A Handful or Two

Gino Liota kicks off his match with Joshua Goodman
I’m just now starting to have time to reflect on parts of the amazing Catalog 91 from BG East. These new releases demonstrate that BGE’s bench is astonishingly deep and thick with talent! Having seen some of the matches now, I feel like I have to pace myself. Too much hotness is overloading and dehydrating me! Even trying to decide where to begin created a nearly paralyzing dilemma for me. But I decided when in doubt, go with a sure bet to turn me on: Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!!!).

Gino is like a pit bull latched onto Mr. J’s dangling participles
Mr. Joshua is back on the mats against a lightweight personal trainer and humorless ex-military bundle of equal portions bark and bite who goes by the name of Gino Liotta. Gino is a powerful little package of domineering, snarling, condescending macho attitude that belies his relatively petite frame. One might be left wondering within the first few minutes of this match how, outweighed 30 pounds and staring up at least 4 inches of height difference at Mr. Joshua’s chiseled chin, Gino can be so completely dismissive of Mr. J and so entirely self-confident in his own destiny to dominate. That question was answered for me once Gino strips down to his underwear. I’m not surprised in the least that a man packing that much meat between his legs thinks of himself as nothing less than the most virile top before which otherwise bigger men should quake.

Joshua’s body is built for 2 things: dominating and being adored.
Mr. Joshua rates himself as bigger and thicker than he’s ever been before, which are two adjectives that never fail to pop into my head when Joshua comes to mind. As a crotch-crushing themed match, there’s more than abundant attention paid to both wrestler’s packages, and Mr. J’s package is nothing if not the stuff of legend (Ken Canada will back me up on that assessment). But I want to give credit to everything else about Mr. Joshua, because it too often gets overshadowed by that riveting bulge in his trunks. Mr. J is incredibly fit, incredibly toned, and proportioned like a Greek god.  Whether bigger than ever or not, he maintains an astonishing level of fitness that suggests that he most certainly does not count on his pendulous package to do all the impressing. He’s a muscle stud, and his gorgeously sculpted legs, perpetual six-pack abs, broad powerful chest and bulging shoulders and arms are nothing short of phenomenal. He’s also a handsome, cocky bastard as well, with a beautiful, expressive face and gorgeous, dark brown eyes and a mouth someone, SOMEONE has got to plant a kiss on someday once Mr. J and his python are conquered.
Gino is determined to conquer Mr. J’s legendary python.
The wrestling (which is, after all, what really drives my erotic tastes) is deeply satisfying, in no small part because Gino zeroes in on precisely what I can’t take my eyes off of whenever Mr. J is in front of me: his massive pride and joy. Even in matches where Mr. J’s crotch takes a beating, there’s often some excruciating foreplay as opponents only belatedly go for the gold when Mr. J’s strength, fitness, and (let’s face it) fuzzy grasp of good sportsmanship drive them to it. Gino is not a foreplay sort of guy (which can be a problem, but in this case, it’s fucking hot!). Mr. J doesn’t even know he’s about to get dragged by his hair into the mat room when Gino is already crushing his balls underfoot as Joshua sits at the chest press. The newbie personal trainer is clearly not a man for subtlety. And I, for one, seriously appreciate his initiative when coming face to face with Mr. Joshua and his bulging, oversized, swollen… ego.

Two astonishingly massive handfuls!
Let it not be said that Joshua Goodman cannot rise to the challenge when an opponent takes his biggest strength and, arguably, most tempting vulnerability in hand. He’s nothing short of shocked by the seemingly unprovoked assault by the drill sergeant, which costs him precious, exquisitely suffered agony for quite a while once he’s been tossed unceremoniously on his face into the mat room. But Mr. J is unquestionably stronger than Gino. He’s got a height advantage, a reach advantage, and although Gino is clearly coming with some no-holds-barred hand-to-hand combat experience under his belt, Mr. J knows the BG East mat room and the lengths that it requires of a wrestler, with what has to be one of the longest, if not the longest, wrestling resumes in the business. Even while showing his own crushed balls the loving attention they’re accustomed to, Mr. J grabs a second handful of Gino’s super sized handle and makes his forearms flex beautifully as he tortures the personal trainers testicles in sweet revenge.
Mr. J isn’t shy about taking his fate into his own hands

Frankly, I think of Joshua as someone who’s warmed up to really milking cock and ball torture only lately in his long career. Sure, some nasty low blows have long been in his repertoire. He’s not been shy about grinding his elbow into a vulnerable crotch when he’s got an opponent draped across his thigh in a completely exposing over the knee backbreaker (which he treats petite Gino to in this match as well). But with so many opponents lately targeting his mountainous package with such complete disrespect and brutality, Mr. J is now giving ever bit as cruelly as he gets. There are moments in this match when I swear I think he’s about to rip Gino’s balls off, after which I fully expect him to shove them down Gino’s throat for the vicious indignities which the rookie has inflicted upon him. With a match record as long as Mr. J’s, fans might expect to see less and less new from the battle hardened veteran. But Mr. Joshua is nothing if not more dangerous, more vicious, more willing to dig down deep into the depths of his bag of dirty tricks (not to mention digging into his overstuffed trunks), and that’s paired with awesome feats of strength and a constantly growing talent for executing holds that maximize the humiliation and treat us all to the delights of fantsyman homoerotic wrestling beauty.

Mr. J is always packing heat!

Some things, of course, never change. Mr. Joshua is entranced by his own image in the mirror. His estimation of his strength and beauty lack any humility or self-deprecation, to say the least. He is a stunning sight to see, maintaining his physique with what must be obsessive devotion. And always, always, always, his pride and joy and most prominent feature enters a room several seconds before the rest of him.  Crotch Crushers 2 dishes up everything I depend on Mr. Joshua to do to keep me aroused and entertained, and more than a handful more!

