I’m on vacation, which means three things: road tripping to visit the fam, reading post-apocalyptic dystopia novels, and binge-watching HGTV. The third one on that list is the most relevant to this blog, so let me revisit a topic I’ve touched on often: home improvement hunks who ought to be homoerotic wrestlers. It’s not as if it’s accidental that this long line up of designers, contractors and carpenters on HGTV all just happen to be gorgeous hunks. The channel is selling male sex appeal, igniting all sorts of blue collar fantasies, and begging for us to give a flying fuck about miter joints while we’re picturing the power-tool wielding hotties peeling out of their sweat soaked, skin tight clothes and climbing into the wrestling ring. Okay, okay, they probably don’t have a wrestling ring explicitly in mind, but you know for a fact that they are banking on the erotic imagination to get way more mileage out of any of these home improvement hunks than their carpentry skills or interior designs alone really merit. So my picturing these studs and their hammers as homoerotic wrestling gladiators seems not just appropriate, but downright demanded by an industry pitching hot men to a gay audience with an active imagination. So here are my picks of HGTV hunks who, in a better world than this one, would be homoerotic wrestlers.
Chip WadeAt the top of my HGTV homoerotic wrestler rankings is Elbow Room’s Chip Wade. As an all-in homoerotic wrestler, this personal trainer/contractor would be a fabulous babyface champ. I picture him in powder blue low-rise speedos (in which his muscled bubble butt spills out over the top), and matching mid-calf boots. Chip is dispositionally incapable of believing that his massive muscles can be overpowered by any opponent. His go-to moves are standing drop kicks and full nelsons, but he insists on finishing opponents off by racking them across his huge shoulders and airplane spinning them helplesslessly in the middle of the ring until they submit. He appreciates his fans, so as he flexes over the battered bodies of his wasted foes in victory, he smiles into the camera and dedicates each pose to a particular fan. His naked ass is a bounty among the heels in competition, but thus far he’s managed to come out on top and keep his trunks on in every match.
Anthony Carrino
Anthony Carrino is the top contender for the title of champion home improvement homoerotic wrestling hunk. One half of the Kitchen Cousins tag team champions, big Anthony is the power hitter anchor of that team. With a George Clooney face and a gay porn star body, he’s a brutal battler who oozes erotic aggression in black trunks leather armbands, and mid-calf shiny black boots. He’s dominant in the ring, and when he’s not getting riding time, those bedroom eyes and a seductive brush of his lips invariably leave opponents distracted, aroused, and wide open for bone rattling reversals of fortune. His forearm chops rattle brains senseless, and the handsome hunk has a penchant for trapping opponents in the ropes to alternate between bashing and stroking them to submission. He’s a rough heel whose signature finisher is a forced to flex/forced to cum double hitter, and he’s made it known his number one goal in life is ripping Chip Wade’s speedos off at the seams and riding that muscle ass for days.
David BromstadDavid Bromstad is ranked #3 in homoerotic wrestling competition. He’s got a baby face and bulging muscles and an all consuming fetish for shoving his hand down the back of an opponent’s trunks in order to grab their balls from behind and control them like a ventriloquist dummy. He wrestles hard in neon green designer briefs, fully aroused from the moment the bell rings, which, sure, both raises the erotic tension and paints a gargantuan bullseye on his roaring cock for opponents to target with abuse, but when I say “gargantuan target,” I mean gargantuan. Many an opponent have been downright mesmerized by the mammoth monster irrepressibly poking its head over the top of his trunks, and once mesmerized, Bromstad relishes busting an opponents back across his thigh in an OTK backbreaker while grinding the poor fuck’s balls in his fist. Once he’s worn his opponent into an limp rag, he finishes them off by climbing to the top turnbuckle and doing a back flip “Color Splash*” across their wide open, vulnerable bodies.
Scott McGillivrayHitting my rankings at #4 is hotty Scotty McGillivray. I’ve lusted after this Canadian bro beefcake before, and as I’ve mused here in the past, I picture Scotty as a brutally earnest babyface with an overinflated sense of justice. White boots, knee pads, boots, the floppy-haired boy scout is a high flyer, off the turnbuckles, walking the ropes, body blocks flying through the ropes to pummel opponents sneaking a breather outside the ring. His schtick is beating the shit out of an opponent and, while they’re still able to stand on their own two feet, forcing a sophie’s choice on them, typically either facing a joint wrenching screaming submission or getting sleepered out cold and stripped naked. He has a weakness for getting his ass handed to him by other babyface brawlers, but he seems to really rise to the occasion when he gets the chance to sink his claws into a naughty, naughty heel.
John ColaneriJohn Colaneri is both one half of the tag team champions the Kitchen Cousins and in possession of #5 in my rankings of the home improvement homoerotic wrestling hunks. Colaneri wrestles in black square cuts, knee pads and matching low wrestling boots. Frequently overshadowed by his muscle pounding cousin, he battles like a wildcat in singles competition to prove he’s a contender. His lightening fast, high impact offense of snap suplexes and pounding whips into the corners are devastating. Without his tag team partner’s back-up, he can overextend himself, burning his engine on full throttle until he’s out of gas in the home stretch. But when he does best the competition, which is often, the handsome hunk gets off on pec-smothering his battered opponents out cold, and when I say he gets off on it, I mean he gets off on it!
Drew ScottDrew Scott is half of the Property Brothers tag team, which is in a bitter fued with the Kitchen Cousins for the team title. In singles competition, Drew is the stand out between the terrifying identifcal twins, blending narcissist self-worship with a fierce sadistic fetish that scores him a #6 ranking. The long, lean body facist wrestles in extremely brief metalic gold low rise trunks. His go-to moves are anything and everything underhanded, but he insists on topping opponent’s off with a spine snapping, above board Boston crab. A Drew Scott victory is never complete, however, until he’s battered an opponent into such total submission that the loser obediently worships the tall, muscled climber to a cock sucking climax. Drew’s tendancy to count an opponent out a little too soon, too eger to get worshipped and sucked, can often leave him open for an opponent to pull victory from the jaws of defat.
