I’m entirely on board with the erotic power of a tree of woe. The ToW is an example of how some homoerotic wrestling gems simply require a professional wrestling ring. Hang a hammered hunk upside down in the corner, his knees draped over the top ropes and his feet locked in place beneath the cable connecting the turnbuckle to the post, and there’s all sorts of a hot wrestling gold that’s suddenly ripe for picking. It’s a maneuver that signals total control over a mastered man. The subject of woe is laid out so vulnerably, his body not just on display, but trussed up beautifully for easy access to innovative methods of torture. There’s a little crossover here between bondage kink and wrestling kink, with enough of both to show due respect to all parties involved, as far as I’m concerned. In honor of those of you who harbor a special place in your hearts and crotches for an agonizing, dominating, body manipulating tree of woe (and I hear from you often), this post is for you. Here are 10 ideas for what to do with an opponent once you’ve trapped him in a tree of woe.
Climb on top, knee crushing his balls, and celebratelike Brooklyn Bodywrecker.When finding yourself out-boxed, hang the fucker upside down and peel off his gloves to make this all about homoerotic wrestling, like Brodie Fisher.Grab a dumbbell and bash your opponent’s six-pack abs, like Eli Black.Duck outside the ring and wrench the trapped fucker’s head backward, like Cameron Matthews.Stop on his flowing locks and dare the muscleboy to squirm, like Ethan Andrews.Stand outside the ring and threaten to rip his arms out at the shoulder, like Alex Waters.Make sure his trunks are hooked on the turnbuckle and slipping off, then land a soaring drop kick to the helpless stud’s gut, like Jonny Firestorm.Sit on his face, like the Brooklyn Bodywrecker.Pause and appreciate the view – and feel – like Jarret Cole.That’s right, a Tree of Woe/Bearhug/Headscissors combination, nice and snug in the crushing embrace of Cole Cassidy!
Neverland readers occasionally overestimate my integration within the formal hierarchy of homoerotic wrestling. They ask me to arrange for someone in particular to get an audition with a wrestling producer, or they request that I put in a good word for a particular combination of wrestling opponents to appear in a future match. The truth is, although I write and obsess a lot about homoerotic wrestling, my influence on its production is minimal-to-non-existent. I picture myself more as a part of the press corps, appreciated by a precious few who actually make the news, tolerated by most of the rest of the producers and wrestlers, and despised by a handful of the star players (sometimes for legitimate reasons, I’ll admit). Although I muse incessantly about my own lusts for particular motifs and tag team partners and opponents, I can think of only two instances when I’ve expressed a detailed wish for a future homoerotic wrestling production that actually ended up being produced.
My personal fantasy: Rusty Stevens sits on Mitch Colby’s face.
The first homoerotic wrestling match that seemed to fall like mana from heaven a few months after I wrote about the need to see it produced was BG East’s Sexiest: Breaking Pointmat match. Rusty Stevens and Mitch Colby had traded my loyalties back and forth, each claiming and losing the title of my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler to each other repeatedly. Holy hell, the two of them wore me out for something like a year and a half, turning me on harder and harder with each new release they starred in seperately! What was needed, I mused here at neverland, was a direct, head-to-head confrontation in which the two premiere fantasymen appealing to my fondest homoerotic wrestling desires showed up in the same place to work their magic on each other, proving decisively and indisputably which one of them was the champ of grabbing my cock and milking me dry. This seemed an unlikely item for my wish list, since Rusty had never appeared in a homoerotic wrestling production east of the Mississippi. They were both Naked Kombat veterans, but I got the impression from somewhere that Mitch was not interested in going down that path again. So when BG East released in the summer of 2010 The Breaking Point, I felt faint at the sight of Rusty and Mitch in sweat-soaked jock straps barreling down on one another on the Florida mats (so okay, I had asked for a Boston ring match, but whadevah). Was I in any way responsible for this stroke of casting genius? I suspect not, and no one has ever suggested that was the case. But like a prayer to Poseidon, the expression of my heart’s desire was followed closely enough by its realization that I felt a little moment of self-efficacy over the homoerotic wrestling gods. Maybe, just maybe, I could feel like I had just a little to do with Rusty’s one and only venture (so far) into BG East territory.
