My Netflix account is only about 4 months old, but it’s earned the subscription fee back several times over. For example, I’ve been binge watching Chuck, which I sort of lost track of when it was originally airing around the middle of season 2. The casting director needs an honorary homoerotic wrestling award for packing so much wrestling fantasy meat into one production. In a lottery-style homoerotic wrestling tournament, in which competitors draw names for their opponents in an elimination competition, who would end up in the final round, what genre of homoerotic wrestling, and who would be the Chuck Champ? I know how this celebrity homoerotic wrestling fantasy plays out in my mind. What about you? Comment with your take…
True Chuck fans immediately flashed on Stone Cold Steve Austin, who made a couple of guest appearances on Chuck as a mammoth, musclebound bad guy (what else?). However, since it’s my blog, I’m unilaterally DQing Stone Cold from this competition. His extensive ring experience makes gives him just too much of the inside track, so I’m appointing him to be the celebrity referee for this Chuck homoerotic wrestling tournament. Of course, you can decide if he’s a dirty ref or not…
White Collar/Magic Mike/Normal Heart dreamboat Matt Bomer was technically the first hunk featured on Chuck, so the ripped stud may have the jump on any other competitor. He’s 5’11’, a DILF, a ‘Mo, and a ripped piece of man meat. That may make him hard to beat!Of course, titular character Chuck played by real-life adorkable supreme Zachary Levi may have all the momentum, considering this is, literally, all about him. He’s 6’3″, lightly muscled and totally fit, and he makes me get all weak-kneed with a full-on smile.
Adam Baldwin was the most consistent big bad beefy bear in Chuck, playing John Casey, the very epitome of a sadistic heel. He’s 6’4″ with comic book hero handsomeness, definitely more of a natural for the “Big ‘n’ Beefy” mat room genre. How would he do in an elimination, full on homoerotic tourney?Ryan McPartlin was shirtless in pretty much every episode, and I for one want to pin the medal on the genius that insisted on copious shots of “Captain Awesome” Devon Woodcomb sweaty and working out. Yet another tall drink of handsomeness, Ryan climbs into the tournament at 6’4″, chiseled chin, 3% body fat, and a strong leaning toward a body beautiful narcissist/exhibitionist.Brandon Routh was around for a season of Chuck, displaying occasional (aka not enough) shirtlessness, but never, ever failing to show off his gargantuan biceps. His character was a textbook babyface hero who makes a full-on, groin-grabbing heel turn that makes all that beef just that much more dangerous. He may be “merely” 6’2″ in this battle of giants, but we’ve all heard the rumors about the legendary size of the salami he carries with him everywhere, which, depending on the genre, could totally swing things his way.A 2-episode appearance and the subject of the episode title “Chuck versus the Beefcake” earns MI6 agent Cole Barker, played by Jonathan Cake (seriously, the beefcake’s last name is Cake!) a total shot in this tourney. The entire point of his appearance in the series was to be mouthwateringly sexy, perpetually shirtless, sporting a raging hard-on and seemingly unflappable no matter how much pain is tossed his way object of red hot lust. It’s a good thing in this crowded field of giants that the muscled hunk is also 6’3″ and insanely handsome. He strikes me as precisely the type of character that puts the erotic in homoerotic wrestling, guaranteed that someone is getting fucked one way or another.Your dark horse entry into the tournament is Chuck’s faithful sidekick, Morgan Grimes, played by 5’7″ (seriously) Joshua Gomez. I know, I know, I know. The adorkable, diminutive Gomez is way out of his league, but for those who like an extreme longshot to bet on/cum over, he’s totally worth a second look as an undercover, NHB wildcat.
I love a hot battle between gorgeous hunks! Last week’s Friday Fashion poll is a perfect case in point. Babyface boy-next-door Greg Michaels pulled a respectable 25% of the vote, but it was a dead heat as of this morning between Corey Evans and Devon Cade, with 37.6% of the vote a piece. That means in answer to the question “Who wore it best?,” we’re left with a resounding indecision! Now, normally my prescription is to have the top vote-getters thrown into a ring, naked, with the gear in question to be donned by the hunk who makes his opponent his bitch. This week, however, I have a different possible tie-breaker. Since I posted last week, I’ve tracked down another 3 homoerotic wrestlers who ALSO wore this “vintage” red singlet in smokin’ hot action. So let’s see how Corey and Devon fare in the face of this new pack of hunks. Five worthy hunks. They all wore it, but who wore it best?
