Category: Joshua Goodman

Asses Named

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I think I must study homoerotic wrestlers’ asses more compulsively than you. Or, perhaps, you just played yesterday’s game of Name that Ass at home, rather than drop a comment here. In either case, topher and Jose D. get smiley faces on their homework for excellent effort, with Jose D. getting an extra star on his for correctly naming (if tentatively) 4 out of 5 of the asses. For the record, and for you playing at home, here were the correct answers:

Ass #1 belongs to the top contender for the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy: BG East’s Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you! and extra credit to Jose D. for mentioning this fact). I figured this might pose a challenge because, seriously, it’s an uphill battle to try to tear your eyes away from Mr. J’s mammoth package to appreciate his remarkably beautiful assets elsewhere. I think the best shot of his fantastic, sweaty, hard muscled glutes show up when he’s stripped to his thong in his match with Rocco in Jobberpalooza 7. True, Mr. J is completely bare-assed at the hands of Brooklyn Bodywrecker in Mr. J’s Wrestler Spotlight, but this is mostly smoke and mirrors, and I remain bitter at being personally taunted by BBW at the end of this bout (well, not me personally, but all of us suckered into snapping this piece up to see Mr. J’s naked piece… doesn’t happen). Mr. J pulling out some thonged ass domination on Rocco, for my taste, is the best for ogling his carved, round muscle glutes.

Ass #2 from yesterday’s game belongs to Rock Hard Wrestling rookie sensation, Travis Storm. I like Travis. A lot. His teeth attract my attention first. His got a major mouthful of them. A close second favorite attribute of the rookie his is sweet, round ass. Jose D., wracking up extra credit after extra credit, correctly noted that yesterday’s pic #2 comes from Travis’ delightful match against the butt-fantastic likes of Cody Nelson. Travis’ deep-seated camel clutch on Cody is like a clash of Titans, as lucious mounds of muscle press against luscious mounds of muscle. I will pay to see more of Travis’ gorgeous ass, and there are two ways of interpreting that statement, and both are equally accurate.

Ass #3 from Name That Ass belongs to another homoerotic wrestling rookie desperately in need of another match: Can-Am’s Landon Mycles. Jose D. gets partial credit for naming Landon, but only tentatively. There’s nothing tentative about Landon’s hot, hairy, blond naked ass in Pro Sex Fight 1 against Michael Vineland. If this pornboy does not turn up naked and soaked in sweat in the ring again, this will be a crime against wrestling kink nature. Landon was a one-time favorite homoerotic wrestler of the month, and I have my fingers crossed that someday he’ll have another crack at the title.

Ass #4 was again, tentatively and correctly identified by Jose as belonging to my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, Trent Diesel. Damn, I love Trent’s ass. Sure, I love Trent’s everything, but that ass is so aesthetically pleasing. He seems to like to require his vanquished opponent’s to bury their faces deep between those gorgeous cheeks, and while I’m not really up for that with just anyone, Trent would definitely be on my list of boys to rim. Occasionally, Naked Kombat takes the boys into the shower for “round 4,” which is the context for this shot of Trent soaping up across the shower from Ryan Rockford who just beat Trent’s tantalizing ass in oil. Ryan may have come out on top in NK points, but Trent is by far the most entertaining element in this, and nearly all, his matches. Long live the king.

The final ass in my inaugural Name That Ass game (there will be more… I had fun, whether you did or not), stumped even Jose D. Indeed, this ass is featured over at Thunder’s Arena. But it does not belong to Z-Man or Ace Hanson. No, I’d trade even their fine butts for this one. This ass could belong to none other than Mr. Ass-tastic himself, Big Sexy. I first cottoned on to the thrill value packed into Big Sexy’s amazing ass when he showed up as Santa for Thunder’s Arena’s holiday novelty match. In head-to-toe red spandex, there was just no mistaking that the athletic glutes on this man were world class. I’ve since gone fishing through many of the Big Sexy archives, and for my tastes, his #1 asset is displayed most pleasingly in his 2010 appearance against Z-Man for the Halloween Pumpkin match. Holy hell.

So how did you do? Did you beat Jose D.’s score? Perhaps more clues will be in order next time around.  Till then, you’ll have to practice. Watch lots (and I mean LOTS) of homoerotic wrestling, paying particular attention to the fine, fine, muscle asses you see. Good luck.

Crowning a New Champion

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It probably hardly needs mentioning, does it? I was so completely charmed by my interview with Lon Dumont that no one could be surprised to learn he’s reclaimed his title as my favorite homoerotic wrestler (non-pornboy division).

