Category: Rusty Stevens

Kiss It Some More

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Ace Hanson v Antonio – Thunder’s Arena’s No Holds Barred 5

If there’s one image that put Ace Hanson over the top in winning my homoerotic wrestler of the month title, it’s got to be the image of him flexing his huge bicep in Antonio’s face in No Holds Barred 5. Sweat streams down Ace’s forehead, drops falling from his brow. His freckled back is browned from the Florida sun. He presses the peak of his stunning bicep against Antonio’s nose humiliatingly, surely the scent of Ace’s sweaty body filling Antonio’s nostrils. “Kiss it,” Ace demands. And Antonio kisses it. Good God, that turns me on.

Mitch Colby v Jeremy Burk – BG East’s Motel Madness 8
I just don’t really watch much straight-up wrestling these days, but I have to imagine that this is not a common plot development. One man’s lips planted on the body of another is inherently homoerotic. I suppose even straight-up pro wrestling might dabble in a humiliating bicep kiss as an act of subjugation, sort of a bully’s prank, chuckling at the “degradation” he’s wrought on his loser opponent. Some of you who follow straight-up fare can tell me if this does, indeed, pop up from time to time. Regardless of whether straight-up wrestlers work a forced bicep kiss into their repertoire, I still say there’s something essentially, unmistakably homoerotic about one man’s lips on any part of another man’s body. Mitch Colby, with his massive hand holding Jeremy Burk’s head like a grapefruit, pressed the twink’s mouth against his beautiful bicep in Motel Madness 8. That kiss, along with Mitch shoving Jeremy’s face into his crotch and scissoring the twink’s head while Jeremy copped a completely understandable feel of Mitch’s pecs, decisively turned this motel pick-up match unavoidably down the path that would lead them to end up soaping each other up, tongues down each other’s throats, soon afterward.
Kid Vicious v Lobolito – BG East’s Wet & Wild 4
Reigning BG East sadist-extraordinaire, Kid Vicious, may not have the biggest biceps, but they’re nonetheless beautiful and more importantly, devastating. Every KV wrestling match is a morality tale in mastery. And the moral of the story? Don’t fuck with KV, or more truthfully, get ready to be fucked over by KV. Skill, cunning, and the complete determination to sexually dominate will overcome all challengers, particularly fresh faced newbies who think that because KV isn’t a a massive musclebound stud, he can’t be all that dangerous. The Wet & Wild 4 taming of Lobolito captures the image perfectly. Lobolito’s right hand is stretched, seemingly lovingly, across KV’s lower back, his tongue obediently lapping at KV’s rock hard bicep (KV is looking particularly toned in this bout). It it weren’t for the look of abject anguish on Lobolito’s face, the sneering domination written across KV’s face, and the leather studded belt wrapped around Lobolito’s neck, the better for KV to completely exercise his vicious control.

Kid Vicious v Kieron Knight – BG East’s Bootboy Brawl 5

I haven’t seen them all, but I’m assuming every KV match includes his opponent’s lips pressed against his body. And why not? If you’re as accomplished at the homoerotic arts of physical domination as KV, why wouldn’t you insist that every conquest include some carnal worship? Babyfaced Kieron Knight from Bootboy Brawl 5 is clearly an awed protege of the vicious one, as quick off the dime to kiss his bicep as he is to do his darnedest to show the master the best he’s got. To know when to be tender and to know when to be tough is surely the sign of a zen-homoerotic-wrestling master.

Rusty Stevens v Mitch Colby – BG East’s The Breaking Point: Sexiest [by far]
And just to cover my bases on the topic, I also want to mention that I’m a big, big fan of the self-worshiping homoerotic wrestling hunk. Any self-worship has it’s delights, but particularly the self-worship of a stunningly muscled, accomplished and always dangerous wrestler like Rusty Stevens, pushes the same buttons for me as the forced bicep kiss from an opponent (well, the buttons are at least kink-adjacent). It’s cliche, I know, and yet I’m always a sucker for a hunk with baseball biceps lifting his arm to his face and planting a lingering, adoring, lustful kiss on his own bicep. Any beautiful physique can pull this off satisfyingly for me, but particularly a physique that I’ve seen dominate hunk after hunk, inflicting precisely measures quantities of pain and humiliation, putting every aesthetically perfect muscle to no better possible use than to one overmatched stud after another. The bicep kiss is just giving credit where credit is due – showing some love to what got you there, and to what it is that will bring home victory after sexually dominating victory.

