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Name That Ass

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Queer Me Now commended readers to try their skills at Name That Ass, so I’m venturing another installment of the game that, I suspect, tickles me much more than you. In any case, I always enjoy hearing from folks who are trying their hand and naming the homoerotic wrestling asses below, with scarce contextual detail other than a close up of a beautiful derrière. Extra credit for naming the opponent for each pic. As always, the asses below belong to some of my favorite wrestlers (so please note, there’s no intended double entendre with the name of the game… I’m not casting aspersions on anyone’s character by calling them an ass, but rather celebrating the glorious glutes that these lovely men have obviously worked hard to craft).
Enough of the foreplay. Now for the main thrust of the game…
Ass #1: 
I’m suspecting that this will be the easiest entry this time around, thus I’ve placed it first. In an industry clearly dominated by wrestling white boys, some gorgeous glutes like this on a black homoerotic wrestler are as beautiful as they are rare. For novices, though, let me give you some more clues. To the best of my knowledge, the hardbody hunk to whom this sexy ass belongs has wrestled in seven homoerotic products, including one ring match that propelled his opponent to capture a homoerotic wrestler of the month title from me (but that’s not the opponent he faced in this pic). He comes in two distinct packages: “big ‘n beefy” and “competition bodybuilder.” I love that he loves the sight of his own physique nearly as much as I do, and I love even more that he’s wrestled completely nude in one match and wearing only wrestling boots (which I actually think is even sexier) in another. He’s 5’11” tall, with a reported weight of 185 pounds, and if you don’t know this ass, you need to.
Ass #2:
I’m not sure if this will be particularly tough for regular Name That Ass players or not. So I’ll give a few more clues than I strictly think are necessary, just to toss a bone to the intermediate players who may get stumped. First of all, I must say that this ass belongs to a wrestler that I’m nursing a quickly growing infatuation with. He’s shown up in 6 homoerotic wrestling matches, and I’m desperate to see him in a dozen more (I’ve got opponents all picked out for him). He has the odd distinction of being a homoerotic wrestler who has yet to be seen entirely nude, and yet has been exposed sufficiently for a proctologist to give a preliminary exam. He truly delights in dominating, and he’s been using those lips of his more and more liberally in every match I’ve seen him. You can count on him slapping his pouch down across the chin of pretty much every lucky opponent he meets, but I think there have been only a couple of them lucky (lucky, lucky, lucky) enough to have had that ass planted squarely across their faces. He’s 5’8,” 170 pounds, and the member of an exclusive and most arousing homoerotic wrestling club.
Ass #3:
This may be quite a leap in difficulty parameters, but although you may not necessarily recognize these muscled glutes at first glance (or the glimpse of ball sac), this has got to be one of the most iconic and prolific homoerotic wrestlers ever. I think it’s physically impossible to count the actual number of homoerotic wrestling matches that star this star, but I’m hazarding a reasonable count of around 26. He wrestled under two names (that I know of). He wrestled in the ring. He wrestled in oil. He wrestled on a mat. He wrestled in a locker room (extra, extra credit for writing a Dr. Suess-style poem about him). He’s reported at 5’10” and 200 pounds, and his ass is, in every possible scenario, golden.
Ass #4:

Here’s where things get tough, and the truly gifted students have an opportunity to shine. Things get a little esoteric from here on out, so you’ll just have to bear with me. This wrestling ass made me sit up and take notice when I saw it the first time. The wrestler is unconventional, incredibly strong, and appropriately named. Here’s where things get possibly misleading with the clues, though I seriously don’t intend it: I’ve seen him wrestle twice, but I can only remember where I’ve seen him wrestle once. A little piece of trivia that absolutely will not help you: seeing this hunk wrestle was what inspired me of the need to start a homoerotic wrestler of the month title, though he himself never possessed that title (told you that wouldn’t help you). 5’8,” 190 pounds of gorgeous muscle, and he laughs evilly with every awesome humiliation he inflicts on his opponent. Hot. Hot. Hot.

