and prove-it attitude in all 4 of his BG East matches. A shaved head always inspires a double-take from me, and giving Simon Forrester (who I’m kicking myself for not being able to squeeze onto this list) everything he’s got both on the motel mattress and in the shower, Steve is a seriously sexy contender.

Mickey Rollins – 170 lbs.

Mickey Rollins caught my attention wrestling against Belgian sexpot, Dane Tarsen (at least John and I think Dane’s Belgian). Mickey is dripping with sexiness at all times. His ripped, lean body looks like classic sculpture, and his evolving facial hair in the 3 matches he wrestled for BG East is playful and just a little sinister. If Mickey had ever failed to get stripped naked in a wrestling match, it would have been a national shame.  Bounce a quarter off those tight abs and tell me if Mickey is the sexiest Brit in the bunch.

Gabriel Ross – 5’4″, 135 lbs.
It’s a good thing that BG East has proof of age on record, because otherwise I’d struggle with whether I’m a lecher for being so fantastically turned on by this definition-of-a babyface known as Gabriel Ross. He’s petite, with a bouncy bubble butt and fit, not overly muscled physique. He smiles a lot at his opponents. And right about the time that they can’t help but grin back at him, he drops them flat on their asses and slaps on a humiliating face-to-crotch headscissors that makes even the big boys whimper. And no stranger to the X’s, Gabriel clearly cannot wait to unleash the disproportionately long, lovely length of pipe that he’s swinging. The face of a cherub and the cock of a porn star make for one astonishingly sexy homoerotic wrestling Brit!

Iain Scott – 5’10”, 168 lbs.

Scottish muscleman and wrestling fetish evangelist, Iain Scott, quickly came to mind for both John and me when we were working on this list. Iain’s body is powerful and powerfully arousing. His chest is astonishingly broad. And, as John put it, it’s hard not to be in awe of Iain’s “lovely dick and wonderful arse!” Iain’s 9 matches for BG East are some of the foundational texts in the history of homoerotic wrestling, and all reports are that he’s continued to promote homoerotic wrestling independently in the UK. Pucker up and get ready to plant a wet one on that mammoth crotch of his if you fail to acknowledge the founder of Ruff N’ Raunchy as sexiest Brit in the bunch.

Chris Xaos – 6’1″, 170 lbs.
Our last suggestion for sexiest homoerotic wrestling Brit is Chris Xaos. There’s just no pretense with Chris. He’s here to wrestle you to submission in order to fuck you morning, noon and night. Chris is so turned on by his work, he’s apt to distract himself just when he’s on top by indulging in a long, lusty lip lock. His BG East career so far spans 5 matches, and his story arc is getting sexier and sexier by the minute. He tends to tower over his opponents, at that long, fit frame is sporting one of the prettiest asses in the business. He looks like he could be a punk, but Chris is prone to self-sabotaging moments of tender lust, and for my tastes, that’s one sexy combination!

Both John and I are instantly reconsidering our choices, but I’ve called a halt to tinkering with it any longer. Don’t count our “top 10” choices too carefully, because I’m not willing to check my math and eliminate anyone else from contention. You know the contenders as well as we do, so if your Britboy isn’t here, register your vote as “other” and put him in the comments below.

Of Masks and Men

wrestlebard3 Comments

My silence since posting several days ago is a result of exciting things happening in the Bard household. I’m implementing some of the big changes that were part of my New Year’s Resolutions. With change comes loss, which in this case includes some loss of consistency in my posting here. But I’m confident that regular readers and kind souls will cut me some slack as I’m juggling several competing demands on my time right now. And then there are the pricks out there who wouldn’t know an expression of social grace if it came all over their face and was nice enough to wipe it clean.

Cock Avenger dons a mask and shows an unconventional side of himself.
I’m just about to tick off the 3rd anniversary of starting neverland. Three years!? It seems amazing on my end to have been plugging away at this for that long. Over the course of the past 3 years, I’ve encountered a ton of like-minded wrestling kinksters for whom things I write occasionally ring true to their experiences. I never fail to find it exciting and rewarding to get a message in one form or another letting me know something I’ve rattled on about hit a note, spoke as if from the inside out, and made someone feel a connection that felt affirming and validating about what turns them on. Those are truly awesome moments. But I won’t lie to you. There have occasionally been less generous comments and emails. I’m not counting the “I disagree with you” reflections of folks genuinely exploring both the overlaps and the distinctions between our tastes. Disagreement is, in one form or another, the heart of what turns me on. A little (or a lot) of tension, mine’s-bigger-than-yours, you’re-not-the-hot-shit-you-think-you-are work wonders to make a couple of hot hunks into full-fledged fantasy men who stroke my homoerotic lusts in the ring. It’s not the guys who disagree who trip my prick wire. It’s the guys who drop comments disparaging my opinions, calling me names, and generally taking the hospitality I’m well-bred enough to offer around here and then trying to take a dump in my living room.

Surge and Magnus let more hang out with masks on
than they might with masks off.
Just as I was contemplating what to write for neverland’s 3rd anniversary, I screened a post from an anonymous commenter who referred to me as a “gullible loser.” My policy has always been to screen comments, and I’m happy to keep my house tidy and amiable by putting personal attacks in the round file. I haven’t always permitted “anonymous” comments, precisely because I think it can encourage dickishness precisely like this. Internet social etiquette is weakly enforced and built on a complete lack of consensus, so people who would probably never walk into my actual living room and call me names for some reason feel entitled to be so rude on the pages of my own blog, because they don’t have to do it face to face. The opportunity to drop a little stink bomb anonymously, divorced from even the weakest pretense of accountability for one’s behavior, seems to only increase the stink.  I round-filed this last rude commenter like I’ve done to probably a dozen or so similar comments over the past 3 years. One thing the internet is not: a democracy. And on the pages that I spend way (WAY) too much time composing, I get to show pricks out the door before they virtually step foot in this little corner of the internet that I treat as if it’s my own. I also turned the filter back on restricting anonymous comments. Sign up for an OpenID and fire away, but for those who’d like to hide behind anonymity in order to be rude, take that shit elsewhere.

Sexy Aqua fights to prevent the vulnerability that comes
with being unmasked.
As far as I’m concerned, my bordering-on-narcissitic ramblings about homoerotic wrestling work on distinctly different rules than the homoerotic wrestling that I ramble on about. In the homoerotic wrestling ring (my favorite venue), some contemptuous insults are a beautiful device for establishing motivation for two lovely hardbodies to hammer on one another humiliatingly for a half hour. In my nearly 3 years of doing this, I’ve made it quite clear that I think that a healthy dose of smooth trash talk increases the eroticism of a wrestling encounter by multiples of 10 or more. Laying down some withering insults and predicting the humiliation of your opponent is a delightful way to establish the plot that I so enjoy in wrestling. Two competing predictions of superiority enter the ring, but when all is said and done, at most only one cocky hunk will have proven his point. Corporal domination paired with crushed dreams of victory… sweet, sweet stuff!…. in the ring.  Contemptuous, anonymous insults dropped on a blog without fear of accountability or the need to defend oneself does not turn me on.

Angelo Blanco is 20 times hotter for peering fiercely out from behind that mask!
Anonymity itself similarly carries completely different meanings in different contexts. The internet offers us all an opportunity to speak with a different voice, to project a self that’s something other than how we project ourselves walking through our days offline. Hell, if you haven’t picked it up, I don’t go by “Bard” anywhere else. Like many of the masked homoerotic wrestlers who yank my crank, an assumed name has given me the confidence to be more explicit, more provocative, and paradoxically more self-disclosive than I would probably otherwise be. Pseudonyms and monikers online function in my thinking a lot like ring masks. They add a sense of mystery and can serve to take away some of the inhibitions that we might harbor about what turns us on. Like masks, they might inspire us to be bigger and brasher, turning real-life jobbers into hardened heels, or permitting straight-laced vanilla boys to express their inner fetishists or kinksters. And, like wrestling masks, pseudonyms and monikers function more to establish confidentiality rather than anonymity. You can always find me laying down the layers of my kink on the pages of this blog. I’m the one replying to emails. Anonymous commenters, whether gracious or not, aren’t fully engaged in the conversation. There’s no “there” there, when it comes to an anonymous insult tossed across the internet like a flaming pile of shit left on the door step as the 12 year old culprit runs and hides in the bushes down the block.