Mike Holmes, Sr.Ranked #7, Mike Holmes is the bear daddy extraordinaire of the roster, one half of the daddy-son (literally) Holmes & Son tag team with his twink pup Mike, Jr. Mike (Sr.) is the former long-time champion, owning the singles belt and the competition with a brutal combination of muscle and ring savvy. The former champ who wrestles in a navy blue singlet saw his star start to fall back to earth when his ego took some nasty beatings in tag team competition, including a particularly vicious defeat at the hands of the Kitchen Cousins who tied big daddy in the corner and forced him to watch Jr. stripped naked, trussed up in the opposite corner, and forced to jack off with big Anthony’s power tool pounding the back of his throat. Mike (Sr.) was infamous for his power slams and face-sitting pec claws, but it was his classic piledriver finisher that fans and opponents alike associate with the former champ. Can the bear daddy get his mojo back, or will Jr.’s weak link in tag team competition keep him spiraling to the bottom of the heap?
Marc BartolomeoUnderwear model turned electrician turned kitchen makeover maven Marc Bartolomeo dazzles his way into a #8 ranking in the home improvement homerotic wrestling hunk roster. Hung like a horse, the Italian dreamboat wrestles in a thong with an extra large pouch, because most wrestling gear just can’t measure up to the man meat Marc is packing. Bordering on becoming a full-on jobber, Marc has scored some suprising victories to stay a legitimate contender. However there’s been serious locker room debate about whether his conquests have thrown their matches in order to experience a Bartolomeo-special post-match fuck bent over the top ropes. His offense is limited to long, juicy endurance holds like pec suckling side headlocks and skull crushing face-to-crotch headscissors.
Jason CameronBringing up (and most often taking it up) the rear at #9, Jason Cameron is one of the biggest and best built home improvement homoerotic wrestling hunks. He wrestles in candy apple red classic pro trunks and black boots. Barely able to manage remaining a contender, the long-time muscle jobber rocked the roster with a shocking upset over the former champ, Mike Holmes, to put him on the map. Jason leans on body slams and gut busters to beat the fight out of his opponents. The emerging contender is so new to the victory circle that he hasn’t really established a feature finisher, but his big, burly full-boner bearhug that wrung victory from Holmes certainly made a big impression on fans.
*Credit to Bruno for the concept of David Bromstad’s signature wrestling finisher being his “Color Splash.” Bruno put that out their in the comments to this blog years ago when I brought up the idea of a home improvement homoerotic wrestling hunks roster.
I enjoyed quite a bit of homoerotic wrestling new releases in June. So I had plenty to choose from when it came to sitting down and considering who entertained me most, who turned me on hardest, who stuck with me longest in my homoerotic wrestling imagination. My top two contenders for the title of homoerotic wrestler of the month were opponents in the same match. And although I have a Pavlovian response to the one sensational veteran muscle man in the mix, it’s the relative newcomer that grabbed the spotlight and grabbed me by the balls. So with considerable enthusiasm on my part, I announce that my new homoerotic wrestler of the month is…
Kid Karisma and Marco Carlow are two of the finest physiques to appear on the same mat!
Marco is the cover boy for BG East’s catalog 109.2 web feature for a reason. Undagear 23 is only his 3rd appearance, but there’s star quality in those twinkling brown eyes, the Don Johnson carefully coiffed day-old facial hair, and especially that classically proportioned, sensationally meaty, aesthetically mouthwatering physique. This is his first time taking the crown as HWOTM, and he managed to squeak by one of the most commandingly favorite fantasymen in my personal collection of favorites.
Kid Karisma gives us a look at all of Marco’s best sides.
There are plenty of times when a homoerotic wrestling match implies a lot more than it delivers. Having been enlisted on many occasions to write match descriptions for new releases for BG East, I’ve been very aware of the delicate balance of enticing and tantalizing while not misleading. Undagear 23 proposes to deliver a muscle hunk on muscle hunk mat beatdown, with tons of ass slapping, forced-to-flex fun culminating (I daresay, climaxing) in one gorgeous physique star stripped out of his briefs and left flexing entirely naked for exactly one purpose: to get you and me off. Praise be to the homoerotic wrestling gods, because damn it all if that is not exactly what we get when a voracious Kid Karisma gets his hands, and most every other part of his sculpted body, all over beefcake pin-up boy Marco.
Kid Karisma is enthusiastically ALL OVER muscle man Marco.
Marco is flexing in the mirror in nothing but bulging hugging yellow briefs before Kid K arrives for the match. I’ve spilled a boatload of virtual ink over Marco before, but there’s something about him here that just lights my fuse all over again. He’s in phenomenal shape, even for his never miss superhuman conditioning. His pecs are pumped to perfection. Huge, gorgeous biceps. Quads that scream out for a gallon of baby oil and a devoutly adoring worshipper (I’ve got someone in mind). He’s understated, not supremely cocky like so many wrestlers, which in Marco’s case does nothing but exponentiate his over the top sexiness. He doesn’t need to talk himself up because the evidence of his outrageous exceptionality is so completely unmistakable. And we learn quickly that this Greek god so deliciously pumped is about 4 weeks out from taking the stage at a bodybuilding competition. Fuck, I’m pushing the pause button to cool myself down long enough for Kid Karisma to arrive!
Kid Karisma grinds Marco into the mat!
Kid K starts needling him the moment he arrives. This fact alone astonishes me like few others: apparently Kid K has never competed in a physique competition. What the fuck? I’ve been lobbying for him to win best body at BG East for years because, well, FUCK, look at him! He flexes in Marco’s face asking for the bodybuilder’s assessment. Marco gives Kid K credit for sweet (sweet, sweet, sweet!) muscle mass and definition, but he slights the slightly manic superstar for his lack of posing expertise. There’s a grace and poise about Marco’s side chest pose transitioning like foreplay into a seductive, eye popping side tricep. He squeezes slow and hard, showing off not just the final product, but the beautiful transit of his gorgeous muscles contracting like a wave across his body. Kid K is his typical impatient, in your face, 0 to 60 in a half second self, flashing all the same poses, even measuring up quite nicely as far as I’m concerned, but I have to admit, I sort of agree with Marco. The ginger muscle hunk could use some posing pointers. Of course, taking constructive criticism doesn’t sit so well with fan favorite Kid K. He out hustles flat footed Marco, taking the bodybuilder to the mat with authority and riding that glorious ass for days. So much perfection in Marco’s competition ready physique brings out one of the most relentless, humiliating performances I’ve ever seen from Kid K. He doesn’t just bully him. He doesn’t just control him at will. He demonstrates at every turn that he can shove anything and everything in Marco’s leading man face.