Cameron Matthews hands Lon Dumont a bottle of lube as they face off in Wrestlefest 3.
The second instance of inspired booking that I probably don’t have absolutely any right to claim…but I’ll imply that I do… is the opening match in BG East’s new release, Wrestlefest 3, pitting my now-reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler, Lon Dumont, against his former protege, babyface bruiser and former HWOTM here, Cameron Matthews. In my interview with Lon early in 2011, he mentioned he was Cam’s “original pro wrestling trainer,” and that in their careers, they’d wrestled one another 3 or 4 dozen times. “Damn, that would be something I’d like to see!” I replied. “Perhaps we’ll see you two in action through BGE sometime.” Enigmatically, Lon responded, “Perhaps so.”
Lon puts his protege on his knees.
Merely 2 and a half years later, BG East released Wrestlefest 3, checking off another fondest wish on my list. This match sets off a non-stop fireworks-finale in my crotch for the duration of this intensely hot ring confrontation. The word apparently is that Lon’s return to wrestling competition hasn’t entirely been welcomed by his former mentee, particularly not when Lon was overheard boasting that he was “classing up” BG East since his arrival. As an unabashed Lon-fanatic, I see nothing at all wrong with crediting Lon with bringing a boatload of class, a simply massive ring repertoire, and a melts-in-my-mouth gorgeous physique that’s done nothing at all bad for the BGE universe. Impolitic? Perhaps. But wrong? I’m unapologetically on Lon’s side as this drama unfolds.
Blaine Janus lends a hand in Lon’s torture of Cameron.
I’m not the only one on Lon’s side, but it’s close. Fulfilling another of my oft-mentioned longings, BG East filmed this match in front of a live audience comprised of BG East wrestlers. Everyone of them is instantly pulling for red-white-and-blue bedecked Cameron, except for the lusty cheers that Blaine Janus has for my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler, Lon. The rest of the boys at ringside are fucking relentlessly taunting and insulting Lon, but Blaine is channeling my deepest longing by cheering Mr. Dumont on and making at least a couple undisguised passes at the bodybuilder beauty. Note to self: I need to interview Blaine Janus, because that boy has stunningly awesome taste!
All grown up now, Cameron puts the hurt on Lon’s muscled bod.
This match is phenomenal! There’s always a danger of the real thing not living up to the hype and anticipation, but Lon and Cameron bring precisely what I would hope to this match: intensely high quality pro wrestling action, stunningly hot bodies squeezed and pried apart from every angle, and about 3 quarts of sweat (mostly produced by Cameron, I think, but liberally lubricating both of these specimens of gorgeous muscle!). The back and forth is fantastically intense, and early going Lon is simply outmuscled and dominated by his bigger, younger, chip-on-his-shoulder opponent. Watching Lon’s hot bod get manhandled ranks as one of the top 10 wonders of the homoerotic wrestling world, as far as I’m concerned.
Full-contact audience participation!
Full-contact audience participation is achingly sweet, and the Cam-fans at ringside are simply giddy when they exploit every opportunity they can to get their hands on Lon. I understand the impulse. The cocky veteran appears to have a blind spot for an audience inexplicably aching to watch him get crushed, and Skip Vance and Ben Monaco in particular successfully get underneath Lon’s flawless skin and do what audiences do best, assault the oversized egos in the ring and serve as the third man, distracting cocky heels from their appointed rounds.
Cameron’s got Lon right where I want him!
I don’t think I’ve seen Lon take quite the abuse that his junior colleague dishes out in Wrestlefest 3. Sure, he got pounded into dust by giant Joe Robbins in Gut Bash 8, but Cameron’s measured delivery of precise quantities of trash talk, blinding speed, acrobatic athletics, and ring savvy moves absolutely stymie my top wrestler-crush throughout a good portion of this match in ways I’ve just not witnessed. Cam catches Lon’s fantasy physique in such compromising positions that this match quite literally requires about 3 times longer than the running time for me to get through the whole thing in one sitting.
