Bard’s Pilgrim Way – Journey’s End (Part 2)

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A prominent piece in the BG East collection of wrestling art and memorabilia.
My pilgrimage to the BG East compound was nothing if not a spiritual experience! Having toured the grounds and been awed at the sight of the outdoor settings in which some of my favorite homoerotic wrestling inspiration has been taped, the Boss led me back inside to continue the tour.
I was conscious of a sudden spike in my arousal. I’d never thought about it before, but there’s something about the interior BG East matches that stroke my wrestling kink more powerfully than just about anything else. Downstairs, we walked past the home gym that I’ve seen many times before in the prelude to so many BG East matches. No one was working out that day, but in that library of homoerotic wrestling I treasure in my mind’s eye, I could see golden boy Troy Baker at the pec deck, muscle bruiser Jed Jamison doing bicep curls, bilingual Chris Bruce pumping out incline presses.
Alexi Adamov talks trash as Christopher Bruce pumps iron in
BG East’s Mat Hunks 8
When Kid Leopard led me into the matroom, I experienced another spike in my homoerotic wrestling arousal. I’ve enjoyed watching so much powerfully sexy wrestling inside those 4 grey walls. It struck me that it’s a bigger space than it seems on camera. Even still, picturing two sweaty wrestlers throwing each other around with a cameraman trying to stay out of the way (while capturing the perfect angle on the action), made me appreciate both the artistry and mechanical expertise of the BG East mat matches that much more. It was just a few weeks ago I was renewing my arousing fascination with Skrapper, watching his rude awakening  at the hands (and legs and lips) of AJ Lyle for Undagear 17 on those very same black mats. I was fascinated staring at the wall just to the right of the door, where rookie Randy Stanton momentarily clawed Joshua Goodman’s pecs (that’s Mr. Joshua Goodman’s pecs to you!), until the pendulously hung muscle stud screamed.
Rookie Randy Stanton makes Mr. Joshua scream in the
mat room for BG East’s Matmen 21
It was the journey upstairs, however, that made my heart beat the fastest. Climbing the spiral staircase (you’ve seen it), we reached the door to what felt to me like the holy of holies: the BG East pro wrestling ring.

Rock hard Brad Rochelle uses every inch of the BG East ring
to humiliate jobber Patrick Donovan in BG East’s Wrestlefest 2
I was stunned by how familiar it was! The wrestling memorabilia all over the walls, the ringside mirror, the iconic wrestling ring tucked tightly into the corner. So much of my homoerotic wrestling inspiration set in this space made visions literally appear in front of my eyes… of sweat-soaked Brad Rochelle squeezing lean Patrick Donovan’s head between his rock hard thighs while the jobber suffered helplessly tied in the ropes… of towering Mitch Colby in a Mexican Ceiling Hold, suspended so gorgeously and vulnerably in the air by ripped heel Cole Cassidy… and merciless Kid Leopard himself, standing there right next to me, but simultaneously there inside the ring with his arm locked across Wade Cutler’s throat as the stripped muscle hunk obediently jerked off for KL’s pleasure.
“The Professor Winthrop Fitzgerald Arena
James McCartin, Builder 1993
Kid Leopard, Proprietor”
The Boss pointed out the plaque on the outside of the ring post facing the door. I’ve seen the ring a thousand times (at least), but never noticed the plaque before: The Professor Winthrop Fitzgerald Arena.  “Professor Winthrop Fitzgerald designed the ring. He also appeared…” I finished the sentence at the same time the Boss did, “… in Live at Campus!” The professor was Scott Rogers’ “manager and mentor,” appearing as his corner man in Roger’s unsuccessful title match against Kid Leopard himself. The Boss told me that the professor once hosted gatherings of wrestlers at his own Florida compound.

A recent addition to the extensive wrestling art collection in
the ring room and throughout the BG East compound
The Boss pointed some more choice, up close details of the ring room. The extensive collection of wrestling art throughout the entire BG East compound includes some wonderful works ringside. He pointed out the cabinet in the corner that we almost never see, with notebooks full of details on BG East wrestlers, including their signature moves and training goals. There was the clock on the wall, a piece of wrestling memorabilia itself, which didn’t actually work any longer, which resulted in many a wrestling session going longer than anticipated as everyone lost track of time.

Pro wrestling collectibles lining the walls of the BG East ring room
I was standing at the altar of my homoerotic wrestling kink, an awed pilgrim soaking it in. I associate the BG East wrestling ring with some of my most ecstatic, intimate, private moments, so to be standing there in the light of day next to Kid Leopard himself left me feeling almost raw.  I’d traveled a long way from home to find myself journeying deep within myself, treasuring that library of homoerotic wrestling inspiration that emerged from this very spot.