Real Friends

I’ve got deadlines coming out my ears, so things have been pretty quiet around here lately. That isn’t to suggest that I’m not thoroughly immersed in the world of homoerotic wrestling still. Somehow, there always seems to be time for that in my life, in one form or another.

BG East Boss, Kid Leopard, makes Sailor Rob his bitch
I was exchanging emails with a long-time online contact and writing collaborator a couple of days ago. We know each other primarily through the venue of homoerotic wrestling fiction.  I mentioned in my last email something about BG East. He replied that he’d never heard of them.
Kid Vicious meditates on the connection between pain and pleasure

Wha-ha-huh?! I studied his reply closer to figure out where I was misreading it. But no. Never heard of BG East. Was he joking? It doesn’t look like it. He apparently loves some hot, erotic, beautifully bodied wrestling but is unaware of BG East, which by their own account have been producing exactly that (hot, erotic, beautifully bodied wrestling) since 1980! I became aware of them about 14 or 15 years ago, and I’ve been pretty much obsessed ever since. So imagine my shock to learn that a fellow kinkster who totally gets off on the same sort of wrestling action that I do (as far as I can tell from comparing wrestling fiction notes), has absolutely no idea who BG East is.

Badboy Joe Mazetti folds hunky Brad Rochelle up like gift wrap
Simply amazing! This disclosure reveals a few things to me. For one, this online collaborator clearly does not frequently read this blog. It’s simply impossible that someone could even occasionally read neverland and come away having never heard of BG East (or any of the other companies I finance with my homoerotic wrestling purchases, but especially BG East). Most of the feedback and ongoing conversations I’m involved in start with something I’ve said on the blog, so it catches me off guard that someone who knows my wrestling kink rather well doesn’t linger much around these parts. No shame, mind you. I’m not suggesting there’s anything wrong with not reading my frequently convoluted, often self-contradictory musings about what turns me on about homoerotic wrestling. Just surprised that someone who’s read a lot of my writing doesn’t read it here much.
Jonny Firestorm is out to destroy prettyboy Alexi Adamov
More interestingly for me, this revelation surprises me because I figure everyone who’s into homoerotic wrestling fiction online is also part of the fan base of homoerotic wrestling videos. I wasn’t conscious of it, but I was assuming that the gay wrestling video tent entirely contained within it the gay wrestling fiction audience. Homoerotic wrestling videos came before wrestling writing for me, so I’ve been under the assumption that everyone who I interact with around homoerotic wrestling fiction has also come by the same path. Assumption checked.
Mr. Joshua shows Darius that he’s got the right tool for the job
That anyone with a love for homoerotic wrestling in any genre or format should just not recognize the name BG East, however, seems like a missed opportunity for some hot pounding wrestling delights. I’m fully transparent in admitting often that my own fiction is frequently drawn from the best and most inspiring of what turns me on in the videos I watch. I certainly seem to recognize many of the same angles, perspectives, body types and holds in gay wrestling graphics/visual art that are, at least, “in keeping” with some of the gorgeous wrestling that good folks like BG East produce so well.

Brooklyn Bodywrecker taunts us with Mr. Joshua’s naked ass

So anyone who happens to read this post, perhaps surfing through following a search link for wrestling fiction or some particular celebrity wrestling fetish that you and I share, if you’re gay and hot for wrestling and haven’t extensively explored the world of BG East, go there now. If the names Kid Leopard, Kid Vicious, Jonny Firestorm, Brad Rochelle, Alexi Adamov and Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!!!) don’t ring a bell, and if anything that rings my bell rings your bell, then you should avail yourself of some awesome wrestlers and action. And if you and I exchange emails and you report being completely unaware of BG East, or Can-Am, or Thunder’s Arena, or Rock Hard Wrestling, then don’t be surprised if, after I get over being gobsmacked, I immediately tell you to walk, not run, to any and all of these find purveyors of fine wrestling kink.

Jose and his jackhammer pound hunky Greg Leary into the mat

As far as I’m concerned, real friends don’t let friends remain unaware of hot, homoerotic wrestling action!

Year in Review – 4th Favorite Moment of 2011

Just to keep things interesting, last February I did my own homage to Squarehippies “Guess this Hairy Chest” series. The concept takes me back to one of my favorite old game shows from my childhood, Name That Tune. Based on just a glimpse, just a few notes, can you identify the whole work of art?

Can you name these sculpted muscle glutes?

In keeping with the theme of this blog and my infatuations, my game was “Name That Ass.” Readers were invited to identify the homoerotic wrestlers to whom these stunningly beautiful butts belonged. The game was tougher than I expected it to be. I honestly anticipated multiple perfect scores and people chastising me for making it all too easy. But even expert homoerotic wrestling connoisseurs could put their fingers on only a few of the gorgeous glutes.

Inaugural Name That Ass Answer: Joshua Goodman
(That’s Mr. Joshua to You!)

I readily admit that this year’s “Name That” quizzes probably pleased me more than anyone else. Obsessing over the perfect camera angle on the most mouth-watering bodyparts of my favorite homoerotic wrestlers is a labor of love, trust me.  However, several neverland readers played along and accepted the challenge to give it a go.

Homoerotic wrestler tats: Name this work of art!

It dawned on me at some point that I didn’t have to just obsess over asses, and so I also posted “Name that Tat” quizzes and “Name that Cock” quizzes over the course of last winter and spring. Spending so much time examining close up images of homoerotic wrestlers’ bodies was so much fun!

Recognize this wrestling cock?
Topher does!

My favorite moment in “Name That…” quizzes came in April, when regular reader and top tier homoerotic wrestling expert Topher scored the first perfect score, correctly identifying all five wrestling cocks and the opponents who faced them in the pictured matches. Topher was on fire, demonstrating a mastery of identifying hot wrestling cocks that puts him in a league all his own. Never let it be said that Topher doesn’t know his homoerotic wrestling cocks!

