Category: Rusty Stevens

Value Added

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Several recent comments here have sent me thinking more deeply about what it is that a wrestling kinkster gets in explicitly homoerotic wrestling that he doesn’t in basic cable pro. “The gay” has had a longstanding presence in straight-up pro wrestling for… well, forever, hasn’t it? The classic flaming pro-wrestler with his feather boa, dancing on the balls of his feet, have been a not-so latent element in the scene for at least as long as pro wrestling has been televised, it seems to me. I made a break with regularly following straight-up pro scenes about a decade ago, but when I’m flipping through the channels, I get the impression that “the gay” continues to creep more and more into that scene. Hasn’t there been and openly gay wrestler or two? Isn’t the erotic sub-text getting more and more main-text, as the modern audience is catching on to what so many of us have understood for a long time… that two hardbodied, barely clothed hunks grinding and squeezing their bodies together can’t help but be about sexual prowess, if not outright sex.


But I’m so far out of the straight-up pro loop, I’ll have to rely on those many of you who keep up with it to correct me. Feel free, in fact. I’m blindly wandering into a subject that I know, at most, only 50% about: what is it that we gay wrestling kinksters get in our homoerotic wrestling that we don’t get in straight-up basic cable pro? (Indie fanatics can tell me if this applies to that scene as well)…. In no particular order:
Tear-away crotch gear. And for that matter, full-on centering of the gorgeous male erection. If these elements were popping up in straight-up pro, it would seriously make me consider diving back into that scene. As it is, I’m thinking that, despite a diversity of gear and gear-related stories in straight-up pro, the tear-away crotch and the aroused cock are entirely in the domain of the homoerotic side of wrestling. Please, tell me I’m wrong.
Hand-to-bare-crotch ball abuse. Before I washed my hands of straight-up pro entirely, crotch abuse was on the rise. But as far as I know (and you will correct me), wrestlers actually stuffing their hands down each other’s trunks and clawing each other’s balls for all it’s worth (or even better, entirely naked, prolonged cock and ball bashing), marks a dividing line between wrestling packaged for us as opposed to wrestling packaged for them.
Passionate, full on, tongues-down-throats kissing. I can remember at least a couple of instances where a straight-up pro story used a man-on-man kiss as the excuse for violence (not hard to read the homosexual panic storyline here), but never as the mutual climax of the physical competition. Hard fought, sweaty, pounding, tooth-and-nail wrestling should lead to some intense respect and mutual gratification, I think. If the buff bigboys on basic cable occasionally lost themselves in passion at the end of a particularly close fought match, again, I’d absolutely have to tune back in.
Naked bearhugs. Well, naked everything, really. So we’ve been led to believe that the ancient Greeks battled it out this way, but as far as I know, other than the occasional bare-ass moment (treated as a moment of ego-crushing humiliation), the straight-up pros keep their gear on their bodies. A bearhug or a boston crab or a head scissors may be technically identical between the two genres, but the innovation of losing the gear first completely retranslates everything into a language I’m much more fluent in, and whose tones I find much more pleasing.