Bard’s Pilgrim Way – Journey’s End (Part 1)

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As many of you anticipated, my pilgrimage to all things BG East in Boston would not have been complete without a visit to the temple mount itself, the center of my homoerotic wrestling universe, the BG East compound outside of Boston. When I made inquiries about the possibility of paying a visit to BG East, the response was generous and welcoming. I was invited to come by and meet “the boys” and see where the genius of BG East is conjured.


Stained glass homage to wrestling over the desk of BG East Boss, Kid Leopard

Pulling into the driveway of BG East central, I was bewildered a bit by the sense that I was seeing it, simultaneously, through two different lenses. I’d never been there before. If I hadn’t known better, I’d never have picked the compound out as anything unusual in the tidy lakeside neighborhood. But at the same time, it was as if I’d been here a thousand times before. Hell, just a couple months ago I was watching muscle punk Kieran Dunne drive up this very same driveway, park his car not 10 feet from where I parked mine, and strut with his characteristic overconfidence inside to face devastatingly pretty Chace LaChance in Jobberpalooza 11. It felt a little like a homecoming to a place I’d never been before.


Keiran Dunne flexes while Chace LaChance is all business in
BG East’s Jobberpalooza 11
Greeting me at the door was the Boss himself, extending a hearty handshake and a welcoming smile as he invited me inside. Again, the experience of double-vision was disorienting. Although I’ve exchanged emails with Kid Leopard, we’d never met in person. But he was so familiar! I knew his tone of voice, his wry sense of humor, and his commanding presence. Just a couple of days earlier, I was enjoying myself watching this man shock hunky Wade Cutler, beating the living shit out of muscle jobber Wade and leaving him soaked in cum in the middle of the ring in Hunkbash 2. And then there he stood, shaking my hand and welcoming me to BG East.

Kid Leopard before his Hunkbash 2 match against Wade Cutler
“So do you want to see the place?” he asked, as if reading my mind. Having come so far, I was desperate to soak in the site of so much homoerotic wrestling inspiration. He took me through to the back of the compound, overlooking the lake… you know, that lake. The lake that Brad Rochelle sunbathed next to after his epic heel turn in Contract 6. That lake in which Troy Baker viciously attacked his big brother, Brian, in search of vengeance for Brian’s betrayal at the end of their humiliating defeat in Tag Team Torture 3.

Troy Baker gets worked over by big brother Brian in BG East Grudge Match 2.
“Over here is the gazebo,” the Boss directed my attention to a shady spot in the woods. It was empty, seeming like a random, anonymous bit of architecture set beneath the towering trees surrounding it. But I couldn’t help but picture the sweat-soaked bodies of so many Gazebo Grapplers struggling underneath that roof: perennial favorite Mitch crushing babyface beauty Alexi, relentless Jonny wringing handsome Sandro’s sweetly suffering body between the railings, the whole bevy of testosterone-fueled hunks wrestling in a ferocious round-robin in Gazebo Grapplers 4.

Kid Leopard showing me the site of Gazebo Grappling fame
And then there was the backyard, lush and green beneath the trees. Yep, that backyard. There were no wrestling mats on the lawn that day, but I swear I could see wrestle stud Denny Cartier locked across ripped rookie Attila Dynasty’s back, applying that nasty abdominal stretch and pounding the ripped muscle stud’s vulnerable core in Backyard Brawls 7. The same backyard where fearless Alexi took on lottery winners TJ Tanner, Christian Taylor, and bubble-butted Sandro back-to-back in Who’s Next?!

Sweat-soaked Alexi in complete control of the backyard in
BG East’s Who’s Next!?
And down a path through the woods, the Boss pointed out the Wrestle Shack. “It’s full of yard equipment at the moment,” he explained, but he’s planning on having the boys clean it out to tape some new matches soon. Images flashed across my vision, of Gil Barrios dragging outmuscled Jerry Connors into the Wrestle Shack to strip naked and finish off the rookie humiliation, and of Lance Jeffers’ mammoth cock bludgeoning Shon Tracey’s awestruck face.

Gil Barrios uses the Wrestle Shack rafters for leverage in punishing rookie
Jerry Connors in Backyard Brawls 7
I’m sure I said it about 3 dozen times that day, but I stumbled over my own words, thanking the Boss profusely for his hospitality. I’d thought about this pilgrimage for weeks, what I’d say, what I’d ask. I’d spent a lot of time preparing. I’d hoped to present myself as cool and savvy, worthy of initiation into the behind the scenes mysteries of an average day at BG East. But my mind was blank except for my lame, awestruck words of gratitude. The Boss briefly indulged my babbling good-naturedly, but when he suggested we continue the tour, I fell silent, and followed him back inside….

