I’m still combing through the results of the Best of BG East 2022 awards and marveling at this cream of the latest crop of hot wrestling. As I was sending up congratulations to the winners that I’m connected to on social media, I got an intriguing, possibly even provocative reply from Lon Dumont, asking, “When’s my Hall of Fame induction?” And I’ve been obsessed with this question ever since.
Brad Rochelle receiving the Rookie of the Year Award from previous winner, Shane McCall, at Wrestlefest 2.
Not necessarily the question of when should Lon be inducted (five years ago is the correct answer). But I’m taken by the question of celebrating the mainstays, the sensational BG East wrestlers who put their blood, sweat, and tears into showing up, stripping down, and going at it for us homoerotic wrestling fans. There isn’t a Hall of Fame, is there? I mean, I believe that at the end of Wrestlefest 2, there was “technically” an awarding of a “Lifetime Achievement” award to Doug Warren. I say “technically,” because the Boss announced it, welcomed Doug to the ring, and then locked on a kiss of death, knocking hunky Doug out cold. Kid Leopard expressed his contempt for the notion of awarding anyone else a lifetime achievement award, before he, himself had been awarded one. So, yeah… I think there’s technically the start of a Hall of Fame, that rises above the yearly awards based on new releases! Unless I’m mistaken, I think Doug is the only member of that club so far, but… yeah, I think there IS a Hall of Fame, and perhaps it IS time to celebrate some more lifetime achievements of the hunks who live on in our fondest wrestling fantasies, even though they don’t appear in new releases any longer.
In a class by himself!
Like I told Lon, I am immediately and sincerely initiating my campaign to get this train rolling now! First up, I’d like to nominate Kid Leopard. I have to agree with his bitter, withering assessment of the idea he expressed moments after he knocked Doug Warren out cold: if ANYONE deserves to be lauded for monumental, even Herculean contributions to basically building what homoerotic wrestling is today from the ground up, it’s the Boss. I still keep his matches on repeat, because, honestly, no one has ever walked that line of legitimate pro wrestling sell and dazzling, sizzling, insanely hot homoeroticism as perfectly. And his contributions to the industry in terms of recruitment, production, distribution, and championing wrestling for a gay erotic eye is simply unmatched. And, let’s face it, he’ll kick the ass of anyone else we try to nominate, until his inaugural role in the Hall of Fame is certified.
Give this man what he wants!!!
But then who? Lon, of course. Don’t even try to argue with me on this, because I will swat you down so hard you’ll wake up just in time for the voting for the 2023 BG East Besties. But when we think of the wrestlers who stuck with BG East, who put in the sweat-equity to building this industry that fuels our fantasies, who never flinched from stripping down to next-to-nothing (or nothing) and entertaining an enthusiastic audience of guys who get off to wrestling… who should be the next class of inductees. After Kid Leopard. Let’s just all agree he’s in a class by himself.
Woah. In Sexy Showdown 15,Chase Addams goes places we’ve never seen him go before! I’m clearly not the only one surprised by the… depths… Chase goes to in this match. Babyface Freddy Campbell is obviously a bit taken aback when his opponent locks on one of a dozen incapacitating armbar/wristlocks he has in his quiver. The armbar isn’t a surprise, mind you. Chase has been threatening to snap opponent’s elbows from day one with armbars, typically amended to other brutal submission holds in astonishingly innovative ways. No, the surprise comes when he starts sucking on Freddy’s trapped fingers. “What the FUCK are you doing,” Freddy cries out in surprise.
“You have one sick, twisted, pervy way of wrestling, Chase Addams, do you know that!?” Freddy is visibly freaked out and suddenly needing to reassess what he thought he knew about Chase. “Oh, I have MULTIPLE pervy ways of fighting,” Chase acknowledges proudly, and proceeds to demonstrate the truth of those words for the next 35 minutes.
I don’t know what Freddy’s boyfriend, Ash DeLeon, is feeding him, but fuck, he’s harder and sexier every match. He also executes some sweetly assertive offense that signals that Chase isn’t the only one with some new tricks up his sleeves. “There are a couple things you don’t know, Chase,” Freddy declares, stretching the sweaty, tanned sadist out in a seated surfboard. “One, I’m not so much a jobber anymore. And two, you now have very pullable hair!”
Despite Freddy showing his mean streak with hair pulls and vicious punches to Chase’s gut, I think the jury may still be out on the jobber thing. Because, fuck, he gets twisted, battered, and messed over relentlessly throughout most of this match. I curiously start to overheat when Chase is high in the saddle of a camel clutch, and he stretches his fingers around the babyface’s handsome cheeks and applies double fishhooks that look like, no shit, he might just peel Freddy’s face right off!
Things are going really, really bad for Freddy. Or, alternately, really, really fantastic for fans of absolutely brutal, screaming, wailing, weeping submission holds. I voted for this match to win Best Submission of 2022. But, Freddy’s bid to distance himself from qualifying for jobber of the year sort of evaporates when Chase ties his arms in the ropes, forcing him to watch his utter, soul crushing, body surrendering humiliation in the mirrored wall in front of him. Chase rips the trunks off of that astonishingly round ass, making me question for a half second my vote for Forrest Taylor as the Best Butt of 2022 (but, no, I still say Forrest’s ass is top shelf!). And the babyface pretty boy is helpless, as that lily white ass is getting whipped. Frustrated, Freddy pries one arm free from the ropes, and I’m thinking, for just a moment, we’re about to see a full on naked ass-kicking comback.