Would Cage Thunder be as dominating and brutal if he
wrestled sans mask?
Three years running, and without fail I always feel a little vulnerability every time I push the “post” button. Every time I publish a piece of original fiction, I have a little twist in my stomach, flinching reflexively in anticipation that my sincerity will be taken for garbage. And 97% of the emails I receive, the comments posted, and the explanations given by guys signing up for the wrestling fiction groups confirm for me that the time I toss this blog’s way is well-received by classy guys who know the difference between what happens in the wrestling ring and what happens outside of it. I anticipate that there will always be the 3% (less, really) that don’t get it. The flamers and pricks, I’m sure, will endure. But neverland is my baby, bitches, so don’t expect to see your raised-in-a-barn tactlessness show up in these pages.

The demise of Goldenrod is the unmasking of Peter Stallion.
And, more importantly, thanks to those of you out there with social grace (both those who agree and those who disagree with me at any given point). Thanks to the hundreds of wrestlers who have turned me on over the past 3 years. Thanks to the homoerotic wrestling producers and other behind-the-cameras boys who, I strongly suspect, get many, many times over the prickish crap that I get. Life’s too short to take the crap seriously, I think. And it’s much to short to fail to appreciate the good work and kind words of like-minded homoerotic wrestling fans.

Of Gods and Men

wrestlebard2 Comments
Adam Charlton, aka Adam400m
Neuro-cognitive psychologists argue human beings are wired to detect patterns in their environment, even when such patterns do not actually exist. Like when we ignore the 100 times that our horoscope is completely irrelevant to our lives, but take that 1 time it seems to fit as powerful confirmation that the stars dictate our fates. Our brains tend to select from among available evidence to construct patterned explanations for the world around us even when alternate explanations or the reality of random phenomena are actually in play.
Dan, aka Steel Muscle God
Take, for example, my simultaneous infatuation with YouTube muscle worship entrepreneurs, Steel Muscle God and Adam400m. A while back, I swore that I detected some one-upmanship between these two. A day after SMG would post a new video showing off close ups of his mouthwatering biceps, Adam400m would upload his own video oiling down his gargantuan upper arms and crowing about how massive he is. Adam would post a focus on his telephone pole thighs, and then a couple days later SMG would upload an flex session with his quads, inviting worshippers to imagine what it would be like to have their heads trapped between them. Were these two actually in virtual muscle worship combat with one another? Highly unlikely. But my imagination ran with the idea, inspiring me to write a homoerotic wrestling scenario where these two drop-dead gorgeous muscle hunks meet face to face and pec to pec to determine which one of them is the ultimate muscle god, and which one is destined to fall on his knees and concede.
My interview last month with SMG did nothing but fuel my fantasies when he mentioned that he’d contacted Adam400m and challenged him to a pose-off and wrestling match. While this serves as evidence confirming my belief in a virtual muscle war between them, I strongly suspect that there is a mix-up of cause-and-effect in the phenomena in question. Regardless, hearing from SMG that he laid down a muscle challenge on Adam fired up my erotic imagination plenty.  You can tell from my interview with him that SMG is a classy guy, but it’s not hard to read the sub-text to his story about contacting Adam and getting no response to his challenge. The implication is impossible to mistake: Adam’s a pussy, and what’s more, SMG claims that while his own gorgeous muscles are all natural, Adam is juiced.

I don’t have any independent evidence to verify SMG’s statements. I did reach out to Adam to see if he’d grant me an interview or at least answer a couple of questions. No reply. I bought a membership in Adam’s muscle worship website the same day I signed up for SMG’s website. The documentation of Adam’s muscle growth is pretty astonishing. If he isn’t juiced, he’s a freak of nature. Then again, those fluorescent baby blue eyes of his are hard to believe as well, but they seem knee-bucklingly real. What I learned, digging around in the the respective websites of these two internet hunks, leads me to some pretty firm conclusions, even if I didn’t find confirmatory evidence of SMG’s claims that Adam is comprised of artificial ingredients and that he was too much of a pussy to accept SMG’s challenge.
First of all, there’s just no doubt about it: Adam is bigger. His muscles are thicker. He’s more vascular. Muscle worshippers very well may want to pony up cash to count themselves among Adam400m devotees before they pay homage to the SteelMuscleGod. And between you and me, I don’t begrudge Adam the artificial pump. If he’s on it, it’s clearly producing the sort of fantasy muscleman body that I’m sure he’s aiming for. Over the course of the pics and videos on his website, you can watch some of Adam’s muscle growth, and it’s hard not to come to the same conclusion as SMG. The bodybuilder boy with the baby blues definitely could be artificially enhanced, and I’m guessing as a non-natural pro bodybuilder, he’s fitting right in on the scene. However, size is not, in and of itself, my kink.  There are many a homoerotic wrestling match that I’m most entranced by the relatively smaller guy who defies the math and dominates, humiliates, and lays waste to his bigger opponent. Objectively speaking, however, yes, undeniably, Adam’s got the advantage when it comes to being bigger and thicker. If that posedown SMG proposed ever happened, I have to guess that, juiced or not, Adam would dwarf the SteelMuscleGod commandingly, and he’d give that cocky, you-fucking-love-me grin of his and nod to the camera to drive home the point that his physique is simply more massive.

But if it comes as any surprise to you when I say that my kink is far from satisfied by sheer muscle size, then welcome. You must be new around here. Because what turns me on is the eroticism of wrestling. And although my imagination is mightily pleased to make all of Adam’s muscles as well as his piercing blue eyes and blond beauty into a picture-perfect babyface pro wrestler, Adam himself is, as far as I can tell, entirely silent on the subject. He performs, clearly in response to the requests of his fans. He dresses in gear that they send him.  He oils up, strips down to a jock strap, gives close ups to specifically requested muscles… but he never mentions a word about what all that mass and power would be good for in body-on-body combat. SMG, on the other hand, is even more enthusiastic to fulfill the fantasies of his fans, and he explicitly connects the dots between worshipping his steel muscles and enjoying what his hard-earned strength can do against a wrestling opponent. He’s posted several wrestling matches in his “store” and available to members, many specifically requested by fans. But even more erotically provocative for me, wrestling seems never far from SMG’s thoughts. I think just about every webcam show I’ve watched in SMG’s archives, regardless of the “theme” (gear, jerking off, posing in oil, crushing objects, worshipping his feet… the list goes on and on), whatever the ostensible topic of the session, he almost always muses in growling, sexy tones, about capturing a lucky worshipper’s head between his gorgeous thighs and squeezing, or crushing an opponent’s face between his rock hard pecs, or racking a screaming mortal across his square shoulders. What’s more, SMG’s bona fides among us include the fact that he competed in amateur wrestling when he was younger. Adam’s athletic background? He was a sprinter. Not bad mind you, but in a side-by-side comparison, SMG more than makes up the ground when it comes to satisfying the wrestling kinks among us.