Lon controls the babyface… completely.
If there’s one thing that can raise my temperature hotter than watching Lon’s muscles dominated, it’s watching him muscle his way back into contention and start to apply the pedal to the metal in overcoming a young stud opponent. Just watching Lon’s chiseled abs pump and flex as he bears down on this babyface beauty in an abdominal stretch is mesmerizing! And don’t think for a minute Lon isn’t a crowd pleaser (despite the complaints of everyone at ringside other than Blaine), because he yanks on those adorably heroic American flag trunks of Cameron’s to show us Cam’s real moneymaker, that mindblowing ass!
Cameron’s got Lon right where I want him (yes, you read that right)
The competition is way too close for Lon to own the momentum for long at any one time, and even with seconds left in the contest the victory remains in question. These two are master storytellers, so the tension is stroked hotter and harder with such expertise, such passion, such a generous spirit for the viewing audience. The former student’s confident call-out of his former mentor teeters back and forth between folly and fate, and every second Cameron gets to feel Lon’s muscle body constricting around him is another moment I’m insanely jealous.
Yep. Right where I want him.
Praise be to the homoerotic wrestling gods that heard my prayers and made this match happen, because watching these to men who know each other so well, with such a history of mutual admiration as well as a burning grudge, is epic. BG East is a better place for having both of these highest class of athletes on board. And if you’re wondering whether Cameron knocks his bodybuilder mentor down a few pegs, I’ll just say that I (and Blaine) were intensely pleased to watch the climax of this barely controlled chaos of a pro wrestling match for gay eyes. So much muscle. So much sweat. Such beautiful wrestling.
Last Friday was National Coming Out Day, so consider me tardy when I say, “I’m gay.” I know this comes as a shock to you all. Go to a support group and talk your shit out there. I’m quickly moving on to the most shocking coming out that occurred last Friday.
Cage Thunder: iconoclast.
Cage Thunder outed himself. I mean, you’re brain dead if you know who Cage Thunder is and failed to already understand that he has an insatiable desire for hot-bodied hunks and cock. No, on Friday, Cage Thunder didn’t bust open the closet door. He, literally, ripped off the wrestling mask!
Cage Thunder unmasked Pink Puma
I won’t post his unmasked picture here, at least not until I have explicit permission from him (go to his blogto see for yourself). But after unmasking so many other gorgeous hunks in his career, there’s something jaw dropping about seeing him strike another stunning pose and peel off his own! The masked wrestler trope sort of precludes this type of self-revelatory choice, I’d have thought. The masked wrestler is stronger, more cunning, more terrifying for the mystery concealed beneath the mask (or that’s how the device has traditionally worked), so there’s something shocking about a hunk who no one else has had the balls to unmask doing it to himself.
Cage Thunder unmasks Goldenrod
I fucking love this, mind you. A shocking revelation to a timeless mystery is such sweet drama, and you know that I’m ALL about the drama! In Cage’s big reveal on Friday, he says that Kid Leopard himself suggested that Cage wrestle masked, because he has too much of a jobber face to be taken seriously as a heel. I, for one, would never dare fail to take Cage Thunder 100% seriously. However, I’m dying to find out if an unmasked Cage Thunder returns to the ring, and if so, is he masked, and if not, does he strike the knee-quivering terror in his opponents that he has prior to his unmasking! Of course, all of the same elements remain: the skill, the attitude, the power, the cruelty. But would tinkering with the formula by removing the mask trip up the juggernaut of an unstoppable homoerotic wrestling heel!?
Cage Thunder unmasks Lobolito.
While we wait to see if an unmasked Cage Thunder still has the mojo on the mats, get in line right behind me for authentic Cage Thunder wrestling fiction entitled, Going Down for the Count, out next from Bold Strokes Books. And yes, that’s stunning Mitch Colby in Cage’s clutches on the cover. And no, despite Cage Thunder’s repeated calling out and trash talking of Mitch, we have not seen these two in action, other than this cover and other released stills. And yes, I’d donate a kidney to see that match happen!