Since I stumbled across Rusty Stevens’ resignation from porn, the serious competition has been in the non-pornboy rankings, as far as I’m concerned (no disrespect intended toward Trent Diesel, of course). Joshua Goodman’s (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) last two matches have been stunningly erotic, even while still including no actual nudity. When Mr. Joshua decided to put bodyworship on the table, and invite a gym bunny admirer to wrestle for the pleasure of owning Mr. Joshua’s gorgeous body, that nudged him right over the top of inaugural title holder, Lon. But after having the opportunity to actually chat with Lon, there’s no doubt about it. He’s managed to body slam Mr. Joshua back into second place.

Mr. Joshua v Chico Valdez – Ring Rookies 2

I think it was the moment that Lon thanked me for noticing the fine way he fills out his wrestling trunks, that the title technically changed hands. He just has a graciousness about him with regard to my insistent adoration of his granite-carved physique that’s astonishingly sexy. As is abundantly evident in both the interview and Lon’s matches, he’s quick-witted and smart, and I wouldn’t be all that surprised to see him make an appearance competing on Jeopardy (and likely kicking ass there, as well). Graciousness and smarts as accessories to a competition bodybuilding body with years of hardworking wrestling experience? Hell, yeah! Lon Dumont is definitely the undisputed title holder in my book.

Lon Dumont v Terry O’Daly – Demolition 14

The only blemish on Lon’s BGE career thus far is the tag team loss he suffered at the brutal hands of Donnie Drake and rookie sidekick Doug Rand. I had intended on asking Lon more about this cloud hanging over his match record, but I was completely charmed by his passion for sharing his life with rescue animals. So, let me tally this us once more… graciousness, smarts, granite body carved by Michaelangelo, veteran wrestling savvy, AND sensitive, socially conscious animal lover!? My, oh my… Mr. Joshua, you’ve got your work cut out for you.

But back to Lon’s only match loss, the question I’d planned to ask Lon was about his tag team partner in that fated match, Chace LaChance. Personally, as a firmly established Lon fanatic, I’d think Lon would have had better odds of coming out on top taking on Donnie and Doug single-handedly. I thought that Chace brought almost nothing to the table other than his sweet, go-go boy muscles (which, let’s face it, fall into the category of “cute” next to the sliced and diced hardness and definition of Lon), his five-o-clock shadow, and that metaphorical target painted on his pretty, all-over-tanned ass that said, “Kick the shit out of me!” In fact, my take was the Chace was a net competitive loss for the LaChance/Dumont side of the equation (though he does bring plenty of “pretty” to enjoy).

Chace LaChance

Chace has been getting that sweet ass of his beaten left and right in his short tenure with BGE, so I don’t know if he’ll even have the audacity to show up again, particularly after his abject humiliation in a second appearance against Donnie Drake, where Donnie manhandles and mauls both Chace and Brent Salvo simultaneously and single-handedly (only further proving my point that Chace was clearly the weakest link when he teamed with Lon). But if Chace is still sniffing around for more BGE action, then I think Lon ought to re-open that wrestling school of his that he mentioned (and a can of whoop-ass) with Chace LaChance as his first pupil. Corporal punishment would definitely be standing orders.

Lon Dumont v Eddie Rey – Fantasymen 32

I suppose, when it comes right down to it, I’m not sure who wouldn’t make Lon look good. Perhaps Joe Robbins could fit the bill that Lon suggested might earn a victory over him, considering Joe is, indeed, right around 100 pounds heavier and over half a foot taller. But as I said to Lon, I pity any wrestler who thinks that’s the only thing it will take to defeat him. When it comes to who might be “foolish enough” to accept a forced-to-flex challenge from my favorite bodybuilder battler, I’d nominate Kid Karisma (who would NEVER believe that his muscles could be inferior to anyone’s), or perhaps a green rookie who needs initiated into the ring, like Attila Dynasty. Of course, it goes without saying that there’d be just about no bigger battle of egos than a Lon v Mr. Joshua face-off, but I still say that Mr. Joshua should devote himself exclusively to matches that involve wrestling amorous admirers intent on worshipping his body and tapping his ass, if they can defeat him. Much more of that from Mr. Joshua is his best chance at clawing his way back on top of Lon’s rippled abs and reclaiming the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestler, non-pornboy division.

Someone is, at this very moment, complaining that Lon granting me an interview has unjustly swayed my rankings. Let me just emphasize that these favorite homoerotic wrestling rankings are always MY favorite homoerotic wrestling rankings. This is always about who’s turning me on and entertaining me the most, and hands down, that would be Lon these days. Of course, if there are any other contenders who’d like to even the playing field by giving me an interview, I’m more than happy to oblige! That said, it’ll be tough to charm me quite as much as my reigning homoerotic wrestling non-pornboy, Lon Dumont.