Tats Named

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No one won the grand prize for perfect marks on yesterday’s quiz. One regular reader came pretty damn close, but he’s only getting a gold star. Here are the answers that would have won someone a pic of one of my tats:
Tat #1 belongs to…
…Rusty Stevens.
This pic was from his delightful clash of the titans with Mitch Colby, wrestling for BG East’s Breaking Point release last summer. Fan-freaking-tastic match, which was one of my all time favorite moments of the year.
Rusty also has those provocative lipstick-tats around his crotch and ass. Damn, I’m still bitter that he’s forsworn porn.
Tat #2 belongs to…
…Derek Da Silva.
There’s a bit of mystery about precisely when this posed pic may have been snapped, but I do believe it was in conjunction with his Jobberpalooza 9 beatdown of Kevin Lee.
All that astonishingly gorgeous ink, that wide, muscled back, that incredible ass, and the delightful pain-play… Derek is a homoerotic wrestling god as far as I’m concerned. And he has entertaining tweets.
Tat #3 belongs to…
…Angel.
Specifically, this is Angel’s 2-on-1 scrap with rookies Jackson and Scooter in Mat Wars 22 for Thunder’s Arena.
In case you missed it, 5’5″, 135 pound Angel is the 1 in this 2-on-1, but that awesome sleeve and the ribcage ink even the score, as far as I’m concerned.
Tat #4 belongs to…
…David Taylor. 
In particular, this is David getting a riding rear choke from the owner of Tat #1 above, Rusty Stevens, for Can-Am’s Wrestle Bait.
I think David’s ink is possibly the most attractive in homoerotic wrestling history (me being the judge, of course). His long-held bearhug, suspending Rusty off his feet, with Rusty sitting across David’s fantastic erection like a fencepost, is also possibly the most arousing homoerotic wrestling image I’ve ever had seared into my memory.
No one ventured a guess at Tat #5, which in fact belongs to…
…Can-Am’s mysteriously named “Derek.”
Linger a while on the slabs of beef that are this man’s pecs, then continue when you’re ready to learn more.
So Derek, or Derek(2) as he’s listed in the by-model search at the Can-Am website, was quite the eye-catching muscle stud when I first caught sight of him in promotions for Ropin’ Ruckus. His pubescent, is-this-guy-legal opponent here is Oliver Swift. Derek was one handsome hunk of beef, who appropriately enough gets roped and ridden by young Master Swift. Derek(2) also appears in Can-Am’s Hotel Hell: Toronto and SuperMatch 25/26 tape for those of you as taken with the sight of him as I’ve always been.
So nicely played, those of you who checked your scores with me privately. Keep studying, and one day, perhaps, you’ll be teacher’s pet.

But Is It Art?

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What counts as porn? I realize far greater (and frankly, far lesser) minds than ours have debated this very question in excruciating detail. There’s always the I-know-it-when-I-see-it approach that only complicates the postmodern dilemma of conflicting subjective realities. Personally, I tend to toss things into my “porn drawer” that primarily and dependably get me off. This means that there are items in my porn drawer that include no nudity, no sex, no cum, but those typically feature a particular quality of wrestling that will turn my crank whenever needed. There’s plenty of nudity, sex and cum shots in the drawer as well, mind you. And then I’ve established (admittedly, somewhat arbitrarily), that to qualify for my homoerotic wrestling pornboy rankings I need to have seen a wrestler cum on camera. But we probably all have slightly different criteria for what merits the designation of our “porn,” and what doesn’t.

More to the point, what does Rusty Stevens consider porn? I’m just catching up with Rusty’s poorly populated blog, where, last October 17, he announced concisely that he retired from porn the week before and has moved to Hawaii. He goes on to post on his blog that he’s go-go dancing, and that he’s a rentboy (damn, where’s $2,500 for a weekend’s entertainment when I need it!?). He’s apparently taking requests for what to post on his pay-site, such as a wrestling match with Spencer Reed.

But of crucial importance in my mind, is whether his “retirement from porn” means that we’ll never see him again working in the homoerotic wrestling industry. Is his mat wrestling performance with Mitch Colby that culminated in Mitch jacking Rusty off in victory considered “porn?” It most certainly resides in my porn drawer, but is it “porn” for Rusty?

Is his string of undefeated matches for Naked Kombat porn? True enough, there’s nudity, sex, and cum in abundance in every match, but it’s hardly boom-chicka-boom-boom, syntho music and bad acting as foreplay for close up shots of anal penetration (okay, there is a little of the typical close up in the last round of NK matches, but that’s so not that part that puts me over the edge).