And to answer the question Cage Thunder asks in his unmasking post, no, he’s not ugly, by a long shot, which only increases the anticipation of what his unmasking may mean for his unquestioned dominance in the homoerotic wrestling universe.
I’m willingly channeling Joan Rivers for today’s flight of fancy for the sake of alliteration. God forbid two wrestlers show up for a match wearing the same gear, but honestly, there’s a finite number of choice, sexy homoerotic wrestling gear out there. It’s bound to happen. For example, we’ve seen the same eye-catching baby blue bikini trunks with yellow piping round the waist and thighs on several wrestlers, including (at least) Tyrell Tomsen, Joe Robbins, Dick Rick, and most recently, Brad Barnes. So, sure, we could easily debate for days which of these massive mountains of muscle would win in a battle royale ring rumble. But besides that, who wears those hot trunks best (or, alternately, who needs most to have them removed… with my teeth)? Of course, the correct answer is that we have to see them take them on and off in person to know for sure, but if you had to pick, who would it be? Vote below!
Tyrell Tomsen wore these briefs extremely briefly in his Strip Stakes 1 match.Joe Robbins worked the same look in his Catch-Weight 5 contest against Paul Hudson.Dick Rick squeezed into these trunks in his tag team appearance alongside Braden Charron in Tag Team Torture 15.Brad Barnes donned the same gear for his most recent Fantasymen 35 appearance against newbie Lane Hartley.
I am a vegetarian, but that doesn’t stop me from loving big, juicy, meaty thighs. For no other reason than a absolute adoration of alliteration, here are a sample of some of the juiciest homoerotic wrestler quads that come to my mind in order to celebrate Thursday Thighs.
NCAA champion wrestler Tim Foley gets hot, sweaty, and muddy grappling with hardbodied Indian traditional wrestlers.
I’ve been getting several helpful suggestions about what neverland readers would like to see around here. Typically, I think every idea I get is fantastic, but not infrequently, I lose track of the suggestion before I get my butt in the chair and compose it. So if you’ve sent me an idea that I haven’t posted, don’t take it personally. I have the attention span of a tsetse fly. Moments before Jeff’s suggested YouTube videoevaporated from my short-term memory, I snagged it along with a few photos of the star of the video, NCAA champion wrestler Tim Foley:
This is part of a series of videos of Tim wrestling around the world for “Wrestling Roots,”this time in the traditional style and garb of India. My only point of reference for Indian-style wrestling is the champion of my imagined homoerotic wrestling Olympic tournament, Indian hardbodied hunk Sushil Kumar, who may not have one actual gold in London (close, though!), but the Indian muscle machine most definitely scored a 3-count pinfall followed by a three-peat cum shot to the face of a musclebeast also-ran to take my gold.
Sushil Kumar brought Olympic homoerotic wrestling to a whole new level in my imagination!
So far, I cannot find that particular maneuver repeated in any of the videos of Tim Foley’s wrestling competitions in India, but I’m still looking. However I had to pause at precisely the moment that Jeff knew would catch my eye, at right around the 2:50 mark of this particular video, where Tim and his opponent roll out of bounds and are called back to the center. After having yanked hard on his opponent’s trunks repeatedly and rolled head over heels in the dirt, locked in intimate embrace, when Tim stands up to return to the neutral position, he quickly and somewhat desperately pivots his hips backward (showing off even more beautifully that astonishingly hot muscled ass!), and shoves his hand deep down the front of his trunks for some emergency ballast repositioning.
Tim shows off that round, muscled ass as he digs deep.
Looks like Tim needs a hand with the oversized baggage he packed for this trip to India!
Holy shit, that’s hot! I know, I know, its almost certainly the result of testicles getting a little twisted amid all intense grappling, but that doesn’t change the fact that the need to take a moment to feel around in the front of your trunks and set things just right is an incredibly hot, implicitly erotic maneuver. Just ask Joshua Goodman(that’s Mr. Joshua to you!!!).
Mr. Joshua demonstrates that sometimes you just need to take matters into your own hands.
Here are just a few more parting shots of Tim taking his fabulous wrestling muscles around the world to spread the news that watching high quality wrestling requires a major crotch adjustment!