Battling Brothers

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Homotrophy keeps delighting me, lately. These pics of “Eric” from the Sweat Underwear collection (a collection designed with you and me in mind, clearly) caught and held my attention. This is hardly surprising, since Eric is quite a hot hunk. But there was something more, some bell ringing in the back of my head. Finally, I figured out what connections were getting made in my subconscious. You may not see the resemblance, and if so, keep it to yourself (don’t kill my buzz!). But personally, I think Eric looks a lot like my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler (nonpornboy), BG East’s own, Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!).

With you, my discerning reader, in mind, I conducted an extensive visual inspection of everything I could get a hold of for Eric and for Mr. Joshua. It was grueling, painstaking work, I tell you, but I’m committed to your enlightenment. I finally decided that I don’t think that Eric is, indeed, Mr. Joshua in a clever underwear model disguise. And I’m happy to say that Mr. Joshua doesn’t have Eric’s nipple piercings, because that just always seems a dangerous accessory in a homoerotic wrestler. No, rather than a doppelganger, I think Eric is more like Mr. Joshua’s hot brother or first cousin. Similar face, very similar body (if Mr. J is a tad harder and bigger), and after agonizingly labored inspection with my zoom, I have to say that it looks entirely possible that Eric has a package that very well could be in the same (extremely exclusive and astonishingly impressive) league with Mr. J’s.
I’m always a sucker for the sexy brother/cousin tag team gimmick. I saw through this gimmick about the time that I watched them try to sell Lance as a “Von Erich.” Frankly, I always assumed Kerry must’ve looked a lot like the milk man, but Lance? There’s no way that came from the same corner of the gene pool. But it was the story that made me suspend my disbelief. It was the layering of drama, along with the side by side multiplication of beauty, that made me feel some extra loving for battling brothers/cousins. 
I think Eric looks like he could be game for some hot, sweaty action, BGE-style, don’t you? Mr. Joshua ought to bring his “little” brother, Mr. Eric, along for a tag team bout. At some point, there would need to be side-by-side standing head scissors on their poor (lucky, lucky, lucky) opponents, as the brother’s simultaneously shove their big hands down the front of their trunks to adjust the oversized luggage they both carry. And because everything Mr. Joshua does from now on MUST continue the fantastic theme of body worship, ala his smoking hot recent mat romp with rookie Randy Stanton, the Mr. Goodman Brothers team would certainly work themselves into a frenzy by soaking in the awed adoration of their opponents. They’ll probably want to trade worshippers at some point. Mr. Joshua will probably demand some double-team worship, because his ego is just that big. Mr. Eric would feel disrespected. Resentment would grow. And a fantastic, deeply personal wrestling grudge would blossom.

The Give and Take

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At some point I lost track of Wrestling Arsenal’s fine blog, but I just found it again. He has a nice, smart take on wrestling, and he’s got a fun sense of humor. Wrestling Arsenal’s post yesterday, for example, offers an insightful examination of the suffering wrestling hunk.

“The true beauty of pro wrestling,” he writes, “lies not in the strength and stamina of the winner, but in the frailty, vulnerability, and suffering of the loser.” The ironic twist is that so many of us want to see our favorite wrestler suffer. Hell, I’d venture to guess 99.9% of the readers of this blog get wildly aroused to see our favorite wrestler suffer! Wrestling Arsenal argues that the sight of the suffering hero stirs the most profound pathos. Our sympathies and identification with the sufferer are boiled down to the most potent essence of humanity as we watch the vulnerability of one man laid out so completely, without the least pretense of dignity left to him.

I like this deconstruction of the iconic moment of a wrestler’s suffering. It strikes a chord in me. It also makes me think about the additional element that causes a drastic drop in my blood pressure: the victor gazing down upon the suffering loser. I think all the same elements apply that Wrestling Arsenal describes. And I think that there’s also an element of profound intimacy in that exchange between the two battlers that speaks directly to the inherent homoeroticism of wrestling.

When Jack Guerin climbed into the ring with Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!), he had a grin that stretched from ear to ear. He was a young, hard, eager rookie. Seriously sweet pecs and thick shoulders. Ominously, he’d not done his homework, though. He didn’t really know who Mr. Joshua was. He didn’t know what Mr. Joshua was capable of. He didn’t know that 15 minutes later, he’d find himself flat on his stomach in the middle of the ring, completely dazed and nearly delirious. And the key thing that young Jack didn’t know was that Mr. Joshua was standing overtop of him, his feet straddling Jack’s torso, staring down at the young buck’s muscled back. There’s an element of self-congratulations about the victor’s gaze upon his beaten, defenseless opponent. He’s appreciating his handiwork. He’s admiring the effect of his labors played out so explicitly on the suffering body of his once-invincible challenger. Of course, Mr. Joshua is also just waiting for poor Jack to crawl back up to his hands and knees so that he can drop his ass down punishingly into the small of Jack’s back, sending him crashing back to the mat (and then needing to adjust his massive package for his effort). But before that, there’s something almost more intimate about Mr. Joshua’s fixed gaze on upon his outmatched opponent suffering beneath him than any physical contact exchanged between the two.