Oil wrestling. Especially naked oil wrestling, but seriously, any kind of oil wrestling seems like it’s this side of the neutral zone between straight-up pro and full-on homoerotic wrestling. Lubricating bodies can’t help but make everything more arousing, both in the action and on this side of my television screen. I suspect I could be on thin ice on this one, and I’ll be very pleased to be corrected to learn that the straight-up pros are breaking out the babyoil for one another… but I’m doubtful.
Toe-sucking. Okay, I can’t remember seeing this in a wrestling match before my current favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, Rusty Stevens, pulled it out as a defensive move against Mitch Colby this summer. So it isn’t exactly a staple of homoerotic wrestling. But somehow, I can’t see this innovation showing up in prime-time. Both genres have overlapping standard toolkits for distraction and diversion in a match, but I, for one, am really pleased when I see some erotic worship as a strategic move.
The naked pony ride. Or, really, the loser-gets-used scenario in general, involving any element of nakedness. The pony ride itself seems to be a signature primarily at Naked Kombat, though I’d love to see this gimmick show-up elsewhere. Somehow, I could imagine seeing it cross-pollinate through other homoerotic wrestling companies about a century before it would show up in straight-up pro… though Joe at Ringside at Skull Island continues to feature some fantastic indie boys I’d pay good money to see ride or get ridden… naked, of course.
The jack-off. Either post-match or, as Aryx Quinn illustrates here with Braden Charron (and KL on Chris from yesterday’s post), locked in a classic wrestling move, a forced to cum show of domination/voyeurism/humiliation. This falls under the same theme as the any-straight-up-pro hold that turns naked idea, but add to that some masturbation, and, well, this just isn’t going to show up on basic cable anytime soon… or a pay-per-view extravaganza… or, well, anywhere other than the homoerotic specialists.
Oral. The spoils of victory never tasted so sweet on any, any, any straight-up pro match as it does when a homoerotic wrestler lays his loser out and sucks his cock like there’s no tomorrow. Depending on the angle, the loser-gets-forced-to-suck story (see every Naked Kombat match, for example), also works only on this side of the line. Just as an aside, I’m more a fan of the taste of victory than I am of the loser-gets-face-fucked plot. Ironically, there’s something almost “straight” feeling about the latter to me…
Anal. Most of the same comments apply here. This just isn’t going to show up for the straight-up pro boys, though how sweet would that be to see some of those fine, muscle-asses on the line and plowed in the center of the ring when they lose? But that’s precisely what leads me (and many of us, I’m sure) to homoerotic wrestling products. Straight-up pro only takes us so far. Our imaginations can complete the scene, but there’s something awfully satisfying and, in some ways, validating about seeing the scenario play out exactly the way you and I would imagine. I don’t think that a match needs to end in a forced-fuck to be homoerotic, by any means. In fact, I get a little tired when it seems to be obligatory, and I get the impression that the creativity and competition of a wrestling match sometimes turn into clock-punching routine as the boys go through the familiar motions. But a victory fuck closes the circuit in my mind. From the anticipation, promise, and implications of straight-up pro, homoerotic wrestling fills in the silences and opens up the possibilities that turn me on like no baggy-shorts prime-timer has ever done.