In short, is Rusty’s retirement tantamount to his hanging up his jockstrap and foregoing any further homoerotic wrestling? Because having owned the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestler for the past nine months, this would appear to leave him completely vulnerable to some hard worker still actively vying for our attention. If Rusty is retiring his title belt, this would just seem to throw my whole favorite homoerotic wrestler rankings up in the air entirely.

Of course Trent Diesel, as the top contender behind Rusty, is well-positioned to kick Rusty’s retired ass to the curb and rip the belt from Rusty’s gorgeously muscled, tight, hard little waist. But I’ll have to let this quandry sit with me a while as I ponder the existential meaning of what “is” is. I’m not entirely sure at all who may populate my top two favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboys once the dust settles. I’m adrift in philosophical malaise. I’m questioning everything and taken for granted nothing.  From his retirement in Hawaii (though he’s for hire in Manhattan through Saturday, take note), Rusty has left me feeling undone and unsettled.

Year in Review – Favorite Moment #1

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Surely it can’t be a mystery what my #1 favorite moment in blogging of 2010 has been.  I started tracking my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboys a year and a half ago, with Mitch Colby holding the inaugural title for months on end. Derek da Silva shook things up near the end of 2009, coming on strong, mentioning my blog on his Twitter account, and just like that, Derek kneed Mitch in the groin and brought the big man to his knees. Derek managed to hold the title a precious brief snapshot in time, though. Shortly after, Mitch’s Wrestler Spotlight was released, and largely on the merits of his sweat soaked mat battle with Patrick Donovan, Mitch squeezed Derek between those tree trunks he calls thighs until the title popped right back into his hands. That earned both battlers my #1 favorite moment of 2009.


Something unexpected happened in winter of this year though. Specifically, Rusty Stevens happened. Rusty’s performance in Can-Am’s first Arena release completely took me by surprise. After beating his jobber opponent into the mat, naked with his gorgeous pipe a-swinging as he paced around the loser, Rusty let loose with a trash talk clinic on corporate turncoat Aryx Quinn that made me dizzy with desire. Just like that, he climbed up from the hordes of hopefuls to slam Derek’s ass to the mat and ride him like a pony into the top contender spot for my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy.


Shortly thereafter, the dark horse showed up in Arena 2, picking right up where he left off, trash talking circles around Aryx Quinn. It was his “spanking the baby” dance, illustrating how, when Aryx is unconscious at the end of the match, he plans on “tapping that ass,” that pulled off Rusty’s second consecutive stunning upset. He came up on Mitch from behind and managed to snag the title as my undisputed favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy right out of Mitch’s hands almost without a fight. That swagger! That razor wire wit! The body of an adonis, the mouth of a trucker, and the wrestling chops of a serious player… Rusty settled into the top spot in my rankings like he’d owned the place from the start.



The earth shook beneath my feet the day that BG East posted their preview pics of their first summer release, The Breaking Point: Sexy, Sexier, Sexiest over at the BGE Arena. A truer word has never been spoken in dubbing Rusty’s head-to-head mat battle with none other than Mitch Colby as “sexiest.” I’d played that scenario out in my imagination enough times that the promise of a Rusty v Mitch mat battle seemed too surreal to believe. I whipped out my… wallet so fast that my ass got burned, and I waited with desperate impatience to see these two titans of my homoerotic wrestling lusts actually face off in jock straps.

Let’s be honest, here. This could easily have turned into the #1 disappointment of the year for me. I’d worked this match-up over in my own wrestling kinked imagination so often that Rusty and Mitch were in serious danger of never being able to live up to my fantasy. Would this turn out to be too much of a good thing? And most importantly, would this prove to be the game changer that managed to topple Rusty’s cocky, trash talking ass right off his throne and reinstall #1 contender Mitch with the title he really did own from the beginning?



My joy knew no bounds when I popped in the DVD and sat back to watch The Breaking Point: Sexiest. Mitch was simply huge, a mountain of a man. No longer the svelte fitness competitor of his recent appearances, Mitch was the epitome of a big-n-beefy battler. He just took up so much fucking space in that Florida sunroom! It’s not like a lot of people could dwarf the 6’0, 200 pounds of lean muscle that are Rusty, but Mitch did it the instant he stepped on the mat. Rusty instantly did what Rusty does best: he launched a psychological attack on his opponent’s ego to leave him flat-footed for the physical assault to follow. He threw a couple of jabs at Mitch’s weight and fitness, calling attention to his own sliced to shreds physique. But there’s just no denying the look of intimidation that sneaked across Rusty’s face frequently as the two titans locked up. This was not going to be the walk in the park that Rusty, in his supreme, cocky self-confidence, probably had in mind.