Tom Flex gives Guy Bolton a close up view of
his well-oiled cock
Name That
Gear

As a reward for the first Name That perfect score, Topher got a pic of one of my tats and the naming rights for the next Name That quiz. Always bringing his own unique brand of hot creativity, Topher asked for the next Name That quiz to take a close-up view of wrestling gear.  After a few more rounds of quizzes, I let class out for the summer as neverland took a hiatus from Name That quizzes for a while. There wasn’t much reader response to an early autumn Name That quiz, so I’ve let the gimmick lay fallow a while. However, considering how much enjoyment the quizzes provide me, I won’t be surprised to see more Name That quizzes in the coming year. And when it comes to reflecting on my favorite moments of 2011, Topher’s rock hard hold on the title of teacher’s pet is my my fourth most favorite moment of year.

Adam Killion is unimpressed with Josh Avery’s head gear.

Thanks to everyone who played along with a Name That quiz this year. I hope 2012 brings you a lot more homoerotic wrestling asses, tats, cocks and gear to enjoy, and more top marks to brag about.

Grapefruits

Have you voted for this month’s homoerotic wrestler of the month yet? If not, pick your wrestler of choice at the top right of this page. The poll closes tomorrow, and as of my writing of this post, it’s a barnburner battle between the Can-Am boys so far. I’m fascinated to see how the final numbers play out!

Tyrell Tomsen large and in charge against Patrick Donovan

In the mean time, I’ve been enjoying (and I do mean enjoying!) some wrestling that earned nominations for homoerotic wrestler of the month two months ago. BG East’s Wrestler Spotlight on Patrick Donovan is profoundly pleasing to me. Patrick and Tyrell Tomsen’s sun room mat match is hot as hell, and I do believe Patrick brings out the sexiest wrestling performance from muscle hunk Tyrell that I’ve seen so far (and I’ve loved Tyrell in everything that I’ve seen!).  Their bodies present a stunning contrast, with Tyrell’s thick, bodybuilder muscles and dark brown skin in as tight an embrace as physically possible with Patrick’s pale, long and lean (but muscled) physique. Patrick has become the king of pec punching, as far as I can tell, and big, meaty pecs like Tyrell’s are an incredible target for Patrick’s solid, concentrated, sadistically thrilling, drilling poundings.

Mr. Joshua and his grapefruit

It should come as no surprise, however, that my greatest infatuation is with Patrick’s ring bout against former favorite homoerotic wrestler – nonpornboy, Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!). Sweet mother of God, Mr. Joshua is driving me insane with lust! The attitude, the ass, those fucking amazing legs, the ripped abs, gorgeous pecs, and sculpted arms, combined with that coverboy handsome face works me with an intensity that makes me seriously consider whether Kid K should get demoted back out of the standings of my top ranked homoerotic wrestlers – nonpornboy division.

Mr. Joshua pins Patrick with his #1 asset

While not as stunning a visual contrast as Patrick’s pairing with Tyrell, Mr. Joshua and Patrick are well-formed, distinct wrestling characters that so many of us have come to know and lust after. The latest incarnation of Patrick is that of a serious, dangerous heel who has learned from years in the business the finer arts of physical punishment. Patrick is a viper. His lip curls in concentration and practiced focus as he dominates Mr. Joshua’s incredible body. He clearly enjoys his work, but he’s not at all light-hearted. He’s deadly serious, even as he slaps down thick sarcasm and taunting. Everything from Patrick is in the service of conquering his opponent. An early flurry of offense catches Mr. Joshua flat-footed, and Patrick puts him on his back folds his legs up to his ears and slides his crotch forward to shove his balls into Mr. Joshua’s face humiliatingly.

Patrick introduces Mr. J to teabagging

“Mr. Donovan!” Joshua gasps and sputters. “You know I don’t like being teabagged!” And there, you can see that Mr. Joshua has an entirely different ring demeanor. Even on his back with his sweet, sweet ass splayed vulnerably in his opponent’s control, Mr. Joshua is a smart ass. I mean that with complete love and respect, mind you. Mr. Joshua is through-and-through a smart ass. He loves the one-liners. He clearly, intensely loves to dominate. I’m captured in this match by his laughter. He laughs domineeringly, of course, but there are more than a couple of moments when he’s got Patrick in a really, really bad way, completely in his control and squirming in agony, and Mr. Joshua chuckles long and sincerely. Mr. Donovan may be all about getting down to business, but Mr. Joshua wants to stop and smell the roses (and the humiliation) along the way. He wants to have some fun (in the nastiest, meanest, most dominating and humiliating way possible) as he does what he does best: turn me on!

Patrick, channeling Bard, with more than a handful of Mr. J’s pride and joy

Mr. J’s cocky clowning seems to get under Patrick’s skin, and the lean veteran appears to work fixedly on the task of pounding the shit-eating grin off his opponent’s gorgeous face. A nasty slap to Mr. J’s hot pecs seems to do the trick. Mr. J clearly takes offense, and his smile fades in a mix of anger and pain. He retaliates with a sweet, loud crack across Patrick’s ass that even hurts just watching it. Patrick doesn’t manage to beat the smart ass out of him, but he effectively puts Mr. J on notice that any lapse, any loss of focus in order to showboat and monologue will earn him swift and painful punishment.