I know I’ve missed a lot. I’m sure I’ve overstated my case… because that’s just what happens when I have a whole blog to myself to rant and ramble. But seriously… sincerely… I’ll be pleased no end to hear what I’ve managed to get completely wrong here.

Hurt So Good

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Being the egocentric narcissist I am, I assume everyone must agree with me that Rusty Stevens is homoerotic wrestling pornboy #1. When comments to the contrary pop up, such as some comments slighting Rusty’s wrestling skills, I’m momentarily emotionally gobsmacked.

As I sit with the paradox of anyone with a bad thing to say about my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, the truth slowly sinks through my initial defensiveness. Of course there will be people who completely disagree with my estimation of the wonders and joys of Rusty. The great thing about tastes is that they vary. The skills that I value most may not be at all what turns the crank or sells the goods to the kinkster sitting (virtually) next to me.

Rather than debate the points and try to force a concession out of those who disagree with me (as hot as that sounds), I’ll just reiterate why it is that Rusty has a vice-like grip on my #1 homoerotic wrestling pornboy ranking (and my cock).
First of all, Rusty is a beautiful man. While that is far from sufficient, it’s essential to turn my crank. We may quibble about beauty. You may like them hairier or beefier or twinkier or darker-skinned or taller or shorter or more muscular or less muscular… That’s all fine with me. For what inspires me to pull out my wallet and contribute to the homoerotic wrestling industry, Rusty is an entirely gorgeous man. He takes a hot picture, which is probably more of a skill than most of us would give credit. He moves even sexier. He preens and struts and poses fantastically, which speaks of an erotic, self-possessed, cocky-son-‘a-bitch hotness that might come naturally, but I suspect bespeaks of a highly skilled performer.
Regarding Rusty’s wrestling skills in particular, I find him quite accomplished. I’ve seen my share of flat-footed, thick-headed, slow-as-sloths and entirely unimaginative performers step onto the mats and into the ring. Rusty is hardly someone who makes his opponents sell for two. On NakedKombat, he boasts some muay thai and jiujitsu training, which could be 100% bullshit, but I think he shows a focus and command of human joints and the ways in which they don’t bend that makes me buy that he’s got at least some passing experience in grappling. A serious MMA boy is hardly the skill set required to turn my crank, though. The skills that work for me, and Rusty is most certainly working for me, include the ability to pace a match, to apply a convincing hold, to transition from hold to hold, from offense to defense and back again, with smooth speed that crafts a story of a serious back-and-forth battle of bodies. Further, Rusty sells a delight to dominate, humiliate and rub his opponent’s face in his physical superiority (not to mention rubbing his opponent’s face in his crotch, ass, pit, feet….). Rusty’s most developed skill for what sells me is his quick wit. He translates the body-on-body story into a battle of wills. He pushes buttons and gets his buttons pushed. His banter ups the hotness of a match exponentially for me.
Finally, what I particularly appreciate about Rusty’s challenge match with former champion homoeroetic wrestling pornboy (of my heart) Mitch Colby, is Rusty’s ability to sell suffering. I think that was a major blind spot for what I’ve seen of Rusty’s work with Can-Am, and NakedKombat just isn’t a context for the long suffering sell. So I’m ecstatic (and a little worn out) from enjoying Rusty’s salesmanship getting hammered, squeezed, pounded and tossed at the hands of Mitch. Let’s face it, if it were just MMA skills I was hot for, I’d be yammering on and on about UFC meat. Those fighters typically leave me a little uninspired, though, because what turns my crank isn’t just the competition, but the eroticized competition that exploits the seduction of pain, humiliation, domination and ownership.
So you almost certainly have a whole different skill set in mind when you rank your favorite wrestlers. That’s no sweat to me. If you really want to throw down in a no-holds-barred match until one of us screams in submission, fair enough. Just like Rusty, I’ll ride you like a pony and put you away wet. But if you’re okay with celebrating the diversity of tastes that make our kink-filled world wonderful, let’s just appreciate the view.

The Title Defense

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Rusty Stevens has been in possession of the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy for a little over three months. At 6′ and 200 pounds, Rusty is an astonishing hunk of grappling stardom. The tale of the tape shows Rusty’s undeniable strengths are his whip-like, on-your-feet-and-in-your-face dominating banter, his primal, ferocious growl when he kicks it into fifth gear, and his mouthwatering body that supports impressive speed and strength on the mats. Three months ago he ripped the title out of the hands of two-time champ, Mitch Colby, leaving Mitch stunned and hungry for a 3-peat claim on the title.
Enter the genius of Kid Leopard who specializes in making all of our wrestling fantasies come true. BG East arranged a head-to-head title defense of the champ and his #1 challenger. I don’t often get to enjoy my favorites in action with one another. I’m infatuated with stars from various production companies, of varying wrestling styles and genres, and the battle in my mind for who is my favorite is usually waged only in my own imagination. When I learned that Rusty would be defending his title in person against Mitch, I was giddy with anticipation.


I’ve watched the match repeatedly in the few days since it arrived. True enough, of the Breaking Point matches, it is, indeed, the sexiest. Rusty plays his strong suit like the defending champ he is as he walks into the room. He’s sneering and snarling his insults from go, working on beating down Mitch’s psyche by zeroing in on Mitch’s weaknesses. When he’s getting manhandled, true to form, Rusty taps into his inner neanderthal, his eyes glazing over with rage as primal, sexual ferocity roars from deep in his chest. And Rusty is in excellent shape. In fact, of the range of Rusty’s physical form over time (a little beefier in most of his Naked Kombat matches vs. a bit thinner and prettier in his earlier Can-Am bouts), I think he’s looking about as deliciously toned as I’ve ever seen him.