“Flex for me!”
There are several squashes in BG East’s 109.2 catalog, but this match is far and away the most intensely satisfying of them all, for my tastes. There’s this heart pounding point about 2/3 of the way through when Marco is fucking chugging away on nothing but fumes. He’s explained repeatedly that he’s carb deprived as he cuts down for the bodybuilding stage, which earns him nothing but scorn and taunts from rugby fanatic Kid Karisma, who’s quick to explain to his beefcake opponent that rugby and wrestling are real men’s sports (and they encourage well-fueled bodies). Both of their bodies are dripping with oceans of sweat, their phenomenal muscles glistening and shimmering under the lights. Marco’s sweat drenched briefs have been wedged hard up between his muscled ass cheeks, giving us unobstructed view of those glorious glutes and Kid K unobstructed territory to smack. Hard. Often. Enthusiastically. The ginger veteran drags the bodybuilder up to his knees, and standing behind him, forces Marco to see himself battered and owned in the mirror. Kid K grabs his scruffy chin in one hand, twisting his head, forcing his eyes forward, as he commands the bodybuilder to flex some more. With each flex, Kid K shows off his own mountainous muscles in reply. Marco is battered, compliant, a plaything for Kid K to stroke his own ego to full erection. Total ownership. 100% sizzling hotness.
Kid K momentarily is every fan’s favorite for peeling those drenched briefs completely off of the crushed bodybuilder.
Just to be clear, while this is a phenomenal squash, Marco doesn’t just take it. He fights. He muscles his way to a few escapes. When Kid K slaps his ass, over and over and over, he starts getting pissed. But when the heel slaps him hard in the face, the easy going humility of the bodybuilder evaporates into raw anger. He may be carb deprived, but he’s just so damn strong! He gives Kid K a whole lot of trouble, and yet, still, with expertise and command of a seasoned homoerotic wrestling heel, the veteran rises above anything Marco tries to throw at him. When Marco is really good and done, when he can barely pry his massively muscled body off the sweat stained mat, that’s when Kid K swoops in and yanks those wasted yellow briefs off of Marco’s lovely ass. The winner poses over top of his beefcake prey. He taunts and humiliates him some more, and then storms off, looking like he’s ready to swallow an extra-large pizza whole.
Marco is forced to study Kid Karisma’s muscles, but before all is said and done, we are treated to a an entirely naked, luxuriously slow, sweat soaked study of Marco’s magnificent physique.
If that’s where it ended, I’d score this match highly. And I’d probably hand the HWOTM title to Kid K for doing so exceedingly well what he does best. But slowly, Marco peels his naked body off the wet mat. He examines his beaten and battered physique carefully, I assume looking for bruises that might mar the physical perfection he’s working on for the stage. And then, like he’s reading my mind, Marco turns to the mirror again and starts flexing. Completely naked. Muscles still glistening with Kid K’s sweat all over him. His thick, flaccid phallus and testicles dangling enticingly as he pumps his gorgeous muscles. He’s exhausted. He says so, several times, and still he keeps flexing his beautiful naked physique, for no other reason than the fact that you and I are going ape shit on our side of the screen. This is where he suddenly snatches the title from Kid K’s hands as far as I’m concerned. If Kid K had stuck around to watch, to keep throwing taunts, gratuitously unfair criticisms while Marco poses naked, I’d probably still hand this to the ginger king. If Kid K had done all that and eagerly peeled out of his own briefs to insist on a fully naked side-by-side, pose-by-pose comparison, I probably would have enshrined Kid Karisma as emperor for life of my homoerotic wrestling favorites. But there’s just something so sincere, so vulnerably earnest about Marco’s naked fineness flexing and gasping and dangling there, post-match, that makes this homoerotic wrestling fan absolutely go nuts for the beautiful, battered bodybuilder.
Reigning Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month: Marco Carlow.
You want to see this sensationally satisfying finish, so purchase the DVD. If you’re like me, you’ll want to make this sweat soaked, naked muscleman your screen saver, so settle in with some gatorade and sign onto the BG East Arena for full monty photos. Marco Carlow has never failed to set me off, but this time around, he’s turned me into a full throttle Marco-man, battling exhaustion and complete humiliation to not just wrestle the best for our entertainment, but then to climb back up and give you and me a jaw-dropping, nothing to hide, entirely naked muscle worship session, because Marco clearly wants to be worshipped as much as I want to worship him. I hope getting his fine body wiped all over the mat a 3rd time doesn’t set this phenom off future appearances, because I’m gagging for a whole lot more. In the mean time, around these parts, this is Marco month, and Marco Carlow is unquestionably my homoerotic wrestler of the month.
Eye of the Cyclone’s Flex is very, very excited to be fighting the forces of super villainy again!
Eye of the Cyclone has a current serial with twist on tag team partners (and lovers). Dynamic duo Flex and HALO are superheroes partnered for a mission to respond to a distress call. They’re both beefy and handsome and bubbling over with excitement. Hell, infinitely fuckable Flex is so excited to be fighting the forces of super villainy that he’s yanking his rousing cock enthusiastically through the tight fabric of his super suit.
Babyface Beefcake Bros on a mission.
What the wonder-twins don’t know is that it’s a trap (though they should know that, because it’s always a trap!). Suddenly, they are magically possessed by a diabolical super villain named Bertie, an “evil, maniacal magician.” Using playdough “voodoo” dolls of the bulging beefcake good guys, Bertie turns our superheroes on each other.
Bertie customizes this match to his liking.