They wrestled hard. They both had sheets of sweat pouring off of them before the trunks got ripped off. It was a back and forth battle, with both hunks determined not just to win, but to tame their opponent into true submission. Mitch’s size advantage started to swing momentum decisively his way about after about the halfway point. He squeezee the air out of Rusty in a fantastic bearhug, shaking the pornboy like a rag doll. Rusty countered with a completely unexpected toe suck to tame the beast he’d awoken in Mitch, but Mitch would not be denied. The #1 contender beat a final submission out of Rusty before lording over the wasted champ, pumping on Rusty’s gorgeous cock until he popped.



What makes one my favorite homoerotic wrestler, though, is not always the score card at the end of the match. In this case, Mitch threw everything he had at the title holder, weaving together a smoking hot story of homoerotic domination. But Mitch never managed to successfully “tame” Rusty. Rusty remained feisty and fierce even with his cock completely under Mitch’s control. It’s Rusty’s smart mouth that made the razor thin margin of victory not in the match, but in my rankings. Sitting squarely on Mitch’s face, about halfway through the match, Rusty preened as if he was about to cum with the sheer exhiliration of the moment of domination. With a chuckle in his voice, Rusty snarled down at Mitch, “I’m thinking you may want to give, but then again, my ass is in your face.”



And again, I was helpless against Rusty’s razor wire wit woven seamlessly through his sweat-soaked, grunting and grinding, hell bent on a humiliating homoerotic wrestling performance. Mitch won the battle, but Rusty held onto the title as my very favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, and that, my friends was my favorite moment of 2010.



It didn’t hurt that the BGE website referenced this very blog in the description of the match, but I swear to you, this would’ve been my most favorite moment of 2010 in any case. Even as I toast to the reigning champion at year’s end, I’m eyeing what 2011 might hold for the pornboy rankings. Trent Diesel has been coming on strong, a major workhorse earning his homoerotic wrestling credit with a steady stream of performances, mostly over at Naked Kombat. Rusty’s performance in
Raging Stallion’s Brutal was, frankly, underwhelming (not that I think that was Rusty’s fault, but he was simply underutilized). Either way, the title seems to be under serious contention again, with Trent looking like he could overtake the champion through sheer hard work and tenacity (not to mention his jaw-dropping physique, aesthetically perfect tats, and speaking of aesthetically perfect, have you taken a look at Trent’s ass!?).

2010 was indeed a fantastic year for me, and hope it was for you as well. For all the readers who keep me honest and the readers who egg me on, for the producer’s and back office boys working the homoerotic wrestling business for a living, and for the hardworking hunks, both pornboy and non-pornboy, wrestling their asses off for our entertainment, I especially lift a toast of joy and appreciation for you all. For Rusty, Mitch, Trent, Mr.
Joshua, Lon, Landon, Bobby, Enforcer, Denny, and the steady stream of generous, hot and sweaty boys doing the hard and certainly not risk-free work of homoerotic wrestling, I toast to your good health and continued success in the coming year.

Brutal Critique

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My copy of the much-anticipated (at least by two people I know) new release from Raging Stallions, Brutal, arrived several weeks ago. There are so many quite excellent ingredients going into this recipe. My #1 favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, Rusty Stevens AND his #1 contender, working hard to chomp at Rusty’s ass and climb on top of the rankings, Trent Diesel (also reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month), are both star players in Brutal. Additional Naked Kombat alums who’ve tickled my fancy also show up, including Brenn Wyson, Tommy Defendi, Spencer Reed, Phenix Saint and Race Cooper. The story centers on a gym where fierce, hot hunks are in high stakes training to compete for glory in the world of competitive MMA.  The fight and the fuck go back and forth, twisting and turning in on each other in flights of fantasy and more literal interpretations. In other words, Brutal is front-loaded to tweak my kink and keep me aroused and dehydrated for days.



I don’t regret my purchase of Brutal at all. I must say, however, that the recipe doesn’t bake up quite as tastily as I’d hoped. As I feared, the actual combat element is shortchanged for my tastes. The climactic championship competition scene between Rusty and gorgeous golden boy, Angelo Marconi, is far too brief and stylized. This seems like such a waste, considering we know how fiercely and skillfully Rusty can grapple. Given the opportunity, he can work his ass off, quite convincingly beating the ass of just about every opponent he’s faced. Devoting a couple of minutes to Rusty and Angelo in the ring with mostly close-ups of grunts and grimaces disappoints me. On the other hand, I did find the setting highly erotic, with a crowd of hunks cheering on the battlers ringside, heightening the intensity and sense of the stakes. I’d pay for that vantage point at a Rusty Stevens competition (any day…).