That. Ass!I’ve got soap in (one) hand to help with the traditional communal shower post-match.
My heart pumped considerably harder a couple moments as I distracted myself from work by scanning the gayest news I could find today. First, recurring star of homoerotic wrestling fantasies (and not just mine, anymore!), Josh Hutcherson adeptly discussed his sexuality in terms that both respect LGBT people and clarifies how much he likes women, but holds the door open for feeling the need to kiss a gorgeous guy at some point in the future. Now, how about wrestle a gorgeous guy to the ground, sit on his face, and make him kiss your ass? Watch for more wrestling stories starring my drug of choice, Josh Hutcherson, coming soon to Sidelineland from CelebWrestleFan. Damn, I’m hot for Hutch….
Less than 100% straight.
My other double/triple take was seeing some pics from 2013 Gymnastics World Championships. Shots like this of beefy muscleboy Brandon Wynn gave me intensely arousing flashbacks to homoerotic wrestling fantasies that consumed my imagination during the Olympics last year. In the competition that matters most to me, it was Great Britain’s Louis Smith who pounded out the gymnast wrestling competition by smothering American Danell Leyva between his thighs while the Yank was trapped in the ropes. I’ve got to say here and now that American Brandon Wynn, who was not on the U.S. Olympic team a year ago, very well could make a serious run at crushing Louis’ luscious body with those insanely huge arms! Sweet gymnastics gods above!!! What do you think, does pumped powerhouse Brandon Wynn have what it takes to beat Olympic homoerotic wrestling champ Louis Smith? What’s the finishing move?
Could 5’7″, 163 lbs beefcake Brandon Wynn take……5’10”, 168 lbs, Louis Smith?Built to Bearhug!?I’ve got a really big hunch (massive) that Brandon Wynn could bring gold medal winning homoerotic wrestling gymnast Louis Smith to his knees!
I’m instantly enthralled with a man with legs long enough to climb into the ring by stepping over the top rope. There’s just something intensely intimidating and profoundly sexy about that over the top ring mount! It takes a seriously long-legged hunk of man to pull that off, and the word “giant” instantly pops into my head whenever I see it. Pair that pair of incredibly long legs with a washboard stomach, luxuriously meaty pecs, the wingspan of an Boeing Dreamliner and a booming, baritone, evil laugh, and I’m at full attention for none other than BG East’s Diego Diaz.
6’3″, 184 lbs., Diego Diaz
I’ve been buying anything and everything Diego has been selling since the moment he showed up at BG East. I have no idea how Diego fits into the pantheon of wrestling archetypes. Although he’s taken some epic beatings, there’s no way in hell to mistake him for a jobber. He’s a stunningly gorgeous specimen of a man with a strong penchant for excusing his obliteration of lesser opponents as righteously justified by his superior skill and strength, but I think he just enjoys making another man suffer a little too much to call him a babyface. But then again, I’m not sure he enjoys it nearly enough, nor is he quick enough on the draw for underhandedness, to qualify as an archetypal heel. What is he? He’s fucking-Diego-Diaz, kids, and you better put on your big boy undies because he cannot wait to separate the men from the boys!
6′, 185 lbs., Rio Garza
And was there ever a more boyishly beautiful jobber on the planet than tasty morsel Rio Garza!? The genius of the Diaz v Garza pairing in Fantasymen 35 makes me gasp a little. The Brazilian skyscraper versus the Mexican fitness model champion!? Latino hunk versus Latino hunk!? Playground bully versus the protypical muscleboy!? Not an exaggeration: I was cruising at top speed less than 30 seconds into this match.
Diego introduces Rio’s throat to the sole of his boot.
The string bikini trunks on Rio are mesmerizing. I could stare at beautiful Rio for days on end, mind you, but there’s an unmistakable value-added in his ring gear for Fantasymen 35. His mouthwatering ass quite possibly may have never looked as juicy, and there’s a perfect fit of tightness and room to swing in the pouch of those flaming hot red briefs. Cute as the proverbial button, flexing his award winning physique for the mirror, and making his pecs bounce, however, have never amounted to being an intimidating ring presence for Rio. Despite an initial flurry of offense that knocks the sneering Brazilian stud on his ass, it’s not long at all before Diego pins the Mexican coverboy by the throat into a corner by his mile-and-a-half long leg and size 17 and a half boot. “This is no place for a kid, you know what I’m saying!?” Diego growls like a tiger.