Ass #5:
I’m torn as to whether this ass or ass #5 will be hardest (so to speak). Literally, it’s this final ass that is, without a doubt, unquestionably and indisputably, the hardest ass in the field. This is a muscle ass extraordinaire. This homoerotic wrestler makes me gasp just standing still in a speedo. This wrestler has the body of a god, such that any wrestling that fails to include abject worship of his body, and in particular his glutes, is a waste of talent; and I’m so very, very sad to say that this talent was always wasted in the five matches that I can track down with him. That does nothing to make me less desperate to worship his gorgeous, veiny, sliced to the bone physique myself, though. He’s certainly not the best wrestler. But all 6’1″, 215 pounds of him scores extremely high in my rankings of muscle studs who should never, ever, ever, ever be allowed to wear more than a thong.
I’ll post the answers tomorrow. In the mean time, good luck.

Fresh Favorite

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Along the lines of models as fighters, Xnotdead: The Fagzine has this photo series of model “Roman,” by Arno Roca. This is my first introduction to Xnotdead, and I have to say, I like it. I like the name. I like the feel. I love every smokin’ hot image of gorgeous, naked and nearly naked men featured on just about every click.

I’m not entirely sure what the scope and point of it all is, and somehow it’s still working for me. Perhaps the quirky, intuitive and nonlinear nature of Xnotdead is itself the point. There’s a distinct and explicit celebration of fetish eroticism, and that can’t be bad. Is this post-post-modern art? Or politics? Or erotics?

Whatever. I like it, and it’s instantly on my shortlist of sites. Now let’s see Roman flexing a double bicep over top of some bloodied, crushed hunk flat on his back. Or perhaps some vanquished piece of meat licking the sweat off of Roman’s brow.

I’m hoping to continue to be shocked and titillated, and if Xnotdead is really, really good, perhaps even scandalized.

Playing Hooky

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Members of the Sidelineland wrestling fiction group will have received a notice by now that I posted a new story there. For newcomers, Sidelineland is site for any original wrestling fiction that you’d like to share. I’ve posted a lot of my own diversions there. Anything that doesn’t really fit in the Producer’s Ring universe, I drop over at Sidelineland. Several other contributors have also posted materials, including a sweet, ballsy challenge from Bearhugs a while back. He started a story featuring young, dumb, hopeful Shane angling to call in a favor from an old high school buddy in order to break into the local pro wrestling scene.
Shane from “Shane’s Big Break”
I want to say again how hot I think it is to get a writing challenge like that. I’d love to see more of that, and not just challenging me. There are a ton of good writers on the Sidelineland list, and many, many more of you have mentioned planning to submit a story than actually have (consider this your Lenten discipline). Anyway, it turns out, Shane’s old “buddy” from high school, Neil, has ulterior motives in mind when he offers to give Shane his big break in the pro wrestling biz.
Neil from “Shane’s Big Break”
Neil unleashes some nasty brutality on his old buddy, working Shane into a slobbering, jelly legged mess. Worse still, Neil hoists Shane over his shoulder after the match is over and hauls the battered boy back to the locker room for more intimate punishment. That’s where Bearhugs handed it off to me. I had a blast writing part 2 a couple of months ago, in which Shane and Neil are signed to make big bucks for some first-class ticket holders who get to stand ringside, once the unwashed masses have left, and call the shots. They get to choreograph their own kinks with, understandably enough, Neil dominating with his body builder physique, getting worshipped, muscling Shane around like so much furniture, and then finally fucking his old buddy in the center of the ring. When all is said and done, Shane has a pocket full of cash and his signature on the line for at least another 3 months in the biz.
Mikey from “Shane’s Big Break – Part 3”

I really have other things I’m supposed to be working on right now, but I’m feeling some resentment about my work obligations. In other words, I’m easily distracted. As a result, I pretended to be working yesterday afternoon when I was, in fact, writing chapter 3 to Shane’s Big Break – “Home Town Hero.” With fear and trembling and a hole burning in his pocket, Shane returns to the wrestling promotion a week later. To his immense relief, promoter Joey has decided that Shane needs some redemption and a lot more legitimacy in the ring if he’s going to be able to milk a storyline for him for 3 months. As a result, Shane is matched up with the former lightweight champ, Mikey, who’s just returned from an injury hiatus. Mikey is a pro, and he’s happy to give the rookie the spotlight and the three count victory. Shane is on cloud-nine. He’s intoxicated with the turn of the crowd to rally behind a cute-if-dumb new babyface. He’s soaking in the fan-worship with hot little hardbody Mikey writhing on the ground beneath him. And then Neil shows up to keep it real.