I’m also a little mixed on the genre, frankly. By my count, there are 2 (or so) brief scenes of grappling-sparring, 4 scenes of grappling-turns-fucking, and 1 scene of straight-up competition-storyline ring combat. All of that is really what I signed up for. But I’m not as keen on some of the classic porn scenarios that also pop up, including 3 rape scenes and a public bathroom pick up at the urinal (seriously? Rusty needs to visit the public toilet to catch a trick?). I’m probably just a prude, but where I find a loser-gets-fucked competition fantastically erotic, a simulated violent assault-turned rape does nothing to stir my loins. Now, if the scene of Angelo getting raped in the shower by Phenix and Brandon Bangs (can we get anymore literal of a name?) were consensual, it still wouldn’t be wrestling kink in my book, but it would’ve been a thousand times hotter. To put one’s ass on the line in combat is fantastically erotic. To get beaten and raped non-consensually doesn’t quite do it for me. This is particularly a shame because all the moving parts in all three rape scenes speak directly to my cock: Trent (holy hell, looking hot) doubled by Jason Adonis (!?) and Spencer Reed; Draven Torres getting worked over by his astonishingly gorgeous prick boyfriend, hairy beast Alexsander Freitas; and Angel0 getting consecutively doubled by Phenix and Brandon. So much potential left on the table is just a shame.



I have to suspect that Tony Dimarco, who directed Brutal, was not the  director of the photoshoot for the promotional shots for Brutal. I say this, because the promo pics tell an undeniably different story than the flick itself (caveat emptor). And if the flick told the story that’s in the promo pics, I have to think I’d be writing an entirely different review. For example, hairy beast Alexsander never actually “wrestles” with Draven. If these two had an actual jockstrap wrestling scene in the gym with Alexsander slapping on a cobra clutch, Brutal would be significantly improved.



Same goes for the tragically untapped potential captured in the posed promotional pic of Rusty mounting Angelo in the ring, with Angelo’s ankles laced together behind Rusty’s back, Rusty’s tongue down his thraot, and Angelo pinned. This scene isn’t quite from the movie, but in one captured still, it tells a story a hundred times hotter than the miserably brief combat scene between these two gorgeous hunks on film.



Porn is all about imagination, though, isn’t it? And happily for me, I have a very active one. I can rewrite the script in my head to pit Angelo, Phenix and Brandon in a consensual three way rumble (preferably in the ring), with the stakes being that the first man to submit sexually submits to the domination and humiliation of the other two. Suddenly, some replayed snippets of Phenix capturing Angelo in an armbar while surprisingly hot slice of white bread, Brandon, plows Angelo’s absolutely perfect ass from behind… and things are firing on all cylinders for me. In any case, if you’ve been tempted to take a bite out of Brutal to fuel your wrestling kink, be forewarned. It’s a mixed bag, and if you’re like me, the product may take you only halfway down the path, requiring your imagination to drive you the rest of the way home. But if you’re like me, you can probably still manage to be pleased with the purchase of Brutal.

Words and Silences

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It doesn’t take long reading this blog to realize that I am a big fan of dialogue. It’s one of the texts that makes a homoerotic wrestling scene sparkle. I’m not a fan of a wrestling scene filled with silence broken by only the occasional grunt or gasp, even when the combatants are doing everything else that I love (yes, Enforcer, I’m talking about you!). Some sweet, snarling, domineering dialogue makes the contest more than just about the bodies. It should be about heart and soul and ego and will, and that story can get a major assist with letting the boys say something about what it all means. I’ve been fishing through my collection of inspiration lately, and a couple of snazzy talkers have made me smile (and swoon) all over again.

In Gear Wars 1, Kid Karisma shows that he’s all about dialogue-as-humiliation as he and Rocco go for broke to be the first to strip the other wrestler’s gear off of him. From start to finish in his match, Karisma offers a running commentary that’s every bit as arousing as the visuals (and that’s saying a lot!). For example, at one point Karisma is, for the moment, having his way with Rocco, claiming his back at will and choking him to submission with Rocco’s own shoulder strap. Karisma is loving the moment. He’s loving himself. He’s loving being in total command of Rocco’s body. He flings him to the wall and stands up, flexing and admiring himself (get in line, Kid K!). Rocco coughs and gasps, clutching his throat, causing Karisma to laugh derisively. “Oh, you don’t want to get choked any more? Cute… cute. How’s that look, huh?” Kid turns his back on Rocco and peels his singlet down, leaving his world class muscle ass bare in his jock strap. “Yeah, oh, I think you want to get choked by something else, don’t you?” Turning around to face Rocco, he pulls the front of his singlet down and bounces the pouch of his packed jock-strap in the palm of his hand.