But then Freddy starts to jerk off! Oh, shit, Freddy, the case you were making that you aren’t “so much a jobber anymore” is seriously weakened! “Cum for me, bitch,” Chase demands, tormenting his nipples, squeezing his balls, egging him on.
Many years ago, I once discussed with Chase his prospects for translating his super intense, high class pro wrestling submission skills into fully explicit erotic combat. At the time, he was weighing his options, acknowledging that fans like me were jonesing for his hot bod and sadistic attitude and gallons of sweat to dial it up a few notches, but still working out exactly what his brand is. Well, gentleman, Chase is fucking with your preconceived notions, just like he fucked up beautiful, vulnerable Freddy Campbell and left him knocked out cold, with perhaps just a little hicky to send a message to Freddy’s rising heel boyfriend, Ash. “Tell your boyfriend that if he wants lessons, now that he’s a wannabe heel, he knows where to find me.” Fuck, pass the popcorn!
Forrest Taylor says he isn’t impressed when Brendan Byers climbs into the ring in Babyface Bash 2. But he should be. And between you and me, I’m pretty sure Forrest is lying. “You looked taller and stronger online,” he says dismissively. “I was expecting some great big giant.” There’s a pull of gravity to the massive muscles towering over sexy little Forrest though, that I just don’t quite believe he isn’t feeling. When Forrest flexes his own hot, lean biceps proudly, Brendan steps up and flexes one of his own huge, mountainous peaks, and I swear to the homoerotic wrestling gods, the little guy’s entire head disappears behind it.
I’ve mentioned before the remarkably persistent, nay relentless commentary that Forrest pulls out at EVERY occasion. I’m a HUGE fan of trash talk, and pillow talk, and villainous monologing, and, well, wrestling text of all sorts. So it’s saying something when even I have to say, “Will someone shut Forrest up!?” On this day, in that ring, that someone is big, bad, brutal Brendan Byers!
I don’t want to be misunderstood, mind you. Fuck, Forrest is a tasty fucking treat! He was on my nomination form for multiple categories for the BG East Besties, and hands down, he was my top pick for Best Butt this year. In a homoerotic wrestling universe dominated by huge muscle monsters and physique stars, there’s just something about his gorgeous quads and that insanely round, mouthwatering bubble butt, that would make me pick him out of a crowd of hotties every fucking time. Hell, I’m even a huge fan of his beard, despite the inordinate amount of attention he constantly draws to his, admittedly, impressive facial hair. Lest I be painted as a hater, let me declare unequivocally that I am a Forrest Taylor fan.
But holy fuck, is it satisfying watching him get the living SHIT kicked out of him by Brendan Byers! Forrest also demonstrates why I voted for him to retain his title as Jobber of the Year for another year, by egging on his own corporal punishment with unbelievably cocky trash talk, even while he’s getting buried under the mountain of muscle crushing down on him. Literally, Brendan his choking him with his own suspender and riding him HARD in a camel clutch, and Forrest is snarling and spitting, “You ain’t shit.” Fuck, talk about asking for it. Fuck, talk about DEMANDING it!? It’s sort of the definition of “heel bait,” as his plucky defiance makes the muscle bear ripping him apart limb by limb that much hotter and fiercer. Brendan drags his nose across the side of Forrest’s face, breathing in deeply, absolutely intoxicated by the aroma of defiantly hopeless jobber wafting up at him. He throws him to his stomach and mounts that ass that got my vote, grinding his hips, holding him by the hair, and announcing convincingly “You’re mine, boy!”
My fellow Scotsman gets a little riding time, thanks to a savage punch to Brendan’s balls. But when Forrest mounts his own “revenge” camel clutch, giving it everything he’s got, Brendan literally smirks, “That tickles.” When Forrest snaps on face-to-crotch headscissors, it makes me wonder if I ought to have nominated him for best bulge. But it also has this pretense of twink dominance, all the while, I’m pretty convinced, it’s doing NOTHING but making big Brendan build up a whole new, bigger, harder head of steam.
A few highlights that grab me by the balls include the absolutely devastating series of pounding over-the-knee backbreakers that make me think for a moment there that Forrest was actually broken. Forrest pummeled while trapped in the ropes is exquisite. Somewhere in the melange of the sound of the red headed hunk’s panicked whimpers paired with the sight of his alabaster, fucking impressively built quads hanging there uselessly, I am seriously turned on!
A little over 17 minutes in, and Forrest loses the red and white stripped briefs he’d had on under his tartan, and, damn it all, that’s a fucking hot, bearded, booted naked man getting his sensational ass handed to him again and again and again! He fights it at every turn. He refuses to accept the inevitable, and that’s SO fucking adorable. “I told you all that shit talk would come back to bite you in the ass, didn’t I,” Brendan points out, mounted on Forrest’s naked ass and yanking his head back with a handful of fiery red hair. “Yes, yes,” Forrest gasps, with pleading in his breathless voice.