Last week Corey stayed in the lead until the very last moments of voting. His pumped pecs and gargantuan thighs were way too much for his opponent in Mat Hunks 1. But up against spoiler Devon AND 3 more hunks, do you think Corey wore it best this week?Devon Cade came from behind (and we know that wasn’t the first time!) to pry the uncontested victory out of Corey Evans hands. He wore the fuck out of that singlet, not to mention his opponent, in Undagear 13. But this week Devon’s up against Corey as well as three more stunners. What do you say, Devon fans? Still think he wore it best?Inaugural Raunchy Rookie Nick Veloudis brought SO much heat in his one and only BG East appearance, with that chiseled jaw and those incredibly sexy legs. He didn’t wear it long, but when he did, did he wear it best?
Talk about a babyface! Hairy chested Jean Luray was so innocent in Fantasymen 7, mistaking vile heel Cruze for his new wrestling coach. Cruze seems to have scared the adorable kid right out of the business, but while he was with us, did Jean wear it best?That’s right, classic homoerotic wrestling fans, legendary Wade Cutler wore this very same red singlet without anything underneath until his opponent ripped it off his hot body in Fantasymen 8. Wade unquestionably ignited the devotion of thousands of wrestling fans in his day, but specifically, in this case, did he wear it best?
Mitch “the Machine” Vaughn (l) faces Marcus “Titan” Ruhl (r)
Marcus Ruhl cements his standing as my favorite Naked Kombatant these days with his new release match against mammoth Mitch “The Machine” Vaughn. Both of these majorly beefy hunks are incredible specimens. Marcus’ ass and legs leave me breathless, and watching them pump and grind at work is phenomenally entertaining. He comes into the match with a 2-2 record, while Mitch is angling to keep his 2-0 record undefeated. Mighty Marcus comes across a bit of an underdog, with noticeably shorter reach and the tide of momentum seeming to favor Mitch. Just look at the size of Marcus upper arms and let that sink in: he’s an underdog!
Incredible muscle match!
Mitch hands Marcus his insanely sexy bubble butt in round 1 of Kombat. The Naked Kombat points pile up 15-7 in Mitch’s favor. Marcus is on his back and struggling under the mountain of muscle most of the duration, and he taps out pretty early on from the devastating effects of fingers up his crack (which at NK gets points and, surprisingly, a submission in this case). Gorgeous, tanned, mouthwateringly muscled Marcus is looking in serious jeopardy of tipping into the 2-3 category.
Even mighty Marcus can’t carry a muscle beast that big on his back for long!
Round 2, the jockstrap round, is fast and furious. There’s no point tally after that round, but I’m estimating that Marcus made up some, but not all, of his early deficit. Mitch looks tired. Well, they both look like exhausted behemoths, but Marcus looks a tad fresher.
Mitch literally grinds Marcus’ face into the mat. Could this be a rout?!
Round 3 is an oil round, and I just about lose my self-control just watching golden Marcus slather baby oil across every inch of himself. Massive hunks like these sometimes get seriously ponderous and half-assed around this point in NK, and with the oil making it nearly impossible to get a hold on each other, these studs could be excused if they’d dialed it down from their round 2 pace. But fuck no! It’s a chess match, mind you. It’s not a blitz of throws and holds and scrambling non-stop. But it’s move and hold, attempt and counter, muscles straining against mighty, massive muscles relentlessly. Damn, damn, damn that oil round is a feast!
Oil makes this match that much more beautiful and fiercer.
The match is called early because Mitch takes a scratch to an eyelid. Nearly 420 pounds of combined muscle, but it’s a scratch to the eyelid that stops this titanic confrontation cold! There’s a life lesson in there, I’m sure. The powers that be at NK decide the match is close enough to the end to just tally the points to that point and crown a winner. Remember, mighty Marcus ended round 1 with an 8 point disadvantage. Once the oil is washed off and Mitch’s eye treated with Neosporin, the final points are announced. Mitch: 24 points. Marcus: 26!
Makes my heart melt…
Round 4 at NK is the “sex round” in which the winner gets to dominate and call the shots, which 19 times out of 20 is the least arousing round for me. Watching Marcus own this power hitter, though, is pretty fucking sweet. There’s a ton of attention paid to Marcus’ ass, both by Mitch and by the camera. And then there is, by far, the most engaging moment in the match: the post-match testimonial in which both gladiators honestly, almost shyly comment on the experience and give each other kudos. That devastatingly handsome, Clark Kentish earnestness on Marcus’ gorgeous face melts into a beautiful, adorkable smile as he admits that his opponent was nearly too much to handle. Holy crap, I’ve got a gargantuan crush on that guy!
I’m on the record as a big fan of asses and dicks.
When I think about how I present myself online, I think about this blog. The depths of my confessionals in the well over 1,000 posts I’ve composed over the past 5 years pretty much leave me feeling naked (and hungry). So when someone approaches me in a different online format, who has clearly never read the pages of this blog, it’s always a little disorienting. “You into wrestling?” someone asks on Facebook. Seriously? I mention BG East or Can-Am on Twitter and someone asks, “What’s BG East?” Whaaaaa?