Diverse Tastes – Guest Contributor Cage Thunder

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While there are a lot of us armchair homoerotic wrestling bloggers, I’m the first to tip my hat to a blogger like Cage Thunder, who not only writes eloquently about his tastes and twists in wrestling kink, he’s also an all-in wrestler on camera for BG East. Through a series of correspondence between me and Cage Thunder, I will dare to reveal one thing that I’ve learned about the mysterious masked heel: he’s a class act. He has a delightful sense of humor that goes well beyond his gloating, clucking delight in humiliating one all-too-pretty pretty boy after another. He also has a remarkable depth to him that leads him to contemplate the alchemy of homoerotic wrestling kink with a fervor and meticulousness that very well may surpass even my own. So when Cage Thunder agreed to give me his take on the topic of “Diverse Tastes” as part of neverland’s summer series of guest contributors, I was deeply honored. So sit back and learn from a master who knows his wrestling kink from inside out and every angle a delightfully twisted wrestling mind and body can imagine.
The Turning Point
by Cage Thunder
BG East’s Cage Thunder

There is a certain moment in every pro wrestling match that, without fail, always grabs my attention. This moment never fails to get my attention and always make my dick stand up at attention.

I call this moment the turning point.

Bulldog Barzini savors the sight of Denny Cartier
reaching “the turning point” – BG East’s Fantasymen 28

A turning point is exactly what it sounds like—that definitive moment when you know that one of the wrestlers is finished— even if he isn’t being pinned or counted out or giving in a submission, and the match might go on for a while longer (and usually does). But that’s the moment when you know for certain who the stud is who’s going to have his arms raised in complete victory at the end of the match (or fall, if it’s a best-of situation).

I love that moment.

Muscle heel Kid Karisma drags muscle twink Christian Taylor
beyond the turning point – BG East’s Wet &  Wild 5

When I was growing up, professional wrestling was my porn. It still is, to a degree—only I rarely watch it on television, I satisfy my fetish with videos these days—but when I was a kid, it was a world I desperately wanted to be a part of. I greatly enjoyed the morality plays of pro wrestling matches, the struggle between good and evil, hero versus villain, rule-breaking versus following the rules. And like life, good didn’t always triumph over evil.

Cage Thunder soaks in the sight of his handiwork –
BG East’s Masked Mayhem 6

But professional wrestling was also one of the very few places on television in those days where you could see scantily dressed men sweating and heaving, clinching and coming apart, entwining their bodies in an almost erotic dance. And while I always wanted the nasty heels to be punished for their dastardly ways, I also loved watching the gorgeous ones suffer at their hands. With the advent of cable television and Ted Turner taking WTBS national into a self-styled Super Station, every Saturday afternoon from three to five p.m. Pacific times Georgia Championship Wrestling aired—and I fell in lust with a gorgeously built mullet-wearing muscle boy named Brad Armstrong.

The muscles and the mullet – Brad Armstrong
Oh, that ass. If I hadn’t already known I was gay, Brad Armstrong’s tight trunks clinging ever so tenaciously to those perfectly formed buttocks certainly would have done the trick.
Brad Armstrong’s inspiring ass in trouble
Brad was a good wrestler—a fan favorite, obviously, with his athletic ability, sexy body, and ‘aw shucks’ attitude. But he lost his matches more frequently than he won them—and week after week, I slowly came to realize that what was really turning my crank and getting my dick hard was watching some nasty ass heel put him through the wringer—watching him suffer on the mat, one foot bouncing up and down as his back arched and that ass, that oh-so-perfect ass, with his trunks creeping up bit by bit, up in the air.

Brad’s trunks creeping up his ass as he suffers humiliatingly in the ropes

And I also came to the conclusion that I preferred watching Brad suffer rather than being dominant in a match—which made me stop and think.

Brad Armstrong where he did his best work: on his back,
feet pointed at the ceiling, and his opponent copping a feel of that rocking ass!

And I realized the truth is I wanted to fuck him—in other words, I wanted to dominate him and make him submissive to me. I wanted to beat him down, make him call me sir, and when that hard muscle ass arched up in the air, I wanted to reach down and peel those green trunks off him, lube up my cock, and ride him while he bucked and writhed and moaned.

And called me “sir.”

I’m frequently accused of being a ‘body fascist,’ and nothing could be further from the truth. I actually like all kinds of men, in all shapes and sizes—what I am actually attracted to, more than anything else, is a particular attitude that a lot of wrestlers seem to have. (This is why I generally don’t give a shit about watching gay porn—very few gay porn stars have that ‘certain something special’ that gets my dick hard, and let’s face it—if you’ve seen one fuck scene, you’ve pretty much seen them all. Ty Lebeouf is a gay porn star who is one of the exceptions—and he is exceptional, although I’d much rather watch him climb in the ring.) A wrestler can have the most gorgeous body you’ve ever seen, and a huge bulge in the front of his trunks—but if the attitude I like isn’t there, he just leaves me cold. (I won’t give examples, out of respect.)