The reverse inverted bearhug with Forrest’s entire head shoved inside of Brendan’s pouch is epic, but fuck, I’m going to feast for days on the naked bearhug and wears that buttle butt out so gorgeously. So, sure, I’m going to keep bitching about Forrest’s relentless trash talk, because he’s asking for it, right? He wants to irritate, doesn’t he? There’s a devious, clever angle there, where every heel, and at least this reviewer, fucking sees RED under the constant onslaught of Forrest’s bluster, pretty much guaranteeing his total destruction again and again.
Good stuff happened for me this year, personally as well as in terms of my creative attention on homoerotic wrestling. In terms of homoerotic wrestling, I started the year thinking that this would be the year of me exploring hot, erotic wrestling in graphic format. And I did, indeed, have a lot of fun doing that. Drawing really took me back to adolescent moments when I sketched out hot muscle men in a secret notebook that I (literally) hid under my mattress as a kid. I saved those old sketches for years as a young adult, but sadly, in one move or another among a whole lot of moves in my adult life, I lost them. I’m (obviously) not a trained visual artist, but there was something sweetly satisfying about drawing my lusts again, older, wiser, and somehow every ounce just as horny as I ever was!
I did NOT plan on this year being a year of returning to writing homoerotic wrestling fiction. But sharing my drawings, as nerve racking as that was, led to connecting up with AR on Deviant Art. Honestly, when he first suggested that we collaborate on something new, with me writing and him illustrating, I groaned just a little inside. I hadn’t really written anything original and new, of my own creation, in years. I’d totally lost steam for it, and, frankly, a lot of that had to do with not getting much feedback from readers about it. Creating for my sake is meaningful, but I discovered years ago that it wasn’t enough to sustain my effort to get back on the keyboard and keep writing. So when I told AR that I was “open” to the idea, I was more than a little skeptical. But then a couple of things happened.
The first thing that happened that turned me on was seeing AR translate an image directly (I mean DIRECTLY) out of my imagination and into 3D rendered art. Holy shit! That is incredible! And his eye is just so fucking nuanced and amazing. I literally keep a shrine of AR artwork now, that I visit every. fucking. day. And it amazes and titillates me endlessly!
The other thing that happened that really sent the second half of 2022 down an entirely different path than I’d expected was getting detailed feedback on my homoerotic wrestling fiction as I’m writing it, and finding AR‘s observations and suggestions incredibly on point. Sometimes, I’ve put myself out there, and I know that there a few hundred viewers seeing a blog post or reading a story, from the page counts. But it can be fucking lonely and discouraging to hear nothing but the echoes of my own voice. I’ve sort of doubted if what I’m writing has much meaning to anyone else, but fuck that no… working with AR has been amazingly validating. I’m writing again because it’s so fucking fun. Some of what we’ve been writing is likely never to be posted or published, and I’m incredibly happy with it because I’m creating and enjoying the act of creation so much!
Not that I won’t post anything, mind you. I posted the first couple of end-products of my collaboration with AR on the new Producer’s Ring Reborn archives, which was another highlight of 2022, beginning to transfer the old library of stories form the defunct Google site platform to a new one. I’m looking forward to sharing more of what we’ve been up to with a broader audience in 2023, so watch here for announcements about new stories, new artwork, and new awesome expressions of passion for homoerotic wrestling that I share with a lot of you.
Oh, and getting comments by man-of-my-dreams Scott Williams has GOT to be the other surprise highlight of the year. Scott continues to tease me that he wants a test drive of the quads I’ve been building especially for crushing his head. Maybe 2023?
I hope 2022 was as enjoyable and creative and validating and titillating for you as it was for me! Oh, and remember to vote in the 2022 BGE fan poll. I was, once again, on the nominating committee, so send me all your hatred and resentment for the field of choices, and then get your ass back over to BGE and vote anyway, like you know want to! If you need any suggestions, just ask. I ALWAYS have opinions, as you know.
I killed off my Twitter account. It’s not like I was really thrilled with the vibe there for quite some time, but shit got super creepy, super fast there, when a megalomaniac rich boy decided to make it his vanity project. On the one hand, I had this moment of anticipatory grief when I was about to pull the trigger. There were over 3,000 people following the account. On the other hand, I think I actually interacted in a meaningful way with about 20 of them on any regular basis.
So I’ve doubled down on other forms of social media, and will be trying to post more regularly on Instagram and Mastodon, in case there are folks interested in the pithy, abbreviated versions of my musings. As a treat, I’m sharing some new, yet-to-be published 3D render art by my friend AR (with his permission, of course), teasing the 6,000 or so homoerotic wrestling fiction stories we’ve been percolating on for the past 5 months. My guess is that not all of them will ever really come out the other end as finished products, but we already have quite a few complete, illustrated, DEVASTATINGLY hot, illustrated homoerotic wrestling stories in the can to share in the coming year. And even the ones that may not turn into finished products have been super fun to story board with AR.