I’m crazy hot for Flex. Ever since he “returned” to action (new model) and luxuriously enjoyed trying on (then off, then on, then off) a series of super suits to select his new muscle hugging, crime fighting gear, I’ve been hooked. He has a beautiful body, sweet ink, and a sensational ass. As a super hero, he’s big on brawn, light on brains, and a bit prone to becoming distracted/aroused by his own gorgeous, hard, powerful muscles. I don’t blame him one bit.
Flex took a while sucking all that muscle into one super suit after another before settling on head to two blue latex (I was voting for the super tight blue singlet).
HALO is no slouch either. He’s a beefy, hot, bear daddy with a luscious, muscled bubble butt. His hero profile says he’s a computer generated crime fighter who can step in and out of virtual reality, but he also appears to be the alter ego of the computer programmer himself, Dr. Schmitz, who created HALO. It was Dr. Schmitz who plucked Flex, naked and disoriented, from the phantom zone to return the hard hunk to fighting villainy. He also “hand picked” the beautiful slice of beef to be his partner on this particular heroic mission. Between you and me, I’m pretty sure Dr. Schmitz has got daddy crush on sweetly innocent, slightly dense, and built like a rugby pin-up boy, Flex.
HALO’s got Flex’s back.
The latest chapter in the serial “Who do you Voodoo?” chronicles the depths of depravity into which evil Bertie is eager to plunge the two hot hunks in his control. He forces the horrified heroes to not only crush and pummel each other, but also to claw each other’s balls and butts, hump each other through their overtaxed latex super suits, grind crotches relentlessly, threatening to remotely manipulate the helpless good guys into involuntarily fucking one another for Bertie’s pleasure. Mind you, as much as Flex and HALO protest and plead with one another to fight the maniacal manipulations, it’s quite clear they’re both fully excited by the prospect of dropping all pretext and fucking each other like alley cats.
Flex’s mouth says, “No, no, no,” but that look of ecstasy on his face suggests digging his fingers deep into HALO’s muscled glutes isn’t exactly the worst thing he could imagine.
I was just talking with a friend about the erotic allure of remote control. EotC has touched on something true, I think, at least as far as my homoerotic wrestling kink. There’s something intensely compelling about the notion of story boarding your own homoerotic wrestling fantasy with two fantasymen who do precisely what you fantasize. I think it’s part of the allure of custom matches that several producers and wrestlers have dabbled in, most notably Cameron Matthews and Jonny Firestorm. You pay (often a lot), and within some set parameters, you order up which two wrestlers you want to see, what scenario or pretext you want them to be in, what gear, what holds, what sequences, and, of course, who wins.
I can tell Bertie and I are kindred spirits, because I would have ordered up exactly this hold, as unmasked Dr. Schmitz gropes and grinds Flex while nibbling on his ear.
As I mentioned to my friend, obviously the primary erotic pay off is getting to own a copy of your particular fantasy come to life. You have a match fully customized to your particular kink. But I also strongly believe that there’s another level of erotic power in this exercise, and it has to do with remotely manipulating two hot studs. The customizer possesses this second-hand control, molding two fantasy wrestlers into the particular positions he orders. It’s not unlike Bertie with his voodoo dolls, gaining carnal delight in not just seeing a fantasy come true, but in calling the shots, controlling the bodies, possessing, if just for 20 minutes (or however long you can afford it), the muscled bodies and motivations of a couple of hard, powerful, beautiful muscle hunks.
Locked involuntarily in a brutal embrace.
So, yeah, I’m channeling Bertie bad. If you can’t help yourself but get aroused by the idea of remote control of a couple of beautiful, beefy, babyface superheroes, you want to tune in and see how this incredibly hot match sorts itself out. We’ve seen Flex entirely naked, and though it’s a different model in HALO’s hero profile, he’s also been peeled out of a super suit as well, so I’m hopeful that Bertie is as depraved and lascivious as I am. And if HALO finds himself trapped between those gargantuan, naked thighs of FLEX in face-to-crotch headscissors as his partner is irresistibly forced to jack himself off, you won’t hear any complaints from me. But, of course, I know. That’s just what I would do, if I were calling the shots.
HALO executes the paralyzing reach around at Bertie’s command.
Congratulations to all of the homoerotic wrestling fans who are gay married or have plans to be soon. I’ve got a tight leash on my cynicism so that everyone can get drunk and party without Debbie Downer here ruining it for everyone. However, this whole moment in history does remind me of my long standing infatuation with the notion of tag team partner lovers.
Barefoot babyface boyfriend bearhug: Morgan makes Skip and Christian watch each other in agony.
I’ve heard sad news that Christian Taylor and Skip Vance have split in real life, which is particularly tragic for fans like me who absolutely swooned over their 2-on-1 ring match in Tag Team Torture 16: Boyfriend Beatdown against Morgan Cruise not that long ago. I sincerely hope that both Skip and Christian are in a good emotional space, that they’ve stayed friends, and that they’ve moved on in a healthy way [pssst, Christian: call me].
Shane McCall & Brooklyn Bodywrecker crush Liam Ryan between their cocks while Liam’s trussed up lover watches helplessly from the corner.
But ever since I watched Tag Team Torture 2, in which bear daddy Brian Powers and his adorable cub Liam Ryan wrestle Brooklyn Bodywrecker and Shane McCall, I’ve been smitten with the concept of tag team lovers. Brian and Liam are into each other as they climb into the ring. They’re foolishly confident, stealing some intimate strokes and kisses when they should be paying attention to the sensational heels about to crush them. Big Brian is supposed to be the anchor of the loverboys, so BBW and Shane isolate him, incapacitate him, and tie him into the corner, forced to watch as his boyfriend is needlessly double-teamed, decimated, and forced to suck Shane’s cock in the middle of the ring while BBW and Shane make out, kneeling over top of him.
So, with marriage the law of the land, I’m left to fantasize about other devoted couples who, if the wrestle gods were just and true, would climb into a wrestling ring as a high stakes, homoerotic wrestling team. Here are the couples that I know of who should be competing.
Team Muscle Magic: Halls & Bomer.