More generally, the comparison between SMG’s website and Adam’s when it comes to explicit eroticism is… well, no comparison. Adam flexes for you. If you watch most any of Adam’s for-free YouTube clips, that’s pretty much what you get in the pay-site, just more of. There’s exactly one video that I can find of Adam posing in a jock strap. For more skin that that, there’s nothing in sight. There’s a hot teaser shot of Adam naked, coving his junk with his left hand, head carefully cropped out. But whenever this shot happened, I don’t see it represented elsewhere on his site (you can also pay for a private session, which may be when he’ll get more daring). SMG, on the other hand, successfully pulls off both the tease and the full monty. Some of his sessions are more coy than others, but you can find gorgeous detail of just about every inch of of SMG’s bulges and crevices in one format or another (usually in video!). He sports a lovely, thick, uncut cock and beautifully proportioned balls, and with only a little digging, you’ll find a video of him working up slowly and intimately to a naked erection, totally turning himself on as he growls and coos for the camshow audience, until he sits back in his chair and rubs out a hot shot across his washboard abs. You will NOT see this from Adam. I’ve been studying every shred of evidence I can find, but I have no idea if Adam is cut or uncut, long, stubby, thick or pencil-dicked. Guys into being locker room voyeurs will be taken only so far by Adam. SMG puts sizable distance between him and Adam for what he’s offering an erotically inclined audience.

The final details of this site-by-site comparison put the nail in the coffin of a certain blue-eyed Britboy, as far as I’m concerned. It’s a little hard to navigate the site in the first place, but it appears to me that Adam hasn’t actually updated his membership website with new content in about a year (almost 2 years when it comes to photos). SMG’s last update of new material was posted yesterday, comprised of a 5-minute focus on his gorgeous legs just after returning home from a leg workout (“more squeezing power,” SMG explains). He also posted an archived copy of his cam-show from a week ago, including the last 22 minutes of his gear-fetish send up, changing into one set of trunks/underwear after another to satisfy as many fan fetishes as he can.  And finally, SMG always seems to be having fun, which makes it that much more sexy to watch. He laughs, a lot. Not a self-conscious dumb ass laugh, but a hot, sexy, supremely confident laugh. He can give a running narrative in titillating detail about every inch of his body and what he could do to dominate you, as he flexes for 50 minutes at a time. Adam… well, Adam sounds a little bored. He typically starts his 4 or 5 minute videos with some chat (love the Brit accent), but then he’s generally silent as he flexes. He favors his front side a lot, always leaving me craving to see him drop trou and deliver that fuzzy muscled ass of his a lot more. A reader of this blog recently confided in me that he finds Adam “boring,” and I have to agree, though I think it’s more that I find him bored, which translates into a sense of boredom on my end.  You’ll pay $18 (American) for a recurring one-month membership (which is slightly a pain in the ass to cancel), or $46 for 3 months. SMG will cost you just a little more: $23 for a non-recurring 1 month, or $20 for a recurring month-to-month (he’s offering a 3-month discount that you can email him and ask about). But mind you, the price comparison appears to include no new content from Adam in about a year versus a steady stream of cam-shows, videos, pics and promos from SMG.
I’ll admit that SMG’s openness to respond to my request for an interview also adds to my favor, but it’s not just the ego-stroke. I think SMG is genuinely more responsive, much more engaging, and frankly more interested in his audience than Adam appears to be. I get the impression that Adam is collecting some relatively passive income (particularly since he hasn’t posted in a year), as he pursues his professional bodybuilding career. Good on him, I say. But if you’re a wrestling kinkster or a muscle worshipper who likes a healthy serving of domination with your main course, you’re pretty much going to get what you can from Adam via his FB page and YouTube channel (more, actually). If SMG is tickling your kink, his site is a going concern.  You can also get regular updates and teasers on his FB page, and he’s almost guaranteed to give you a shout out on camera if you sign-in to enjoy one of his highly interactive live cam-shows.


I was thinking about writing a sequel to the fictional homoerotic wrestling serial I wrote starring SMG and Adam a while back, but I don’t think I need to. When it comes to firing up my homoerotic wrestling imagination and delivering a full-frontal assault on my wrestling kink, SMG continues to live large and in charge.

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

wrestlebard4 Comments

It’s time to honor another homoerotic wrestler who captured my imagination and excited me the most for appearing in a match released in the prior month. The field of contenders this time around is almost paralyzingly deep. BG East alone has populated the potential prize winners with one of the richest catalogs I can remember. From Strip Stakes 3, both gorgeous rookie Damien Rush and rising heel Morgan “the Mastodon” Cruise easily secure nominations. From Catch Weight 5, reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler (porn-boy) Skrapper and his fanatsyman muscle beast opponent, Dev Michaels get credit where credit is most definitely due. Lovely underwear model Rio Garza gets a nomination for his Very Bad Day, getting fucked up sequentially and in tandem by Bulldog Barzini and his surprisingly inspiring protege, Mike Pitt. I can’t help myself but nomination from Mat Rookies 1 no fewer than 3 of the sexy, sweaty rooks, namely Ben Cohen, former HWOTM Jake Jenkins, and still another former HWOTM, Eli Black. It’ll come as no surprise, considering my recent gushing, that I’m breathlessly nominating rookie-I-don’t-think-so Latino stud, Diego Diaz from Florida Fights 4, as well as former HWOTM Bobby Horton and a new-to-me favorite, Drew Russell. And I’ll be damned if I absolutely can’t help myself but send up both big, luscious bruiser Chris Xaos and his muscle man opponent in combat boots, Rob Chandler, for one of the most homoEROTIC motel tussles, Motel Madness UK. Even with that huge list, I’m already second guessing several of the boys that I’m leaving on the table, but I must charge forward. Turning next to Can-Am, I’m whole-heartedly nominating yet another Latino muscle beast by the name of Thiago Diaz and ripped beyond belief Tyler Reese, for a muscle bashing feast for the eyes in Florida Pro Fights (not to be confused with Diego Diaz starring in BG East’s Florida Fights 4… seriously?). And then I can’t fail to nominate from the Rock Hard Wrestling ranks Eli Black (again) and his opponent, Austin Cooper, as well as former HWOTM Z-Man (aka Zack Johnathan) and muscle tamer extraordinaire, nasty Ethan Andrews.  And finally, an entry from an entirely new source this time around, I’m also nominating my personal crush and recent interviewee, Dan aka Steel Muscle God for his recent release of a muscle pose down, trash-talking, arm wrestling-leads-to no rules jockstrap wrestling on the mats in an unknown European gym (and if I knew the name of his shaved headed muscle beast opponent, I’d throw him a nominating bone as well).

This, my friends, has been a bumper crop of fantastic homoerotic wrestling! I think I’ll remember April 2012 for some time to come, because the new releases this month have kept me dehydrated and distracted from my work from start to finish. If it were even a slightly less competitive month, probably at least 5 of these boys would easily claim the title. But as hard as it is to put some of these incredibly entertaining boys in the back seat, I’m picking just one of them to drive us all forward as new, reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month…

Eli is only the second two-time winner of the title of homoerotic wrestler of the month. I trace his lead in the hotly contested race this past month starting right around April 4, when he dropped me the message that I might want to let neverland readers know that April was officially Eli Black month. Why official? Because Eli Black said it was so. Why his month? Because he was about to star simultaneously in new releases for an astonishing 3 different underground wrestling companies at the same time. And he kicked ass in serious MMA competition. And it was his birthday month. Enough said. It was Eli Black month.

Eli rips Austin Cooper in half.

I love, love, love a self-promoting, trash-talking, supremely confident, ripped muscle stud of an athlete, and there may be none to compete with him on all those fronts at the same time (except possibly Kid Karisma… now that would be a combination!). Eli’s match against goldenboy muscle man, Austin Cooper, was an astonishing catch weight wonder to behold. Eli quite literally got shot-putted halfway across the ring (multiple times), repeatedly slammed, stomped and pummeled corner-to-corner, tortured in the ropes, cracked and rocked humiliatingly across Austin’s knee… and still Primus kept clawing his way back for more.  RHW captures so well Eli’s face when he’s on top, making an opponent hurt, and he’s nothing short of ecstatic as he watches the agony he’s administering contort his opponent’s face.  Eli large and in charge drives me wild, but Eli taking an epic mauling and clawing back on his hands and knees to stare defeat defiantly in the face turns me into a quivering mess.