Porn star Ty Lebeouf: Ready to Wrestle?

The wrestlers I like—the ones that make me open my wallet and spend my hard-earned money buying their videos—have that attitude. It’s not something that’s quantifiable or definable; someone either has it or they don’t. And there really isn’t a rhyme or reason to my attraction to them. They can be a muscle twink, like Christian Taylor, or a hot little muscle heel like Kid Karisma, or a stocky brute like Bulldog Barzini, or a beautiful babyface who has crazy mad ring skills but always loses—like Alexi Adamov.

Cage Thunder revels in dragging babyface Alexi Adamov
well past “the turning point” – BG East’s Masked Mayhem 2

I like heels because the only way someone can ever fuck me is if they dominate me. And I do like being dominated. I like being forced to submit, I like being forced to scream out a submission or call my foe “sir”—and if he can beat me down that way, I’m his for the taking and he can do with me as he pleases. The thought of being worked over like that by a Bob Orton or a Stan Hansen or any number of studly heels who might not have the body beautiful you’d see on the cover of a gay porn magazine turns me on as much as the thought of beating down some beautiful babyface/jobber does.

A heel who could have made Cage Thunder cry, “Sir!”

For me, that’s the answer to why people enjoy seeing pretty muscle boys just get the shit kicked out of them. Because we want to dominate them, we want to fuck them, and the wrestling match we are watching is a kind of pornographic dance of domination and submission.

Cage Thunder has his way with a puddle-on-the-mat, Jobe Zander –
BG East’s Masked Mayhem 8

And I love, love, LOVE the turning point—when the heel begins to simply toy with his opponent for our viewing pleasure.

Cage Thunder conquers, strips, and toys with Lobolito –
BG East Masked Mayhem 3

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a DVD to watch.

——————
Now, aren’t we all dying to know what gorgeous-bodied and huge-bulged wrestlers leave Cage Thunder limp!? Like I said, however, he’s a class act who isn’t one to crush-and-tell. For this fantastic glimpse into precisely the moment, the attitude, and the acts of domination that make his dick stand up at attention, neverland is honored to have guest contributor Cage Thunder push the pause button and share his thoughts with us!

Rookie Delight

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For quite a while, I was harping relentlessly around here about the problems of overexposure and recycling across the homoerotic wrestling industry. It seemed like every month there were multiple releases from competing producers featuring the same wrestlers, sometimes even facing the same opponents! While the phenomenon of migration from company to company has continued, it seems to me to be less in our faces lately. And I’m always delighted by the debut of new rookies. Thankfully, there’s been a lot of fresh meat on camera lately making my mouth water.

Naked Kombat rookie: Ethan Hudson
Case in point: yesterday’s new release from Naked Kombat introducing me to the big, big boy from Chicago, Ethan Hudson. Ethan debuts for NK against a veteran buzzsaw in Tyler Saint. Tyler is a freak of nature.  I swear he’s got to be a cyborg sent from the future to crush and destroy all pornboys who get the way of his mission to capture and enslave my cock. This man has more squared edges than a cheap Ikea coffee table. He’s hard as a rock with a center of gravity that appears to hover somewhere around his ankles. I’ve seen Tyler in action several times before, and yet again, the sight of him made me gasp when I saw him yesterday, looking every bit like the love child of Arnold and Dolph, square off against baby bull rookie Ethan.
Tyler Saint – Sent from the future to capture Bard’s cock.
From a distance, I didn’t peg Ethan as a wrestler who’d really capture my attention, particularly not standing inches away from the likes of the GMO that is Tyler Saint. But damn it all if I wasn’t completely taken in by the seriously hefty slice of beef that is NK rookie Ethan Hudson.
Tyler Saint locks up with rookie Ethan Hudson – Naked Kombat 8-17-11
He’s not pretty. He’s not exactly handsome (again, particularly not next to the inhumanly square jaw and blond buzz cut of Tyler). Ethan sports astonishing thickness, particularly his torso… and his legs… and his arms… and his neck…, but he doesn’t have the classic proportions and lines that (I’m not ashamed to say it) frequently speak to me. But whatever is that he’s not, there’s one thing that he is, without question: turning me on!
Ethan gets his ass handed to him by Tyler (and this being NK, I mean that literally). But for a big boy rookie, Ethan clocks in an incredibly intense 3 rounds of ferocious grappling. If he were fighting anyone other than a cyborg, he’d have crushed him like a grape, I have to think. But even clearly outmatched, Ethan’s performance is amazing. He spends way too much time riding Tyler’s back. Now, normally I wouldn’t suggest that riding your opponent’s back could be overdone, but in this case, it gets Ethan exactly nowhere. With his incredibly thick legs wrapped around Tyler’s waist, Ethan valiantly twists and bucks and yanks on his opponent to force him off his hands and knees and take him to the mat. But this is Arnold’s mini-me we’re talking about. All of those gymnastics happening on his back seem to go completely unnoticed by Tyler. It’s like the man is made out of lead! And unfortunately, Ethan seems to not have a deep arsenal to draw from to try a different tack.
But it’s incredibly entertaining and deeply arousing to watch the rookie never say die from start to finish! It’s like watching him drive his head into a brick wall over and over again. At some point, you figure he’s got to just stop and say, “This is fucking impossible!” But he doesn’t, and he doesn’t just roll over and take it from the man-machine fighting him. He just keeps working that astonishingly beautiful bubble butt of his until the end of round 3 when the ref need hardly state the obvious: Tyler wins, and it’s not close.
But the score does not capture the drama, and it particularly doesn’t describe the very finely tuned wrestling kink that Ethan strums inside of me.  My fervent prayer is that someone gives this fearless baby bull some formal training, and then they toss him back onto the mat with a mere mortal this time. I predict he could seriously fuck up some cocky, ripped hunk who may have grown a little complacent and taken for granted his incredibly loyal fan base.  I’m just saying… there’s a homoerotic wresting pornboy favorite who’s failed to fully hold my attention lately, and some fresh, fierce, solid as a rock rookie could very easily score an upset both on the mats and in my rankings.
Welcome to the homoerotic wrestling family, Ethan! It’s truly my pleasure to make your acquaintance!