Diego nearly rips the gorgeous head off of the Mexican coverboy.
Elbow drops, stomps, and long, lingering trampling drive Diego’s point home over and over in the opening minutes of this match: Rio is looking like he’s in way, way over his head against the giant. I’m so completely aroused by the moment that Diego is so obviously tickled at the sight of the fitness star crawling on his hands and knees to get to the ropes to try to reach his feet again. Diego’s laugh is deep and full and so fucking sexy as he taunts the golden muscleman who’s already seeing stars about 3 minutes in. When he mounts Rio’s back, sits on those insanely fuckable glutes that Rio has, and leans back in a camel clutch, Diego’s incredible reach is stunning. When he wraps his humungous hands around Rio’s throat to not only threaten to break the boy’s back but choke him along the way, the fitness model champ coughs out the first fall submission. “What did I tell you, huh?” Diego asks rhetorically, standing up and kissing his own biceps victoriously.
Rio has been getting his fine, fine ass handed to him from coast to coast for several years now, so it should not come as too much of a surprise to see that the beautiful muscleboy has learned a few tricks along the way. Although he spends ages in transit sprinting back and forth helplessly pounded from corner to corner, he turns the tables by capturing his devastating opponent between his legs. Personally, I’d hand the Brazilian my firstborn to trade places right there, and I assure you there’d be no way in hell my hand wouldn’t be sliding up those golden thighs and underneath those red bikini trunks to feel that taut muscle ass mid-flex. Rio’s aesthetically perfect proportions can disguise the fact that he sports fantastically meaty, thick thighs that can make a long, lean Brazilian wail like a wounded animal caught in a trap. The look of concentration on Rio’s boyishly handsome face is breathtaking. His lovely pecs glisten with sweat. He bears down, and Diego’s knees buckle. Holy shit this is sexy!
Rio’s got more offense to show for himself, mind you. His full nelson on the towering Brazilian is astonishingly hot. The coverboy leans back, resting Diego’s ass against Rio’s crotch and making the shaggy-headed giant howl. Rio looks pissed. Seriously pissed. Like, pissed enough that I almost believe that his epic run as anyone and everyone’s jobber could be over because he’s had enough and he’s not going to fucking take it anymore.
Perhaps Rio should have reached his boiling point against someone less devastating, less overpowering, and more impressed with his credentials as a fitness model superstar. As is so often the case, the achingly pretty muscleboy cannot close the deal, and instead finds himself nearly sliced in half between the internal-organ-rearranging scissors of the Brazilian hedge clipper. Okay, I’m taking my firstborn back from Diego and handing him to Rio, because if I’m living the fantasy of trading places with someone here, it’s Diego’s sweaty thighs that I want to feel wrapped around me. Holy fuck, he manhandles Rio like a freshman, flopping the muscle stud back and forth as Rio leaves pools of sweat (and tears) behind him on the mats.
So perhaps my earlier point about Diego not being sadistic and underhanded enough to clearly qualify as a heel needs reconsidering, because just as gorgeous Rio is wilting, Diego drags his golden muscles across the ring and proceeds to torture the Mexican muscleboy in the ropes. Choked in the ropes, spine rearranged in a series of neckbreakers, and a lusciously intimate sleeper tied up nice and tight inside the luxuriously long right leg of the Brazilian brute… Diego doesn’t need to do any of it. He’s just schooling the little kid in the dangers of playing with the big boys.