When the rules of amateur wrestling start to get bent, things get really interesting!

But truth be told, it’s Eli’s rematch against Jake Jenkins in Mat Rookies 1 that put the distance between Eli and the rest of the pack to propel him across the finish line first as homoerotic wrestler of the month.  Eli conceded in my recent interview with him that he has a grudging respect for Jake, and if he was forced to take a tag team partner, it’s be him. Watching Mat Rookies 1 gives you the context for that comment. After Jake schooled Eli hard for his rookie debut at RHW, they show up for this rematch on the mats for BG East. They’re both gorgeous in their singlets, and the initial amateur-style sparring is incredible to watch. They both give running commentaries on the holds and moves, as well as on their relative assessments of how each of them is doing in the match. They’re beautifully matched in both muscle and technical skill. If they’d grown up in the same place, I’m sure they’d have been best buddies, teammates on the wrestling team, and friendly competitors for being feared and adored the most in the cutthroat world of adolescence.

When the singlets come off, the rules go out the window.

But the stakes in homoerotic wrestling are decidedly different than those on the high school wrestling team. When Jake peels out of his sweat-soaked singlet, stripping down to his orange jock strap, Eli sees it for what it is: just another challenge. Not to be outdone by the beautiful physique of handsome, young Jake, Eli shrugs out of his singlet straps and strips down to his white jock strap, insisting that just like his wrestling, his body is better than Jake’s as well.

Nobody seems to be able to resist gut punching that wall of rippled muscle!

Locked in bare-assed combat, the boys demonstrate why amateur wrestling skills take you only so far once you’ve reached the ranks of underground homoerotic wrestling.  Amateur wrestling doesn’t offer the opportunity to see two bare-assed hardbodies pick each other up by the hair and slam one another into walls (I’d be much, much more into amateur wrestling if they did). Jake and Eli didn’t learn ab claws and gut punching and suspended surfboards and over-the-knee backbreakers from high school wrestling practice. Fortunately for us, they picked it up elsewhere, and they unleash every above and below board move at one point or another to lay down layer after layer of humiliating domination.

Eli wipes the smirk right off of Jake’s face with a bare-handed choke.

Jake is the smart-ass in this match. He smirks a lot. He laughs off clearly painful holds that Eli applies. He intentionally goads the rookie, questioning his manhood. His psychological strategy, for the most part, is to stay ice cool regardless how hot the contest heats up, letting rash, short-tempered Eli burn himself out and run himself into a corner with impetuosity.  Every time Jake muscles his way on top and controls Primus, he snorts and chortles, building the psychologically dominating argument that he’s destined to beat Eli.

Jake threatens to snap Eli in half.

But I have to admit that Eli’s half-centimeter long fuse is what soaks up my attention. He rides his rage like he’s in a rodeo. He counts up every indignity that he suffers at Jake’s hands in order to keep a running tally of the humiliation that he must, he will, he is destined to eventually return with interest paid. In the past, I’ve mentioned this notion of a wrestler staying “present” as something that turns me on and just isn’t always something you can count on, but Eli’s focus is like a laser beam. I forget that there had to be at least one or two other guys crammed into the mat room that day to film this gem, primarily because Eli is one fiercely focused mother fucker!

Shades of Brad Rochelle from Wrestlefest 2, Jake is ready to bag and tag his prey.

Both of these boys work… their… ASSES off in this match, which is also something that can’t be assumed. And by the time Jake hoists Eli across his shoulders and parades him around the ring like a stag he’s shot on opening day of hunting season, Eli’s rock hard vulnerability absolutely makes me gasp. All of the nuance and character in the match makes being captured in Jake’s torture rack exquisitely poignant and climactic. The battle has waxed and waned for both combatants, and it’s looked like it’s over many times already.  But finally, it seems like cocky and calm Jake had the winning strategy, letting Eli’s rash rage burn itself right out in a pool of outmuscled sweat and tears. All of Eli’s predictions of how he’s going to conquer the world, tame any foe, and become the franchise look like the dashed dreams of a hero from Greek mythology. Jake is stunningly powerful, and the look of primal joy/rage on his face as he struts around the mat and bounces Eli’s tortured back across his shoulders is the spitting image of another young, muscled frat boy seizing destiny by the balls and settling in for some well-earned self-congratulations.

“Go… to… SLEEP!”

Eli’s done that clawing his way back from the brink of despair that turns me on so hard. He’s battled long and hard. He’s sold me that he’s burned every last ounce of fuel in his tanks (of both physical and psychological stamina). Primus has told me that story that moves me so deeply. And then, holy fuck! He delivers two sharp elbows into Jake’s temple. As Jake stumbles and begins to drop Primus, Eli has captured Jake’s throat with his right arm before his feet have touched the mat. Out of nowhere, Eli locks on a beautifully tight, perfectly positioned sleeper. Jake fights it. The hit of dominating power and fate are still in his nostrils from the torture rack he commanded just moments ago. But ambitious young Eli remains clamped across Jake’s back like a python. Primus is gasping for air, still recovering from the torture rack. As Jake begins to melt in his arms, losing his hold on consciousness, the two sink to the mat with Eli’s cheek resting across the back of Jake’s head. “Go… to… SLEEP!” Eli gasps, almost pleadingly, desperate to put this most challenging rival down once and for all.

Jake dreams of past victories.

Just like in the ranking for HWOTM, Eli comes out on top. Both barely clad boys are nursing their wounds, neither one able to summon the strength to start the long journey out of the mat room. It’s done, as Jake pants desperately, regaining a solid handhold on consciousness and looking up to see Eli clutching his back, clearly still in agony. Grudging respect between these two?  Of course. And what does Eli say to sum up this destined-for-the-hall-of-fame 40 minutes?  “Pussy.” Of course.

Reigning 2-time homoerotic wrestler of the month, Eli Black.

So last month was Eli Black month, leading to this month, as Primus returns to the throne of homoerotic wrestler of the month. It’s no wonder to me that he’s got his eye on running the show. He’s one fiercely entertaining, smoking hot wrestler. If I’ve said it once, I’m sure I’ll say it a thousand times. This is Eli Black’s world. You’re just living in it.

Getting it Right… Mostly

wrestlebard1 Comment
Christian Taylor sits back and enjoys the waning hours of being reigning
homoerotic wrestler of the month.

I’ve been angling for a interview with reigning (for another day) homoerotic wrestler of the month, Christian Taylor (aka, Chris Cox).  I’ve never had any contact with said wrestling hunk, however. I have enjoyed the opportunity to correspond with Skip Vance (aka Jeff Hollister), Christian’s boyfriend.  Now, I consider it bad manners to use a guy’s boyfriend to deliver a message to him. That said, when I named Christian as homoerotic wrestler of the month, I decided to be blatantly rude and do just that. I asked Skip if Christian had anything he’d be willing to say on the record here on this blog about his status as HWOTM.

Skip Vance gives me the time of day!

While Skip hasn’t won the title of homoerotic wrestler of the month (yet), he’s an incredibly sexy and astonishingly prolific jobber in his own right who’s appeared a dozen times already in posts on this blog. An opportunity to quote him on these pages would be a get I’d be awfully proud of as well. So I also asked Skip if he had any thoughts about his boyfriend being named homoerotic wrestler of the month.  No word from Christian, but Skip, who seems always to be up for just about anything (damn, that’s hot!), shared some of his thoughts on the subject.

Christian fuels regular workouts with meals lovingly
prepared by Skip.

“That’s awesome,” Skip responded. “It’s nice dating a star [lol].  He works out hard every week and stays in great shape year round. He really enjoys me making him dinner since you never know what’s in other people’s food they cook. He lives for fun and good health.”