The most stunning factor as this match opens is Mitch. He’s not in the ripped-to-shreds shape of any of this prior matches. He’s even softer around the middle than his Naked Kombat appearance, which was the biggest I’d ever seen Mitch in action. With the extra weight on his 6’2″ frame, he’s moving a little slower (though speed has never really been his strength). Like a cruise missile, Rusty throws contempt at Mitch’s fitness, calling into question whether the challenger has it in him to go the distance.
I’m sure I’ll deconstruct this match-of-my dreams several times over on the pages of this blog, so let me just give you the most significant points that add up to the final decision in this title defense match. While I have a nostalgic preference for Mitch’s trimmer form, he’s still a sexy beast in this bout. Rusty is hardly a small man, but Mitch dwarfs him in a way that’s smokin’ hot. Nine times out of ten, when Mitch is serious about it, he muscles Rusty into nearly any position he wants to. When Mitch drops his ass down across Rusty’s chest as the champ lays flat on his back getting schoolboyed (he hates that), Mitch is one tasty main course of muscle domination. The series of very long-held bearhugs (front, back, side, everywhich way), are evidence that Mitch remains as strong as an ox and easily able to dish out crushing punishment as needed. Despite his fitness being a strike against him in my book, Mitch puts up one fantastic performance capped off with taking his competition commandingly in hand.
For the champ’s part, looking up at the hulking form in front of him, Rusty seems just a little thrown. He still delivers the snappy, domineering banter that propelled him to the top of the charts, but he doesn’t deliver with quite the biting cleverness he has in the past, which I credit to being seriously intimidated by how much space Mitch takes up in the small sun room. Still, Rusty delivers. Scrapping his way out of a tight spot with that primal roar, he makes me weak in the knees. He suffers better than I have ever seen him suffer before, which is a major advance for the champ in keeping his grip on the title. In the repeated crushing embrace of his challenger, Rusty sells with desperate choking and hacking, retreating to catch his breath with new found respect in his eyes for his competition. The camera work seriously plays into Rusty’s hands, as he works up a soaking sweat, making his spot-on competition form sparkle and highlight every gorgeous muscle.

In the end, though, the title defense is decided in my mind by the best line of dialogue I’ve heard delivered in a long, long time (perhaps ever). School-boying the challenger, his sweat soaked jock strap planted across Mitch’s forehead, Rusty buries Mitch’s face with self-congratulatory satisfaction: “I’m thinking you may want to say you give… but then again, my ass is in your face.”

And with that, despite a valiant, commanding challenge from the contender, even despite forcing several more submissions and sealing the deal with sexual domination… still… Rusty decisively retains the title as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy. I think the defeat leaves Mitch vulnerable to getting knocked out of the top rankings, marking a stunning plunge from the top spot he commanded for most of the past year. I have no idea who might be ready to unseat the former champ from his coveted #1 contender spot… perhaps Derek might make a another seat soaked, punishment-whore run. I’d love to see Rafe Sanchez command the respect that he has yet to be given. Perhaps even a dark horse rookie, such as Naked Kombat’s delightful powerlifter funnyman, John Magnum, might smack Mitch’s ass on his way to dislodging the former champ from his ranking. Two things are for sure, though. 1) Rusty and Mitch’s Breaking Point match is profoundly satisfying homoerotic wrestling kink entertainment. And 2) a lot of homoerotic wrestling pornboys will now be gunning for the disappointed former champ now.

A League of Their Own

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I think of myself as a booster of the industry that produces homoerotic wrestling products. I get caught up in brand loyalty wars more than I care to, but when it comes down to it, I think the more creative, kinky minds producing homoerotic wrestling, the better. I’m more a booster of explicitly homoerotic wrestling than otherwise. Not to say I’m only kinked up by explicit sex wrestling, but rather I prefer companies that explicitly identify themselves as homo and erotic. There are a lot of companies producing wrestling for you and me who pull their marketing punches. I get it, that there’s a market for relatively closeted homoerotic wrestling. Hell, I was there myself a long time ago. But I think of coded, closeted homoerotic wrestling as more a transition object than the heart of what revs my engine these days. So these days, I think of wrestling with merely implied homoeroticism as sort of second-tier fun.
But all of that is just lead up to my unveiling a new category of favorites that I’ll be tracking from now on. For many months, I’ve been charting the title defenses of my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboys. Mitch, then Derek, then Mitch again, and now Rusty have been sitting pretty atop the rankings. I’ll be posting on the match-of-my dreams head-to-head match up of champion Rusty vs. #1 contender, Mitch next week. In the mean time, as of today I’m starting to track a new championship division. It isn’t just the pornboys I love (though, let me reiterate, I LOVE the wrestling pornboys). So starting today, I’m ranking my favorite homoerotic wrestlers in the non-pornboy division.
The distinction here is that gorgeous muscle studs who go the full monty and crank off some onscreen cum shots are in a league of their own in my affections. But the boys who typically keep their cocks in their trunks still merit some virtual lovin’. If at any point there’s a dispute about who should show up in which division, my line in the sand is the cum shot. Any hot hunk on film working off a load has to compete with the likes of Rusty Stevens, and Rusty appears ready to beat (and eat) wrestling pornboy ass anytime.