Diverse Tastes – Guest Contributor Metellus

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All of the guest contributors for our running summer series “Diverse Tastes” fall into my category of delightful collaborators: clever, savvy, unconventional and creative fans of wrestling who know what they like and enjoy the adventure of hunting it down with their bare hands. Today’s guest contributor, Metellus, is a prime example of what I’m talking about. Metellus contacted me quite a while ago about his appreciation for my Secretarial Pool auditions in my fictional homoerotic wrestling universe, the Producer’s Ring. But Metellus is no back-seat driver. His own hot, kinked, wrestling imagination kicked into high gear. About every third sentence in an email from Metellus starts with the words, “What if….” And that yearning to explore the next idea for a wrestling fantasy, in my opinion, is the heart of the very best of homoerotic wrestling.  The most recent match in the Secretarial Pool (“Global Cooperation”) is a flat-out collaboration between Metellus and me, with Metellus scouting and recruiting all of the primary characters (models David Gandy, Noah Mills, Mateus Verdelho and Tyler McPeak). He and I also worked together on one of my fondest pieces of BG East fiction in the Sidelineland group, featuring randy wrestling rookie and fashion model Cobus Jonker pulling off a stunning debut against one of BG East’s resident masters of destruction, Enforcer. I love Metellus’ passion for collaboration, for putting his own ideas on the table and then being thrilled with the exercise of molding them, shaping them, tossing them out and starting all over again, in the very provocative enterprise of co-authoring a work of homoerotic wrestling fiction. Watch for more collaborations from us in the future, and in the mean time, enjoy Metellus’ take on the topic of Diverse Tastes, in which he explores some key examples of both who it is and what it is that they do to rise to the top of his wrestling kink favorites.

“Muscles at Work”
by Metellus
TNA’s Brutus Magnus – Handsome, lean muscles, versatile

I have always been a fan of wrestling. I like them from all angles, pro, indie or underground video companies like BG East. I am not quite sure what exactly is it that I like about wrestling, so I am hoping to take this opportunity to talk about some of my favorite wrestlers.

Fight Club Finland’s Valentine can give and take punishment

To me, the perfect wrestler has a nice body, not bad to look at and preferably wearing some short wrestling trunks. Like many other readers, I usually enjoy seeing these type of wrestlers in the roles of jobbers. Some of my favorites wrestlers in the pro and indie circuits include Brutus Magnus (TNA wrestling), Valentine (Fight Club Finland) and Hiroshi Yamato (All Japan Pro Wrestling). Their handsome face and lean muscles made them ideal baby faces. These wrestlers can both job for heels but can also be competitive if needed. On top of that, they can suffer really well, and it is a real pleasure to see their muscles at work in the ring. When it comes to wrestlers in companies like BG East and Can-Am wrestling, there may be too many to name. It may take me ages to narrow down my favorites.

Babyface Hiroshi Yamoto works his muscle for Japan Pro Wrestling

I am also a big fan of wrestling stories. They allow me to use my imagination as I try to picture up a slightly different scenario each time I’m reading the same story. I first started reading these type of stories in Bard’s Producer’s Ring, where he threw in a bunch of male models into a mat room while they tried to beat the crap out of each other. To me, male models are the perfect fictional wrestler. I am not a big fan of twinks so I usually prefer those handsome and muscular ones than the high fashion models. But there are always exceptions. Take Noah Mills and David Gandy for example. I wouldn’t call them twinks by any means but they are successful high end fashion models. After a day of modeling work it is not hard to picture them stripping down to their gears and fight one another in a long, hard wrestling battle.