One set of the hottest stories we’ve been working on is a collection of BG East-inspired matches. AR has used pure sorcery to conjure up a lovingly constructed set based on the original BG East ring room, and damn it all, if I didn’t get transformed into a smoking hot homoerotic wrestler to take on my favorites. It blows my mind every time I see it. One of the delightful side effects of collaborating on fiction and art with him, has been this amazing opportunity to compare detailed notes about all things homoerotic wrestling, and especially BG East. The ways in which our passion for the genre overlaps and diverges is really fascinating. It’s like meeting someone who is crushing on the same guy you are, and comparing notes about all of the ways your infatuations intersect, and being delighted to discover things you enjoy different from one another.
I don’t know if I’ll ever really inhabit social media the same way, or if social media will be the same beast as tech and times and fads change so quickly, and unrestrained capitalism takes a dump on everything innovative and inspiring. But I do hope to have more opportunities to compare notes with fellow fans, to vehemently (but respectfully) disagree, to enthusiastically and passionately agree, and to be pointed in totally new directions that, separately, we might never have discovered. For the subscribers of this blog, I’m grateful for you all your comments, suggestions, and critiques (well, most of the critiques), and believe it or not, I’m not just talking about Scott Williams’ comments. Though, let’s face it, I’m a total sucker for Scott’s comments! And his pecs. But I digress… I’ve held onto this space, even when I’ve gone on extended hiatus from posting, because it’s largely an opportunity for me to explore my passions without moderation. That, in itself, has been such an amazing pathway to encounter others saying things like, “I thought I was the only one!” If reduced to 200 characters or moderated by the sensibilities of heteronormative spaces, I doubt I’d ever have had the pleasure of meeting hundreds of passion homoerotic wrestling fans to argue over things like whether crotches should be shaved, and whether Austin Cooper is sexier as a babyface jobber or a heel (<– just kidding about that last one; there’s NO question Dr. Cooper the heel is way, way sexier!).
So tune in here for Bard unfiltered. Maybe follow me on Instagram for photo/graphic focused posts, where I’m sure I’ll continue to share more dazzlyingly hot AR art, as well as my own comics, and, if you look close, some pics of me flexing my quads and speculating on whether I could make Scott cry. Or cum. Or both. And for graphics too racy for heteronormative Insta, and for more frequent, brief, unsolicited, completely unnecessary opinions, follow me on Mastodon.
For anyone missing me on Twitter, I am sorry. It’s not you. And, frankly, it’s not me. It’s Elon-fucking-Musk. But thanks for all of the ways that we continue to connect and inspire and provoke and entertain one another, circling our shared passion for homoerotic wrestling!
I bumped into BG East newbie Dante Lesen on Twitter, and, of course, immediately asked him for an interview. To my delight, he agreed on the spot. After my review of his debut match, Rookie Wreckers 3: Dante’s Destruction, we chatted about a wide range of topics, revealing that lovely, long Dante is a whole lot more than just a pretty face!
Bard: Woah, Dante, I watched your match, and I loved it!
Dante: I’m really glad you loved it. Thank you for such a flattering article. I struggled watching my match. Listening to myself make pain noises makes me blush.
Bard: You’re welcome, but there was no flattery involved! And like you, I also experience an involuntary rush of blood flow witnessing you suffer so hotly! I wasn’t blushing, though. I hope you had enough of a good time that we get to see you again in a future match!
Dante: There are five other matches that are yet to be released, I’m hoping to come back for more.
Bard: Yay! No one scared you off then? Masked Menace was pretty brutal on your balls!
Dante: He was actually my last match on that trip. They definitely didn’t scare me off. I am looking forward to more whenever they’ll have me.
Bard: Did you get some wrestling tutorials? You mentioned to me earlier that you were new to the homoerotic wrestling community, right?
Dante: They did teach me a lot! I have a lot of combat and martial arts experience, so I’m no stranger to fighting. But pro wrestling is still new to me.
Bard: Fantastic to hear about your experience! Did I read your pec tat correctly, the “Cry Havoc” quote from Marc Antony in Julius Caesar?
Dante: You most definitely did, “cry havoc and release the dogs of war.” Though I think the actual quote is “let slip the dogs of war.” I got it years ago.
Bard: It feels like a nice mantra for homoerotic wrestling! Does it have special meaning to you?
Dante: It’s the closest thing to a military tattoo I’ll ever get, eight years in the Marine Corps.
Bard: Holy fuck! Seriously? What was that experience like? And did you join when you were 11 [laughing]?!
Dante: I enlisted when I was 17. It was some of my best and worst moments in my life.
Bard: You look like a baby! That blows my mind you’re a veteran with eight years of service!
Dante: I’m 29, most people think I am much younger.
Bard: I’m definitely with most people! So, military fetish porn is totally true to life, right [laughing]? So, I’ve been stalking… I mean, casually perusing your hot body in your Twitter, and damn, you’re showing it off so beautifully! Can you tell me a bit about your work as a professional hottie?
Dante: I can’t say there is anything really professional about it. The only reason I started an OnlyFans and soon a JFF was because my friend said “why post for free when you can make some extra spending money.” Otherwise I’ve just been having fun with it.
Bard: It looks like you’re having a lot of fun! And that body of yours is so beautiful. Damn. What’s been the response to your extra spending money hobby?
Dante: It’s been decent, I don’t have to worry each month if I want to buy a book or two
Bard: Nice! I’m glad to hear it. What do you read?
Dante: I have a little over 490 books. I read everything from fiction to fantasy and everything in between.