Patrick & Mr. Joshua make me a believer in spandex

I’m generally not a fan of spandex leggings on my wrestlers, but both of these boys do absolute wonders squeezed so tightly into their mid-level gear. The shiny fabric sculpted to Mr. J’s glutes like a layer of paint is completely hypnotizing. After a couple of minutes, I’ve decided that Patrick and Mr. J are already making me fire on all cylinders even with so much of their beautiful legs covered. That does not, however, make me any less exultant at the rip and strip angle of this match. When Patrick pulls off Mr. J’s training pants, my heart skips a beat. “Fine,” Mr. J. concedes without appearing too concerned or surprised by Patrick’s determination to strip him. “Take them off. I know thats what you’ve beeen wanting to do anyways.” And for that, Patrick is nothing short of my own personal avatar in his bout.

Mr. J is more than eager to do some stripping of his own

Mr. J’s smart mouth and all of those other components of his alchemy over me are in full force in this match. Every time he shoves his hand down the front of his trunks and adjusts the ballast therein, my familiar lust/hate relationship with Mr. J comes to the foreground. Either he’s smuggling a porterhouse steak down there, or he’s got mammoth balls that I’m desperate to get a gander at.  When he bodysplashes on top of Patrick, followed up by repeatedly pounding himself, cock-to-cock into his agonized opponent, yet again my identification with Patrick is almost desperate.

Nowhere else in the world I’d rather be!

The tables turn repeatedly in this match in such a way that I genuinely didn’t know which way the wind would finally blow, which is a plot that I appreciate A LOT in wrestling. I like a little suspense. I enjoy being surprised. I appreciate it when I find my loyalties, loves and lusts toyed with by the ebb and flow of a match back and forth, as I find myself torn between wanting more of both sides of the battle.  But when Mr. J turns on the afterburner and eventually begins to pick Patrick apart with glee in his voice and an extra bounce in his chuckle, he has me as completely at his mercy as he eventually has Patrick. The figure-4, face-to-crotch head scissors that Mr. J treats Patrick to goes on for days and transports me body and soul into Patrick in that moment.

Since trunks can’t quite contain him, why, oh why,
does he continue to wear them?!

Once Patrick can’t peel himself off the mat, Mr. J does his customary shoving his hand down the front of his trunks. This time, however, he takes some time to gently massage his testicles, recovering from some particularly vicious assaults by his opponent. Mr. J marvels that, “When you’ve got balls as big as grapefruits, that hurts!”  As Mr. J stands in the center of the ring, staring at the defeated body of his unconscious opponent, he once again digs around in his trunks. And in what I believe might be the first real glance we’ve ever had, his right testicle slides out of his trunks and hangs there for a while before he realizes it and manages to shove it back into its pouch. While possibly not literally of grapefruit proportions (or bowling ball proportions that I’ve suggested in the past), it’s obvious that Mr. J has no need to stuff his trunks with a porterhouse. He’s got major league beef all his own down there.

Mr. J enjoys bondage play and humiliating spitting on poor,  pretty Patrick

The end of this match continues to push the fantasy that Mr. J has inspired in me for his entire career. His decision to tie Patrick’s wrists to the middle ropes and his ankles to the top ropes in the corner nearly makes me lose consciousness from the violent redirection of blood flow in my circulatory system. Then, Mr. J’s choice to grab a bottle of water to spit on his opponent’s helpless, hunky, conquered and splayed body is over the top erotic. But then, when Mr. J turns out the lights and angrily demands that the camera crew get the hell out as he climbs back into the ring to continue the story with Patrick off camera… well, I’ll just say that I’ve got at least three bodily fluids escaping simultaneously and spontaneously.

No…… where….. else!!!

Most of Mr. J’s matches leave me powerfully satisfied (and completely exhausted), and this one is no exception. The pairing of two pros with such extensive resumes is genius. More to the point, it’s a beautiful example of allowing homoerotic wrestling genius to tell its own story, to prod and provoke, to erotically inspire with literalism and fantasy, to know its fans, respect them, and tell a story ripped from our (or at least my) fondest imaginings.

Now, let’s see Mr. J drop the trunks entirely… and keep the camera rolling for the post-victory celebration!

What’s Been Unsaid

After nearly about a month and a half, I can finally spit out the metallic taste of blood from my mouth! When I made my pilgrimage to BG East in August, I was treated to the privilege of seeing photos from all of the catalog 89 new releases. It was a profound thrill, like being told that I, and I alone, could open all of my Christmas presents a week early. But then I couldn’t talk about it! I couldn’t write about it! I couldn’t obsess on the pages of this blog about each and every tantalizing, confidential morsel from catalog 89 that made my mouth water. I’ve been biting my tongue non-stop since August 5th, and I’m overjoyed that BG East has released catalog 89 for purchase. Let the obsessive reviewing begin (and the healing of my bitten tongue)!!!