I haven’t yet seen the classic battle between Dante Rosetti and Davey Dee from Fantasymen 13, but I confess that I’ve been nursing a growing infatuation with Dante lately. The sight of Davey smiling down so malevolently as Dante is flat on his back in the center of the ring is an entire novel of story telling in one photo. Okay, set aside (if you can) the distracting sight of Davey’s cock so clearly outlined beneath the taut, shiny fabric of his white tights. And once you’ve managed to tear your eyes away from both men’s stunning physiques, take another look at Davey’s face. With his head cocked slightly to the side, he’s soaking in Dante’s defenseless. With his hands planted domineeringly on his narrow hips, Davey is simply delighting in the physical vulnerability of his gorgeous opponent. Even though I haven’t seen the match, I can tell with absolute certainty that the the gorgeous dark Italian that climbed into the ring with such a sense of inevitability about his victory couldn’t have imagined he’d be flattened and helpless soon enough. Whatever these two got up to in the ring (or out of the ring, for that matter), this pleased, assessing gaze that Davey gives his beaten hunk just seems astonishingly intimate to me.

My last case in point comes from one of the all time great mat battles in my book. Mitch Colby, the then owner of my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy title, faced off against the timeless physique and constantly growing mat savvy of BG East veteran Patrick Donovan. These two stunning hunks compare stats before the match starts. Mitch has an extra inch of height and a couple handfuls of pounds over Patrick, but both coldly calculating studs agree that they’re evenly matched on paper. When the scramble begins, it turns out that they’re evenly matched in practice, as well. The submissions fly fast and furious. Both boys are twisted and crushed to the point that it makes me wince just to watch it. They both fight a little dirty, taking unnecessary advantage, refusing to break on submissions, resorting to crotch claws to steal the wind from each other’s sails. When Patrick suggests a bearhug challenge, both long, tall slabs of beef are soaked in sweat and put on gorgeous display as they take turns willingly suffering in each other’s arms. Back and forth, back and forth, you begin to wonder if either of these boys will manage to build the momentum to finally derail his tenacious opponent.

But in the end, Mitch conquers like the reigning champ he was. Patrick is lying in pools of both boys’ sweat, flat on his back, pretty much oblivious to the world in the exhausted haze Mitch left him in. Mitch flexes and preens. He throws his own little victory party as he celebrates while Patrick slowly writhes on the mat with Mitch’s foot planted alternatingly on his ass and then crushing his crotch. And then Mitch takes up that familiar position, his feet straddling Patrick’s ridiculously narrow waist as he stares down long and hard at the fallen gladiator. Patrick’s instantly inadequate orange thong barely does the job of reigning in the veteran’s swollen moneymaker. True enough, Mitch pretty quickly connects all the dots going through your mind and mine by dropping to his hand and knees, grinding his own pouch into Patrick’s, pinning the loser’s wrists over his head, and tasting the sweet taste of victory. But I swear to you, that moment that Mitch is hovering, gazing down at his beaten man, that’s the most intimate moment of this match in my mind, as Mitch simply witnesses up close what Wrestling Arsenal calls “the vulnerability, frailty, and suffering of the loser.”

Power and vulnerability. Strength and weakness. Dominance and submission. Victory and defeat. It’s the combination of these elements that write the wrestling stories that grab hold of us. I keep watching not for the sight of one man’s hand raised in victory, but for that erotic telling of the story of a relationship, of power against power and the slow turning of power into vulnerability.

Control Myself

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So this post has nothing to do with wrestling. But it could.

These images of Maroon 5 singer Adam Levine posing sans clothes for British Cosmo’s promotion of guys checking their baubles for cancer are washing up on almost every website I browse on a regular basis. I’ve had a crush on Levine for a while, even having never seen him with anything less than a crisp white v-neck t-shirt. This priceless gift answers the age old question of what my true love gave to me on the 14th day of Christmas (which before some smart ass corrects me, let me just clarify that I know that the 14th day of Christmas would technically be the second day of Epiphany… just let me try to be funny, why don’t you!). On the 14th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me almost every inch of Adam Levine’s hot body that I can handle (which, I suppose, makes SquareHippies my true love, despite me not being one of his husbands).

I suppose that I ought to have more to say about this, other than how much I’m enjoying ogling Adam’s smokin’ hot body. The tats, the coiffed but expansive body hair, the hot pecs with tasty looking nips… okay, sure, I could totally spend some time in the vaults of my imagination drafting a sweaty, homoerotic wrestling match for Adam to star in. He’d end up with exactly this amount of clothing, but the hands grabbing hold of his cancer-free balls would not have long, painted nails. They’d be thick, strong hands clawing at the pretty boy’s vulnerability, perhaps picking him off of his feet with crotch in claw and racking him across some powerful, broad shoulders attached to the muscular arms attached to the thick, strong hands.