Full credit where credit is due: Shane and Neil are Bearhugs’ intellectual property (I have no idea where he found the pics for them, so I have no idea whose property those are). I’ve introduced a couple of new characters that I’ve sketched out on my own for chapter 3, including Mikey (pictured above, pic snagged from nameless Fight Planet archives), and a heavyweight veteran who goes by Dino the Greek, which, it turns out, is actually BG East’s intellectual property, as they have a rookie by that name in a new release. I had no idea from where in my subconscious I’d pulled that name, but it turns out, it wasn’t all that deep in my subconscious at all.

Anyhoo… I’m really, really supposed to be working again now. I hope fans of the homoerotic wrestling fiction will enjoy the third chapter in Shane’s Big Break, and I hope to see more ballsy, literary smack down challenges like Bearhugs’ in the future.

Name That Tat

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Wow! There was a spike in the traffic through the blog yesterday, with almost 3,500 page views and close to 1,500 visitors. That must include a lot of new folks walking through the door, so a special welcome to those of you just tuning in. While this blog is never a numbers game, it certainly does include fun and games. So for this week’s quiz, take out your number 2 pencils and get ready for a little twist. I’m changing up our subject for today. Rather than asses, we’ll be playing, “Name That Tattoo.”

The rules are the same. On scant evidence, see how many of the following homoerotic wrestler tattoos seem familiar. For full credit, name the wrestler with the ink. For extra credit, name his opponent and the match. Advanced students ONLY should proceed to item #5 below, because I’m the first to admit that it’s a damn tough one.

First up, tat #1:

I don’t anticipate regular readers of the blog will require any additional clues, but I’ll give them to you anyway, just to make sure we all have a little taste of success early on in the quiz to keep us from starting off demoralized. Clue #1, this homoerotic wrestler does not perform under the name Gabriel. Possibly more helpful, he also has some smattering of additional tattoos around his hips and crotch that look like lipstick marks (I’d kiss that!). My final clue, because you certainly don’t need more, is that this tatted wrestling wonder possesses the record for holding the title as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy longer than anyone else. This is an open-book quiz, so, seriously, you have no excuse at this point.

Tat #2:

Damn, this man is a work of art. I’ve been sorely missing him from the homoerotic wrestling scene, though I get my dose of him regularly by following his many “tweets.” A musician, an educator, a former favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy of mine, and a wicked smart piece of work. I’m rating this item only slightly more challenging than tat #1, and as I mentioned, this is an open-book quiz, so no more clues for you.

Tat #3:

Fans of this petite homoerotic wrestler were a little stunned when he returned from a hiatus in front of the camera with a liberal coating of ink. His homoerotic wrestling moniker does not start with a J or a G, but he’s a gorgeous, scrappy, ferocious little pit bull who, let’s face it, tends to get his ass handed to him by the much, much (much) bigger boys in he battles in the one production company he works for. In fact, I’d say it’s a miracle that he’s managed to avoid serious, life-threatening injuries even playing with the body building mega monsters he typically faces. He must have God on his side. Now I’ve said too much.

Tat #4:

I’m not sure whether you’ll find this gorgeous ink easier or more difficult to name than the owner of tat #3. His tenure in homoerotic wrestling was tragically brief, but he accounts for a whole lot of viewing pleasure from me. He’s participated in the NOH8 campaign. The arm about to choke him out in the pic above is much more familiar to frequent readers of this blog (and also belongs to an inked hottie). That’s more than enough said. This one is supposed to be hard.