So today’s post explaining the do’s and don’t’s of chatting me up on Facebook and Twitter is probably pitched to the wrong audience (because, obviously, you’re reading this blog). However, after several cease and desists and “unfriending” (aka, “fuck off, bitch”), I thought I’d just clarify how I manage who I am and how I socialize in the most misnamed technology in history: social media. First of all, I am an unapologetic gay man. If you try to strike up conversation or ask me to accept you as a “friend,” but you appear to be presenting yourself as a straight man, into just women, with a total lack of style and a frequent use of homophobic slurs, I will ignore you. Some of my closest friends are straight guys, mind you, but my quota of token straights in my life is filled at the moment. Same goes for the boobulous women complementing me on my abs. Wrong tree.
Now, an overt nod to wrestling in your profile or chatter is a major plus. Assuming you’ve made it through the first round of exclusion criteria above, I almost universally acknowledge those who approach me with an explicit connection to wrestling. The gay guys who approach me who seem to hold no fascination for wrestling tend to have about a 0.50 probability of me ignoring them. Which side of that coin you fall on probably depends on whether I’m already inserting you into a wrestling fantasy of mine by looking at your profile photo. Yeah, it’s all about me.
The right type of ass.
Speaking of which, regular readers of this blog know well that I’m a major fan and booster of hot asses and succulent dicks. Honestly, I’ve dragged you all along on quite a few rounds of “Name that Ass” and “Name that Cock,” so it should come as no surprise that I love asses and dicks. I’m still planning a revival of the “Name that…” games at some point, because, let me repeat, I love asses and I love dicks.
The extremely right type of ass!
That said, metaphorical asses and dicks frequently make it through my initial two rounds of exclusion criteria above, and then get my boot later on. What qualifies one as a metaphorical ass who I don’t have time for? Rabid, right wing, Tea Party, misogynist, internalized homophobic, guns in every hand but save fetuses at all costs, racist, anti-immigrant bullshit qualifies one instantly as the sort of ass that I have no time for. That’s right. You may be gay and a wrestling freak, but if you shove your politics in my face and I find them abhorrent, I’ve moved on. I’m fine with you believing your wing-nuttery, but I’m not about to see it in my feed on a regular basis.
The right type of dick.
What qualifies one as a metaphorical dick that I can’t stand? There are a few signals to me that someone is a dick. “Hey fucker, I’m going to beat your ass and you’re going to take it,” is a pick up line that does not work for me in the sphere of social media. Buy me a couple of drinks, strip your rock hard body down to a jock strap, and serve up some sweet trash talk and sure, you’re back to being the sort of dick I love. Come on way too strong and insist on dominating without a basis of consensual amiability, and you’re coming across to me as the sort of dick I don’t have time for. Another signal of a distasteful dick is trashing people I care about and respect. Bitchy take downs and critiques of the bodies of homoerotic wrestlers in the business, for example, merits a “see ya,” from me. Thoughtful critiques of the homoerotic wrestling industry are lovely, but one-dimensional flaming of a particular company or product is just dickish.
I repeat, I love dick. Not dickishness.
I don’t tend to respond much to “hey, stud, let’s cyber wrestle.” That doesn’t usually merit a delete from me, but I’ve said way too often that my dance card is full up at the moment. It comes close, but typically doesn’t quite cross the line when someone asks to share pirated homoerotic wrestling products. Again, if you read the pages of this blog, you know that I’m a big, big booster of the industry and want it to thrive and prosper. Intentionally pirating copyrighted material is awfully damn close to dickishness that I don’t have time for. You probably won’t get deleted, but I’ll try to pretend you didn’t just ask me that.
Always room for more of the right type of ass.
Want to chat about your favorite homoerotic wrestler? Want to comment on dicks and asses (the good kind)? Want to steer me to a new company or product because you’re fucking love it to pieces and think I will too? Let’s virtually socialize! Care to offer a different opinion or take me to task because you think I’ve missed some essential hotness in my meanderings and musings? Love it. Be classy, gay, and within the brotherhood of homoerotic wrestling fans, and let’s connect. The other type of asses and dicks, keep moving.
Whoever is at the front desk in the hotel where Damien Rush and Muscle Master Kevin are staying, he’s one of us. How do I know? Because he’s apparently intentionally double-booked these two hot, hairy, pumped up studs in the same suite, both of them desperate for a (private) dip in the in suite hot tub.
Two hot studs desperate for a dip in a hot tub.
This newest season on Muscle Domination Wrestling is featuring a noticeably beefier version of Muscle Mast Kevin. He’s not as cut, but sporting a whole lot more meat on those bones, accompanied by a lumberjack beard and a felonious disdain for sharing. Or taking turns. Though I wish this scenario was settled with the two hunks agreeing to share the more than ample hot tub. Naked. Alas.