Seriously, though, check your junk boys. Know their shape and size with the intimacy born of handling them often and lovingly, so that any lumps or abnormalities that develop, you’ll recognize something is up. And in case the newly crowned title holder as my favorite homoerotic wrestler – nonpornboy division, Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) needs a hand with his testicular examination (which would be entirely understandable, giving the size of that task!), I am first in line. Indeed, his health means that much to me.

Year in Review – Favorite Moment #3

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My third favorite moment in blogging in 2010 came from my innauguration of a non-pornboy division in my ranking of favorite homoerotic wrestlers. I’ve been blathering for more than a year about my favorite pornboy homoerotic wrestlers, but I decided a few months ago that the non-pornboys needed a division all their own. Up against the likes of Mitch Colby, Derek da Silva, Rusty Stevens and Trent Diesel, the wrestlers who stay shy of pulling out their cocks and unloading a climactic, gasping explosion on top of the loser of the match beneath them are at a severe disadvantage in the magnitude with which they stroke my homoerotic imagination. But they’re entirely delightful and entertaining and provocative in their own way, and so a nonpornboy favorite homoerotic wrestler division was created to share some love with them as well.

Lon Dumont was my inaugural champion nonpornboy. Good God, that man turns me on. He’s got a pro polish wrapped up in one gorgeously muscled, shredded to bits, tight little package built for taking big boys by surprise and kicking their asses.



Lon’s instant top contender was the BGE boy with a wrestling portfolio nearly as massive as his balls: Josh Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!). Lon’s history with BGE makes him look like a rookie, but there’s nothing rookie about his command of the ring and his opponent’s bodies. Mr. Joshua, on the other hand, has been one of the most prolific BGE battlers, and he seems to be going stronger now than ever, showing up in 3 different releases this year, and looking as stunningly muscled and outrageously in love with himself as ever. From go, it was a close call between Lon and Mr. Joshua.



So perhaps it should be no surprise that Mr. Joshua caught up with Lon and smacked his fine, athletic ass into second place just a few weeks ago. That’s my #3 favorite moment in blogging in 2010: the game changing performance of Mr. Joshua in Matmen 21.



I thought Mr. J’s performance in this summer’s release of Demolition 14 was fantastic new territory for him. He not only slapped his pendulous balls down across Austin Raines’ lips, he taunted the overmatched scrapper with talk of teabagging. Still, there was something missing from Demolition 14, something I still longed to see in a Mr. J match (other than an unobstructed view of his legendary credentials).



I have nothing against innuendo, mind you. I’m (obviously) a major fan of implication and allusion. But I’ve been waiting for too long for a Mr. Joshua match that just says it straight out: Mr. Joshua both desperately needs and undeniably deserves to be the object of some lustful admirer’s body worship. Randy Stanton shows up in Matmen 21 and cuts right through the innuendo. Randy wants a shot at Mr. Joshua’s rippled abs, beautiful pecs, and sweet, shapely ass, and he’s willing to wrestle for it.



Sorry to spoil the suspense for those of you who haven’t seen it yet, but in the end, Randy isn’t quite up to the task. That said, he puts up a surprisingly enthusiastic fight. He strokes Mr. J’s washboard. He claws at his pecs. He digs his fingers into Mr. J’s round ass with a lustful exhilaration that comes straight from my crotch. When Mr. Joshua finally turns the corner, perhaps having to work a little harder for it than he’d expected, he racks Randy across his statuesque shoulders and claws at the rookie’s crotch for his trouble. Mr. J doesn’t just crush his suitor, he beats him senseless and then lingers in the delight of humiliating him with a body-by-body comparison of their relative physiques. Randy’s a hot slice of tasty goodness, but he’ just no match for stunning size and aesthetic proportions of Mr. Joshua.



I LOVE this storyline! This completely gives an outlet to my unrequited lust over Mr. J’s erotically charged nonpornboy body. I’ve complained about Mr. J playing it coy for quite some time, but his performance in Matmen 21 shuts my mouth (metaphorically… you know I’m seldom at a loss for words). The concept of a veteran nonpornboy putting his body on the line against a hard, amorous hunk jonesing to turn him into a pornboy is just brilliant. It finally gives a full helping of the homo to match Mr. J’s quality entertainment wrestling credibility.



Not only did Matmen 21 earn Mr. J the title as my new #1 favorite homoerotic wrestler – nonpornboy division, it also solidly ranks as my #3 most favorite moment in blogging in 2010. I’m ready to pre-order any future match with Mr. J bringing another hot and randy hunk back to the matroom to see if he’s finally met his match and found the stud worthy of dominating and taking full possession of the priceless treasure that is Mr. Joshua’s intoxicating body. It’s the awesome depth of entertainment Mr. J has produced in the past and the promise of more fantastically hot, high stakes wrestling in the future, but most of all, it’s Mr. Joshua’s game changing performance in Matmen 21 that earns my #3 most favorite moment in 2010.