Without further ado, allow me to unveil my top two rankings for homoerotic wrestlers in the non-pornboy division:
Sitting very, very pretty on top of the dais is the stunningly tight little package who made my jaw drop from the moment I first saw him last autumn: 5’7″, 150 lb, Lon Dumont.
I don’t pick up a lot of buzz about Lon, so I don’t know if I’m the only one whose buttons are so invariably pushed by him. The attraction for me exactly 50% body, 50% performance (and I rank them both a 10 out of 10… you do the math). He’s earned his way into claiming the inaugural championship title of non-pornboy extraordinaire. I’d donate the lower half of my liver for Lon to jump divisions and pound one out in a schoolboy pin on top of Rusty’s pecs, but in the meantime, Lon’s at the top of the new non-pornboy division for me.
His number one challenger is also no stranger to the pages of this blog. 5’10”, 180 lb, Joshua Goodman, (that’s Mr. Joshua to you), would likely be significantly offended to come in second place in anything. Considering Mr. Joshua’s behemoth package is often not quite entirely contained in his trunks, he’s a hairsbreadth away from jumping divisions. After aching for this to happen for years now, I’m finally conceding that Mr. Joshua is likely never to join the pornboy ranks. Still, he deserves major credit for his extremely entertaining performances and the hours upon hours of enjoyment he’s given me. Lon is a relative rookie on the homoerotic scene in comparison to Mr. Joshua. Mr. Joshua certainly outweighs the lightweight bodybuilder significantly. Mr. Joshua has earned his chops in victory after defeat after victory, whereas Lon remains a bit untested against the established headliners. All that suggests to me that Lon has one hungry, indignant, cocky hardbody on his tail (and that’s an image that lingers in my imagination).
As I’ve said, the more homoerotic wrestling in the world, the better. Both Lon and Mr. Joshua are BG East exclusives, as far as I know, but I’m happily scouring plenty of other wrestling operations for new challengers to toss their hats in the ring. There are plenty of deserving candidates. But for today, for now, let me place the crown of my favorite homoerotic wrestler, non-pornboy division, on the fantastically shaved head of Lon Dumont. And let me give a virtual slap on the ass to runner-up Mr. Joshua. I’m looking forward to seeing them both in plenty more matches to come, performing their hearts out even if keeping their trunks on.

Grab a Mop

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I just double-checked my calendar. It isn’t my birthday. I’ve never heard of exchanging gifts for the 4th of July. But for whatever reason, Kid Leopard and the boys at BG East have delivered up one of the best presents I’ve ever received.
When I opened up the BG East webpage, I was so thrilled to see my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy staring back at me. Rusty Stevens is looking shredded and sexy as hell in his gray jockstrap. This is Rusty’s first appearance with BGE (I’m begging for many more!), and I must say that this is just two great tastes that taste great together. Rusty’s superb skills in grappling and homoerotic domination are a perfect match with the wrestling chops demanded of the headliner talent at BGE. I know it’s Rusty’s debut with the company, but I just have to say that it feels like he’s merely coming home again.
When I followed the link to Rusty’s inaugural BGE match, I discovered that he’s in a sweaty mat match-up with my #1 contender to be my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, the former champ himself, Mitch Colby. Two things happened in quick succession. I picked my jaw up off the floor, wiping away the copious amounts of saliva that immediately began pouring from the corners of my mouth. And then, I kid you not, I heard the Hallelujah Chorus playing in the back of my head. Seriously, this was nearly a religious experience for me.
I’m dead serious. I feel like I owe Kid Leopard my first born child for his managing to pluck this scenario from my most coveted wrestling fantasies and make it come to life. Since I’ve already promised my first born child several times over, I’ll have to find someone else’s first born child for KL. Or absolutely anything else he wants from me. When I scanned the teaser pics ripped straight from my imagination of exactly what this match would look like, I had to wipe tears of joy from my cheeks. I was instantly fully aroused and breathless. Then when I read the description of the match, I was astonished to find a pretty overt reference to this very blog! The exchange of positions between Mitch and Rusty in the rankings for being my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy is noted right there as evidence of the inevitability of pitting these two class acts against one another. At that point, my head swelled up nearly as big as my cock. My friends have been getting sick of hearing me talk about this brush with fame. “Did I mention that I was referenced in the latest BG East catalogue?”
I’m desperately, achingly waiting for two things at this point. 1) I’m waiting for the DVD to arrive in the mail. I’m feeling a little bitter that the holiday weekend is upon us, likely slowing the delivery of my purchase. I hate waiting, generally speaking. I’m physically hurting to have to wait in this particular instance. 2) I’m also waiting for some more stills from the match in the Arena. I’m already sporting a 24-hour hard on at the thought of this battle. Once I see these two men of my homoerotic wrestling kink fantasies from every angle, I’ll likely explode into a million pieces.
You’ll know what’s happened if the photos appear in the Arena and I suddenly stop blogging. Just go ahead and send a cleaning crew here to mop up my remains.