Models David Gandy and Noah Mills –
Starring in the homoerotic wrestling imaginations of Metellus & Bard
—————
Thanks, Metellus! Your collection of favorites is a fantastic combination of familiar faces as well as entirely new discoveries (at least, new to me!). I’d write a little more about my admiration of Metellus’ impeccable tastes and creativity here, but he’s already sent me an email with an idea for a new piece of homoerotic wrestling fiction. “What if……..”

The Taste of Victory

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Thank God I’m done with traveling… for a few weeks. Back in the comforts of my own home, I’m able to settle into the familiar routines, including carving out some time for one of my most enjoyable pass-times: appreciating homoerotic wrestling.
With my attention renewed on the topic that you and I find so enjoyable, I’m feeling the need to make aright my neglect of my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month: Kid Karisma. Typically by now, I’d have at least one or two posts vetting and venerating the hard working hunk who so ably captured the title at the beginning of the month. It’s certainly not as if I’m at a loss for things to say as I marvel at the body and body of work of the Karismatic one! I could write an encyclopedia of attributes that make Kid K such a commanding favorite of mine, and for which he also recently muscled his way past Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) to claim the top contender spot for my overall favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy division. There’s nowhere on Kid K’s body or in his wrestling arsenal that wouldn’t be appropriate to slow down and marvel for a while, but let me just start in a particular spot that’s been particularly responsible for my growing infatuation with the red-headed muscle hunk: his lips.
Perhaps this isn’t the particular geography that you’d have selected to begin to admire the remarkable assets of Kid Karisma, but it’s his liplocks that have been topping me off lately. I don’t own Kid K’s entirely library of work yet, but I believe that exactly twice he’s capped off a crushing victory over an awestruck opponent by grabbing the lucky, lucky loser’s head and commandingly, lingeringly sucking face.
The first time I caught sight of this truly inspired moment of Kid Karisma homoeroticism was in the Karismatic one’s hard-fought conquering of that stubbornly tough twink-punk, Len Harder in Sexy Showdown 5: Florida Fun. The sight of these two hot-and-bothered, sweaty specimens teetering on the edge of aggression and affection is profoundly stimulating for me. Kid K’s rippled, rock hard body stretched overtop of Len, crotch-to-crotch and lips-to-lips, makes me gasp. And then when Len sweetly, gently grabs Kid K’s gorgeous round glutes in both hands, as the red-headed juggernaut shoves his tongue down Len’s throat, all of my homoerotic wrestling kink synapses fire at once.
Despite less skin, Kid Karisma’s make-out with Christian Taylor in Wet & Wild 5 is arguably even more arousing for me. Despite being a half a foot shorter than Christian, Kid K is simply much more than Christian can handle. Kid K is cocky and taunting. He gives away just a little bit of riding time, but the match both in the pool and on the mat poolside is essentially and entirely in Kid K’s quite able hands. It’s a bit like watching a beautiful house cat drag a poor mouse inside to play with it mercilessly until he’s killed the rodent like his instincts demand. Kid K laughs at poor Christian. He smirks at Christian’s hopeless attempts to secure an advantage. Any moment that Christian rallies every ounce of strength and will to power to the top, Kid K just lets him tire himself out and than smacks him back down with contempt. And then when Christian is completely wasted, flat on his back, having submitted repeatedly until he barely has the strength to submit again, Kid K chokes Christian out cold with a completely unnecessary figure-4 clamped like a steel pipe across the loser’s throat.
That would’ve been enough to satisfy my devotion to a seriously sexy homoerotic wrestling beatdown. Christian suffers valiantly like the handsome, tall drink of water he is. Kid K preens and revels in his complete domination over his outmatched opponent. Tick, tick… all the boxes checked. This will be a match to come back to again and again. But then…
… Kid Karisma stretches across Christian’s motionless, supine body and wakes the spent stud with an almost compassionate kiss. Now that’s a way to wake up! Completing the fantasy that I’m too often left to write in my own imagination, Kid K quite literally savors the taste of his victory, and Christian realizes that every second of the whole humiliating, painful encounter was completely worth it. Compassion turns to passion, and the two handsome faces are locked together as Kid K assists the woozy contender to his feet. Sealing the deal, Christian grabs a handful of the Karismatic one’s meaty ass as he’s led inside for a post-match reconciliation.
There’s a lot that I could (and let’s face it, that I will) obsess lustfully about when it comes to Kid Karisma’s body and wrestling accomplishments. But it’s what he’s willing to do with those sweet, hot lips of his that make him rise to the top of what I enjoy most in homoerotic wrestling. I realize that not everyone enjoys seeing kissing in their homoerotic wrestling fare. In fact, I’ve heard from some of you that it’s a turn-off. Mores-the-better for the diverse industry that feeds our cravings. As for me, however, the marriage of skilled wrestling storytelling with homo-sensibilities of erotic pleasure is the essence of what arouses me most (full stop). For Kid K’s full arsenal of skills, especially including his liplocks, his stock is very much on the rise in my infatuations. In no small part due to everywhere his lips have been, Kid Karisma is sitting pretty atop the throne as my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month.