Between Takes

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I love it that you’re reading a homoerotic wrestling kink blog on Christmas! You are such the hardcore, ironman wrestling kinkster! Or, you’re reading a back edition… or this isn’t even your holiday… but in any case, I’m taking it easy today. I’m trying not to sweat the obligatory family drama. I’m trying not to resent the cacophony of carols that have nearly bored a hold straight through my head by now. I’m trying to relax and let it all wash over me.

This time last year, I posted some of the behind-the-scenes shots from BG East, capturing the boys between slams and submissions, relaxed, smiling, and clearly just savoring a happy moment. I thought I’d reprise the theme again for another Christmas day, because these unguarded smiles on these hardworking hunks just lighten my mood.


We all take ourselves too seriously. I do it. You do it (don’t contradict me!). Hell knows, the politicians and pundits and preachers do it, particularly this time of year. So a glimpse of an almost shy smile on a granite-chiseled, merciless ring heel is a sweet reminder, I think, to just cool my jets. Whatever it is that gets me hot and bothered (in a bad way), if I just  just take a step back and remove my ego from the situation, 9 times out of ten it’s all just silliness not to be taken seriously.



There’s seriously messed up shit going on in the world right at this very moment, of course. That’s no laughing matter, but that said, in light of the serious shit, my shit honestly is laughable. So I had to wait in an insanely long line to get that last Christmas present that I put off until way, way too late. So the roads are filled with crazies. So another season of Dexter came and went and I still haven’t seen Michael C. Hall’s world class ass. None of it should be such a burden that I can’t set it down today, let the tension that I’m carrying in my body slip away, and just smile.


Okay, so I’m having trouble letting go of my bitterness about Michael C. Hall’s ass. I’ll keep working on it in between Scrabble games and slices of turkey and endless accounts of the inanity of my sibling’s miserable children (tension rising again… breathe……. okay, I’m back).


Whatever rituals you do or don’t engage in today, whatever your religious or familial proclivities, whatever the burdens you carry, my hope for you is a deep breath, a sly smile, a moment of innocent humor, and all the hot, sweaty, muscle thumping, crotch bumping, ass humping sexual pleasure your heart desires.

The School Bus has Landed

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Careful readers will have detected that I’ve been ass-obsessed for quite a while now. Typically, I tend to fixate on eroticized body parts on a rotation scheme. But I’ve been crazy for hard, round glutes over all else lately. 




But I think it’s the sight of my new #1 favorite non-pornboy homoerotic wrestler, Mr. Joshua, and his package getting jostled about a bit in Matmen 21 that’s turned my tastes to cock lately. You know what a big fan I am of the erotic imagination, of course, but I’ve been getting some extra thrill recently from the boys that leave little to the imagination. Take, for example, body beautiful sadist heel, Max Dare, wrestling in oil and a mesh thong in Paradise 1.


Conventional clothing for men seems to be devoted to promoting the illusion that guys have nothing swinging between their legs. I don’t know if this is an expression of the emasculation of the “civilized” male in an effort to defuse violent competition and promote more complex forms of cooperative community, but the tight, flat front trouser seems the exact opposite of the beautifully aroused phallus encased in bulging wrestling gear. Derek da Silva’s gorgeous tool at full staff in his decimation at the hands of Kid Vicious is a case in point. To try to disguise that slab of beef, to tuck it or camouflage it in the interest of making it appear inconsequential, would be a crime against nature.

We haven’t seen buzz cut boy Joe Driver in a long time, but any conversation about a prominent wrestling cock should mention the image of his stuffed trunks. He was a lean, mean wrestling machine, perhaps a little too lean yet not mean enough for my tastes most days. But that massive bulge was absolutely hypnotizing!

The pic of Joe’s crotch straining at the seams of his trunks as he bridges high with his head trapped between the thighs of Cole Cassidy is simply art. This should be slapped in a gilt frame and set hanging in a museum. It also arouses in me a recurring fantasy of my lover in a wrestling match, trapping, stretching, and exposing his hunky opponent vulnerably and humiliatingly, and me climbing in the ring to capitalize on the capture of my lover’s prey.



Lance Jeffers is another name that I think simply has to be included in any discussion of astounding appearances by cock in a wrestling match. In his case, Lance’s truly astonishing cock probably diverts too much attention away from his impressive wrestling skills. He was an impressive, scrappy, savvy wrestler who deserves to be admired for that… but then there was that monster cock! Watching that python grow in his trunks was like it’s own Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom episode. Lance’s throbbing, bobbing, incredibly long and beautiful beast was x-rated well before his trunks ever came off. I’ve only seen preview teasers for Wrestleshack 6, but that’s been enough to sear into my memory the incredible image of Shon Tracy punching Lance’s school bus like a heavy bag.