First, let me briefly handicap Matt Bomer and his husband Simon Halls. For raw sex appeal, I give them an 8 out of 10. I’d donate a kidney to ride threesome with these two hot studs. Bomer loves his silver fox daddy passionately, holding the ropes for him when they climb into the ring, rubbing Halls’ shoulders, grabbing a gratuitous grope of his cock before the bell rings. When it comes to ring skills, I’d score them 7 out of 10, with Bomer being a high flyer, including his favorite finisher, a top turnbuckle drop kick that makes opponents’ hearts skip a beat. I picture Halls as more grounded, laser focused, no showboating, just long, punishing, mojo-sucking holds like headscissors and a knee-busting Indian death lock. He enjoys throttling opponent’s cocks for ages in lusciously long OTK backbreakers. For strength, I score them a 7 out of 10, with Halls’ maturity and Bomer’s dazzling beauty and athleticism making them a team to beat. If there’s a weakness, I’m picturing Bomer as impulsive, perhaps a little too distractible, possibly a bit too quick to want to do a victory stripper dance over top of a battered opponent.
Team Twink Prodigies: Burtka and Harris.
Neil Patrick Harris and David Burtka are a pair of twink daddies who need a hardcore sex-tape leak. For sex appeal, I give them a 6 out of 10. Harris has that incredibly sexy humor paired with such pretty pecs, but Burtka needs a shot of charisma. Mind you, I’d blow a gasket to get lubed up from head to toe with the both of them. Ring skills: 9 out of 10. I see these twink daddies as one of those teams that tags out devastatingly fast and furious, leaving opponents bewildered and bashed. There’s tons of teamwork, like Harris Irish whipping Burtka across the ring to pummel the fuck out of a momentarily dazed opponent hanging in the corner. Burtka scoops up opponents as Harris drops to one knee, letting his hubby pound their prey viciously across Harris’ thigh in a power OTK backbreaker. For strength, the skinny boys are surprisingly power-packed, but still, they’re skinny, so I give them 5 out of 10. They’re a total twink heel team, double-teaming opponents in the corner, not waiting for tags, interfering whenever the partner in the ring is looking vulnerable. Burtka gets off on ball clawing, and Harris can’t keep his hands off his rod when he’s got a wasted opponent nice and snug in headscissors. For weaknesses, it’s got to be size. They’re dangerous as fuck, but susceptible to getting shoved around.
Team Broadway Beef: Landau and Jackson.
Jason Landau and Cheyenne Jackson make one dazzlingly beautiful pair, and would be one sensational homoerotic wrestling tag team. For sex appeal, I give the power couple a 9 out of 10. If Jackson wears a thong to the ring, I could easily be negotiated up to a 9.5. The two always look so fucking intensely into each other, which would instantly exponentiate the erotic factor in any match. They’d be sucking face and groping each other aggressively until the bell rings. For ring skills, I’m giving the them a 6 out of 10. I picture them coasting a bit on Jackson’s size and strength, with Jason mostly a support player who’s lucky to hold his own when his muscle hubby tags him in with momentum already on their side. As a team, I give them an 8 out 10 for strength, with Jackson carrying more than his fair share. Have you seen his thighs?! He would totally be the muscle brute who would rack his opponents across his huge shoulders and do squats in the middle of the ring to humiliate them. Fuck, I’m picturing beautiful Jason letting Cheyenne use his own lean bod for barbell curls, just because both of them get off on that sort of thing. They’re mostly a babyface team, with fucking on their minds more than winning (thus, the weak link). When they win, it’s because of Jackson’s dominating power. When they lose, it’s because they’re outwrestled and lost in lust for one another and/or their opponents.
Team Dastardly Designers: Berkus & Brent.
Nate Berkus and his beefy hot husband Jeremiah Brent would make a way hot tag team. I find it hard to rank their team sex appeal because my assessment of Berkus varies so widely, day to day. One day, I’d totally tap that. The next, meh. I do think he’s significantly sexier with his man candy hubby on his arm, though, so let’s just score them a 6 out of 10 and move on. When it comes to ring skills, I’d give the duo a 6 out of 10. I picture Berkus as more of a poser, leaving Brent to do the heavy lifting. Brent would be all about leverage and joint manipulation in the ring, plenty of figure-4 leg locks, headlock suplexes, and hammerlocks. As for strength, the babyfaces are thickly muscled, so let’s score them an 8 out of 10. Berkus likes to flex his biceps in the faces of opponents being owned by Brent. They like to muscle smaller opponents around the ring when they can, lording it over them, trash talking about what weak pussies they are. They’re nominal heels, though it’s Berkus’ narcissism that mostly defines the character of this tag team. He takes all the credit, does less than half the work, and works up a load of celebration across the chests of the opponents that Brent puts out cold with figure-4 chokes. Biggest weakness has to be the potential for Brent to reach the end of his patience and go ape shit all over his own partner.
Team Boyband Beefcake: Turchin & Bass.
My final tag team lovers handicapping is for boybander Lance Bass and his hubby, crazy sexy Michael Turchin. For sex appeal, I’d score the an 8 out of 10, though there are some modeling shots of Turchin online that may merit the boys a higher score on any given day, depending on Turchin’s conditioning. For ring skills, I give them 7 out of 10, with evenly matched technical wrestling aptitude and speed. I picture them both as barefoot high flyers, with a flair for side-by-side mirrored standing drop kicks. Bass loves to schoolboy pin, trash talk in the face of a flat out opponent, dick whipping opponents’ faces with a laugh. Turchin loves to use the ropes, frequently trapping opponents arms there and exploiting their predicament to mix knees to the gut with lustful gropes of muscles and bulges. When it comes to strength, these two are solid, but not powerhouses. 7 out of 10 for strength, though again, if Turchin is in top condition, you can dial that up. I see this lover tag team as homoerotic specialists, which I think can look like heels anywhere else, but is just middle of the road sex-wrestling in homoerotic circles. They’re hot for one another, hot for sexy opponents, and hot for the feel of controlling and dominating opponents into total submission until they’ve lost their loads all over their losers’ faces.
So that’s my take on gay marriage. Only thing left is to wonder who beats who, how, and what holds and moves get me to rewind and replay over and over again? Any other tag team lovers you’d like to toss into competition, and who do you think would be reigning tag team lover champs?