Too Much of a Fantastic Thing

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I’m in major holiday-weekend barbecue zone right now. I’m not sure that I’ll even be able to manage to maintain my once a day posting. I’ll do my best for those of you who need a break from the beers, backyards, and poppies this Memorial Day weekend.

My brief posting for today is mostly just an opportunity to drool over my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, Rusty Stevens. Some of you may have noted that yesterday’s post won’t allow comments. That’s because the persistent, vile phisher who keeps trying to post malware links in comments to this blog is at it again. When I went to delete the comment, I mistakenly hit “publish.” Now I don’t know how to delete a published comment. Rather than risk someone stumbling across it, I just closed down comments entirely for that post and hid what was mistakenly posted.
In case you’re dying to get in your 2 cents on the wonders that are Rusty Stevens, I thought I’d just post a few more tantalizing images and leave the comments open. I also wanted to pass along this bizarrely fantastic story (at least from my point of view) that Rusty had to be rushed to the hospital with priapism from the set of a production he was starring in outside of Miami earlier this year. I’m desperate to hear that this whole thing happened when he and Mitch Colby met on the mats in Florida, and Rusty found himself so aroused by his #1 contender that his erection raged on with a mind of its own.
Hell, that fictional backstory alone earns Mitch some momentum in dethroning Rusty. Rusty better watch his back, and apparently he might want to lay off the viagra next time he’s finding himself scissored between Mitch’s powerful thighs.

Making Me a Believer

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Joe at Ringside at Skull Island recently noted that, if stuck on a desert island, he would simply have to have WiFi access to Naked Kombat in order to survive. Specifically, he calls out Rusty Steven’s oil match with Tommy Defendi as foundational to the wrestling kink ordered universe (okay, I’m taking major license with Joe’s eloquent words… read them for yourself for the real deal). In any case, although I’ve written about this match before, Joe’s musings sent me back to appreciate it all over again (thanks, Joe!).