I’m just hitting a few highlights for today, because there’s just too much that I’ve had bottled up that I’ve got to say about so many of the new releases. So in addition to nearly making want to cry to see Mitch Colby barefoot in the ring in Florida Fights 3, I’ve been aching to comment on match #1 from that same DVD. Hell and damnation! Kirby Stone can WEAR a pair of skintight shiny pink trunks! That ass has most certainly caught my attention!
Pretty much precisely the same thing has to be said about Cain McDonald in his appearance (taking fall #1!!!) against Mikey Vee. The legs and ass on this grappler make me gasp! That face looks just about too juvenile to feel entirely guilt-free about, but that lower body is 100% guilt-free adult male entertainment.
Next up on the comments burning a whole in my belly: Dev Michaels looks like a fucking monster in the ring against slender, unclassically but undeniably handsome newbie, Lucky Loko. Man alive the two of them make for an astonishingly arousing picture! The fact that Lucky didn’t run screaming from the building on sight of Dev makes him a hot commodity in my book.
And speaking of monsters in the ring (I’ve been DYING to use that line!), has it escaped anyone’s attention that Attila Dynasty appears to be smuggling major meat in his trunks in his scissor fest against Trent Blaze?!!! If the summer Olympics have taught me anything, they’ve taught me that gymnasts are sexy as hell, and the pics of Attila’s acrobatics in the ring have caught me completely off guard. I had no idea from his debut to expect either all that Attila can accomplish without his feet on the ground, or the massive ballast in the pouch of those powder blues (I’m heading back to Backyard Brawls 7 right now for another look).
Next up, it simply must be said that the sight of Z-Man clawing Skrapper’s chest and swinging for the rafters makes me just about ready to pop right here and now. If I know Skrapper, however, Z-Man better not count him out a moment too soon!
And I’ve been anticipating the hating for a while, but I call it like I see it. And as much as the sight of Rio Garza’s body getting worked over (and that face crushed between his opponent’s legs) is like icing on the cake, the pics of Jimmy Gee’s slabs of beef that are his muscled ass has got the be the most delicious main course in this match for me.
I’ve also been aching to say that it’s about time for another installment of Wrestle Worship. I love this concept. I need more of this concept. And newbies Magnus and Surge appear to dish up an extraordinary amount of eroticism with delightful proportions of both wrestling and body worship. Does anyone else wonder if Magnus requires his own zip code? And speaking of numbers, does anyone have Surge’s telephone #!?
Again, I’ve been dying to celebrate the return of ripped, rock hard Tyrell Tomsen. I can’t think of a better opponent to pick apart a bodybuilder adonis than the likes of sexy-assed veteran Patrick Donovan.

And finally, Mr. Joshua, Patrick, barefoot, in the ring, with Patrick’s testicles getting crushed in Mr. J’s fist… You’ll have to excuse me now. I need to rehydrate after writing those words. I’m sure you’ll be hearing much, much more from me about all of this in the future.

Bard’s Pilgrim Way – Journey’s End (Part 2)

A prominent piece in the BG East collection of wrestling art and memorabilia.
My pilgrimage to the BG East compound was nothing if not a spiritual experience! Having toured the grounds and been awed at the sight of the outdoor settings in which some of my favorite homoerotic wrestling inspiration has been taped, the Boss led me back inside to continue the tour.
I was conscious of a sudden spike in my arousal. I’d never thought about it before, but there’s something about the interior BG East matches that stroke my wrestling kink more powerfully than just about anything else. Downstairs, we walked past the home gym that I’ve seen many times before in the prelude to so many BG East matches. No one was working out that day, but in that library of homoerotic wrestling I treasure in my mind’s eye, I could see golden boy Troy Baker at the pec deck, muscle bruiser Jed Jamison doing bicep curls, bilingual Chris Bruce pumping out incline presses.
Alexi Adamov talks trash as Christopher Bruce pumps iron in
BG East’s Mat Hunks 8
When Kid Leopard led me into the matroom, I experienced another spike in my homoerotic wrestling arousal. I’ve enjoyed watching so much powerfully sexy wrestling inside those 4 grey walls. It struck me that it’s a bigger space than it seems on camera. Even still, picturing two sweaty wrestlers throwing each other around with a cameraman trying to stay out of the way (while capturing the perfect angle on the action), made me appreciate both the artistry and mechanical expertise of the BG East mat matches that much more. It was just a few weeks ago I was renewing my arousing fascination with Skrapper, watching his rude awakening  at the hands (and legs and lips) of AJ Lyle for Undagear 17 on those very same black mats. I was fascinated staring at the wall just to the right of the door, where rookie Randy Stanton momentarily clawed Joshua Goodman’s pecs (that’s Mr. Joshua Goodman’s pecs to you!), until the pendulously hung muscle stud screamed.
Rookie Randy Stanton makes Mr. Joshua scream in the
mat room for BG East’s Matmen 21
It was the journey upstairs, however, that made my heart beat the fastest. Climbing the spiral staircase (you’ve seen it), we reached the door to what felt to me like the holy of holies: the BG East pro wrestling ring.

Rock hard Brad Rochelle uses every inch of the BG East ring
to humiliate jobber Patrick Donovan in BG East’s Wrestlefest 2
I was stunned by how familiar it was! The wrestling memorabilia all over the walls, the ringside mirror, the iconic wrestling ring tucked tightly into the corner. So much of my homoerotic wrestling inspiration set in this space made visions literally appear in front of my eyes… of sweat-soaked Brad Rochelle squeezing lean Patrick Donovan’s head between his rock hard thighs while the jobber suffered helplessly tied in the ropes… of towering Mitch Colby in a Mexican Ceiling Hold, suspended so gorgeously and vulnerably in the air by ripped heel Cole Cassidy… and merciless Kid Leopard himself, standing there right next to me, but simultaneously there inside the ring with his arm locked across Wade Cutler’s throat as the stripped muscle hunk obediently jerked off for KL’s pleasure.
“The Professor Winthrop Fitzgerald Arena
James McCartin, Builder 1993
Kid Leopard, Proprietor”
The Boss pointed out the plaque on the outside of the ring post facing the door. I’ve seen the ring a thousand times (at least), but never noticed the plaque before: The Professor Winthrop Fitzgerald Arena.  “Professor Winthrop Fitzgerald designed the ring. He also appeared…” I finished the sentence at the same time the Boss did, “… in Live at Campus!” The professor was Scott Rogers’ “manager and mentor,” appearing as his corner man in Roger’s unsuccessful title match against Kid Leopard himself. The Boss told me that the professor once hosted gatherings of wrestlers at his own Florida compound.

A recent addition to the extensive wrestling art collection in
the ring room and throughout the BG East compound
The Boss pointed some more choice, up close details of the ring room. The extensive collection of wrestling art throughout the entire BG East compound includes some wonderful works ringside. He pointed out the cabinet in the corner that we almost never see, with notebooks full of details on BG East wrestlers, including their signature moves and training goals. There was the clock on the wall, a piece of wrestling memorabilia itself, which didn’t actually work any longer, which resulted in many a wrestling session going longer than anticipated as everyone lost track of time.