Damien’s bid to defy MMK is squashed in about 17 seconds.
Anyhow. In Zzzzzzzz 3, Damien Rush showed up for his dip in the bubbles wearing a wrestling singlet. His hairy pecs bulge out the top. His huge shoulders are mapped with pulsing veins. And he’s not having any of it when MMK tries to muscle in and intimidate pretty Damien out of his already paid for suite.
This isn’t exactly the dip in the tub that Damien had in mind.
Muscle Domination Wrestling fans know that MMK has a fuse about 2 millimeters long, so no one but a newbie will be shocked that he opens a can of whoop ass on Damien in the blink of an eye. Happily for us, MMK’s carefully channeled rage immediately lighted upon the perfect solution to this conflict: they both need to get wet together. Of course, MMK’s version of this scenario has his hands wrapped around Damien’s throat as he dunks the stud.
Wolverine all buttoned up nice and snug.
Damien is begging for mercy in less than 2 minutes, which I have to admit, is turning me on. Hairy, hunky, hot as fuck Damien is overwhelmed and ready to submit so fast, I would’ve thought I’d sort of hate the stud for caving so quickly. But the muscle torture angle of this confrontation is provoking me to a surprising degree, and MMK’s relentlessness paired with Damien’s speedy decision that he is in (quite literally) over his head captivates me.
Wet muscles? I’m in.
This is one of MDW’s genre-straddling productions that runs the risk of leaving some of its intended audience feeling frustrated. There is some wrestling, but the space outside the tub is extremely limited, and the range of combat that can happen inside a hot tub is somewhat abbreviated as well. The physicality is almost entirely devoted to choke fans, as MMK’s hands are wringing Damien’s neck non-stop. Those with a drowning fetish (not me, but I’m not judging) will also find the action inside the tub a pleasure. Looking for hot, hairy muscleboys straining and flexing? Check. But if your core fetish is a couple of hunks in a pro-wrestling ring bouncing off the ropes, flying off the corners, and scooping and slamming the fuck out of each other, this will be, at best, kink adjacent. What the match lacks in scope, however, it makes up for in intimacy. The lighting is surprisingly good for the limitations of the setting, and the camera man has got to be plastered to a wall, the view is so extremely up close.
You can almost feel the panicked breaths slipping out of Damien’s mouth, the camera is so close!
“Too intense for you?” MMK asks Damien as the gasping hunk is sputtering and choking water out of his lungs. Damien worries that MMK’s real design is to literally kill him. It’s not a snuff bit, so don’t worry (or, sorry to disappoint, however it is you take the news). Damien is still alive by the end of the 16 minute session. Unconscious, sure, but alive, as MMK flexes over top of him, water dripping of his beefy bod as he explains that everything is an object lesson, and this lesson is for anyone who dares to defy him when he makes a move to take anything (ANYTHING) that may appear to belong to someone else.
Damien bent over and taking it from the Boss.
Me? I’ve got a thing for wet musclemen. So despite Damien’s hot bod being submerged in water (and thus out of sight) for most of the session, there’s enough hot, hairy, handsome man meat on display to stroke that side of me that gets a little weak in the knees at glistening, soaked studs. What would have topped this off with a cherry would have been Damien subserviently bathing his muscle master (with or without his tongue… I’d have been okay either way). But there’s a bluntness about MDW that remains true in Zzzzzzz 3. The homoeroticism is primarily what you and I bring to the viewing, though the impulse to film two hunks having it out in a hot tub is, quite obviously, pitched our direction.
Let’s get back to some Friday Fashion fun. There’s a particular pair of complimentary singlets that have been worn OUT by about a dozen wrestlers. One singlet is red, the other blue, and they’re referred to at least a couple times on the BG East website as “retro.” Today, let’s just assess who wore the red singlet best. Now, I’ve found at least 2 more hot hunks who’ve worn this gear in addition to the three studs featured here today, but I haven’t sussed out the identities of the 2 mystery men yet. If I can, perhaps we’ll have a round two to determine who wore it best.
I believe it was devastatingly sexy Corey Evans who may have worn it first in the inaugural Matmen release, setting the bar extremely high in his match with pretty boy Jesse Tyler. Greg Michaels also donned the “retro” red singlet as he headed face first into the buzz saw that is Nick Archer in Mat Hunks 3, and then again pressing his bad luck against Eric Ford in Ringwars 9. And finally (for today) handsome, horny Devon Cade dared to wear the same gear (to start with) in his sizzling Undagear 13 match against my fantasy stripper gram stud, Jonah Richards. This singlet has been soaked through on the way to victories and losses, but when it comes to the aesthetics of fashion and form, who wore it best? Vote below.