Perhaps the most inspired incorporation of a monster cock in a wrestling match, in my book, was in X-Fights 15 (you’ll have to ask for it by name if you want to order it). DW and Doug Perry face off in one of the most balanced combinations of erotic and wrestling that I’ve ever seen. Doug Perry’s crotch is simply mind-boggling before it ever gets pulled out of his trunks. I confess to having thought, “Surely that can’t be real.” Then DW slips Doug’s meat free of his trunks, and my jaw falls open. “Holy shit… it’s real!” But the most priceless moment is when DW has Doug in an over-the-knee backbreaker, naked and fully erect. Doug’s monster is flopping around as he squirms in pain in this torture hold. And then DW grabs hold of it, strokes and massages it for a while, lulling Doug into stillness. Then shockingly and abruptly, DW pulls upward on Doug’s massive cock at the same time he slips his leg out from underneath of him, slamming Doug to the mat and never losing his grip for an instant on the raging python. It makes me gasp every time I watch it.

I’m sure there are many more that I’ve unfairly left unmentioned. The pretty boy stretch Armstrong-looking Jordan, for example, seemed like he had to lean backward just a little to compensate for the inordinate weight he was carrying in the front of his trunks. It’s also an iron clad truism that it doesn’t have to be huge to be stunningly beautiful, at least as far as I’m concerned. But at the moment, all credit and obsessive homoerotic wrestling thoughts of mine are heaped upon the boys with ample quantity as well as quality. 

Game Changer

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I’ve been worshipping Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you) for many years now. Ever since he followed Brad Rochelle into the BG East matroom, he’s had a starring role in many a sexual and wrestling fantasy in my imagination. Unlike his actual wrestling matches, though, all of my imagined wrestling fantasies with Mr. Joshua have included a liberal dose of body worship. No, I’m not referring to Mr. Joshua’s self-worship, because that has, indeed, been a staple in every one of his for-purchase performances. No, I’m talking about his opponent (frequently me) pausing before, during, and after the action to marvel with my eyes, hands, nose and tongue at the sculpted piece of erotic art that is Mr. Joshua’s physique.

Finally, at long last, Mr. Joshua has found an opponent nearly as awestruck by Mr. Joshua’s body as is Mr. Joshua. Randy Stanton is hot for teacher from the moment he sets foot in the mat room. Something has already happened between them, clearly, and the online description of the match suggests that Randy made a pass at Mr. Joshua at the gym, “promising to worship Mr. Joshua’s physique like he’d never been worshipped before.” Randy, you read my mind.



We’ve all known for a long time that this is what Mr. Joshua needs, now haven’t we? This is the story that Mr. Joshua has been asking for, begging for, from day one. He’s been aching for someone to give him the abundance of slack-jawed respect he deserves and demands, not only because he can kick ass, but because he has crafted his muscles to the brink of divinity. Randy may just have been in the right place at the right time, but I suspect he’s a homoerotic genius who discovered precisely the buttons to push to work his way into the enviable position of being commanded by Mr. Joshua to worship him. That’s right. You heard me. Mr. Joshua demands that Randy cop a feel.

He doesn’t have to tell Randy twice. Well, honestly, he doesn’t actually have to tell him even once. Regardless, this match features the spot-on elements of deeply appreciative body worship, a supremely confident narcissist, and an explicitly lustful opponent. Mr. Joshua has been circling this plot for ages. I’ve been aching for this plot for ages. Watching Randy saddle up behind Mr. Joshua, reach around to squeeze and caress his biceps, pressing their bodies together… well, I’ll just say that I had to push pause within the first minute of this match. After a little while to rehydrate and let my heart rate slow down, I eagerly pushed play once again.

As the story goes, Randy didn’t have wrestling on his mind at all when he followed Mr. Joshua out of the gym, but he’s game when the BG East veteran suggests that they take to the mats to see if Randy can earn some more body worship rewards. Mr. Joshua has all the earmarks of a pool shark reeling in another sucker. Randy hasn’t cottoned on, but it’s clear that Mr. Joshua’s narcissist/sadist personality combo has played this whole scenario out in his mind before the two of them lock up. He’s planning on taking the rookie to school, destroying and humiliating the lustful hunk in order to preen and flex overtop of Randy’s crushed body as evidence of his own, indisputable superiority. This must be what Mr. Joshua sees when he closes his eyes and is almost ready to orgasm: his own stunning image on cocky display atop a crushed hunk. For what I believe to be the first time, Mr. Joshua is literally putting his own ass on the line, upping the stakes against a hard and hot and aroused opponent. Before the jeans are off, though, Randy sends a clear message that he’s not going to just roll over. Taking the veteran by surprise, he locks his knees around Mr. Joshua’s ears, shoving the veteran’s nose into the mat. And then Randy leans forward, plants the palms of his hands on Mr. Joshua’s fantastic ass, and claws lustfully at those glorious glutes. Never before have I encountered a more sympathetic character than Randy in that moment. I’m thinking Randy’s thoughts. His hands are my hands. His delight is coursing through my body. He’s embracing this moment of unexpected opportunity with precisely the fervor and abandon that comes from my fondest personal fantasies involving Mr. Joshua and his vulnerable ass.