Pro wrestling collectibles lining the walls of the BG East ring room
I was standing at the altar of my homoerotic wrestling kink, an awed pilgrim soaking it in. I associate the BG East wrestling ring with some of my most ecstatic, intimate, private moments, so to be standing there in the light of day next to Kid Leopard himself left me feeling almost raw.  I’d traveled a long way from home to find myself journeying deep within myself, treasuring that library of homoerotic wrestling inspiration that emerged from this very spot.

Giving It a Shot

I haven’t talked about it much, but it’s not exactly a secret that I’ve occasionally been invited to write text for new releases on the BG East website.  I’ve felt incredibly privileged to be given the opportunity to contribute a small piece to the industry that has inspired, provoked, and aroused me for so long.  I had to think about it carefully the first time I was asked, though. My primary relationship to homoerotic wrestling is as a consumer and fan. I have incredible respect for the hard working hunks in front of and behind the camera making this business fly, but I’m very conscious of the fact that my investment in each new release is very different from those who climb into the ring, slam one another down to the mat, or busily work the booking, payroll, production and delivery of the wrestling entertainment that shows up like magic in my mailbox. I wrestled (metaphorically) with feelings of insecurity, concerned that my text might not do justice to the intimate athleticism, artistry, and livelihoods wrapped up in each match. In the end, I conceded to “give it a shot,” seeing whether I could bridge the distance between my wrestling fantasy consumption and my relatively mechanical skills in stringing together words and metaphors (you know how I love my metaphors), and manage to contribute materially to the production of homoerotic wrestling. 

Giving it “a shot” has continued with some frequency since that first match I wrote. With each new copy I generate, I feel a profound humility. I’m not just being modest. While I’ve received affirmation of my writing skills from many different corners of my life, I grapple with deep down feelings of inadequacy each and every time I write marketing materials. Happily, BG East edits my text to smooth out the rough edges, accentuate the particular appeal of each match, and correct my grammar and spelling. Despite my moments of anxiety, I’ve never had text returned to me as unworthy. When it’s polished and published, I inevitably assess the final product better than I thought it was when it was fresh on the page. As of very recently, I’ve continued to be invited to participate in generating copy for BG East new releases. And  each time, I think carefully, gauging the distance between my investment as a homoerotic wrestling consumer and the blood, sweat and tears (I like the tears… more tears in homoerotic wrestling, please!) that go into the painstaking work of producing hot, hard, high quality wrestling.

Aside from what it is I’ve been able to contribute to the homoerotic wrestling industry, writing copy for the BG East website has also had an impact on me. I sweat out every dot and tittle, so whenever I’m handed a new release to write, everything else (blog posts, my original homoerotic wrestling fiction, my “real life” work) gets sidelined for a while. However, it’s also afforded me the opportunity to review some truly awesome wrestling matches before almost anyone else has, and it’s introduced me to some incredibly skilled and arousing wrestlers who might not have otherwise caught my eye and commanded my attention. It’s also sensitized me (even more than I was already) to the hot copy that other authors write for homoerotic wrestling marketing materials, and I’m certain that it’s made me a better writer (every time I share text under any circumstances, I learn more about the art). I’ve been delighted to virtually meet a few of the creative minds behind the scenes, who, I am delighted to report, have been remarkably gracious and generous to work with.
I consider myself as someone still trying this gig out. I continue to think carefully about what I’m able to contribute and how writing marketing copy impacts my enjoyment of my homoerotic wrestling fantasies.  Perhaps the time will come when the invitations to write stop coming my way. Maybe I’ll hit the wall someday, and decide that I just don’t have it in me to write marketing text any longer. But for now, when the invitations come my way, I still experience a thrill that I may have something worthwhile to offer, that my words might be of value to the industry from which I receive so much pleasure. I suspect that the next time I’m asked, I’ll probably feel that familiar wave of excitement laced with pangs of insecurity, and I’ll say once again, “Sure, I’ll give it a shot.”

Bard’s Fantasy League Picks

When Z-Man debuted with BG East 3 months ago, a regular reader emailed me to let me know just how excited he was by this news. He immediately speculated on who from the BG East roster Z-Man should wrestle next. Turns out, he hit the nail right on the head, proposing that a Z-Man v Kid Karisma bout would be over the top arousing.

Of course, now we know, Z-Man followed up his mat debut with BG East with a pro ring muscle match against none other than Kid K. Nice call, savvy neverland reader! And your prediction that a Z-Man v Kid K match would be smokin’ was perfect prognostication.

From a different angle, Cage Thunder recently called out both BG East rookie Austin Cooper AND proposed a detailed ring match scenario against Austin’s rookie buddy, Jake Jenkins. I’ve got a major league crush on Jake,  so Cage’s proposal to face him in the ring is fueling my imagination. Jake in white trunks with pale blue trim, then 30 minutes after stepping into the ring with Cage, stripped naked, pounded into a daze and helpless in Cage’s skilled hands… well, this concept is pure gold, in my estimation.

All of this speculation, proposal and prognostication sheds light on what I assume must be a nearly universal mental exercise that wrestling kinsters play: the fantasy homoerotic wrestling card. At least, I’ve been playing that game for as long as I’ve been erotically captivated by wrestling. I love that these virtual connections available to us now, like blogs and emails, give us the opportunity to compare notes. So, in addition to a Cage on Jake Jenkins ring strip battle, here are the current top 3 fantasy league homoerotic wrestling matches on my scorecard:

Lon Dumont v Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!)

