Category: Uncategorized

Shane from “Shane’s Big Break”

Neil from “Shane’s Big Break”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!?

Joe has already posted an excellent low-down on the entertainingly bizarre Thunder’s Arena holiday release featuring a masked Secret Santa and his Evil Elf beating the crap out of one another. For an overview of what you get with this novelty match, including a most insightful implication of this as a Marxist morality tale, check out Ringside at Skull Island. On this 11th day of Christmas, I’d just like to point out a couple of additional things that caught me by surprise with this match.

Santa’s ass ROCKS! Even covered head-to-toe in red spandex, Santa is one hot, hot, HOT sexy beast! That perky, diamond-cut pair of glutes somehow defies the laws of physiques and human physiology at the same time. This is one of those moments when I find myself talking at the screen as I’m watching: “You’ve got to be kidding me! I could balance a beer bottle on that shelf!” The Evil Elf’s ass is quite an astonishing piece of art as well, but I’ve talked about those glutes extensively already.

Another point worth repeating is that, for what at first glance appears to be all gimmick, Secret Santa v the Evil Elf is packed with some impressive wrestling action. This seems less surprising once the masks are ripped off and we see the talent underneath. Of course, too much gimmick can signal weak wrestling, but that’s just not the case here. It has more a sense of horseplay than fierce competition, but the action is legitimate pros-on-mats quality that makes me stop thinking of this as a novelty match and more as entertaining wrestling.

A third point (I know, I planned on only making two), Secret Santa v the Evil Elf plays more homoerotic than I typically expect from Thunder’s Arena. The wrestlers here are both quick witted and sharp tongued, and they skillfully walk a fine line between homophobic locker room barbs and full-on gay fantasy (which is a very, very fine line indeed, as far as I’m concerned). When the boys started telling their story at the beginning of the match, I suspected that this could turn horribly wrong. Santa drops in several, “That’s not what you said last night…” lines, alluding to having owned Elf’s ass in their shared bedroom. This could have gone in a train wreck, “no-homo,” sort of direction.

But surprisingly, it doesn’t! They both tell the same story throughout, certainly with tongue-in-cheek but seemingly without apology. Santa and the Evil Elf are lovers, with Santa as a domineering dom and Elf as his under-appreciated buttboy houseboy. The relentless dom that Santa is, he’s riding Elf constantly for being a slacker and needing to be disciplined. Elf is the fiesty cub who decides he’s going to challenge his bear daddy once and for all. Sure, he may bottom by night, but he’s determined to climb on top and whip Santa’s mind-blowing ass by day. I both applaud and empathize with that goal!

It’s a formula that Thunder’s is doing with increasing skill, I think. They’re fully committing. They’ve always, from the very beginning, had their tongues firmly in cheeks. Most of the Thunder’s wrestlers display a sharp-witted, self-deprecating sense of humor that’s quite endearing. More and more, they’re bringing a smart and smart-ass sensibility to their matches, telling a story, letting some homoeroticism hang there in the air without flinching, and seeing the whole thing through without breaking face (which has been a big complaint of mine in the distant past of Thunder’s matches).

So in addition to everything Joe has to say about Secret Santa v the Evil Elf, I also just want to say that this match really took me by surprise, entertained me, and grabbed hold of my wrestling kink with both hands. Having been introduced to Santa’s ass, I’m now combing through the back catalog to catch more of that aptly-named performer’s body of work. For the over-the-top gimmickry, for the legitimate pro-mat wrestling, for the powerfully beautiful bodies, and for the all-in story telling, I must say, I, too, am a fan of Secret Santa v the Evil Elf.

Last month, Bearhugs sent me a pro-wrestling short story to post over at Sidelineland. It stars bodybuilder bruiser “Neil,” a local scene pro-wrestling fixture, who has a chance meeting with an old high school buddy at his gym. His old buddy, Shane, drops into conversation that he’s been staying in shape with a wrestling club, and just hoping for a shot at the big time sooner or later. It seems like kismet when Neil proposes to do his buddy a favor, and signs them both up with his wrestling promoter for a match to introduce Shane to the crowds at the arena that very night.

As Bearhugs tells us, Neil was considerably less benevolent in setting this whole scenario up than it first appeared. He beats the living crap out of his “old buddy,” humiliating him across every inch of the ring until the crowds actually grow concerned for Shane’s survival. Neil reveals that he’s been harboring an old grudge for years, and he’s working out not only an epic heel-turn career move, but some pent up needs to even an old score. The bell signals the end of Shane’s “big break” in pro wrestling, and Neil drags him helplessly back to the locker rooms where he ties him up for some post match postscript.

Then Bearhugs challenged me to write “part 2” of Shane’s Big Break. What an excellent intellectual and creative challenge! And I’m nothing if not turned on by a challenge. So I’ve completed my vision of “part 2” of Shane’s Big Break, in which Shane learns that both Neil and the world of pro wrestling have a lot more to teach him, still. This is my stab at a hands on, full on erotic sex-text, in accord with some of the chatter over at Sidelineland and Producer’s Ring looking for a few loser-seriously-gets-fucked matches. Personally, I find a lot of wrestling entirely and satisfyingly homoerotic without anyone getting literally fucked, but there’s nothing at all wrong with loser-gets-fucked stakes, either. I’ve posted Shane’s Big Break – Part 2 over at Sidelineland right now for members to check out.

I hope that I’ve done Bearhugs’ set-up justice. I’ve developed a serious crush on baby-monster heel Neil, and I’d love to see someone else take a shot at Part 3 (I’m thinking there are some High Rollers who’d pay to see No Holds Barred 1-on-2 action with Neil schooling Shane and some other twink pro wannabe at the same time). Thanks for the fun, Bearhugs!