Corey Evans shrugged out of the shoulder straps early, then was peeled out of the singlet entirely, but in that brief window of opportunity when he actually had it on, did he wear it best?Earnest boy next door Greg Michaels was all heart and amateur earnestness, earning him repeated beatings in the big leagues of BG East. He may not have scored many submissions or pins in this singlet, but most importantly for today, did he wear it best?Sex. It pulses off Devon Cade’s hot body like a beacon. You know for a fact that the seductively form-fitting singlet won’t last long stretched across his bulges, but when it was, did he wear it best?
Precisely 5 years ago, I sat down and started to compose my first posts for neverland. Five years!? It’s incredible to look back and consider the distance traveled, the friendships made, the haters ignored. I remember tracking site visits to the blog back then and getting a rush of excitement if there were more than a couple of dozen page views in a day. These days, the average is between 1,500 and 2,000 per day, and we’ve had about 350,000 page views in total since I migrated the blog here to WordPress about 10 months ago. I won’t lie to you, there are days when I wonder what else I could possibly write about my take on homoerotic wrestling that I haven’t already written before. I’m also pretty sure I’ve repeated myself dozens of times on most topics at this point. But just like my obsession with homoerotic wrestling, something about documenting the heart of what turns me on keeps pulling me back to the pages of this blog. Thanks to everyone who has commented over the years. A huge thank you to the producers of the finest homoerotic wrestling who have granted copyright permission to repost their photos on the pages of this blog. My deep gratitude for the many wrestlers who’ve been willing to sit down for interviews, for guest bloggers who’ve posted their perspectives here at neverland, for brother wrestling bloggers who broadcast more of the diversity of tastes and follies than any one of us could ever manage to cover alone, and to everyone who has been kind and classy enough to drop a good word, a note of encouragement, or just to continue the fascinating conversation that I’ve had (mostly with myself) for the past 5 years.
Now, somebody needs a spanking, and I think it’s me!
Out of the blue, I received a cold call message from none other than the homoerotic wrestling classic giant, Clint Morgan. I’ve mentioned before that I’m a fan of this classic heel from the early days of the homoerotic wrestling industry. Like so many wrestlers I’ve chatted with, Clint appreciates the kind word and sincere appreciation of his work. I, of course, asked for an interview. It took us a while to sort out the logistics, but we finally started. It took a little while for the conversation to warm up (as you’ll see), which I owe to my perpetually picturing big Clint beating the hell out of me if I said something irksome. Things did, indeed, start to warm up, though, and in fact I was surprised by the quantity of heat we tapped into. I probably shouldn’t have been, though. Have you seen this stud wrestle!? Talk about heat! Anyway, this should surprise absolutely no one that Clint Morgan has opinions, big, strong, ballsy opinions that he’s not shy about sharing. So settle in, put on your acid wash jeans, and remember the mullet as I sit down for a chat with one of the sexiest things to emerge from the 1980s.
Bard: Clint Morgan! Holy crap, this is such an honor to get to talk with you! You’ve haunted my wrestling fantasies ever since I first came across some of your matches for BG East. Are you still wrestling today?
Clint: Thank you. Only occasionally, private matches.
Bard: What wrestling experience did you have before wrestling for BG East?
Clint: I wrestled a friend many times while in high school. These were private and clad only in jockey briefs. Later I was studying martial arts when I saw an ad for BG Wrestling. I became a member, began receiving literature and pictures. Saw a solicitation for wrestlers and signed up. This was 1987.
Bard: Wow, BG East just opened up the mail and found Clint Morgan ready to wrestle?! Jackpot! What are some of your memories from when you were just starting to wrestle with BG East? Were you nervous? Excited? Turned on?
Getting paid well to do something he loves
Clint: Not exactly BG East. It was BG Wrestling. Bill George contacted me, requested pics of me, forwarded them to Kid Leopard in Boston who contacted me. KL flew me up and did my first matches. Got paid well to do something I loved, and all the emotions you asked were there.
Bard: Oh sure! That portion of history where BG and BG East separated is fuzzy in my mind. You got your hands on some amazingly hot guys. Bryan, Scott Rogers, PJ, Shane McCall… Are there any memories on the mats or in the ring that stick out for you, good, bad, or ugly?
Clint had Bryan right where he wanted him during their second match, featured in Demolition 2.
Clint: Oh yeah. I actually wrestled Bryan twice. Great guy and wrestler. Learned a lot from him technically. McCall was the toughest pro match and one of the hottest private matches in my life. All BG wrestlers were really cool guys.
Bard: I’ve heard from several BG wrestlers past and present that they felt a powerful camaraderie with the other wrestlers. It sounds like that was the case for you, too. Was there a closeness off camera that you think made the action on camera that much more intense? And is there any photographic or video evidence left of that hottest private match ever with hotty Shane?!