I’ve fantasized about this combination long and hard. Not only would this settle once and for all the question of who deserves the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy division (but remember, it’s about who turns me on the most, not necessarily who “wins”), I also think this would be an absolutely amazing mash-up of two delightfully different sets of assets.

Thiago Diaz v Brad Rochelle
I haven’t even had an opportunity to see if Thiago has anything at all to offer in the wrestling ring other than that fantasyman bod and that hefty package dangling between his legs, but I’m already lining him up for some rookie initiation. The return of Brad has been a long-held aching fantasy of mine (and many others, I know), and I think Brad working over Thiago’s muscles from top to bottom would be an earth-shaking combination of veteran fan favorite with jaw dropping rookie sensation.

First of all, Kid V partnering with Rafe Sanchez has long haunted my homoerotic wrestling dreams. Second, I’ve nursed a whole lot of lust for a PG-to-R-rated evolution of the careers of pretty, innocent, eager muscle boys Cody and Travis. I picture this as both a coming-of-age wrestling scenario for the bright-eyed boys as well as Rafe’s first apprenticeship match, learning from the master of sadism himself.

What are your fantasy league homoerotic wrestling matches of choice?

Enraptured

While a California nut job has garnered unfortunate attention for predicting that the world will “end” today, I have to reluctantly admit that I’m having a profound religious experience at this very moment. I haven’t been “raptured,” but I’m enraptured by yesterday’s release of the latest BG East catalog. So much eye candy! Surely there’s some divine inspiration bringing together the likes of coverboy handsome muscle stud, Marco Carlow, and Dev Michaels with BG East-style motel wrestling. And speaking of divinity, I’m powerfully provoked by the promising return of the lickable body of Angelo Blanco in lip-smacking, dicks out, asterisk-punctuated Masked Mayhem 8. I’m aching to see Jonny Firestorm and my former homoerotic wrestler of the month, Bobby Horton, sorting out who’s badder, now that I’ve read Joe’s preview review. But it’ll probably come as no surprise that it’s Gut Bash 8 that’s made the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel’s Messiah ring in my ears.
I’m on board with anything I can get my hands on starring my favorite homoerotic wrestler – nonpornboy, Lon Dumont. If there were ever abs screaming out for gut pounding testing, it’s the competition-quality physique of sexy Lon. Sweet Jesus, that body brings a tear to my eye! Lon’s sporting a shaved head, so if I’m tracking his heads-up from my interview with him a couple of months ago, this match against Joe Robbins must have been taped sometime last year.

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! Behemouth 6’2″, 240 pound Joe Robbins stacked up side-by-side against crystal cut, 5’7″, 145 pound Lon is a heaven-sent scenario. I’ll take some big v small wrestling fun anyday, but when “small” is the physique of a podium-topping competitive bodybuilder, this just opens up incredible possibilities of homoerotic wrestling paradise.

Holy shit! Lon in still frame getting an ab-workover by big Joe is perfection. So I’m not sure how to upgrade on perfection when it comes to Lon’s razor sharp wit and fast-on-his feet cocky banter forged from years of pro-wrestling. More of Lon is always an answer to prayer, but gut pounding from a beasty Joe is pure, unmerited, divine grace.

Ah, hell, but wait… Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) shows up on the other side of this Gut Bash 8 package. And speaking of packages, Mr. J has got to have made a pact with the devil, to be that handsome, that gorgeously fit, and having that much heft to have to stuff into skin tight trunks. It’s no wonder that Mr. J is the top contender in my book, to be in line to challenge Lon for the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestler – nonpornboy. 

Damn, damn, damn! While I still say every Mr. J new release ought to repeat the storyline of Matmen 21 (Mr. J challenges an amorous admirer to wrestle for the opportunity to earn the reward of full contact bodyworship of Mr. J), I won’t turn my nose up to Mr. J putting his “20 pack” on the line in a gut pounding ring battle with big Eddy Rey.

The sight of Mr. J squeezing Eddy’s face between his muscular thighs as Eddy is tied up in the ropes makes me think all sorts of delightfully guilty thoughts. One of those thoughts is that this ought to be one of the rides at that homoerotic wrestling theme park that I’ve been fantasizing about lately. I’d wait in line to take Eddy’s place here, that’s for certain. Mr. J is one of the best at making being bad look so, so good. He’s a devilish, sneaky, powerful, egomaniacal hunk who is always chomping at the ass of my favorite homoerotic wrestler- nonpornboy, Lon for my loyalty. It’s like Lon is there, flashing an ab-crunching double bicep pose on my right shoulder, and Mr. Joshua has one hand cradling the back of his head and the other stuffed down his trunks (rearranging his manhood), on my left shoulder.
And here I am, right in the middle, in pure heaven!

A Fan Favorite

Yesterday I celebrated Brook Stetson, co-owner of my homoerotic wrestler of the month title. Today, at the risk of repeating myself, I turn to Brook’s partner in crime, the other co-owner of my homoerotic wrestler of the month title, Mitch Colby.

Mitch was a running feature obsession in this blog almost from the beginning. When he debuted for BG East in Alexi Adamov’s Wrestler Spotlight tape, I was instantly a fanatic. Drop dead gorgeous, strong as an ox, and glistening with sweat, there’s nothing that I don’t like about Mitch’s physique. But it was always something more, something unexpected that Mitch brought to the table that has made me never be able to take my eyes off of him when he wrestles.

It’s his maturity, by which I do not mean some asinine euphemism for his age. True, he showed up on the scene a decade or two later than some of the youngest bucks that vie for our attention in the homoerotic wrestling world, but frankly that’s neither here nor there for me. Mitch possesses a chilled calmness, an unflappability, a stone cold centeredness that reflects a mature soul. I mean, let’s face it, it’s hard to out-pretty Alexi Adamov. But Mitch is every ounce as gorgeous, as far as I’m concerned, and he’s a good bit sexier because he seems to understand exactly who he is at every moment, no matter what the trash talk and mind games his opponents toss his way. The way Mitch puts Alexi in his place and leaves him flat on his back in the gazebo is all sorts of pleasing.