It’s poetry, I tell you! It’s nothing that I expect to find in straight up wrestling, and it’s everything and more that I look for in full-on, no apologies homoerotic wrestling. It’s like performance art mashed up with poetry slam mashed up with my fondest locker room fantasy.

Rusty Stevens still holds possession of the title as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy these days, in no small part do to his lightening fast, razor sharp, verbal wit on the mats. One of the many  moments that Rusty has Mitch Colby on his back, schoolboy pinned in the Breaking Point, Mitch is squirming and gasping for air as Rusty sits on his chest and slides forward, shoving the pouch of his sweat-soaked jock-strap onto Mitch’s face. Mitch’s muffled gasps are cut short by Rusty’s package pressed against his lips, “I… I can’t….”

“What!? You can’t what?” Rusty delights, looking down. “You can’t breathe? Losers don’t get to breathe!” Rusty snarls, slapping Mitch’s face with his cock and pulling up on Mitch’s head, shoving it harder into his crotch in complete humiliation.

Again, I say: it’s poetry. Sweaty, muscled bodies clutching, squeezing, grinding and controlling one another to the beat poetry of verbal domination. Fantastic. Simply fantastic.

Brutally Cautious

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Raging Stallion has released new promotional pics for the much anticipated release of Brutal. It’s available for pre-order, but I’m not seeing when the actual release date is. According to the extensive product description, “Thrust in the face of total domination some men submit, some men fight back and some men champion!”

Brutal appears to be primarily alumni week for veterans of Naked Kombat. The cast includes NK battleboys Brenn Wyson, Phenix Saint, Race Cooper, Tommy Defendi, and my #1 favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, Rusty Stevens as well a my July homoerotic wrestler of the month (and rising stock in my favorite rankings… watch your ass, Mitch) Trent Diesel.

The promotional pics are fantastic! Very high quality photography, with the boys telling a dozen stories with each frame. Glossy, sweaty, stylized, and ready for hanging on the wall, the pics alone are a wrestling/fight fetish fantasy.

The movies themselves (two, two disc features apparently being released simultaneously… who should have to wait for a sequel?), on the other hand, are leaving me just a little cautious. My read of the description makes me suspect that “part 2” is a little more pitched toward my tastes, with perhaps a little more of a nod to the heat of competition rather than a rush to a quick beat ’em and rape ’em motif. I’ve been sold before by Rusty, Trent, Phenix, and Race, and it looks like “part 2” is also where that constellation of the cast seems to concentrate. It’s entirely possible that both parts may shortchange the actual eroticism of wrestling as they speed on by to linger over the standard fuck and suck scenes from every camera angle. That’s sort of what I’ve come to expect from the porn-tries-wrestling approach, which has served only to remind me that’s it’s the wrestling-as-homoeroticism that’s actually what occupies my fantasies.

In any case, Trent in particular is looking astonishingly fine in his promo pics. In part 2, he’s reportedly throwing down with Hugo Milano as coach Race Cooper watches. In porn-style, the scene apparently morphs into Race’s imagination of how hot the two fighters would look having sex. This is just the sort of element that makes me cautious. The stills of Trent and Hugo in competition make me all sorts of excited, but if that too quickly turns to a boom-chick-a-boom close up of Hugo’s cock sliding in and out of Trent’s ass, then I’m going to be bitter. Not that I have a problem with cocks and ass in action, but a fade out away from the wrestling domination scenario to cut straight to the sex is not pitched toward and audience of me.

There’s a description of what’s sold as an MMA competition scenario between Rusty (whose website is back up… hooray!), and Angelo Marconi. If the actual action is as short-lived as the description makes it sound, then, again I say, the porn-dabble into wrestling fetish will leave me disappointed (what about the pony ride?). A dominating, sneering, crushing Rusty is just wasted on truck-stop bathroom cruise scene, for my tastes.

I don’t know all of these boys, and clearly I haven’t seen the product. The stills are instantly cherished images, and the potential continues to give me hope. The description, though, suggests that this may look more like the standard porn script that uses a scenario, any scenario, as the context for the same, well-worn porn-sex extravaganza that we can find wrapped up in just about any packaging we might like. You know me, though. I’m a sucker for a promise and a fantasy, so I’ll probably check out at least part 2. I’ll let you know what I find.