Beautiful Shane McCall suffered long and hard when they met on camera in Wrestlefest 1.
Clint: It was a fraternal environment. Sadly, no video.
Bard: So I think of Clint Morgan, and I think 6’4″, stunningly sexy, devastatingly powerful, more than a hint of cruel sadist about him, take shit from no one, relishing an opponent’s screams of panicked submission, and making it all hurt a little longer than really necessary to get the point across. How much of that jives with your impression of who you were in front of the camera, and how much of it coincides with who you are off camera?
Clint: Your descriptive narrative is directly on point. Clint is only a character created from my own laughingly twisted psyche. Although if genuinely angered, as has happened in the past, he tends to show up and take over. A form of an alter ego. Thanks for the compliments, by the way.
Bard: Trust me, it’s my pleasure to get to tell you in person what a delight it is to watch you terrorize a wrestling opponent! You still have extremely loyal fans of your catalog. Were there any particular reasons you stopped showing up on camera?
The match description refers to Clint as “bigger, nastier, wilder; this ultra stud is now and ideal s/m leatherdude icon cum to life!”
Clint: In life there are unavoidable challenges like the devastating loss of my hero and best friend: my father. Then I, for many years just wandered aimlessly. Still worked but lost purpose. Suffered depression and drug addiction but beat all of it without professional help and now 11 years clean. Going back to the gym and rebuilding my body.
Bard: All the respect in the world for the rough road you’ve traveled. So sorry for the loss of your father, but congratulations on your 11 years. I’m just going to assume you’re heading for the biggest comeback in BG East history, so who are some of the current wrestlers who you’d like to get your hands on first?
Clint: Tyrell Tomsen. Is that his name? [laughing] Big black stud who wrestled Braden Charron.
Bard: Hell yes! Tyrell is a fantastic choice to start with! Damn that body is incredible. Any ideas where you’d start when introducing him to the brutal world of Clint Morgan?
Clint: Abs, pecs, throat.
Bard: Yes. Yes. And Yes! Tyrell has faced some awesome competition, but I feel like he has yet to really encounter a full on session with a true heel. Would you like to face him in the ring? On the mats? In a back alley? In my living room?
Clint: Name it. But I want an all out rip ‘n’ strip match, no rules, winner take all.
Bard: In that case, I definitely want to see that happen in my living room! And by “all” I hope you’re referring to that stellar ass of Tyrell’s. He’s a stunning combination of being painfully pretty and incredible meaty. Is that a particular combo you like in an opponent?
Clint: I absolutely crave it. I like black, white, anybody built with a nice ass.
Bard: Hell yes, now we’re talking! Again, Tyrell has had his ass stripped a couple of times, but never by someone who seems to really appreciate it the way it deserves. Any other current wrestlers with asses you’d like to take possession of?
Clint: Dick Rick is another one that comes to mind. Cameron Matthews is also one that I would like to have a pro match with.
Bard: Holy crap, Dick Rick meets Clint Morgan in the ring, no rules, anything goes!? I’m swooning as we speak. And when it comes to Cameron, he’s grown into quite the beautiful specimen of beef lately. I’d also like to recommend Kid Karisma get on your short list. Two-time best butt winner? That irrepressible attitude? I’d give a kidney to see Kid K face the epic reboot of Clint Morgan!
Clint: I know Karisma from Colorado. Met him a couple years ago at a bar named Charlies, where I was a bouncer.
Bard: I think he’s packed on muscle mass in the past couple of years. Cute as a button and lives to bully. I think he definitely deserves a session with the bouncer. Can we talk numbers? Your BG East profile says you’re 6’4″. Is that an exaggeration, or are you seriously that tall?
Clint: 6’3” barefoot. Boots add an inch.
Bard: 6’3″ barefoot sounds pretty perfect to me. That’s a lot of real estate that I’ve seen you use to devastating effect. Are there holds that you feel make the most of that long body? Any particular moves that a whimpering Tyrell would find himself in?
Clint: Rack is my favorite, but I have many including abdominal stretch, Boston crab, surfboard, and the list goes on and on.
Clint always makes the most out of his 6’3″ frame.
Bard: A rack from that height is a fantastic thing to see. Is there anything that you think is missing from today’s homoerotic wrestling industry that was there when you were taping? There’s a lot of “nostalgia” wafting around among wrestling fans, but I’m not sure if it’s really about what’s showing up on camera, or if it’s more about changing times, changing tastes, and rose-colored glasses about the early days.