Rio’s recurring, real-life nightmare plays itself out once again as his mouthwatering, award winning physique is battered and brutalized, as all of his picture perfect muscles are broken and owned, and he experiences that all-too-familiar sensation of his dignity being stripped as another charging bull beats him into the dust. “You want pain?!” Diego asks rhetorically when Diego refuses to give up on command. “You’ll have the pain!” What the hell is Rio thinking, showing up at BG East for his 16th match after being ground down, gorgeous muscle by gorgeous muscle, again and again?! What could motivate a goldenboy who apparently owns the competitive fitness model scene to tempt fate once more and place that beautiful body in the path of another raging wrestler?! I honestly can’t tell you… however… I swear to god there’s something new in this match that catches my eye, right around the time that Rio is helplessly suspended in Diego’s hangman, and that bouncing, quivering pouch of the Mexican muscleboy swells just a bit.
“Look at you,” Diego’s rumbling laugh returns as he watches Rio try to peel his soaked torso off the mat and defend himself. “So sad to see. Where’s that guy with all the poses?” Diego taunts. “You’re just crawling back for more…” This opening match on Fantasymen 35 just keeps coming back for more, more muscle, more beauty, more Latino swagger and ego, more agony, maybe just a little more ecstasy, and more fantastic physiques put to their most perfect use: hot, sweaty, homoerotic ring wrestling!
Mr. Joshua Goodman in such anguish he’s momentarily forgotten about his immense self-satisfaction with the massive muscle in the front of his trunks.
I woke up this morning and my first conscious thought was, what the fuck did I do to deserve this? I mean, seriously, what the fuck just happened here?! I was coasting along on such an awesome weekend, feeling no worries, and then suddenly it hits me. It’s Monday morning, and I’ve got so much shit to do! With the dawn of a new work week knocking me way back on my heels, I’m feeling a little spiritual commiseration with these fine specimens of homoerotic wrestling angst pictured here, captured in the moment of trying to shake the cobwebs from their rattled brains and take mental stock of just how fucked up they feel after being manhandled by an opponent.
Eli Blackputs palm to face in disbelieving horror at the humiliation this usually devastating young hunk has just suffered!Rusty Stevenshurts too much to pry open his eyelids as he checks the root cause of his agony.
Thiago Diaztries to see through the stars circling his head, attempting to piece together the sequence of events that put this stunning muscle stud flat on his gorgeous back.
Sweaty, sexy Derek Da Silva hangs from the ropes, struggling to decide whether to scream, weep, or vomit from the vicious assault on his gut.Tyler Reeves’ eyes are open, but the shocked agony gripping his hot body still has him blinded as the slack-jawed, hardbodied hunk attempts to take up the slack in his jaw.
There are some neverland readers, and you know full well who you are, who frequently pepper me with questions about Jonny Firestorm. “Did you get to feel his bicep when you met him at BG East?” “Was he as electrifyingly sexy in person as he is on camera?” “Is he ever going to film a match in which he wrestles naked?”
For the record, the answers are no (though next time…!), most definitely, and I have no idea. What all the questions drive home for me is that Jonny has got an intensely infatuated hardcore base of fans who are ready to live, breath, and (most of all) eat Jonny non-stop. Especially for them, though I think of interest to many homoerotic wrestling fans, Jonny has launched a professional website to satisfy more of your prurient interests in all things Firestorm.
Jonny now blogs, tweets, and takes orders for custom made matches, as well as makes himself available for private matches with eager challengers. I’ve put in an order for a custom match already, so get in line.
Considering Jonny’s embarrassing indictment at the end of Contract 10, just out in BG East’s catalog 100, this all makes me wonder whether Jonny’s hedging his bets should there be serious hell to pay for his literally turning his back on The Boss and, by extension, costing Kid Leopard the exclusive use and abuse of Brad Rochelle. More likely, I suspect, Jonny simply knows that there are a cadre of fanatics aching for more-access-Jonny.
If you’ve had a private match with Jonny, or with any other homoerotic wrestler out there, I’d love to hear about it. If you’ve ordered a custom match from him (or from Cameron Mathews, the only other wrestler on our scene that I’m aware of that offers this service), tell me how the creative process unfolded and how you feel about your final product. As for me, I love an entrepreneur with a hard body and a fetish for wrestling, so I encourage everyone to visit Jonny’s site, and all of the personal and professional sites of our homoerotic wrestling favorites, often!
Sidelineland 