Let’s Talk About Sex

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I had my toes sucked for the very first time recently. It wasn’t too bad. I don’t really think about my own feet as erogenous zones, but it kept my engine revving. I don’t mind giving a little foot worship, by any means. It’s not exactly my fetish, but for a guy who’s into it, and who I want to please, sure, I’ll suck toe for a while. But despite not being too bad, having my own toes sucked was still not at the top of my list of the hottest things I enjoy. Now, if my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, Rusty Stevens, had a thing for my toes (as he seems to in his match with Mitch), he could have at mine anytime. And I suppose that’s part of it: what’s hot can depend on who I’m with, what about them turns me one, what about me turns them on, and what spontaneously makes the blood pump faster in the heat of the moment.

This raises for me a point I’ve been thinking about broaching here for a while, but haven’t yet: sex. Okay, so it’s not as if I’ve never mused about sex here before. But quite literally, specifically speaking, I’m not sure I really have. I receive messages pretty frequently from readers who completely identify with one thing or another that I describe that turns me on, but who, very tactfully and demurely, let me know that there are some things that the pro-boys do that they just aren’t into. Now, I’m no sexpert by any means. I haven’t done the research. I’m just speaking anecdotally here. But it seems to me that not all of us are exactly into the same thing when we talk about gay sex, even within the relatively specific context of wrestling kink. Let me continue to use my reigning champ, Rusty, to illustrate my point. In the pic above, he’s going to town with the cock of tattooed muscle god, David Taylor, tickling his tonsils. I know plenty of gay guys who consider it absolutely universal that sucking cock is fundamentally an essential component of gay sex. Yet, I’ve heard from quite a number of you who’ve let me know that basting a cock in your mouth just isn’t arousing for you.  I have to say I’m more a fan of giving than receiving in this particular formula, but I have to report that there are plenty among us for whom neither end of the stick is a particular turn on. Clearly, among those of us who enjoy some homoerotic wrestling kink, giving/getting head is not common to us all.

Here Rusty illustrates another case in point. Taking an ass to the face seems to be even less on the menu for many of us. I’ve lost count (not that I really started) of the number of times that someone has qualified their agreement with some wrestling kink opinion of mine by noting that they really don’t find rimming something that they enjoy or want to try. I’m of the opinion that if it was Rusty’s magical muscled ass planted across your face, he could tantalize just about anyone to give it a go. Personally, when the ass is right (his or mine), I’m all for it. But again, clearly, among our very insider crowd, face sitting, sucking ass, a rim job, or so called “analingus” is not our common denominator.

At one point in my life I would have sworn that we could all agree that anal intercourse is simply an essential component of gay sex. As ably illustrated after losing his “prison” wrestling match to aforementioned tattooed muscle god, David Taylor, Rusty here takes it up the ass. But on closer inspection, I know plenty of guys who only want to catch, and I know more than a handful who exclusively want to pitch. And then a number of you have dropped into an email conversation that neither fucking nor getting fucked is really your thing at all. I’ve mentioned before that I think sexual tastes evolve over time, and perhaps this is just a matter of evolving tastes. I have a buddy who’s quite convinced that every guy, sooner or later, really wants to get fucked. But I’m not so convinced. I don’t think that you are somehow lacking in self-actualization if you just don’t want any ass play. I think that it’s simply not the one thing that draws a line around us, such that all of us who are gay are inside the circle and everyone else is outside.

It’s not toe sucking. It’s not cock sucking. It’s definitely not rimming. Hell, it isn’t even fucking that unites us all when it comes to the sexual behavior of all of us wrestling kinked gay men (or, I would propose, of any sort of gay man). It’s here that I think the anti-gay distinction of “behavior” versus “orientation” falls flat. Because just like the human condition itself, sexual tastes and behaviors among gay men vary. We recognize one another as like-minded, not because of any one behavior. I think there’s something much deeper, something much more akin the word “orientation” that draws us inside one circle. It’s much more about where our attention is drawn, where our thoughts and imaginations linger, than about a monolithic understanding of “gay sex.” It’s about proximity, intimacy, taste, touch, smell, sight and sound much more than it is about “a behavior.” Whatever it is that turns you on, or more precisely, what you do once you’ve been turned on, a whole lot of us share something in common that makes life exciting, arousing, and erotically delightful.

…In Love and War

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I’m facing some stiff competition in my life these days, and not the good kind. This competition is more the stab-you-in-the-back and step-on-you-as-you-lay-bleeding type. I’m accustomed to this brand of competition, frankly, but that doesn’t mean that I like it. I keep thinking that if someone is so intent on fucking me over, shouldn’t I at least get a kiss first?