I won’t try to give a comprehensive blow by blow of Mitch’s career because, let’s face it, that’s been an ongoing labor of love throughout the nearly two years of this blog. Rather, let me note the highlights that taught me something new about the big, beautiful Mitch. For example, after a hard, sweaty gazebo battle with pretty boy Alexi, things turned down right nasty for him when he climbed into the wrestling ring against one of BG East’s resident bad boys, ripped stud Cole Cassidy, in Ringwars 15. Sadly, this is Mitch’s only appearance to-date in the ring. Perhaps the seriously vicious beating he took at Cole’s expert hands (and particularly the torture Mitch’s pecs took in Cole’s claws) left Mitch with PTSD for ring action. Mitch works some nice offense in on the little powerhouse, but when it comes to decimating and displaying a big, hard hunk, there’s arguably no one better than Cole. Happily, Mitch proves that he can suffer and take a beating like that hard, ripped body of his would imply.

Mitch’s first motel match was notable for me, particularly, because he squared off with Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) in Motel Madness 7. Yes, the reigning top contender for my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy went toe-to-toe with the reigning top contender for my favorite homoerotic wrestler – nonpornboy division. Mitch’s physique is simply perfect in this match, and I don’t blame him a bit for allowing Mr. J to maneuver him into position to shove that massively packed crotch of his into Mitch’s face.

My next stop on Mitch’s memory lane is another motel match, in which Mitch showed what he would do if BG East dangled a little bit of fluff in his face, by which I mean twink delight, Jeremy Burk, in Motel Madness 8. This is classic big v little wrestling, and I’m on the record repeatedly as partial to that scenario. What makes this match hit my list of must mentions about Mitch are two things, really. 1) This is a fantastically erotic match that’s expertly paced. Some squashes are downright boring, but there’s nothing at all boring about Mitch’s systematic pummeling of Jeremy. It gets hotter, more painful, more humiliating, and sexier with every passing moment. And 2) this was my first peek at Mitch naked. After crushing Jeremy, Mitch takes his little piece of fluff to the bathroom where they peel out of their gear and explore one another’s bodies in and out of the shower. My fetishistic lust to scrub Mitch down from head to toe with a thick, slick coat of lathered soap probably belongs on a different fetish blog, but suffice it to say, I’m bitterly envious of Jeremy.

Back to the Florida sunroom, and my next notable highlight of Mitch in action is his sweat-fest with Skrapper in Catchweight 3. Seems that Mitch has a taste for the lightweights, and despite putting up some serious offense, Skrapper was always destined to be schoolboy pinned with Mitch’s sweaty crotch shoved in his face. What stands out from this match, however, is the post-match pool play. Mitch fireman-carries his twink out of the sunroom (with Skrapper slyly copping a feel of Mitch’s glutes along the way… I tell you, that Skrapper impresses me!), and then tosses the spent punk into the pool. One last bearhug in the middle of the pool turns from a device for inflicting pain into a passionate embrace, as they make out enthusiastically. Many, many more homoerotic wrestling matches should end this way.

The same Florida sunroom is the setting for a true epiphany in Mitch’s resume. He takes matters firmly in hand against Derek da Silva in Crotch Crushers 1, tapping into his sadist side to beat, pound, claw and, indeed, crush Derek’s testicles. In addition to being the first time I saw Mitch really grab hold of his opponent’s manhood, it’s also memorable because it was right around this release that Derek stole the title as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy from Mitch for a brief time. The contrast of short, pale and hairy muscleboy v tall, tanned, and smooth muscleboy is aesthetically stunning.

It was the release of Mitch’s Wrestler Spotlight tape that helped Mitch rip his inaugural title belt away from Derek and slap the hairy Italian into second place. Most specifically, it was Mitch’s matroom sweat fest with Patrick Donovan that turned my affections decisively back to Mitch. This match is profoundly arousing from start to finish, but it’s the bearhug competition right in the middle that makes my heart pump hardest. Patrick and Mitch are in the same league when it comes to almost everything… height, weight, good looks, fit physiques, wrestling skill, and maturity. So it’s that much more climactic when Mitch once and for all puts the veteran down, climbs on top, and locks lips with the loser.

A few months after Mitch regained his title as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, he lost it in stunningly fast fashion against the wickedly nasty stylings of Rusty Stevens. From the realm of Naked Kombat and Can-Am, Rusty managed to grab my attention and hold on with both hands. Mitch slid into the top contender spot behind Rusty’s razor sharp trash talking and primal determination to dominate his opponents. So when BG East, just a few months later, released the Breaking Point: Sexiest, in which Rusty and Mitch have it out in the Florida sunroom, I was in awe. This was my fantasy come to life. I mean, most homoerotic wrestling is in one way or another my fantasies played out for me, but this was quite specifically and particularly my fantasy of pornboy v pornboy wrestling. While Mitch came out on top (at the same moment Rusty was cumming from the underneath), I had to say decisively that it was Rusty who aroused me most in this match, primarily on what is undeniably his #1 strength: his witty trash talk and delight in dishing out humiliation. It was a battle for the ages, but Mitch was relegated to stick it out in second place in my rankings.

And then last month, BG East released Mitch’s most recent match for Sunshine Shooters 4, which earned him the homoerotic wrestler of the month co-title. Mitch is also currently in possession of the top contender spot for my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy yet again, chomping at Trent Diesel’s gorgeous ass to take the title for the third time. Regardless, however, Mitch will always be a favorite, and wherever he is at any particular moment in the rankings of my favorites, I will always be a Mitch fanatic.