Bard: Holy fuck, are you even real? That body, that face, and you’re an avid reader?! What’s a recent read you’d recommend?
Dante: Depends on what you’d like to read. Currently, I’m reading a fantasy saga by L.E. Modesitt, Jr., TheSaga of Recluce.
Bard: I do like fantasy, and I’m making a note of that! I’m currently finishing re-reading Interview with the Vampire. I recently finished a cute gay YA romance, What If It’s Us.
Dante: If you want an amazing YA fantasy duology, I would recommend All the Stars and Teeth, and All the Tides of Fate by Adalyn Grace
Bard: Thanks! I will totally queue those up as well! Since you mentioned being new to the homoerotic pro wrestling scene, what’s your impression of it so far?
Dante: I love it, I first realized I was attracted to men when I was eight after watching WWE. So being able to finally act on those images in my head has been amazing.
Bard: So many of us share that origin story of watching pro wrestling growing up, and it dawning on us, “damn, that turns me on!” How did BGE find you?
Dante: I found them, there were a few of their wrestlers that I started talking to.
Bard: Excellent! I know exactly which of the BGE staff will find you and break your balls if you disclose anything about any unreleased matches you were in. But I’m wondering if you can tell me about any wrestlers you had a connection with behind the scenes?
Dante: Most of them were really friendly, I had a lot of fun conversations with everyone who was present. A lot of stories and past experiences were shared and fun to listen to, too.
Bard: Very obliquely and diplomatically put! I love it.
Dante: I’ve been taught to be very tactful growing up.
Bard: You’re a gentleman! Dude, gentleman get trounced in homoerotic pro wrestling [laughing]! What’s your favorite wrestling hold?
Dante: As far as favorite holds, I love being put in camel clutch, Boston crab, and schoolboy pin, where they pull my face into their crotch.
Bard: Those are some seriously sexy, painful holds. I notice you’re on the receiving end of them, as you describe them. Do you consider yourself a jobber?
Dante: I do consider myself a jobber, for now at least. I still have to work on my disassociation problems before considering going full heel.
Bard: Oh, now you have to say more about needing to dissociate before you can heel.
Dante: I’ve been trained to kill my opponents as quickly as possible. If I have a PTSD episode that triggers me to not realize who is fighting me, I could seriously hurt or kill somebody. So I have to keep myself in check, which means I have to learn to take the hits and get comfortable with being in the ring.
Bard: Holy shit, I had never thought of that. That makes total sense to me. Being on the receiving end doesn’t have that potential triggering effect?
Dante: It does, but I am in far better control than if my mind slips while I’m performing a technique. If I’m reacting, it gives me a chance to come-to, rather than if I’m initiating the action.
Bard: Fascinating! I respect the hell out of the fact that you’re exploring all of this, and doing it in front of a camera with a lot of us watching and being turned on by it. You mentioned earlier that it makes you blush listening to your sounds of suffering in your debut match. What was it like to watch yourself get worked over?
Dante: It was hot to watch me get worked over. I was embarrassed because I had to extremely exaggerate the noises. I have a very high pain tolerance, most of the holds never actually hurt me.
Bard: Oh, damn, now that sounds like total heel bait [laughing]! You sold your suffering awfully convincingly to me, at least. What’s the effect on you of watching yourself being humiliated? Does that humiliation angle turn your crank?
Dante: Humiliation doesn’t do anything for me. It’s submitting and feeling the body contact that gets me going.
Bard: Fascinating! Like I mentioned in my review, there was something stunning about the contrasts between your body and Masked Menace. You looked like a giant! Are there certain type of bodies or characteristics you’re into when you’re gearing up for body contact and getting made to submit?
Dante: Is the question focused for filming or behind closed doors?
Bard: You can go either direction. I am curious about you, though. Whatever you’re comfortable with.
Dante: As for filming, I can work with almost anyone, so long as they are respectful and understanding. In my personal life, I enjoy mental stimulation and emotional connection. Being fit doesn’t hurt, but it’s not exactly a top priority for me. A level of self confidence and a charming wit is nice.
Bard: That’s cool. I could see you needing someone with a quick wit, just based on this conversation. What else would you like gay wrestling fans to know about you, as we grow infatuated with you as a BGE rookie?
Dante: I’m a Jack of all trades, or a self proclaimed one, at least. So I enjoy learning and trying new things. It’ll be likely that you’ll see me in many unique situations, since I’m more than willing to try anything that peaks my interest.
Bard: Such a hot tease! I’m looking forward to it. And can I offer some free advice? Like, please, please make sure to drop into conversation with Kid Vicious and Kayden Keller and Jonny Firestorm the fact that you have a super high tolerance for pain and sometimes have to exaggerate your reactions because you aren’t hurting enough? Definitely, definitely make sure to mention that to those guys [laughing]!
Dante: Kayden Keller and Jonny Firestorm were at the filming, so two of them know already.I’ll definitely try and reach out to Kid Vicious.
Bard: Awesome. I would think they’d enjoy the challenge! Thanks so much for chatting with me and giving us a glimpse of the man behind the blushing moans.