Pushed Too Far

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Jonny Firestorm adds insult to injury – BG East’s The Contract 6
Have you ever been pushed too far? I’ve been there. And I recognize that moment when I see someone else who’s suffered one too many indignities, one too many injustices. I’m familiar with that moment when we realize that playing by the rules, following the script, and knowing our “place” are guaranteed to get us nothing more than another boot to the teeth. It’s a desperate moment, forged out of an existential crisis. It’s a dangerous moment, when the normal boundaries and consequences that typically operate to establish order unravel right before us. When the scales fall from our eyes and we see how we’ve been complicit in our own oppression, when our eyes seem to open for the very first time to recognize that how we choose to act in this very moment is entirely and unalterably no one’s call but our own, there’s something primal that can rise to the surface that can envelope us and those around us with something deeply unsettling, tapping into the brutal, dark corners of our collective unconscious. Have you ever been pushed just too far, and decided then and there that you weren’t going to take it anymore?

Brad Rochelle snaps – BG East’s The Contract 6

I’m sitting from thousands of miles away combing through scarce news coverage of the riots in London. I say scarce, not because there aren’t headlines on every news outlet I can find. They’re just scarce because the stories that accompany the headlines are absurdly superficial. There’s nearly no context. The media are clearly at a loss to make any attempt to explain (not justify, just explain), how a fatal police shooting could spark three nights running of rioting and looting that have left Scotland Yard slack jawed and impotent. I was just in London last month, and the notion of buildings being burned and shops being looted in the face of an ineffectual police is hard to reconcile with my memory of that busy, bustling, extremely efficiently ordered urban landscape. As a result of the bizarrely vapid news coverage, I have no idea what’s really going on. But I recognize that moment… when people have had enough and the rules of a well-ordered society are kicked to the gutter because of one too many indignities, one too many injustices. When people seem to emerge from the woodwork to participate in seemingly senseless acts of rage, bullying, and lawless pilfering, effectively calling the bluff of a police force that was never meant to be equipped to corral an out of control guerilla mob that’s given up on all pretense of “civility,” that moment speaks to me of deep seated injustice that’s pushed a whole lot of people one step too far to contain any longer.

All hell breaks loose in BG East’s Wrestlefest 1

The concept of a “market correction” is a commonly understood phenomenon these days. So when the trading markets around the world witness the evaporation of untold trillions of dollars worth of equity (read: people’s pensions, livelihoods, scholarships, resources to conduct live-saving research, etc.) over the course of a single day, as happened on Monday, there isn’t quite an existential crisis. We make sense of the senseless catastrophic implications by calling it “a correction.” It’s cast as a mere adjustment to the over-reaching greed of undeserving market speculators. Rather than a means of destroying the lives and livelihoods of millions, it’s repackaged as an act of justice, the delivery of equity, a “correction.” While I’m not a student of economics, I am a student of the history of the modern social welfare state, and we have a parallel phenomenon there. Once or twice in a generation, elitist political environments tout austerity and market liberalism as inviolable social values, resulting in a massive pullback of social involvement in providing a baseline level of material goods necessary for human dignity and survival among the most impoverished and oppressed among us. As a result, the desperately poor get that much poorer. The institutionally oppressed are ground down into the dirt that much more humiliatingly. And then one thing happens… it can be just about anything really. It can be something that seems almost tolerable in comparison with the mass of injustice being heaped upon the underclasses relentlessly. But there’s an event… a group of veterans protesting the denial of their pensions are roughed up and violently routed by an overaggressive police force… a courageous leader is shot dead by an unbalanced ideologue… students protesting an unjust war are mown down by the police ostensibly there to “keep the peace”… and it’s just one thing too many to tolerate. Often in the already oppressive heat of the summer, a spark ignites already raging tempers. One event spreads like a wildfire, and fuck-’em-all violence breaks out in pockets. Pockets of fuck-’em-all violence push still more people to question why they hell they’re putting up with the indignities that they bear, and still more violence erupts and spreads.