“…very confident but a little shy”
Skip went on to let me know how close to the mark I came in my attempt at a psychological profile of Christian.  “So, after reading the article I have to say you got it right mostly,” Skip explains.  “He is always working to make his body better. He is very confident but a little shy. He loves to be outdoors, and if we’re not wrestling, we’re getting ready just in case there is a last minute match. BG East is not just a paycheck for him.  It’s the love of wrestling.”
Skip & Christian are wrestling, or training to wrestle,
non-stop!
Reading between the lines, it seems to me Skip is suggesting that I’m on the money when I speculated that Christian is “in the fold” of those of us tuned into the eroticism of wrestling. Clearly, neither Christian or Skip is punching the clock when they show up on camera slamming and getting slammed and working up a bucket and a half of sweat as they grapple. That the two of them are pretty much always wrestling or training for their next match is my idea of the most perfect homoerotic wrestling romance in history. Again, reading between the lines, I’m guessing where I only got it “mostly” right may be in my completely baseless speculation that Christian might have some (completely unfounded) insecurity about his own body. Skip clarifies that his lovely, long lover is “very confident but a little shy.” Hot damn, that’s a hot combination! And with looks and a wrestling resume like his, it’s no wonder I was on thin ice to suggest that he may not be fully aware of the extent of just how sexy he is.  I happily stand corrected, and to set the record straight, let me clarify that I think that a little shyness paired with a steely self-confidence and pride in having a smoking hot body is definitely the sexiest thing on earth.
Christian’s sexy and he knows it!

As we prepare to say “adieu” for now to Christian Taylor as homoerotic wrestler of the month, let me just make two last clarifications. 1) Skip Vance is absolutely a homoerotic wrestling star in his own right. My asking for a quote from him reflecting on Christian’s mounting the monthly throne was in no way to suggest that Skip is anything less than one of the sexiest screamers in homoerotic wrestling. He’s got a devilish playfulness about him that’s irresistible, and pound for pound, I’m guessing Skip has taken more punishment than almost anybody currently in the business. Add to that the fact that Skip responded to my request for a quote today, and you’ve got one hard-bodied jobber at the top of my list of “friends of neverland.”  And clarification 2), I know full well that my incessant speculation about what’s unstated about the homoerotic wrestlers who populate my playlists is likely often entirely off-base. And if ever, (ever) the subject of my wild speculation wants to set the record straight by taking a few questions to satisfy my prurient interests, all he needs to do is drop me a line anytime.

Practice makes perfect!

Love ya both, boys! Thanks for sharing all the fun!

Eli Black’s World

wrestlebard6 Comments
Go on. Try it.
Today is Eli Black’s birthday. Anyone wanna be first in line to slap that ass? Let me rephrase the question: anyone wanna be first in line to try to slap that ass?!
Eli screams his way to yet another victory in the cage.
Eli celebrated Eli Black month by winning a first round knock out victory in yet another MMA competition last weekend. Just like the boys at BG East, Rock Hard Wrestling, and UCW, Eli’s MMA opponents are learning the hard way to fuck with Eli Black at their own peril. And as an observant reader detected from my last post about Eli, it does indeed appear that he’s sporting some new bright red ink on his left upper arm.

Eli’s rematch with Jake Jenkins (pre-new ink) for BG East is an astonishingly sexy birthday gift for Eli fans. Eli and Jake start with some “practicing” in the mat room, demonstrating that both of these gorgeous hunks come from accomplished amateur backgrounds. They deliver a clinic of amateur holds and throws, each wrestler determined to prove his technical superiority.

The trash talk flies fast and furious from the start, getting hotter and hotter as the minutes tick by. “Maybe you should stop pissing me off,” Jake almost coos.  “Maybe you should stop sucking!” Eli snaps back.

Jake mocks Primus like poking a pit bull with a stick. “Uh oh,” he chuckles, controlling Eli’s back. “What’s about to happen to Eli Black?”  Eli gets more and more pissed by the second. “Stop being a bitch, Jake!”

These boys tell a fantastically compelling story. You know the story. It’s about the rush of testosterone mixed with injured pride. It’s told in sweat and grunts, all the while desperately trying not to look like they’re breaking a sweat or having to work. The story is about getting seriously pissed off at one another, but struggling to maintain their cool, to laugh it off, to look like the hot hunk who just out hustled or outmuscled you isn’t getting in your head.  Well, Jake manages the I’m too cool to look like I’m working bit. Eli isn’t really one who tends to hide it when he’s getting good and pissed off.

Jake just laughs when Eli snaps on a spladle, stretching Jake’s legs apart. “Stretch ’em out a little more,” Jake taunts him.  When Eli obliges, Jake’s back arches and the veins in his neck rise to the surface, but he just smiles. “Quit being a little bitch! I know this hurts,” Eli snarls back.

Jake locks on a headscissors, pulling Eli’s face high up against his ass. “How does that smell?” Jake asks nonchalantly. A few seconds later, the two are stalking one another around the small mat room, and Jake shrugs his big shoulders out of his singlet. “Oh, what,” Eli snaps, “you’re big?” Jake grins ear from ear when he replies, “I’m sexy!” Never to be outdone, never to to fail to see the element of competition in anything in life, Eli quickly sheds his singlet, yelling, “I totally, totally look better than you!”  With Eli standing in nothing but his jock strap and boots, his abs ripped to shreds, Jake gives credit where credit is due. With just a twinge of a sound of surprised respect, Jake murmurs, “Not bad, not bad at all!”

Eli took a hard, humiliating loss in his first time out of the gates for BG East. At RHW, he took a hard, humiliating loss his first time there, as well… to Jake. But the infinitely ambitious, testosterone overdosed hot head Eli is done with his rookie initiations. He spends the next 25 minutes making Jake sweat, scream, and submit. It’s not a walk in the park, and somehow, I can’t imagine Eli would ever bother with something as ridiculously boring as taking a walk in the park. He loves this shit. He loves being challenged. He loves his low boiling rage getting poked and prodded. He loves getting pissed off, because he’s convinced that, like Dr. Bruce Banner, once he completely loses control of his rage, he’s unstoppable and superhuman.  These two toned athletes go at it non-stop, meaner and harder and sweatier with every passing moment. They trade holds and submissions, and they dance along the edge of injuring each other’s bodies along the way to their real goal, crushing each other’s egos. With just a minute left, the tables are still turning back and forth until Eli successfully wipes the grin off of Jake’s handsome face (by choking him out cold), once and for all.

Happy birthday, Eli!

Happy birthday, Eli. You haven’t been on the scene of homoerotic wrestling long, but you’ve already rallied an army of fans who are sincerely happy to have you on board.

Somebody Needs a Step Ladder

wrestlebard2 Comments
A couple of weeks ago, I called out BG East newbie Diego Diaz from Florida Fights 4 as my top still-frame choice of the new blood that I wanted to see in action. Long, gorgeous, untamed wildly curly hair… Diego is no clone. He looks like he eats raw meat and bench presses Smart Cars. And he looks mean. Really, really mean.
6’3″, 184 lbs. Diego Diaz looks mean.
It’s taken me days, quite literally, to manage to see his debut match against Austin Cooper all the way through to the end. I’ve just been getting way too worn out along the way to keep going!  I’m infatuated with this giant of a man, and I’m instantly craving more.
Diego seems to understand the concept of power-bottoming