Rusty is continuing to sit pretty atop the standings as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, just like he sits pretty atop Tommy’s face throughout much of their match. I think the image of Rusty’s gorgeous ass planted on Tommy’s face as Rusty tortures the kid’s cock and balls surely must be evidence of the existence of intelligent design. The alignment of so many perfect elements simply couldn’t have happened by chance: Rusty’s fantastic ass, Tommy’s handsomely bearded face, the oil, the cock torture, the tattoos, all caught on tape… This was simply meant to be.
Rusty’s performance should be referenced in the definition of the term “to manhandle.” He is one massive bundle of muscle and sheer will, tossing Tommy around like a sack of potatoes (a very, very hot sack of potatoes). When Rusty is pressing out of a tight spot, that fantastic guttural roar emerging from deep in his chest, I swear that sound all by itself can make me pre-cum.
No one, but NO ONE rides his beaten man like a pony quite like Rusty. The humiliation and complete ownership make me light-headed. The “rules” of NK leave it up to the victor to do what he will with the loser. Rusty, being the deserving champion he is, exercises such exquisite homoerotic domination, literally riding his man like a domesticated pack animal. Tommy, like all of Rusty’s conquests on NK, clearly resent his humiliated state. He performs reluctantly, allowing this god of a man to ridicule him because this is what he signed up for. The glimpse that this “sex round” offers into Rusty’s kinky mind is absolutely priceless. What would you do with a handsome muscle stud at your complete mercy for any sexual gratification you can imagine, Rusty? Why, Bard, I’ll ride him like a pony, verbally beat him into humiliated submission just as I beat him into physical submission, and work his body from every angle possible to the end that I (and you) reach the height of ecstatic climax. Awesome, Rusty. You are, indeed, the man.
The last bit of this match-up leaves me stunned. How could it get even more wrestling-kinktastic? Well, Bard, watch me scissor the kid’s neck between my legs as we both stroke ourselves to a gasping explosion as I toy with Tommy’s airway. Holy. Hell. Thank you, whatever divinity brought together these over-the-top perfect elements to create such an exquisite moment of wrestling kink mastery. I am a believer.

Birthday Suits

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Neverland is a year old! The anniversary of when I started this extended wrestling kink conversation sort of snuck up on me. At times, this past year has been challenging, particularly at the point that I committed to post something new each day. But all in all, this has been a lot of fun, and it’s been very rewarding making a lot of enjoyable connections with plenty of other kinksters across the globe.
As regular readers realize, I’m actually pretty demure. I tend to shy away from full frontal nudity on this blog. It’s not that I’m trying to spare those of you who are searching for your wrestling kink hit at work. Personally, I think you get what you deserve when you browse for porn at work (such as inopportune erections, pre-cum stains on your suit pants, etc.). But in keeping with the whole theme of promoting the homoerotic imagination, I tend to like to leave a little to the imagination with the graphics that accompany my ramblings. But in honor of the auspicious occasion of the 1 year anniversary of neverland, I’m treating myself (and you) to some of my favorite boys celebrating in their birthday suits.
At the head of the line has to be my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, Rusty Stevens. Rusty has “only” appeared 9 times over the past 12 months in this blog, but his snarling, humiliatingly domineering possession of the title as reigning champion is sure to boost his numbers quickly. Rusty tugging at his own handsome cock is fantastically hot. Rusty’s naked body gets credit for quite a lot of my homoerotic fantasies as of late, particularly since his capture of the championship in my own little imaginary competition.
Next in line, appropriately enough, is the top contender to unseat Rusty, Mitch Colby. Since Mitch had a commanding headlock on the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy for most of the past 12 months, it’s no wonder he appeared, by far, the most often in this blog (a total of 30 of my posts include Mitch!). Mitch’s entry into full on nude, hard action over the past couple of years has been an incredible treat. I’m seriously jonesin’ to see him back on the mats/in the ring, putting that stunningly gorgeous body on the line in muscle-on-muscle competition. And ANY match that ends in a passionate, soapy shower scene with Mitch and his opponent is guaranteed to be in my library (I promise!).
Derek da Silva and his gorgeous, round muscle butt have to make an appearance in the parade of birthday suit homoerotic wrestling pornboys, as I celebrate the anniversary of this blog. Derek has shown up in no fewer than 14 different posts over the past year. Derek looks ready to put that stunning body to good use, clawing his way back up the rankings.
The naked form of Tyrell Tomsen is the stuff of classical sculpture. Tyrell’s growing body of appearances in the BGE roster, extremely proudly displaying his incredible muscles, has definitely been a source of joy for me this past year, ending him up in 8 posts in neverland. His striated muscle butt and his massive, yet beautifully proportioned cock make Tyrell paydirt from any angle. This simply can’t just be considered “porn.” This is art on par with the masters of absolutely any medium.
My final favorite wrestler in his birthday suit is the underrated Rafe Sanchez. Rafe has only shown up in 3 posts over the past 12 months, which is a little misleading, considering he stars regularly in my personal erotic fantasies. Rafe is certainly not as massively constructed as, say, Tyrell, but Rafe absolutely loves every inch of his body not one iota less (which is saying a lot, if you’ve seen how much Tyrell appropriately worships his own muscles). When Rafe is rode hard and put away wet before losing his gear, he leaves me breathless. When he’s irrepressibly erect, his passionate pleasure for his work (and himself) makes me ache just a little to join in the fun with him.