Clint: Glad you brought that up. To some, what I and others did years ago seems primitive. Today what I see is pretty, gay, and gay-for-pay boys (like Rio Garza) who either don’t know how to wrestle or aren’t convincing attempting it. It is sad, but older, heavier guy don’t sell videos like young pretty boys do, and the proprietors of these video companies have sold out literally in my view. The days of good old school pro wrestling are pretty much gone. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good private sexfight/cockfight as much as anyone, but only with two guys who know how to dish and sell.
Bard: Tough words, which I’d expect no less from Clint Morgan! So if you were master of the universe for a day, you’d make more old school pro bouts happen, with better dish and sell? I’m with you. And including more mature bodies and skills alongside of the pretty young things? Absolutely. Anything else you’d make happen?
Clint: No gay-for-pay allowed. Reason: they won’t in most cases seal the deal if it got to that. And all would be properly schooled and instructed then totally rehearsed before ever appearing on video. I’m tired of this ridiculous and repugnant garbage these companies are putting out there. At least Van Darkholme’s guys can, for the most part, wrestle. Sadly not pro, but you get the idea.
Bard: You’re talking about Naked Kombat? I go back and forth with them. There’s a sweet intensity about their format, but the pornboys often are more heart than substance. And the sex round is often pretty rote and oddly formulaic for a pretty unscripted sense of the combat.
Clint: Agreed, but I didn’t mean to indicate they were perfect. Just in my view on average better than the others.
Bard: Any guys there that you’d like to get a good hold of and score points?
DJ was always packing major league heat at Naked Kombat!
Bard: I completely agree about DJ. He was incredibly athletic and incredibly intense. So lean, downright skinny even, but kicked ass way above his weight class (not that NK has weight classes). If you could hand pick two lightweights to try to handle you, any particular duo (NK, BGE, whoever) you’d like to crush two at a time?
Bard: Tasty treat! Very, very nice lightweight combo. How would that one finish off, would you imagine? And please tell me it involves that Ken doll Kip gagging on his own trunks.
Clint: Yeah and Gil ‘s naked bod draped across Kip’s, with Gil’s cock in Kip’s open mouth.
Bard: Perfection! Damn, I want to see your comeback. Your brutally honest critique of the state of the industry notwithstanding, I hope you don’t mind me putting this angle out there: Clint “the Bouncer” Morgan returns to clean house and bounce any pretty boy who can’t sell out of the business. Terrorize the gay-for-pay class. Brutalize the twinks who just want to look pretty. The Bouncer tosses the riff raff and becomes the antihero of 85% of homoerotic wrestling fans. What do you think?
Clint: LOVE IT!
Bard: Awesome. It’d sell huge among the fans I talk with. You get your 6’3″ body into the shape you need to pop Tyrell’s cork, and I’ll work on the buzz. I have to say, Clint, how pleased I am to get this glimpse of you. You are as engaging and provocative in your reflections as you are terrifying in action. And that’s saying a lot! Anything you’d like to say to your fans who are instantly lighting a torch for the dream to see you on camera again? Any words for the Clint Morgan devotees that think the industry was never quite as thrilling as when you where staring way, way down at a quaking opponent?
Clint: I am grateful to all of my fans. Grateful for their adulation and appreciation of my work. Without them I am nothing more than a vaudeville style freak show. So thank you all. Oh, and one last thing. Better watch your back, Tyrell!
“You’d better watch your back, Tyrell!”
Bard: Hell yes! Will you keep me posted on how the training is going, what piece of fluff finds his way onto your bouncer list, etc?
Clint: Absolutely, Bard.
Bard: Fantastic! Well, I’ll say it again, this has been an outstanding pleasure. On behalf of a ton of fans I know, thanks for taking the time to let is know what you’re up to. All the very best for what lies ahead for you, and I’m desperately hoping that includes your return to the ring to clean house!
Eli Black pretty much owned neverland about a year ago. The incredibly dangerous stud was the first ever to claim the title of homoerotic wrestler of the month here 3 times. I wondered what had happened to him after what seemed like a drought of Eli releases for several months. Then BG East releases their newest Eli feature, going undie to undie with underwear model pretty boy Z-Man in Undagear 21. And around the same time, out of the blue, Ethan “Axel” Andrews contacts me and offers to introduce me to UCW.
Ethan “Axel” Andrews and the notorious blue tarp.
I’ve enjoyed Joe’s coverage of UCW for years now. He has a special relationship with the UCW boys, it seems. For some reason, I’ve never sampled them. I think it’s the aesthetic of the blue tarp covered walls. But Ethan assured me he believed I’d like what I saw, so he gave me some complimentary review copies of a few UCW matches that he personally picked out with me in mind. How could I say no? And, of course, Eli Black plays a prominent role in this sexy ass mix tape.
The All-Star Champion of UCW, Eli Black!