Summer ushers in many things I enjoy. Warm, sunny skies, outdoor events, fireflies, long awaited SCOTUS decisions. But the one thing I anticipate with the most eagerness each thaw is that tipping point when hunks drop trou and start showing off their legs. Too little attention is paid to thick, powerful, beautiful legs on men. Even in homoerotic wrestling photography, the convention of cropping wrestler images off at the waist or mid-thigh is such a waste! So here are a few luscious wrestlers showing off most of their best angles below the waist.
Mike Columbo’s gargantuan quads about to crush Derek D’Amore in Fantasymen 21.A secret obsession of mine, Troy Milan showing off his stripper hunk bod before getting wasted by gorgeous Corey Young in BG East’s Fantasymen 18.Johnny Modesto’s monster quads and Brad Rochelle’s sculpted calves are just 2 outstanding reasons to enjoy Matmen 16.Mouthwatering legs for days when Chad Weston took on Troy Baker in Undagear 8.That is clearly Brian Baxter’s hot, sexy legs on the right, but who is the beefcake on the left?Two of the most beautiful bodies on a collision course when Rio Garza and Kid Karisma compared quads in Undagear 15.Although it’s true I left the Cheshire Cat stripped and stunned last fall, I am the first in line to adore his gorgeous, long legs. And trust me, those puppies are fucking powerful!Goldenboy Austin Cooper shows off his thickly muscled legs in this promo shot for his upcoming Muscle Rookies release at BG East.The Black Muscle God, Darius, is ready to crush bones between those massive thighs in his upcoming release in Muscle Rookies.
As of today, I’m finally catching up with the HWOTM titles. New releases in May were plentiful and exceedingly hot. Any number of wrestlers could own the title, making it that much harder to pick just one. But there’s a particularly handsome, hunky, smart and sexy as hell stud who worked me hardest and stays with me longest…
Marco gets a light workout in while maintaining total control over his pup.
It’s been a while since I sampled from Thunder’s Arena. I’m always wishing that Thunder’s was a little (not necessarily a lot, but at least a little) gayer. But I’d already developed a fan crush on smoking hot Marco from reading Joe’s interview with him at Ringside. I tend to agree with Joe in direction and degree about 97% of the time, so it should come as little wonder that spending about 25 minutes with luscious Marco in Mat Wars 47 was an extremely pleasant interlude in an otherwise totally fucked-up month of May (for me).
TAK refuses to give up easily, showing off Marco’s hot bod to perfection in the process.
I operate under the working assumption that the way a man treats a dog says everything I need to know about his character. This is the reason I’m always suspicious of people who say that they aren’t “dog people.” So when TAK (“The All-American Kid”) opens this scene cuddling with Thunder’s Arena’s new mascot, French Bulldog Thunder, I’m intrigued. TAK plies the pup with treats, babying and cuddling him, talking in that sing-songy voice we reserve for infants, the elderly, and the enemies we know are morons. Marco arrives on scene and says exactly what I’m thinking. “Stop babying my dog!”
Look at the look of delight on Marco’s face!
Philosophies of dog training collide as the boys vie for Thunder’s affection. Pushes, shoves. Marco snags one of TAK’s legs and astonishingly props it on top of his shoulder as the All-American Kid dances on one foot (impressive flexibility, TAK!). It all has that playfulness, that coyness about it that sometimes sets my teeth on edge when watching Thunder’s Arena matches. Then suddenly Marco sweeps that remaining foot, and TAK’s last shred of dignity, out from underneath him, and the blond twink hits the deck seriously hard. I mean, fuck, I can see the cartoon birds suddenly tweeting as they circle the poor kid’s head. This got relatively serious, seriously fast.
“I’ll give you a treat!”
Marco sets about putting TAK in his place like the alpha dog the owner of a stubborn pup needs to be. “Get on all fours like Thunder!” Marco demands as TAK peels himself off the mat and climbs to his hands and knees. I have a long running simmer for TAK, mind you. His ass in those breathtakingly tight teal trunks is a work of edible art, and I, for one, am ready to chew on those glutes (not hard… unless he likes it that way). But then again, watching TAK get out hustled, out muscled, and out wrestled by beautiful Marco is just plain crazy hot. “You want a treat?” Marco coos, offering equal parts carrot and stick to his recalcitrant trainee. “I’ll give you a treat.” In a schoolboy pin, Marco shifts his hips forward, dangling his hefty, red clad package in TAK’s face. Holy fuck, that would be enough to make me sit up and beg!
Marco appreciates TAK’s Happy Trail leading the way to one gorgeous, tightly packed cock!
There’s one pivotal point where TAK almost steals the show. Well, his cock almost steals the show. Marco drops the writhing twink across his leg in a beautiful OTK backbreaker. He beats the shit out of his abs. But, although Marco never actually says it, his eyes are doing exactly what mine are: watching that beautiful bulge of TAK’s quiver. Those trunks are so tight, you can see every mouthwatering inch in detail. Marco gets distracted from battering the kid’s gut. He even comments on the light blond “Happy Trail” leading like the yellow brick road to the mountainous bulge hanging between the kid’s legs. There’s a moment there that I’m thinking, “Now, there’s the star of the show!”
“Flex!”
But time and time again, it’s Marco who manages to make me peel my eyes away from TAK’s quivering bulge. With speed and strength Marco manages to make the hot young pup sit, lie down, and roll over before the training session is over. I remember in his interview with Joe that there was mention of how effortlessly sexy and erotically charged he is in action. Truer words never spoken. A reverse bearhug provides Marco the context for reaching up and appreciating his opponent’s lean pecs. “Puppy pecs,” he calls them, promising that under his tutelage, skinny young TAK would put on muscle mass. With total sell, he suddenly commands the stubborn young pup to flex his bicep. And here’s the key: submissively, under the physical and psychological domination of his opponent, TAK instantly obeys. Marco trashes the kid’s upper arms as little more than twigs, but there’s this underlying note of appreciation, like a connoisseur sampling a wine before it’s time, swirling it around, savoring it, and recognizing the delightful promise of what is yet to come in it’s maturation.
Marco wants to wrestle naked. You can tell, he wants it bad!