I still get messages every so often from homoerotic wrestling kinksters who are just discovering, “I’m not the only one!” Good God, no! You aren’t. And fortunately there are enough of us to comprise a market for accomplished artists like these to be financially rewarded for the incredible, hard work that clearly goes into crafting every inch of their beautiful bodies and then displaying those precious treasures in body-on-body erotic competition. Not only is there a market, but there are also plenty of us with the time on our hands to ramble on, reflect, deconstruct and reconstruct the wrestling kink fantasies that turn us on and inspire a growing body of blogs. By no means are you the only one. By no stretch of the imagination are any of us alone. Thanks for your support, everyone!

Re-Subscribing

wrestlebard1 Comment


I subscribed to Naked Kombat when they had just a handful of matches up. It was definitely entertaining, but the limited library left me feeling like my porn budget might be better spent elsewhere. Now that Rusty Stevens is riding high as my champion favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, I decided to re-up with NK to take a look at Rusty’s body…. of work there.

Their library is a lot deeper these days, and so I’m endlessly entertained with touring through the pages of matches. Rusty appears in four NK matches. His most recent appears to be from last November 18, in which Rusty destroys Tommy Defendi in body, mind and spirit.
Rusty spends a whole lot of this match sitting on Tommy’s face and chest, and I don’t get tired of it from start to finish. Rusty plays Tommy’s body like a church organist, using his hands and feet to pump, stroke and pound every vulnerable inch. The final “sex” round works for me in a way that surprises me just a little. It’s over the top. It sticks to the script. But it really, really works for me. Rusty riding Tommy on all fours like a horse is captivating. But the moment that Rusty rips off his condom and wraps his sweat soaked legs around Tommy’s neck while both of them stroke themselves to the point of exhaustion (Rusty barking instructions the entire time)… that moment is sweet, sweet wrestling kink.

Long Live the King

wrestlebard2 Comments

The title as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy has changed hands exactly three times in the past 6 months (call me fickle). First, Mitch Colby lost the title to Derek da Silva. Then in a fierce fought battle, Mitch snatched the title back out of the stunned hands of Derek. Then out of nowhere, Rusty Stevens made a play, overtaking Derek as the top contender, and in short order turned and spanked Mitch’s ass, kicking him to the curb.

I’ve spilled relatively little ink on my reigning champion, so I thought I’d linger a little longer today on marveling at the wonders that are Rusty Stevens. He’s a 6’1″ mass of a man. His body is powerful, aesthetically gorgeous, and deliciously proportioned. He suffers sweetly, and when his opponent’s are on their game, Rusty’s suffering body is jaw dropping to behold. The lip-marks tattooed around his crotch and ass suggest a nice sense of humor, and perhaps Rusty doesn’t take himself too seriously in real life.
But on the mats, Rusty is fierce, fully committed to the moment, and wields his razor sharp wit as ruthlessly as he tortures his opponents’ bodies. Rusty systematically demoralizes his opponents, humiliating them both in word and action. He slaps and claws at cocks and balls. He spanks and squeezes and grinds his opponents from all angles. He’s a big boy who generally outmuscles most of the men I’ve seen him go up against. And he grunts. I absolutely love Rusty’s gutteral, neanderthal grunting. The grunts signal when Rusty is setting aside the razor-wire banter and moving on to head-on physical intimidation. He sounds like he’s tapping into something deep and animal inside of him, and his opponents invariably take notice that they’re dealing with something savagely primal.
Frankly, Rusty isn’t as pretty as Mitch. Between you and me, I find Mitch’s body a shade hotter than the champion. When it comes right down to it, Mitch has the edge when it comes to rounding out the story of domination, where Mitch commands, humiliates, and owns his man, and having decisively proven who’s on top, he can afford to be tender and paternal with his new plaything. But Rusty remains on top of the dais due to his unbeatable mental domination of his opponents. He’s a master chessman on the mats, and his mental quickness and unflinching commitment make him my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy. Long live the king.