So THAT’S where Eli’s been! The UCW files show Eli with more advanced ink than his BG East appearances, so I’m deducing that his UCW work has happened since he first taped with BG East. Over at UCW, Eli appears to be a notoriously underhanded heel. And, ironically, Ethan “Axel” is apparently a notoriously aboveboard face. Welcome to Wonderland, Alice! They’ve apparently been calling each other out for months by the time they face one another finally on the UCW mats. The opening trash talk is angry and vicious (like I love it!). Both boys are in very brief blue trunks. Ethan’s pouch is gargantuan, which is a detail that comes back into this story pretty damn quickly.
Extreme ball abuse throughout.
Early on, this appears to be a mugging. Ethan is all over Eli like a bad rash. Honestly, it’s a mugging when Ethan (who is determined NOT to be a bully?) zeroes in on Eli’s bandaged, injured arm, viciously cranking, punching, and kicking it relentlessly. Eli is stunned like I’ve never quite seen Eli stunned before. That right arm hangs lifelessly at his side. He’s nothing more than a mouthwateringly hot plaything for furious Ethan to torture. With rising confidence, he starts to focus on Eli’s pride and joy (not his ass, his other pride and joy), his abs. Kicks, punches, even a headbutt to the gut delivers the contempt that Ethan feels for Eli’s ripped 8-pack. But even without ever seeing a UCW match, I could’ve told Ethan he was barking up the wrong tree. A mountain of gut bashing is what Eli refers to as a breather. Sure enough, Eli roars back, scoops him up, and slams Ethan to the mat with authority.
That mammoth package was just too big for this NOT to happen!
“My turn!” Eli crows, going to town on Ethan’s also impressive, but let’s face it, nowhere nearly as ripped abdominal wall. Ethan’s got his sights set farther south, though, quickly turning to crushing that humungous pouch of Ethan’s with the heel of his barefoot. Then both feet. Holy shit, Ethan screams.
Amazing athleticism from these two stars.
There’s a ton of ass slapping and ball abuse traded between the two of these studs. It’s astonishingly evenly fought, both in athleticism, fitness, and viciousness. Neither of them can quite believe that their tried and true finishers simply cannot seal the deal. They get angrier and more frustrated by the minute. The pacing is surprisingly engaging. The personalities are huge and hot. And I don’t even mind the blue tarped walls, particularly when Eli has Ethan scooped up in his arms and pounds him over and over into the cinderblocks.
The three sexy stars of this match.
This is careening into a blue-ball stalemate when Eli proposes a gut punching contest to settle their score. Gut punching contest with Eli!? What the fuck is Ethan thinking? Oh, that’s what he’s thinking. When it’s obvious he’s never going to make Eli’s impenetrable armor quiver, he delivers a low blow, swarms all over Eli’s gorgeous ass, and puts him down for the count.
The champ is out!
“This is the ONLY time I’m going to cheat to win!” Ethan promises the camera as he leaves the mat. But somehow, it feels like Eli’s loss may be even a bigger victory for the dark side of the force. Who can resist that feel of dominating power that comes from a shocking low blow? Who can pick up the mantle of bad ass bully and then, voluntarily, set it down again to play it straight? The force is strong with this one, and I suspect that Eli may not exactly consider this entirely a “loss.”
Me? It’s a winner in my book, and I’m thrilled to get another Eli Black-fix in my system.
My interest in professional football has primarily centered on a three-way ring wrestling fantasy in which Aaron Rodgers, Jordy Nelson, and Clay Matthews beat the living shit out of each other (obviously including extensive double-teaming by Aaron and Jordy), until they’ve all been stripped out of their trunks and the winner gets a blow job from one loser while he racks the other across his gargantuan shoulders (yep, you can pretty much guess who’s who). Actually following a season has been outside of my frame of reference for well over a decade, and actually paying attention to draft day has frankly never been on my radar. But it was hard not to notice Michael Sam getting drafted by the Rams and sucking face with his boyfriend in celebration. The kiss seemed a tad forced and uncomfortably choreographed to me. Nevertheless, it was hot. For me. Others were clearly offended. There were apparently the predictable junior high level “ewwwwws” from the un-self-reflected narcissists privileged to remain far too long in angst-ridden adolescent ignorance and knee jerk self-defensiveness around their own secret same-sex fantasies. There was the wildly hypocritical “shield my baby’s eyes” indignation from the same mothers who blissfully see no irony in wanting more guns in their children’s schools while earnestly believing that witnessing g-rated affection between consenting adults will scar their offspring permanently. And there’s the “homosexual agendaists” who whip themselves in sackcloth because of the “politicization” of sport, and sports television, and masculinity itself. Whatever it means for football or football fans or sports television, the kerfuffle highlights the simple truth that persists regardless of where you stand: the personal is political. Oh, and two men kissing is sexy.
Sidelineland 