Behavioral extinction is fucking hard to achieve, so little wonder that defiantly stubborn TAK rallies a few times, usually coming from behind with cheap shots. There’s something slightly unbelievable about his offense. I’m just about to roll my eyes when he’s backed Marco against the wall and is delivering a long series of punches to his rock hard gut. Then Marco suddenly demands, “HARDER!” He demonstrates an awesome feel for this moment, the stretch required for suspending disbelief, and connects it intuitively to the dog training motif the boys established earlier. And even here, the thing that grabs me by the balls is that TAK obeys. Instantly. He punches harder with a mixture of panic that his “offense” is bouncing off his opponent and a Pavlovian conditioned response to the sound of his new master’s voice.
Having just tapped out, TAK is bent over catching his breath and Marco is barely restraining himself from ripping off his own trunks.
The more he exercises control over his charge, the more Marco seems to reflexively tug at the sides of his tight red trunks. Applying an awesomely hot headscissor submission, he flexes his beautiful biceps and does stomach crunches as TAK whimpers, struggling against tapping out. Those big, beautiful thighs will not be denied, however, and as TAK taps, Marco hooks his thumb in the side of his trunks and slides them down, provocatively. If this were anywhere other than Thunder’s I’d say Marco was just about to ride the thrill of victory into a full-monty nude wrestling finale. No such luck, naked wrestling fans, but it’s not the last time you’ll see Marco show off his gorgeous lower abs and side ass cheek.
Walkies!
So yeah, I’m a heart-pounding, sweaty-browed fan of Marco’s bedroom eyes, incredible body, and intense mastery of both TAK and the art of erotic subtext. He is ALL OVER the All-American Kid in the closing moments of this match, demonstrating that despite TAK’s blustering denial, Marco can pin that munchable ass of his at will, pretty much any time, any place, preferably with me on hand licking my lips in anticipation. In the fun and games world of Thunder’s Arena, TAK is one of the funnest and gamest, of course. But in owning the moment and narrating erotically charged g-rated wrestling like a master, the winner of May’s Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month title is smolderingly hot Marco.
Marco – Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month – May 2015
I’m still making amends for neglecting the top shelf homoerotic wrestlers who worked their muscled asses off so far this year while I neglected to award anyone the title of Homoerotic Wrestler of the Months. April saw the BGE release of catalog 108, so it’s little wonder its another BG East boy taking the crown for that month. What a mouthwatering selection to pick from in that catalog! After an unconventional pick for the month of March, I know I’m back to my predictable self when I turn my full on, slack jawed, weak kneed, fawning adoration on April’s HWOTM winner…
Lon breaks big buff Biff with brains, brawn, and awesome attitude!
A Lon Dumont wrestler spotlight DVD was long overdue, and perhaps it was my breathless anticipation of a full course meal of my favorite wrestler turned bodybuilder turned wrestler that accentuated how prominently he was featured in my fondest moments of enjoying wrestling in April. But honestly, from start to finish, that spotlight DVD is fantastically all about Lon Dumont doing everything he does best, which includes looking phenomenal, talking trash like the champ he is, and executing an expertly told, technically superior pro wrestling story not just once, not just twice, but three spine tingly times on one DVD!
Lon makes my spine (among other things) tingle as he rides the rookie into the ground.
To start the first match, he takes a seat to enjoy the gun show as his pumped, powerful rookie opponent poses. Lon knows how to serve up rookie beef perfectly, tenderizing big, bulging Biff Farrell and forcing the humbled hunk to flex for Lon’s (and our) pleasures.
Pretty Pete Sharp gets a major spinal readjustment.
He tames the beast that is the Best Bulge winner for 2015, schooling a surprisingly competitive upstart, pretty Pete Sharp, and settling a simmering score between them.
Like a champion power bottom, Lon dominates and puts Charlie Panther out cold while flat on his back.
And he overcomes bodybuilding contest prep carb starving to defend his honor and retrieve his stolen bodybuilding trophy from clearly jealous Charlie Panther. Lon is such a compelling, engaging, and provocative character, he’s always going to contend for awards I’m handing out. Claiming the crown a second time after last being awarded HWOTM in November 2011, and of course possessing the title as my favorite homoerotic wrestler for extended periods of time, Lon Dumont is hands down winner of the title of Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month for April, 2015 here at neverland.
Lon Dumont – Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month – April 2015
I’m still catching up on neglected standout wrestling studs who abundantly earned praise for their new releases thus far this year. I believe it was March when Muscle Domination Wrestling released season 14 and their first collaboration with Steel Muscle God. Based on that release, I was haunted by a particular hunk who I’m retroactively awarding the title as Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month for March 2015…
… ripped, rocking rookie Stefan Ramos.
Even the Steel Muscle God is irresistibly drawn to get his hands on Stefan’s hot bod.
Stefan is one of my more unconventional choices, I realize. By that, I mean that I’m guaranteed to get grief from die hard fans who will bitch and moan at me for making the “wrong” choice. But regular readers know that I march to the beat of my own drummer, and this is an instance in which I’m saying handsome Stefan not only grabbed me by the balls in Six Pack Bash 7, but he left me quite breathless for more of him. Some of the fans who started the hating about 15 seconds ago are the hardcore Steel Muscle God fanatics who are going nuts that I’m passing over SMG for his rookie prey. If you’ve read this blog at all, you know I have a long standing crush on SMG, including a favorite interview I had the chance to publish with the European phenom. But it was the rookie’s hardbodied suffering sell that made me swoon here.
Classic beauty brutalized.
The crystal cuts in his incredible physique and that ample, sculpted, luscious grab-with-two-hands-and-pound-him ass left me seeing young Stefan in my mind’s eye in intrusive waking and sleeping moments. There’s something classically perfect about his breathtaking beauty twisted into horrified suffering, the mixture of disbelieving shock and terrified panic.
SMG serves up a feast of some of the finest cuts of rookie beef I’ve seen in a long time!
He has a look, a presence, and an athleticism that I think could make him a scorching hot commodity on the scene. He has a fantasy man bod that makes it a sensationally easy sell to believe him as a self-obsessed narcissist. I know, I know, he was supposed to be background wall paper for the SMG show. But taking a beating from start to finish, I was riveted by the rook, and I am completely infatuated with the severely deep cuts defining his flexed abdominals, and, did I mention that mindblowingly hot ass? Way to go, rook (aka, March homoerotic wrestler of the month). I’m hoping to see a lot more of you.