Tat #5:
So I’m serious now, this one should only be attempted by advanced students. Remedial homoerotic wrestling fans will likely only find this bewildering. This homoerotic wrestler is included in today’s quiz because, like the owner of tat #4, he accounts for many more moments of climactic pleasure of mine than his scant homoerotic wrestling resume might imply. Making this extra tough is the fact that he’s unlisted in the wrestler profiles of the company he wrestled for, despite his having appeared in 3 wrestling tapes dating around 6 or 7 years ago. That’s it. If he caught your eye as commandingly as he did mine, the bull skull inked to his hot left pec will instantly ring a bell for you. If not, you’ll have to hit the library and put in a whole lot of study time to pull this one off.
As usual, feel free to play at home, but you’re also welcome to compare notes with one another in the comments below. The first player to score all possible points (wrestlers, opponents, and matches – even the matches for the posed pics where no opponent is visible!) on this assignment (before I reveal the answers in tomorrow’s post) can claim the prize of a pic of one of my own tats, just to make things (possibly) more competitive for you. You may begin…

Got Hacked.

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Got hacked.
neverland appears to be untouched, but my email account has clearly been compromised. My apologies to folks who were in my contact list who may have received phishing emails with nefarious links. I’m migrating my email correspondence, at least temporarily, to a gmail domain.
I feel a little dirty and a lot violated. Someone touched my virtual things. He put his hands on my address book and impersonated me. Who was this shady character lurking in the shadows? Was he a socially retarded, morbidly obese slob on the order of Stieg Larsson’s Plague, wallowing in his own filth and refuse and never seeing the light of day? I prefer to picture him as a young Johnny Lee Miller from Hackers: awkward tech geek with visions of anarchy, but above all, really, really, really hot.

I’d be okay with picturing him as Garrett Hedlund from Tron: Legacy, also a studmuffin hacker boy with a six pack and big, broad pecs. Really, if I’m going to get violated and virtually fucked over, I’d much prefer to suffer at the hands of a big, hot hunk, than a pimple-ridden, value-less adolescent with delusional visions of grandeur because he can co-opt my email account to send malicious crap.

Seriously, this shit sucks and makes me a little sour on having an online presence at all. If my violator is Plague, who has to climb over his own delivery pizza boxes to make it to the toilet (if he bothers), then all of my earnest, sincere effort to explore the beauty of homoerotic wrestling and gorgeous men suddenly seems like just a little more trash littering his filthy loft. I’m suddenly struggling with an existential crisis here, my friends. What does it all amount to, if what seems like a beautiful thing to me is toilet paper to the next hacker who picks it up and wipes his butt with it?

On the other hand, if my hacker is a hot, snarky homo with a little Loki in him, nursing a bit of a heel-wannabe mischievousness just to keep us all on our toes, perhaps I shouldn’t despair. If I can replace the image of Plague rifling through my underwear drawer with the picture of a handsome, wicked smart, scrappy punk with a razor wire sense of humor and a body built by much more than roosting in front of a computer screen, maybe I shouldn’t be quite so disillusioned. If this is all some elaborate ruse to get my attention like a naughty puppy shredding my manuscript so that I’ll play with him, maybe this doesn’t merit a full on existential crisis. If he’s really just itching to arrange a face-to-face for me to kick his tight, athletic ass back and forth across the room, claw his balls until he screams, and crush his skull between my thighs as I jack his cock until he cums, then well-played. Game on.

For now, though, I’m irritated, bitter, and wondering if the lurker in the shadows will end up taking all the fun out of this for me.