Which brings me back to a topic I’m fond of bringing up repeatedly. I’m a fan of a liberal use of lips in a homoerotic wrestling match. I know some guys who think of a kiss as an unwelcome, tender diversion in the heat of battle, but I am not in that camp at all. There’s something fantastically dominating about an intense, tongue down the throat lip lock. To lay an opponent out so vulnerably that you can literally taste victory works for me as an entirely appropriate element of homoerotic combat. Along the lines of the “spoils of war,” a kiss can be a hot moment to revel in the delights of owning what you’ve conquered.

Another angle that I’m already on the record in support of is the kiss as a benevolent gift from a stern master. This is the end of the match lip action, after a decisive victory is secured. Particularly after it’s been hot and painful, merciless and brutal, when the loser has conceded that he’s got nothing to put up any longer and he’s completely at the mercy of the better man, when there’s nothing left to gain by withholding mercy any longer, a generous, passionate kiss is icing on my very favorite cake.

As a fan of lip action, I’ve been awfully happy with a number of recent matches from BGE lately. Patrick Donovan’s stern disciplining of his weak-link partner, Steven Thomas, turns to benevolent reward once Patrick’s pounded his point home (so to speak).

I haven’t seen Kid Karisma and Len Harder’s “Sexy Showdown” yet, but I for one am thrilled to see KidK sucking face. A big, beautiful muscle stud taking delight in shoving his tongue down a skinny kid’s throat is fantastic melodrama, in my opinion. Pop me some corn and let me settle in for the long-haul. That’s entertainment.

I like to think of Mitch Colby’s end of the match lip lock on Rusty Stevens in Breaking Point as a symbolic passing of the torch. That match-of-my-dreams sealed the deal that Rusty was in sole and undisputed possession of my personal favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy title. That kiss, with Rusty planted on his back with his knees in the air, just made me all sorts of happy. After a snarling, sniping, low-blow-laced, insult-laden, sweat-soaked back and forth battle, Mitch’s mouth planted on Rusty’s made me believe for a moment that it isn’t just about the victory, that it’s not just about the paycheck, that it’s not just a het-anxiety-laden battle tPublish Posto avoid feeling “emasculated” by submitting to another man. For just that completely fictitious, but wonderful moment, I bought that it was about the intimate, lusting, carnal delights of two beautiful men celebrating a hard fought battle.

I know it’s a fiction, just like I know the nasty backstabbers in my own life aren’t about to give any love. But I can always dream.

Two Great Tastes…

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Trent Diesel, my July homoerotic wrestler of the month, twitted just a couple of days ago that he has a new scene for Raging Stallion online with Rusty Stevens (whose on-again/off-again website has been sadly off again for quite a while). My July homoerotic wrestler of the month paired up with my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy is an excellent combination. The two of them in a boxing ring is the butter cream icing on an already fantastically tasty cake.
I’m pacing myself with regard to my porn budget these days, so I haven’t taken the bait and signed on to see the entire scene at Raging Stallion’s online membership site, Rear Stable. But they’ve offered a provocative-if-brief free teaser. Trent is looking as beautiful as ever with that awesomely aesthetic ink, but more notably in my book, Rusty is sporting a full beard. This fascinates me to no end. I don’t know if I prefer him with or without the beard, but more importantly, I’m thrilled with the opportunity to choose.
The teaser features tragically brief glimpses of these two stars of my wrestling fantasies sucking and screwing from different angles and positions, outside and inside a fight ring. There’s no hint of actual wrestling or fighting in the teaser, so the setting may be all ambient kink. The fact that both of these gorgeous pornboys have some impressive homoerotic wrestling on the resume’ make me still hold out hope that there’s some pre or post fuck wrestling (or during). But it’s all just me and my eternal optimism at this point. If someone else has actually seen the goods, you’ll have to tell me if this inhabits our corner of the homoerotic kink universe.
I continue to be intoxicated by Rusty in any setting. He’s stunning, fierce, and remarkably quick-witted in a career not exactly famous for it’s scholar-athletes. When he’s smooth and trim, Rusty makes me think of a classical marble study in the athletic male form.


With a furry chest, full beard, and hair on top of his head long enough to start to curl, he looks tailor-made for a pro-wrestling heel beatdown on some unsuspecting muscle jobber. I suspect Raging Stallion may not have actually brought that fantasy of mine to life, but the teaser is awfully inspiring, nonetheless.