My post yesterday on the independent self-promotion of Steel Muscle God struck up a back channels conversation with one reader about sexy accents. I’m a sucker for a sexy accent growled out of a deep, bass voice echoing from a powerful chest. Just like SMG, Diego is doing just fine in English as a second language. In fact, for someone who’s apparently not a native speaker, he delivers some of the most entertaining, nearly non-stop trash talk that I’ve seen in a long time!
Diego completely dwarfs 5’9″ Austin
“Let’s see how much fighting you have in those Captain America speedos of yours!” he snarls, stretching his long, long, LONG legs over the top rope as he climbs into the ring.  Last month I mused on the topic of tall men in homoerotic wrestling, and Diego pushes those buttons as well. He’s listed as 6’3″, but his swagger and that bush of slightly insane curls on top of his head make him seem at least three inches taller than that to me. Austin is reportedly a half a foot shorter than Diego, but he comes across as nothing short of juvenile looking up at the towering giant in front of him.
“Tough guy, huh?” a cocky Austin asks. “You know who I am, right?”
Austin suffers altitude sickness throughout the match.
Diego laughs long and indulgently. It’s an evil and genuinely amused laugh that makes me melt. “I really don’t care who you are,” Diego finally growls back with that knee-buckling accent. “I know where you’re heading to. And it’s right here,” the Latin stud drops to one knee and slaps the mat in the middle of the ring. Once again, the recruiters at BG East have done much, much more than comb through the catalogs of unemployed underwear models to sign this so-called “rookie.” This gorgeous giant is dripping with confidence and he gives every impression that he’s spent months on end in the ring long before he stretched his freakishly long legs over the top rope to stand face-to-face (well, face-to-sternum) with Austin. He’s literally walking the top rope within the first 5 minutes of this match, for god’s sake!!!
Austin spends a lot of time looking up in this match.
Austin’s asking for it from t-minus 15 seconds to the very last knock-out blow of this match. It’s the American flag trunks, or, as Diego puts it, “those Captain America speedo.” They seem to bring out the over-inflated, yet somehow sniveling bitch in beefy goldenboy Austin. The curl of his upper lip, the cupie-doll-inspired faux hawk, and his complete disrespect and disregard for his skyscraper of an opponent make it impossible for me not to take deep satisfaction in discovering that Diego is hitting the BG East roster as a ringer. Not 10 minutes into the match, and he’s captured Austin cold in the middle of a flying cross body, catching him like a sack of laundry, hoisting Captain America up across his upper chest, and then heaving Austin’s beautifully muscled body a good 8 feet across the ring. “You need to stop with this bullshit!” Diego scolds him. “This ain’t for kids; do you know what I’m saying!?”
Diego exploits gravity with a spine-busting leg drop from  the heavens.
Austin tries not to respond to Diego’s barrage of trash talk. Perhaps he doesn’t understand the accent. I for one, understand Diego loud and clear. His #1 tool in his tool belt is dropping any pointed thing he can find (a fist, an elbow, a knee) down onto Austin’s abs from the stratospheric heights that this Latino giant inhabits. His second most effective tool (though, I have to say, it’s my #1 favorite move to see a giant like this apply) is using those mile long legs to scissor Captain America, rolling him back and forth, front to back, slamming him face-first and then back-first into the mat. Austin screams like a bitch, kicking his feet pointlessly. A third strategy that looks like it could seriously send Austin to the hospital is the assault on his core from repeated shoulder blocks that Diego spears into him when he’s trapped in the corners. Diego’s feet leave the mat around the middle of the ring in order to turn the Latino giant into a projectile for delivering blunt force trauma.
Diego Diaz makes an impact with every inch of his 6’3″
Austin gets 1 pin fall and 1 submission out of the big man, both relying on underhanded tricks and out-and-out cheating. He wraps Diego up into a small (huge) package and slaps down a rapid fire 3-count like he’s pounding out a drum roll. The surprise fall infuriates Diego, as he chases a fleeing, cowardly Austin outside the ring to exact revenge. “No one’s going to play me like that!” Diego barks ominously. When Austin has a shred of momentum a little later, he retreats outside the ring again to do his damnedest to fuck up Diego’s knee. Pounding it into the corner of the ring apron, hanging the Latino hunk by it from the middle rope, and then latching on a ball-crushing figure-4 leg lock with Diego astonishingly straddling the ring post (this move brought to you by the freakishly hot genetics of 6’3″ Diego).
Austin knows that unless he maims the big man permanently, he’s in deep shit.
Defenders of the stars and stripes will not be proud of the tactics that our goldenboy resorts to in order to even the score in this match. He is, as Diego points out, a “coward” and a “bitch.” So when Austin starts tiring out climbing up Mt. Everest over and over, there’s some sweet satisfaction in seeing Diego start to hammer down and humiliate the goldenboy severely. The final 10 minutes or so of this match reinforce what was so clearly apparent from the first seconds of seeing the ripped giant step over the top rope to enter the ring for the first time. Lovely, long Diego is a fully formed heel! He stomps the living shit out of Austin without even a hint of human compassion or mercy. “I told you that’s what you get when you play with the big guys: you get beat down!” A backbreaker in nose-bleed altitude, hanging upside down helplessly across Diego’s shoulder, is stunning to see and clearly impossible for Austin to take for more than about 5 seconds. Diego finally acknowledges the submission and flings the pretty patriot to the mat like taking out the trash. “Don’t come in here with your little spinnings and twists and think your going to beat me!” he spits, starting to stride out of the ring having delivered his message to BG East.
Diego is working over Austin, but he’s got his eye on you.
“You’re still just a tall pussy,” Austin says, flat on his back having just screamed out a submission like a whiny bitch. Some might call it balls, taking a beating that humiliating and then spitting out a gasping attempt at emasculation. As for me, it looks like a musclehead jock unaccustomed to being physically inferior to an opponent just not knowing when to shut up. Happily, Diego’s pride is bruised enough by the pitiful insult that he has to climb back in the ring and shut Captain America up for good. He delivers a one-handed choke slam, lifting Austin high off his feet with just a little gratuitous help from yanking the stars and stripes high up Austin’s crack, and then pounding the faux hawked golden boy into la-la-land.
Diego makes being so bad look so good!
Where the fuck did BG East find this guy!? These are two incredibly hot wrestlers. This is my very favorite genre: ring action. These stunners use every inch of the ring, the ropes, the turnbuckles, the corner posts, the ringside benches, the lockers, and the cinder block walls to do their very best to fuck one another up. The sexy Latino giant let’s loose a steady stream of withering trash talk. In other words, this is my kind of homoerotic wrestling! Get Diego Diaz back in the ring, rápido!
BG East boys take note: Diego Dias is in the building!

Teased

wrestlebardLeave a comment
Do not let it be said that the Steel Muscle God doesn’t know how to build suspense! Just out today, SMG has posted some preview pics of a new wrestling match he’s taped.  That, in and of itself, is enough to make me salivate. But the details that SMG is leaking just get better and better.
Steel Muscle God struggles to tame a muscle beast.
For example, his opponent is a certain muscle stud that he recently arm wrestled and did an oiled up posedown with. In my recent interview with SMG, I mentioned him as the eye-catching hunk of muscle that he is, even suggesting that he comes close to possessing almost as hot a muscle body as SMG does. I like to think that comment might have earned the shaved-headed muscle man the invitation to feel the steel on the mats in this upcoming wrestling release!
SMG loves to squeeze and watch. 

So SMG’s choice of opponent is definitely upping the ante on this upcoming release, but a cursory glance at the preview pics points out the next fantastically hot detail of the match: these two muscle men wrestle in only jockstraps! I put in a bid for SMG to consider wrestling naked for his fans when we chatted last month, but this is oh-so-close! More muscle god to admire is never a bad thing, and the sight of all those nearly naked muscles bulging, stretching, and squeezing with so little left to require from the imagination looks fantastic!

The muscle beast in a humiliating bear trap! 

The third subtle detail that’s making me give these preview pics a second (third, fourth…) glance is just this shot of SMG’s muscleman rival with his head in that vice that SMG calls his legs, and his nose shoved way, way, WAY up between those gorgeously divine hamstrings. This is beautifully intimate stuff, and I’d happily giveaway my firstborn to trade places with the lucky, lucky shaved headed hunk.