Another hot young rookie!? Hell, yes, welcome to BG East, Dante Lesen! The titular rookie in Rookie Wreckers 3: Dante’s Destruction grabbed my attention in the marketing images and match description, and talking about grabbing something? Fuck, rookie…
The contrasts in this match are spectacularly stunning. On the one hand, you’ve got veteran masked heel, Masked Menace. BG East reports that he’s 5’5 and 170 lbs, but I think both of those numbers may be exaggerated. At least, when 6’3 and 180 lbs of Dante shows up, holy shit, Menace looks fucking tiny! I mean, he’s got sweet, mature muscle, and that sexy hairy chest looks both hot and intimidating. He’s flexing, his signature, ominous silence filling the mat room, when Dante strolls in and takes a 360 degree tour, stroking and admiring Menace’s muscles. And fuuuuck, Dante looks like the leaning tower of Pisa that just might fall over and crush him at any moment. Who is this towering, babyfaced newbie, and did he come to play? “Nice,” Dante whispers his approval, breathlessly. “Nice!” I say.
Dangling such a long, lean, gorgeous cut of veal in front of a legendary heel like Masked Menace is a formula for exquisite destruction. Within seconds, Dante is nursing his bashed balls and getting a mouthful of Masked Menace in a stunningly sculpted face-to-crotch standing headscissors that works so, so beautifully because of their height difference. The babyface newbie is getting swarmed and swamped ruthlessly, when the villain smashes his knee into Dante’s long, lean back and chokes him from behind. Fuck, fuck, that’s sexy!
It’s in the title, so I don’t feel like it’s too much of a spoiler to say lovely Dante gets squashed like a bug. This is Masked Menace, so it also should come as no surprise that Dante’s rookie balls get crushed to a pulp a thousand different ways. And fuck, he may be a rookie, but the boy knows how to suffer like a champ! Damn, watching him writhe and kick and squirm and whimper and scre-eeeam is seriously moving. When the extra-tall red singlet gets peeled off him forcibly, I’m also way, way moved by his washboard abs and his juicy, juicy ass suction packed into American flag briefs.
There are lots of sweet, sweet moments to admire, but let me just linger on the stunning art that is 6’3 Dante broken in half in Masked Menace’s OTK backbreaker. Holy fuck, Dante is weeping, as his big, star-spangled bulge quivers at the apex of his arching body. Menace throttles his balls relentlessly, hungrily, as Dante screams and kicks his mile long legs uselessly. Fuck, he’s gorgeous as HELL getting the warmest… nay, hottest welcome a rookie’s ever had!
Again, I say, welcome to BG East, Dante! I hope you were able to pick up the pieces and sign up for more to come. I promise, it gets better! :::::fingers crossed behind my back::::
Crabcraft commented a few weeks ago that he thinks Jason Aleqsander may be “the new Eli Black.” Fuck, I’ve been unable to get that out of my head, ever since. It says something about the iconic role that Eli built for us, that he’s the point of reference/comparison for a super sexy new rookie. But when it comes to being saddled with buzz to be the heir apparent to Eli Black? Hmmmm.
So, to start with, let me say that I was just a little shocked by how much Jason’s debut match against Seon Cruz rocked me. I mean, I tucked in to Ring Rookies 7, obviously expecting something good. I’d seen Seon before, and his body is just fucking stunning. And I’d seen stills of Jason, and was super excited to see if he’s as sexy in live action as he is in still frame. But “ring rookies” doesn’t exactly scream “top notch wrestling.” But fuck it all, if I didn’t go along for the ride and sucked in the suspense to the very final drop!
Before I directly speak to whether I think Jason is the new Eli Black, I just want to appreciate him on his own terms. Fuck. His. Body! I mean, he’s pretty in his pictures. I’d give him a tongue bath for just standing still. But when the boys are doing a SENSATIONAL alternate take on the traditional pose down, by showing off how acrobatic their lovely, lean bodies can be, Jason suddenly looks up at the ceiling, judging it’s height, and then, standing flat footed in the middle of the ring, does a PERFECT standing back tuck. Have I mentioned before that I was a college cheerleader? Probably not. Anyway, fuck that standing back tuck instantly made me reevaluate my first impressions of young, hot, Jason/George. The back tuck has the same effect on Seon, who suddenly realizes he’s just been completely outclassed as an acrobat. In response, the relative-veteran ring rookie clotheslines Jason, nearly taking that really, really, really pretty head right off his neck.
Seon admires Jason’s smoking hot bod, and both of them get extra credit from me for that fact. “You’ve got an all right body, all give you that,” he acknowledges, choking him a front facelock. “You’ve got some pretty good legs, pretty beefy,” he smirks, as he’s fucking up Jason’s acrobatic left knee and ankle in a nasty leglock. “You’ve got a good body, I think we might as well show it off a bit,” Seon says, bending him backward in a dragon sleeper, and doing just that. Seon cements his role as our champion, though (in addition to the purple nail polish), by locking down on a foldover pin, slapping Jason’s hot ass, and announcing, “Let’s give them something to see!”
The premise for this match is hilariously clever. For the first half of this match (to the minute) Seon, in shiny, purple, butt-hugging long shorts, beats the living SHIT out of Jason/George, who’s wearing shamrock green long shorts. And fuck, Jason suffers swwweetly! Fuck, he gets rocked and rolled, and lovely Jason sells it like a seasoned veteran. Seon gets understandably cocky. He hangs Jason in the corner, battered and sucked dry, and steps back and peels off his trunks, leaving him in green briefs.