Name That Ass

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I’m not at all sure how fun “Name that Ass” is for you, but I enjoy it, so here’s the second installment. The concept is simple. Based on scant evidence, can you name the homoerotic wrestlers whose gorgeous asses are featured below? Since I received complaints that the inaugural “Name that Ass” last week was too tough, I’ll provide you more clues and a sliding scale of difficulty (in my opinion), starting with the easiest.
To start with, this week’s ass #1:
You can feel free to name either or both asses here, though I have to say that I’m particularly partial to the ass in purple. This homoerotic wrestling ass is legendary, with a following of epic proportions requiring an entire internet discussion group devoted to it (well, not exclusively to the wrestler’s ass, per se, but to the wrestler). This wrestling ass appears in a stunning 32 homoerotic wrestling products including approximately 36 wrestling matches and featuring mat wrestling, ring wrestling, outdoor wrestling, tag-team wrestling, underwear wrestling, 2-on-1 wrestling, as a face (always), as a jobber, as a heel… If you still need more clues, spank yourself on your own ass for not having been sufficiently inculcated into the iconography of contemporary homoerotic wrestling, and then picture these glutes with the word “SPEEDO” stitched across them. Seriously, this is a gimme. For advanced players, name his opponent here, the match, and the sexiest body part of that hunk.
Moving on to a slightly (just barely) more difficult challenge with ass #2:
This butt also belongs in the honored iconography of homoerotic wrestling, as far as I’m concerned, despite having a much briefer tenure in the business. This muscle stud took gay porn and gay wrestling by storm around nine years ago. Tabulating his work is entirely subjective (as are all statistics), so by my count I’m crediting him with being featured in 2 homoerotic wrestling releases, appearing in 3, and wrestling for credit in 3 matches. He ducked out of gay porn as abruptly as he appeared, working under a new name and attempting to re-craft his marketability into a non-porn fitness god. Sadly, reports are he died tragically young a few years ago. Haven’t put your finger on whose ass this belongs to yet? Again, another spanking for you, and I’m assigning you check with Joe at Ringside at Skull Island for some tutoring to get you up to speed, because, as always, Joe knows exactly what I’m thinking.
Now to ass #3:
This is the most wrestling exposure I can find of this tasty ass, with the helpful assist of another hottie to wedgie the hunk’s trunks for our pleasure and the wrestler’s humiliation. I’m not going to give you too much on this one, because if this ass is not quickly apparent to you, you need to be remanded a couple grades backward for more remedial homoerotic wrestling ass education.
Ass #4:
I say this is another iconic homoerotic wrestling ass that possesses both rare, fantastic beauty as well and possibly unmatched longevity. I’m aware of this ass’s work for three different promotions, though I think the ass itself may never have been as beautifully exhibited as in the match from which this pic comes. The opponent’s ass is world class, as well, as far as I’m concerned. That’s it. This is supposed to be the tough end of the game, so no more hints from me on this one… other than that this gorgeous, hardworking boy can speak Spanish. Okay. No more.
Ass #5 is unquestionably the most challenging entry in this week’s game of Name that Ass:
As far as I know, these marble carved glutes appeared in exactly one homoerotic wrestling release, arguably featured in one or two matches, depending on how you slice it (I say it’s one match). The rarity of appearance of this ass makes this admittedly highly difficult. It will almost certainly not help you to give you the hint that this stud was 5’8″ tall and reportedly around 178 pounds at age 25 when he wrestled his one and only homoerotic wrestling release. If you haven’t already recognized him, it probably also won’t help you to know that this homoerotic wrestler had the added disadvantage (or advantage, depending on how you look at it), of not understanding anything his opponent said during their match(es). While this final challenge for you this week might seem esoteric and random to you, I’ll justify myself by saying that even though this wrestler was a one-hit wonder, he was instantly and indelibly seared into my wrestling kink consciousness as possessing a body and a ferocity that drives me wild.
You may compare notes and work on your homework together, but your final answers should be in your own words. Extra credit for naming the matches and the opponents, and extra-extra credit for correctly guessing that I think is the sexiest body part of the boy in blue featured in pic #1.

Name That Ass

wrestlebard4 Comments

I’m but a poor imitation of my betters. That said, here’s another concept I’m ripping off of another blogger, with my own particular wrestling kink twist to it: Name that Ass.

In addition to borrowing liberally from Squarehippies’ Guess this Hairy Chest, I also want to give a nod to the classic game show Name that Tune, which surely gets credit for this derivation of a derivation. I loved Name that Tune. Contestants would battle over how few musical notes it would take for them to recognize some muzak version of a popular song. I sucked at the game, but I loved it. There was always that delightful “a-ha!” moment when the full melody was played, and you could appreciate those precious few, bewildering notes in their all too familiar context. With that in mind, I’d like to zoom in on a handful of truly inspiring asses, rather out of context, and challenge you to see whether you can… name that ass.
First up…
 this pair of stunningly gorgeous glutes makes me stop and take a second look every time.
Second…
this white v black boston crab actually stars two awesome asses, but you only really see the stunner in white in this pic. For extra credit, you can name the muscle glutes in black, as well.
Third…
These lightly hairy cheeks desperately need to appear in more homoerotic wrestling action, as far as I’m concerned.