SMG on the defensive!?
And finally, I’m titillated by the glimpse of SMG looking like he’s awfully close to getting a hot, hard rear choke cinched on good and tight. There’s a look of devilish delight stretched across his opponent’s face. SMG’s muscled torso is stretched out, and the divine one looks like he’s seriously struggling, grimacing with the effort to fend off the potential choke out maneuver. The Steel Muscle God’s jockstrapped ass in jeopardy!? Now, I love seeing SMG dominate and subdue, but I’ve often imagined the hot scenario of him having to seriously push himself to the limits of all that strength and endurance to survive a challenge to his pride and dignity as a muscle god. Holy hell, if somebody’s naked ass gets slapped in the match, I’m losing all self-restraint.

Bodies Over Time – Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month Edition

wrestlebardLeave a comment
Reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month: Christian Taylor
(aka Chris Cox)
Christian Taylor rocks. He’s stunning in still frame. Long, perpetually lean, gorgeously handsome square jaw, aquiline nose, piercing, long-lashed eyes, and a big, toothy, melting smile. I haven’t chatted with him in real time (though I’d love to!), but the hit I get off of his wrestling matches and his available photo sets is that he’s doesn’t quite believe just how sexy he is. A 6’2″, 175 lbs athlete with cover boy good looks who harbors some insecurity about his own attractiveness is one of the sexiest things on earth, I think.
Christian over time: (l) Undagear 15, (c) Sexy Showdown 6, and (r) Wet and Wild 6
This is a “bodies over time” post officially, but honestly, over the course of about 7 years appearing in homoerotic wrestling, his body has remained astonishingly hot. If anything, he’s getting more ripped, more handsome, and more confident with age. His pecs are a little fuller. He’s whittled his abs and obliques down to first-rate washboard condition. He looks like he’s lived into the long, sultry lines of his genetically blessed physique with more and more grace as he’s shown up over and over to put that beautiful body on the line in homoerotic wrestling.
Max Powers stretches out Chris’ hot, long body and highlights that bulging package
Christian earned his title as reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month on the strength of his ring match (wrestling as “Chris Cox“) against muscle bully Max Powers for Rock Hard Wrestling. As powerful and stimulating a sight as Max’s muscled body is, it’s Christian’s wrestling, suffering, and bulging package that make this straight-up wrestling match so freakin’ homoerotically hot!
(l) Christian Taylor and (r) Sean Patrick
As far as I can tell, Christian made his homoerotic wrestling debut, and has appeared most, wrestling for BG East. BG East has also featured some of his sexiest and most overtly homoerotic work, which is clearly a strong suit of BG East. Particularly in the physical shape Christian has been in for his most recent wrestling products, I can’t help but think of him as a new edition of classic BG East tall, cool drink of water, Sean Patrick. According to their published stats, Christian is just about an inch taller and a little heavier than Sean, but they’re both built similarly. I’d expect to see the looks of Christian on the cover of a magazine sooner than I’d expect to see (albeit handsome) Sean, but they have similar genetics.  And both of these lovely lean wrestlers have/had a similar not-so-secret weapon in their matches: opponents seem to melt when either of these handsome hotties lock their lips on them.
Austin Raines welcomes Christian to the world of
homoerotic wrestling in BG East’s Undagear 13

The wrestling “lip lock” is a move that I relish in homoerotic wrestling. I know that not everyone is with me on this, but unconditionally, when hard, hot, sweaty wrestling morphs into aggressive kissing and passionate groping, it sends my kink firing on all cylinders! And reviewing Christian’s resume (at BG East) makes it quite obvious that one opponent after another has tasted his lovely lips sooner or later in match after match.

Christian sucks the fight out of Blaine Janus in Undagear 15

Like Sean Patrick, when Christian’s mouth makes contact with an opponent, it seems to sap the battle right out of them. Who can stay focused on a fight when a hunk like Christian distracts you with a lingering lip lock? On top, on the bottom, in the heat of battle or as post-match foreplay, the beauty of battlers aroused by their wrestling and sucking face hot and heavy is an essential analogy to what turns me on at my core.

In Wrestleshack 12, Tim Sheridan seems unconcerned about being
put to his back once Christian starts to toy with his nipples and kiss him.

Of course, if it were just making out, I’d be entertained, but it wouldn’t exactly feed my kink. I enjoy seeing guys with their tongues down each other’s throats, but what arouses me most powerfully is watching hunks face off, throw down, crush and slam one another, and within that context, wrestlers driven to distraction by their own lustful lips tasting one another makes my ears whistle with the dramatic redistribution of blood flow in my body.

Christian neutralizes Tim’s bearhug in an instant

Christian’s wrestling gives me the impression that he “gets it” intuitively. I’m certain that there are plenty of wrestlers who punch the clock in homoerotic wrestling, earning the cash but not owning the kink.  That isn’t a problem, in and of itself, for me. As long as they can sell what I’m buying, my imagination and discerning eye can take from homoerotic wrestling all that I need, whether or not the antagonists walk away owning it for themselves. But Christian is one of the hotties that sells so well, either from the inside out or outside in, that I can’t help but think that he’s in “our” camp both on screen and off.

Kid Karisma conquers Christian, knocks him out cold, and then can’t resist
employing some mouth-to-mouth “resuscitation” 

And as someone I like to think of as “one of us,” what a delight it is to identify with Christian for all of the crazy, enviable positions he’s had the opportunity to find himself in on the mat and in the ring.

In Wet & Wild 5, Kid K buries Christian’s face
in his crotch long and hard.

Getting called out and absolutely owned by the likes of my reigning undisputed favorite homoerotic wrestler (non-pornboy), Kid Karisma, is enviable enough. But the sight of Christian’s face shoved in Kid’s K’s crotch, squeezed between the charismatic one’s pumped, muscled thighs, and then lip-locked in post-match foreplay is like jolts of electricity shooting through my body (the good kind).  And then, as Kid K lets his opponent lean his half-a-foot taller frame on him as they head into the sunroom, Christian stretches his mile long arm and platter-sized hand down and squeezes that epic muscle ass of Kid K’s! Holy shit! I’m so envious that I could start to hate my homoerotic wrestler of the month just a little.

Christian makes drop-dead gorgeous fantasyman Alexi Adamov
scream like his bitch in “Who’s Next?”

And what’s not to be insanely jealous of when you see Christian straddling sexy Alexi Adamov’s tanned, toned muscle body, nearly ripping the Russian’s shoulders out of their sockets, and sitting back on Alexi’s bodacious bubble butt to listen to the babyface scream!?  So he didn’t get a liplock on the Russian, but hot damn, a fellow wrestling kinkster putting it all on the line in the BG East backyard against the likes of pristine prettyboy fantasyman Alexi makes me absolutely ache with lust!

Jake Jenkins makes every inch of Christian suffer in
Wet & Wild 6
And it’s no wonder Christian keeps hanging out by the pool, when the likes of Kid Karisma and then Jake Jenkins show up for a wet and wild bully showdown!  Then contrast of sizes and body types between Christian and Jake makes my jaw drop. Jake’s 5’7″ muscle packed mat body tying up and twisting the infinitely long, graceful, powerful lines of Christian’s 6’2″ physique is a visual masterpiece. Someone like Christian with a proven track record of getting off on the eroticism of wrestling, paired with the intensely sincere amateur-come-pro likes of straight-up dominator Jake, is guaranteed to transport me from this side of the screen onto that very match, feeling it ache every ounce as much as Christian suffers.

Christian and real-life lover Skip are passionately merciless with one another
in Sexy Showdown 6

And damn, what could be hotter than to get paired with your very own real life lover, showing up in the BG East mat room to wrestle in a product that’s destined to be entitled “Sexy Showdown 6?” The torque that these two work up on each other’s joints, the humiliating domination that they exchange, paired with a genuine romance and physical lust for one another that spills over off the mat is like a homoerotic wrestling kinkster’s anthem. Taking Skip Vance, making him hurt, taking some punishment from him and then squeezing out a final fall, once-and-for-all (until they get home) victory over the man he’ll wake up in the morning next to in bed is fucking awesome!

And an adorably sweet smile!? My homoerotic wrestler of the month
has it ALL going on!