Stefan Ramos – Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month – March 2015
Holy fuck. I think the last time I crowned someone homoerotic wrestler of the month, it was January! That should tell you just a little about the winter and spring I’ve had this year. I’ve enjoyed a ton of new release wrestling in the mean time, however, so I feel like I’ve neglected some outstanding new contenders for the title. It may be cold comfort to the hard working hunks in question, but I’m retroactively awarding some HWOTM titles to give at least a little credit where abundant credit is due.
To start with, for today, let’s look back at February. That was the month BG East dropped catalog 107, and there were a ton of standouts in that field. One particular standout haunted my dreams and kept me toasty and warm and a little sweaty in the coldest months, though. So for a February (or thereabouts) new release, I’m placing the laurel wreath atop the head off…
Jonny’s trunks tent the more his adolescent wrestling hero, Christopher Bruce, gives the “rookie” pointers.
Jonny returns to the throne of HTOWM after last earning the title in May 2011. Perhaps I should be placing the laurel wreath around that massive, mountainous package that young Jonny sports throughout his Fan Fantasy 2 match with Christopher Bruce. Damn, that overstuffed pouch has got to give pretty Pete Sharp (2014 Best Bulge Winner) and Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua, aka 2012 & 2013 Best Bulge Winner, to you) a run for their money for 2015’s awards. The only thing that seems to make that bulge swell more than getting manhandled by hunky Chris Bruce is turning the tables and absolutely obliterating his former hero.
Christopher Bruce just can’t overlook how excited young Jonny is to take on his fantasyman crush. It’s staring him right in the face!
Honestly, it’s much more than just that mouthwatering mountain in his trunks, though, that makes me crush hard on Jonny in that match. It’s supremely sweet drama, a well told story, full on character development packaged sensationally with nasty small-brutalizes-big man shocks and awes. Christopher is a full on player in the drama, but really, Jonny is the total package of hot hard body, wrestling skill, full-in sell, and, oh yeah, did I mention his gargantuan package that convincingly telegraphs just how motivated he is to get this chance to wrestle his long-time wrestling hunk hero?
Jonny is even more excited to have his adolescent fantasyman humiliated at his feet!
Daddy’s hot, hard, hunky little rich boy, Damien Rush.
I’m on the record many times over as a big fan of hot and hairy Damien Rush. It seems like he’s tried to shed the ignominy of being daddy’s little rich boy, but personally, that back story makes it that much more captivating to see him stripped to wrestling trunks and pounding that hot body of his into another man’s muscles. His return to the Muscle Domination Wrestling ring in Six Pack Bash 8 portrays him as a freelance fitness coach, thrusting his services upon Brad Barnes without waiting for an invitation.
Damien lends a hand to enhance Brad’s abdominal workout.
Brad is working his abs in the ring, sporting orange very-briefs and nothing else. Damien offers to enhance the work out with some light punches to Brad’s contracted abdominals, a la Rocky. Naive, dare we say, thick Brad concedes at first. But you and I know what happens next before we even see it. “Light” punches turn harder, more vicious, until Damien is beating the crap out of the muscle hunk’s gut with two fisted chops.
Damien is swimming in his own sweat, getting all hot and lathered beating the shit out of Brad Barnes.
Damien is luscious in his familiar sparkling purple trunks that manage to ride up high on his waist but not quite cover his sweet ass cheeks. Both studs are barefoot, and I love barefoot ring wrestling. It has a direct line to my adolescent self slack jawed in lust over a young Kevin Von Erich.
Damien prides himself on digging in deep, stretching you out in all different directions, and then pulling out hard.
“People pay for my services in the ab conditioning world,” Damien explains, clawing the living fuck out of Brad’s gut. “Because I give it to them better and harder than anyone else.” I love it when the double entendres fly thick and fast. “I dig in deep!” Damien grunts through gritted teeth, clawing his fingers past the first knuckles into Brad’s beet red gut. “And I pull out hard!” Like instructions in a sizzling hot night of rough sex, Damien marries physical brutality with a running narrative. “And then I stretch them in all different ways!” Yeah, Damien. Dig in deep and stretch me out in all different ways, rich boy!
Daddy’s little rich boy needs a blogger cornerman to towel off all of that slippery sweat!
I know I’m a broken record for pointing it out, but knowing some wrestling fans like I do, I feel obliged to warn you this is a complete, total, unequivocal squash from start to finish. There is one moment where Brad desperately slaps on a bearhug, but the look of unhurried contempt on Damien’s face makes this one of the more pitiful moments in the match for big Brad. And there are just so many moments to pity him!
Rope burn as homoerotic wrestling offense?
I also don’t quite get the rope. Damien appears to exponentiate the ab torture by stretching a rope across Brad’s gut. Huh? I mean, rope burn sucks, but… I’m just not buying it as the muscle crushing maneuver it’s made out to be. Brad’s capacity to sell is sorely tested there, as it is later when he’s “trapped” in the ropes (really, just draped backward across the top rope, but seemingly paralyzed). Brad suffers non-stop through this match, but you can see his skills wearing thin right around the same points at which the plot does.
Damien is ALL OVER hunky Brad.
Watching Damien work up a thick sheen of sweat, though, is never wasted time for me. Damn, this kid’s got my number. I mean, literally, I’ve been begging for an interview with Damien for years now, but I somehow never get past his personal assistant (not daddy’s little rich boy, my ass). The one-sided specialities at MDW do not serve him up nearly as movingly as Damien’s work elsewhere in the homoerotic wrestling universe. But those hairy pecs, that 5-o’clock shadow, and his sweet ass keep me tuning in, over and over.
I’d love to see both of these boys work about 10 times harder than they do (or at least sell that much more). I’m still lobbying MDW for fewer squashes and more wrestling competition drama. But this is Damien Rush and Brad Barnes and muscle domination and monologuing, so I know there’s plenty of market for Six Pack Bash 8.
Sidelineland 