Fourth…
This ass is beautiful in the shower, on the mat, in oil, or on a pool table (okay, so that was too much of a hint…)
Fifth, and last…
…this muscle ass has made me gasp in awe many times since I discovered it.
So, have fun. Some of you who are as obsessed with homoerotic wrestling will likely find this far too easy. If this poses no challenge to any of you, perhaps I’ll give this another run and try to make it really, really tough on you… even closer close-ups, even . You’re welcome to put your answers/guesses in a comment, or just keep the tally yourself and check tomorrow for the answers.

Recipe for Success

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From photographer Michael Stokes (from me to you via Homotrophy), comes this morsel of wrestling kink allusion baked just to my tastes. The rocking physique… the singlet on it’s way off, the truly stunning tats. Who is this vision ripped from a dream that I haven’t yet dreamt (but soon will)?!

Okay, so perhaps if this was truly made to order, this slice of picture-perfect beef would be climbing into a pro wrestling ring. He could keep the amateur gear on. I can totally nurse some kink-loving for the hot jock amateur stud who thinks he can bring his hard body bulging out of his  alma mater’s singlet into the pro ring and teach some “showman” what real wrestling is about. In fact, I love that culture clash of pursed-lipped, hardbodied, earnest innocence with seasoned, jaded, as-vicious-as-I-need to be experience. “The initiation” motif, opening up the merely imagined realities of a pro beat down on the muscleboy here to conquer the world, never, ever tires me, in fact.
There’s another singlet shot of this chiseled work of art on the photographer’s site (along with a dozen other aesthetically pleasing bodies in various states of undress-mostly-undressed and aroused), as well as this fig-leaf modesty pick of him on the football field. Me not being a fan of football, this pick, while delightful, is only kink-adjacent. Slap this inked, naked god into the ring, and speaking of slapping, a spanking would be absolutely essential.
Damn.

Free Will

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Addictions are serious stuff. I’m completely on board with all efforts to take control of one’s life and not allow addictive substances to steal one’s dignity or well-being. But frankly, I’m a little sketchy on “behavioral” addictions, like gambling or sex, if they don’t involve foreign substances that change brain chemistry. I’m certain that I will offend when I say it (and I accept complete responsibility for my decision to say something that may bring unpleasant consequences), but I think this “addictions ideology” we’ve built for ourselves for the past fifty years has grown into, at best, too often an excuse to refuse to accept responsibility for our own actions, and at worse, a particularly vile expression of self-righteous judgmentalism that both enforces narrow and rigid lines of social conformity and offers the tempting allure of transforming fully-functioning people into victims of a faceless fiction.
All this rant, really, is just my set up to point out the absurdity of “Porn Sunday.” Sounds like a good thing, doesn’t it? Well, it’s not. Because, like the name of the promoters of this bait-n-switch, Porn Sunday is an intentional deception. It’s the creation of a “church” devoted to combatting online porn. Through the discourse of “addictions,” these folks are offering the metaphorical apple of temptation. Take a bite. Accept the illusion that you’re a victim of evil forces outside your control. You couldn’t help yourself but watch porn, could you? You, poor soul, have been stripped of your free will, and turned into a tool of immoral vice.


Never has the the term Satan-in-a-Sunday-hat applied more literally, if you ask me. The marriage of Christian theology (which, let’s face it, is unapologetically pre-modern) and a modernist perception of enslaving addictions through genetics and/or brain chemistry has always been a troubled, mismatched relationship. Now, there’s plenty about the porn industry that I don’t care for. It took them way too long to care enough about their performers and their customers to address the risks of AIDS, for example. I’m a perennial critic of porn that promotes homophobia and self-hatred, for another example. But come on… there is no invisible hand clicking the computer mouse. There’s no external force unzipping your pants or pulling out… your wallet. We who consume porn do so for multiple reasons: it brings pleasure; it’s a diversion; it brings pleasure; it’s a sexual release; it brings pleasure, etc… That we are controlled by some external force that compels us to gaze at porn despite our better judgment has zero face validity.