I’m entirely ready to admit that I could be completely wrong about the backstory that I’ve convinced myself to fill in for hot hunk Christian Taylor (aka Chris Cox). He could totally be punching the clock. He could be an asshole narcissist with an ego that can barely squeeze it’s way into the BG East matroom. He could be a body facist, condescending, frigid bastard who knows precisely the worth of his every asset and how to exploit a homoerotic wrestling audience like a maestro waving a baton. But I don’t think so. And more importantly, I don’t believe so. Because Christian has sold me, lock, stock and barrel, on a fully formed, deeply arousing, fantastically entertaining through-story, and whatever he gets up to off camera, when he’s on camera I’m entranced and fully engaged.  So it’s no wonder at all that he’s joined the ranks of those who’ve so completely captured and controlled my lusts on their way to earning the title of homoerotic wrestler of the month.
Mike Martin is instantly under Christian’s spell in
incredibly sexy Undagear 18 

Nicely played, Christian. Nicely played.

Class Warfare

wrestlebard3 Comments
Damien Rush moves into BG East to execute an
unfriendly takeover bid.

Hell, yes! My latest crop of BG East new releases arrived on my birthday, and what a sweet, sweet birthday present! There’s so much to enjoy, and I’m trying to pace myself. Self-restraint is not my strong suit, but I’m working on savoring each taste deliberately. I’ve spent the most time so far in the high class, blue blood company of silver spoon fed pretty boy rookie, Damien Rush in Strip Stakes 3.

The coiffed rookie looks down his nose at Morgan Cruise.

Wowzers! What’s a trust fund baby, who gets off on wrestling, to do with all his time when he’s not cashing daddy’s checks? If you’re Damien Rush, you hire a personal trainer to muscle up and learn some ring moves; you purchase some tailored, shiny ring gear; and I’m guessing you probably spend a day at the spa getting a facial, a full body massage, and expert manscaping to look just about as gorgeous and invincible as you feel. Finally, click that “wrestle for bg east” tab at the bottom of the website and let The Boss know when you’ll be arriving and that you require Perrier and fois gras in your dressing room.

Damien’s punishing legs and bulging crotch are perfect for homoerotic wrestling!

I’d never really thought of Morgan Cruise as a blue collar champion, but that’s why The Boss is The Boss. The contrast between these two gorgeous men is subtle, but impossible to miss. The trust fund baby is long and lean and classically handsome. He shows up in designer shades and his tuxedo jacket, dripping with condescension and class privilege. He’s clean around all the edges, strong chin, $300 haircut…. When Morgan the Mastodon catches his first sight of Damien, Morgan looks like the line worker who’s walked into a jacket-and-tie-required 3-star restaurant.  Hunky, cocky, heel-bent Morgan succumbs to the power of social class politics, falling silent, literally slack-jawed, and passively allowing the aristocrat to shove his sunglasses into his hands like his personal valet.

Morgan is determined to make the trust fund baby pay up

I have to admit that 30 seconds into this match I was guessing that burly Morgan was about to squash Damien in what was destined to be a back alley mugging. And without a doubt, Morgan pretty quickly humbles the trust fund baby for looking down his nose at him. But even if Damien doesn’t have the ring experience of the Mastodon, he apparently has all the training that daddy’s bank account can buy. He takes some early offense from Morgan and, with impressive skills for an untested rookie, turns the tide and puts curly-haired Morgan on his back. Damien’s long, lovely legs are his strong suit. He nearly squeezes the will to keep fighting out of rough-around-the-edges Morgan, crushing his kidneys between his knees.

Morgan strips and pummels while Damien struggles for air
 through the crotch of his own trunks.

“Nearly,” is a dangerous word in the world of BG East, however. Once Morgan shakes off his socially proscribed class insecurity, he not only hammers the trust fund baby into a stupor, but he also begins to seriously, almostly lovingly relish making and watching his opponent suffer. The Mastodon seems to be particularly infatuated with watching Damien’s handsome face (and who blames him?) contorted, twisted, and screwed up in toothy, open-mouthed agony. The hot aristocrat is made of surprisingly tough stuff, though, and even when the match momentum is burying him hopelessly, he holds out longer than I’d have guessed a trust fund baby could manage, bitterly resisting acknowledging that he’s been humbled by a “little man” from the other side of the tracks.  Pretty boy finally gives away the first submission, however, and Morgan decides right then and there that just beating the blue blood is completely insufficient. He decides that he must humble the arrogant aristocrat completely, stripping him out of his skin-tight, tailored, royal purple trunks and shoving them over Damien’s face, where they stay for almost all of the second fall as Morgan flings and pounds the arrogant rookie all over the ring.

Morgan is entranced by the sight of the suffering he’s inflicting.
Damien’s body is incredibly tasty, and tastier and tastier with each item of clothing he loses! When Morgan traps him in the ropes, Damien’s agony and vulnerability are a feast for the eyes. His cries and whimpers are music to my ears. And the trust fund baby’s ample package is provocatively propped on top of the middle rope like a trophy on the mantel.  Right about then, I’m guessing Damien was wishing that he had his wrestling tutor at ringside to coach him out of his humiliating predicament. Happily, however, he does not.
Naked wrestling and an explosive ramrod rookie debut!
As I mentioned, this is not a squash. Damien wrestles with impressive bursts of technical skill and speed, and when he’s down to nothing but a bare assed g-string, his humiliation seems to trigger a ferocious warrior-within.  With a rage in his eyes that turns me ON, he out-hustles, slams, and pins hunky Morgan to his back for a fantastic small package 3-count that stuns Morgan so completely that Damien is able to strip him out of his signature square cuts and shove them over the Mastodon’s face for some crowing tit-for-tat revenge. But do not doubt that the 99% are done with getting shafted. Morgan takes some beating, but his designs on capturing the title of BG East’s resident heel extraordinaire will not be denied by the likes of gym-toned Damien. In a move that shocks me (despite the title of this product), both of these battlers end up battling in nothing but their boots before the end, and once Damien has exhausted everything in his reserves, Morgan delights in wrapping the naked stud back up in the ropes and torturing him helplessly in a gratuitous, sweat-dripping full nelson. Just as he looks like he’s about to pop Damien’s head right off his neck, we finally get the answer of why, really, a blue blooded trust fund baby would click on the “wrestle for bg east” tab on the website. With nowhere left to go, conquered in body and soul, humbled and humiliated like no one has ever managed before, Damien not only gets hard, he can’t help himself but begin stroking his cock. His groans of agony mix with groans of ecstasy, as Morgan watches on, as if enraptured by the sight of the outcome of his power and mastery of his opponent.
The 99% get their’s in the end.

There are two epiphany moments for me in Strip Stakes 3. First, I’m stunned by this barnburner rookie debut. Showing up with all that personality hanging out, all of those devastatingly gorgeous looks, and ready to put absolutely every inch of his body on the line for the match that introduces him to BG East fans is earth shaking. He’s incredibly sexy, and the glimpse of him enraged, ferocious, and powering on top gives me a double shot of adrenaline. The idea of a Mr. Moneybags lie-cheat-and-steal his way to the top-of-the-heap homoerotic wrestler (who’s, incidentally, g-g-g-gorgeous!) is an idea whose time has surely come! My second epiphany in this match is how astonishingly sexy it is to see Morgan Cruise turn the volume up to 11 when it comes to homoeroticism. Seriously, I did not know that the Mastodon had it in him to bare it all and let us see just how profoundly he enjoys – no, lusts for – the feeling of dominating and devouring a bare naked opponent.  If Morgan’s wish is, as reported, to take his place among the greatest heels of BG East, I certainly can’t say that he’s on par with the likes of hairy, hunky sadist Brooklyn Bodywrecker… but I can definitely see him on that path. Well done, Morgan! A hearty and enthusiastic welcome to Mr. Rush’s son! And yet another “thank you” to The Boss for producing the sexiest wrestling on tap!