“Funny, I heard you like to do some of that stuff,” Jason/George says, suddenly catching a second wind with a sly, knowing smile. “So I came a little prepared, myself,” he announces, stripping out of his green trunks, revealing purple briefs molded to his sensational ass. Fuck. He throws his trunks in Seon’s face, using the distraction to clothesline Seon flat on his back.
Apparently, there’s some seriously magic mojo to the color purple. Now flipping color schemes, Jason/George opens up a can of whoop ass on Seon that’s super, super satisfying! He mounts him in a schoolboy pin and slams his head into the mat over and over. “Are you feeling better in green,” he asks, shoving his crotch in Seon’s face. “Is that color treating you well?” He sucks him up in headscissors and an armbar, threatening to snap that long, lean arm of Seon’s off at the elbow. Battering him in a corner, he suddenly climbs up the ropes and monkey flips Seon flying all the way across the ring (fuck!).
The final three minutes flip back and forth wildly. Seon runs rough shod, victory in his grasp with Jason’s head stuck nice and tight in standing scissors. He hoists him up off his feet, preparing to slam his back to the mat, but acrobatic Jason snaps his sexy-as-fuck legs around Seon’s head, throws his weight to the side, and pulls off a shocking flying headcissors! I mean… fuck! These are fucking rookies?
All right, back to my original question. I’m going to say, no, Jason is NOT the new Eli Black, for a whole host of reasons, but mostly because Jason’s got some sensational charisma and ring presence all his own. Like Eli, Jason’s shown up with some seriously sensational skills and a some mysterious backstory to explain that cocky back tuck. But I don’t think of Eli as an acrobat, really, and I think Jason’s got a story to tell that could play out entirely differently than Eli’s!
There’s a rule in homoerotic wrestling. You have to pay for looking too pretty. Of course, I think there are a handful of exceptions. Like, Kid Karisma is, honestly, too pretty, and he never has to pay. But Kip Sorell is NO Kid Karisma, and holy shit, does he pay for looking so ridiculously, almost impossibly pretty! In the new release from Jonny Firestorm, fuck, does Aryx Quinn make Kip pay hard!
Kip comes to, with his wrists tied behind him, lashing him to the corner post. “Wakey, wakey, little one,” Aryx Quinn says, grabbing Kip by the hair and prying his shocked face upward. The look of terror on Kip’s face, eyes wide in panic, is seriously juicy! I’m perplexed about the backstory of this match, but Aryx alludes to Kip’s consent later in the match: “You are so stupid for agreeing to the terms of a match like this!” Fuck, how to begin to describe what it means when Aryx says, “a match like this…”
Okay, so I’ve got to start by saying this is a squash. If you have even passing familiarity with Aryx’ wrestling work and with Kip’s wrestling work, this will not surprise you. I’d say this match is about terror, more than anything, really. Aryx tortures and taunts in that way that nobody else comes close (well, I can think of one wrestler who I thought matched Aryx in trash talk). And the trash talk is super high stakes. “This is going to be the last place you’ll ever see,” he promises the sputtering muscle boy. Aryx shoves a straw in Kip’s face and asks, “Do you know what this is for? It’s for eating. Because every meal you eat after today, you’re going to be eating through a fucking straw, if you don’t do what I say!” Aryx keeps fucking with Kip’s panic-ometer, dialing it up until he’s screaming and whimpering and begging like a baby, and then letting him believe, for just a few seconds, it all might be over (spoiler alert: it isn’t).
But there’s another really, really delightful flavor to this match that is sorely missing in far too much homoerotic wrestling: Aryx is fucking INTO Kip’s body! “God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he says at one point, and honestly, I stand up and cheer, because if you step into the ring with Kip Sorell, and you have an ounce of appreciation for male beauty, how could you NOT marvel at him? “You are fucking built solid,” Aryx marvels, as he digs his claws into Kip’s lats and pecs and rips his muscles apart to Kip’s symphony of screams. “You’re pretty,” Aryx says bluntly, and it’s one of the most pristinely authentic moments I’ve seen in homoerotic wrestling. “I like pretty boys,” he says, a half a second before he stomps the living shit out of Kip’s rock hard abs and pitifully helpless balls. “Look at the veins in that chest,” Aryx marvels, clawing the fuck out of Kip’s pecs. “Fuck,” Aryx says, “someone’s been doing some training!” And honestly, I’m talking to the screen like a crazy person, saying that it’s about TIME somebody acknowledged the dazzlying, dizzying, insane hotness of Kip, and the outrageous level of fitness he maintains like some android from the future, where you can see the roadmap of his veins feeding his sculpted, bulging muscles in real time. How could an opponent NOT comment on Kip’s vascularity!? Fuck, Aryx is a truth-teller.
So I’ve caveat emptored that this is a total, start-to-finish squash. Despite that fact, the action takes them all over the ring, as Aryx finds 1,001 ways to threaten to snap, smother, and strangle Kip over the edge of terror, again and again. Highlights for me include the patent-pending Aryx-rack, with the muscled heel bent forward and twist-tying Kip’s spine around his torso. There’s a super, super severe Boston crab that displays both beautiful muscle men to perfection. “I bet I can fold you in half like a deck of cards,” Aryx says, and fuck it all if he doesn’t do exactly that! Holy shit, I think Kip wasn’t quite believing him, until he’s absolutely screaming his submission in terror.