“Porn Sunday,” for those who haven’t been tracking it, is this coming Sunday, to coincide with the Superbowl. Some NFL figures are signed up for the effort. Because if anyone has the moral high ground to critique the objectification of bodies that leads to compulsive behaviors that can harm, it’s professional athletes who are payed obscene amounts of money to engage in an activity upon which millions of dollars worth of (mostly illegal) gambling rides week in and week out, isn’t it? 
It’s not as if these very same athletes signing up for Porn Sunday have ever sold skin shots to convince consumers to shell out cash on unnecessary merchandise, is it? It’s not as if precisely these athletes have ever gone shirtless for softcore capitalist commodification of the hot, bare human body, in order to call up sexual lust in the interest of corporate profit, right?
And it’s not as if the NFL promotes unhealthy lifestyles, objectifying and valorizing artificially enhanced physiologies, unhealthy behaviors and self-destructive, self-defeating, unrealistic body images. It’s not as if the hypermasculinization of the NFL has ever contributed to violence or degradation of vulnerable people, right?
I, for one, will be celebrating Porn Sunday this Sunday by making a purchase from a site that features “adult-oriented subject matter,” and requires that I am of legal age and willingly requesting to receive electronic transmission of “adult-oriented material.” And I’ll do it because I don’t think it’s the internet, or porn, or pornboys, or the joy of gazing at beautiful bodies engaged in sex or (wrestling) foreplay that makes me, against my will, enjoy the celebration of sexuality, sex, and bodies. Instead, I’ve got a sex-positive spirituality and sexuality that lead me to believe that this creeping (and creepy) “addictions ideology” smacks an awful lot of the same puritanical, anti-body, anti-sex, anti-gay, anti-women, anti-embodiment politics that has plagued this country since its inception.
God, save me from the self-righteous hypocrites who would try to convince me to be ashamed of my sexuality, my lust, my love, or my body (or yours).

Telling the Story

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How do I miss these things? Someone who clearly knows my tastes very well commended BG East’s two book series entitled, “Sexfights at the BG Arena.” The text is by none other than Kid Leopard himself, and the graphics are by the incomparable, late MATT. This is the tale of hardcore pro-wrestling for you and me, told from the perspective of the hot, hard boys who climb into this very particular ring.

This is ALL about my kink! My own wrestling fiction has been striving to capture just a slice of what Sexfights offers. The characters are written with a lustful, loving hand. The ring action (thank you Jesus) is straight out of the very best of classic pro-wrestling, with the necessary twist that the ring is surrounded by hot and horny gay men with precisely the kink that draws you to read this very blog, and the star-studded talent in the ring is keen to please both the promoter and this particular crowd.

The 2-parter tells the story of one night at the BG Arena, with the blow-by-blow told from the locker room to the ring and back again throughout a packed card of hard muscled pro-wrestlers working for increasingly erotic stakes. My favorite match is from the second part, where former tag-team partners, Tony Napoli and Skeeter Birmingham, are consummating a long, slowly boiling over grudge. After their partnership dramatically collapsed, and two back-and-forth grudge matches over the course of a couple months split the score, tonight they show up for the decisive third match to determine who’s “going over.” In the end, Skeeter drapes Tony’s beaten body face-first across the top ropes in one corner. Yanking down Tony’s trunks to reveal his “rock hard butt,” Skeeter slides his massive cock up and down between his buddy’s muscle ass.

“Skeeter humped and thrust his spear into Tony’s most private public part. He leaned his full weight againt his buddy’s back, two sweat-soaked gladiators as engaged as they could possibly be. His teeth impressed on Tony’s earlobe and he stuck his tongue deep into Tony’s ear. His right thumb and forefinger located Tony’s protruding right nipple. He squeezed hard. ‘It’s over, T, and you lose.'”

Simply fantastic. I highly, highly recommend Sexfights for anyone who’s got a kick for wrestling kink text with a side of classic MATT homoerotic wrestling graphics. And my thanks to Kid Leopard for his permission to post these images and the delightful sample of text. Now, where do I get tickets for next Friday at the BG Arena!?