Full disclosure, this match isn’t all body worship, and the body worship doesn’t involve tongues (next time, Randy). The wrestling is primarily a series of long-held squeezes and body-wrenching endurance holds, punctuated irregularly with a few blows and slams. The wrestling, I think, matches the stakes, with an emphasis on claws and clutches driving home the point that what’s on the line is the consummation of Randy’s lustful intentions. In gasping lulls between submissions, both boys tease one another as Randy worships Mr. Joshua’s fantastic physique. I absolutely love the moment when Randy cups Mr. Joshua’s pec in his hand, feeling the weight of the slab of muscle. And although Randy somewhat demurely fails to give Mr. Joshua’s legendary package equally adoring treatment, I confess to feeling small moments of orgasmic ecstasy when Randy is stroking Mr. Joshua’s abs, hips, and legs, and his hand repeatedly presses “inadvertently” against the unavoidable obstacle course posed by Mr. J’s stuffed-to-the-brim crotch.


This match is all sorts of wonderful for me. This is something new in Mr. Joshua’s delightful portfolio of appearances with BG East. I’m a big fan of something new, just like I’m a crazed fan of Mr. Joshua as an object of body worship. Personally, I vote for this to be the inception of a new series, with Mr. Joshua’s ass on the line against amorous admirers willing to fight for the opportunity to conquer and take full ownership of the promises posed by Mr. J’s physique. And as much as I’m over-identifying with randy rookie Randy, Mr. Joshua’s venture into this new territory is sufficient to upset the rankings of my favorite homoerotic wrestlers – non-pornboy division. Yes, Mr. Joshua has toppled my previous #1 object of trunks-on lust, Lon Dumont. Mr. J has thrown him to his back and slapped his pendulous package down across Lon’s chin (metaphorically… I’d pay money to see that literally….). Lon is still well within striking distance as the new #1 contender, but I have the attention span of a midge, and Lon has not been in a new release in just too long to ward off the surging homoerotic appeal of Mr. Joshua Goodman in Matmen 21. So I’m offering a standing ovation to Mr. Joshua and his crotch, for clawing his way to the top of the heap and inviting all comers to take a shot at fully appreciating the homoerotic prize that is his wrestling body.

Gratitude

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This is my second Thanksgiving Holiday since starting this blog a year and a half ago. I have so much to be thankful for these days. I have a home, a job, people who love me, animals who are excited to see me when I come home. More pertinent to this blog, I’m thankful for a lot of delicious, delightful, homoerotic wrestling inspiration, and for so many of you who share in that delight.
Joe is always at or very near the top of my list of most excellent things about the virtual wrestling kink community we share. If at any point you’re feeling bitter toward me for taking a day or two away from posting new material here, just remember to pop over to Ringside at Skull Island and get your dose of fine wrestling kink commentary there. I generally agree with Joe’s tastes 97.48 percent of the time (I’m a stats person), and his blog feeds my imagination and brings a smile to my face (and a pleasing pressure to my crotch) consistently.

I’ve had a wonderful time over this past year working some new collaborations. I’ve worked with several readers/writers, including two projects right now that the ball is in my court on (I promise, compatriots, I’m working on them!). In addition to co-authors, I’m grateful for the opportunity to chat sidebar with so many fine gentlemen with something to share, complain about, and recommend.

My last note of gratitude for the blog today is to Kid Leopard for his generosity and encouragement of my toils here. He’s been extremely generous with my frequent reposts of BG East material. He’s given me more than I deserve this year, including some thoughtful feedback when I’ve strayed into topics that I talk about much more than I really know about. He’s been understanding and tolerant of my not only writing BG East-based fiction, but even writing him in as a recurring character (my own version of him, of course). For KL, as well as for all of the creative minds keeping the homoerotic wrestling industry turning out new delights, I’m grateful for their ability to find the right formula to stay fresh and creative in the face of consumer criticism and, let’s face it, back seat driving (I fully admit to being a prime offender in that category).

My hope is for nothing but the best for all of you who read my words, for all of the hard workers in production in the homoerotic wrestling industry, and for the beautiful and inspired wrestlers and performers who give our little corner of gay kink a go. Play hard! Play safe.