Okay, the final star of this match for me is Aryx’ sweat. Fuck, if you wonder who’s carrying the load in a squash, sit back and watch the sweat literally streaming off of Aryx’ body from about 1/3 of the way into the match to the end. There’s a camel clutch, where the camera angle happens to catch the spectacularly sexy hold silhouetted in front of some harsh studio lights. I’m sure it was an unintentional moment of getting the stagecraft of the lighting inadvertently washing out the foreground. But there’s this magic moment when you can see sweat literally streaming off of Aryx’ face and pouring down on Kip’s twisted body beneath him. Fuck… I know of some serious Aryx Quinn fans who would love to volunteer to squeegee that mat in the aftermath (and save some souvenir bottles of perspiration for themselves).
Kip’s journey from this match to getting tapped by Jonny to be his heel protege in the Bundle 2 feature I reviewed a couple of days ago had to have been an insanely wild ride! I buy Kip begging, pleading, weeping in humiliation, promising Aryx that he absolutely does NOT want to be a pro wrestler. And, damn it all, if I don’t find Kip oddly compelling as a baby heel, emerging from his cocoon, with his new vampire eyes soaking in the sight of Christian Taylor’s gorgeous suffering and wanting a taste for himself. Aryx’ takedown of Kip is in Bundle 1 of Jonny’s Black Friday sale, and the gorgeous 2-on-1 of Jonny walking Kip through the wonders of heeling on Christian appear in Bundle 2. Super, super sexy matches all around!
Holy shit on a cracker! I just enjoyed the profound pleasure of watching one of Jonny Firestorm’s new releases, just in time to treat yourself for Black Friday. Squirreled away in Bundle #2 is a dazzlingly sexy 2-on-1 match, pitting Jonny and heel protege (!?) Kip Sorell executing the sexiest Grindr hookup in history with Christian Taylor.
“You look a little different on your Grindr profile, I’m not going to lie,” Jonny says when Christian steps into the ring with them. Can someone please, please screenshot me Christian’s Grindr profile? Because I’m not sure what that means, because…fuuuuuck… he is as sexy as he’s ever been, as far as I’m concerned. He’s got a 5 o’clock shadow that’s making me feel all sorts of new things about him. And he absolutely TOWERS over Jonny and Kip. I don’t think I’d ever quite realized how short Kip is, or perhaps how tall Christian is, until now, and the contrast is outrageously sexy.
This is a total squash (buyer beware, if that’s not what you’re shopping for). But fuck, the intensity remains super high throughout the entire 29 minutes. Apparently Jonny has handpicked Kip to be his new heel protege, and fuck it all if I’m suddenly convinced that that HAS to happen! I’ve honestly never seriously considered Kip’s heel turn potential until this moment, but put Jonny’s masterful hands on the task, and fuck… of COURSE devastatingly hot Kip would make a sizzling pretty boy heel!
They double-team Christian almost the entire time, and it’s gorgeous and absolutely artful. “I think you had something different in mind when I said my partner and I were looking for a threesome,” Jonny jokes. Oh fucking damn, Christian answered a Grindr call for a threesome, and showed up for this!? So many reasons to stay diligent on Grindr, my friends!
Every double-team hold is homoerotic sculpture. The mixture of the three different super sexy bodies turns me on harder and harder each moment of the match. One of my favorite moments is relatively early on, while Christian is still screaming and writhing and begging a lot. Jonny has tied his wrists behind his back, for absolutely no good reason other than increase Christian’s terror. Jonny rolls him into face-to-crotch headscissors and smothers him, burying his face in the legendary bulge and keeping him there with a handle on his hair. At the same time, Kip grabs him by the ankles and shoves the ball of his foot up Christian’s ass. Fuck me, I’ve got to push pause and rewind.
“Are you worthy to be our third,” Jonny asks, now with Christian smothering in Kip’s face-to-crotch, while Jonny tortures his back in a crab variation. “Yes. YES!” Christian screams, and I’m not quite sure if it’s begging for reprieve, or his desperation to join this threesome in earnest. I like to think it’s the latter. “Do you think you’re worthy,” Jonny demands. “Because all you do is whine like a fucking bitch!”
I’m so excited to see Kip warm up to heeling, torturing Christian’s nipples, throttling Christian’s cock, and smiling in delight as he does it. There’s this spontaneous moment where Jonny is pitching and in control, and Kip is taking a quick breather, admiring the scene or total humiliation in front of him, when Kip seems to be unable to restrain himself from leaning over and landing a cracking slap across Christian’s tortured, handsomed, hirsuite face. Damn, Kip, I am buying this!!!
Lovely, LOVELY action from all three veterans of my homoerotic wrestling fantasies. The dynamic duo heels leave Christian tied up, hanging from the ropes, passed out from pain. “Let’s go get a bite to eat, and we’ll come back for him later,” Jonny grins as the climb through the ropes. Fuck, yes. Best Grindr hookup EVER!
Sidelineland 