Francis Piven co-authored the seminal work on this whole theory of the cycle of austerity, violent social upheaval, and the subsequent social correction in welfare policy (and has since been demonized by Glenn Beck to the point that ultra-right nutjobs have forced Piven into hiding from the flood of death threats against her) that happens when societies readjust their welfare systems to alleviate the very worst of the poverty and indignity. The argument is that welfare states are like a steam valve, holding in systemic injustice and degradation of the underclasses until violence threatens to envelope all of society, at which point the valve is released, welfare is doled out a little more generously, until the underclasses don’t feel so desperate, until they feel that there could be something worth giving “the rules” another chance for, that better days might be ahead of them if they just color within the lines once again. Once the rich start to skim more and more off the top, eventually austerity is reimposed on the poorest once again, until the whole steam valve scenario comes to a head once more.

Football turns into free-for-all – Can-Am’s Football Fracas

Is this what’s going on in London? In Syria? In Egypt? In Iran? Is this ahead of us in the United States, because it’s certainly woven through our past. It wouldn’t be the first time that all hell broke loose and the frightening vision of a world of supposedly senseless chaos seemed to threaten to swallow up everyone and everything. I feel profoundly sad for the loss of life and property that accompany riots and massive social unrest. But don’t we recognize that moment when we see it, from the perspective of the battered and beaten underdog who’s been pushed one step too far? It doesn’t justify anything, but while the BBC seems to be able to categorize the riots as nothing but senseless, there’s something in me that says that although I don’t know what the hell is really going on over there, I know what it’s like to say fuck the rules. I’ve had enough of this shit.

Brad Rochelle isn’t going take this shit any longer – BG East’s The Contract 6

Bard’s Pilgrim Way

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An always helpful reader sent me an email in response to my pilgrimage stopover at the Paradise in Cambridge, confirming that it was the same club where BG East filmed a series of oil wrestling tapes in the late 80’s. He also suggested that I might want to hunt down the site of the old club Metro, where BG East filmed Live at the Metro.

Site of the former club Metro, Boston

In the shadow of Fenway Park sits what is now the House of Blues, but what was, in one of its many previous incarnations, the Metro. Live at the Metro doesn’t appear to be up on the BG East website any longer, but I have it on the very best authority that this is, indeed, the site where BG East early on staged live audience wrestling entertainment.

Kid Leopard & Bryan

The card that wrestled at the Metro included classic names that continue to make my blood pump, such as the irrepresible Kid Leopard and Bryan.

Kid McCoy & Kid Leopard mug for the camera.

I believe that adorable babyface Kid McCoy was also on the card that night.

Kid McCoy suffers in the ropes.

Just snapping some pictures from across the street, I literally found myself aroused by my proximity to this site of homoerotic wrestling history. I felt like I should leave a token of respect, but I couldn’t decide on an appropriate act of homage. There are plenty of tourists schlepping their tired asses in the summer heat along the Freedom Trail, gawking and snapping pics of Revolutionary Era cemeteries and churches and the house of Paul Revere. As for me, however, the pilgrim’s way from site to site of significance in BG East’s homoerotic wrestling history is much more provocative. It wouldn’t be the first time that I felt significantly deficient in patriotic fervor, but never have I felt as connected to the stream of homoerotic wrestling history as standing by myself, clicking shots of old wrestling venues, and sensing the sweet echoes of sweat, grunts, holds and blows of hot matches of the past.

Round 2

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I’m coming up for air just a bit to root around in the fertile soil of my favorite blog haunts. File this under the heading “models in wrestling gear,” because the sign in the background may say boxing, but model Courtney Grant’s gear is all about wrestling.

I’m seeing this via Homotrophy, via photographer Tom Cullis. The narrative appears to be that Courtney has just worked up a sweat competing in an amateur wrestling match. He gives his opponent a long, ferocious look, fueled by the adrenaline still pumping in his veins. He shrugs his shoulders out of his singlet straps and tugs off his headgear. We’re done here.

Now with headgear draped across his shoulder, Courtney tugs his singlet a bit farther down his waist. He’s a handsome hunk, with the gorgeous strong shoulders, broad chest, rippled abs and narrow waist of a veteran athlete. He looks hungry, like the physicality of wrestling does to him what it does to you and me. His gaze is locked like steel on his opponent as he leads him into the locker room.

Sliding the wet singlet down over his hips, Courtney looks over his shoulder. He knows what his opponent is looking at. Unleashing his incredible, round glutes, Courtney stares fixedly at the man with whom he’s shared the unparalleled intimacy of wrestling. It’s not a look of accusation, but more a sober assessment. You going to do anything more than look?

Nearly naked, partially in the shadows, it’s time for round 2.

Required Reading

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Have you read Joe’s interview with BG East Boss, Kid Leopard, over at Ringside at Skull Island yet? If not, consider it on your required summer reading list, effective immediately. Seriously. Stop reading this blog, click here, and get your ass over to Ringside at Skull Island for compulsory homoerotic wrestling kink reading.


You’d better not still be reading this if you haven’t taken a long, hard look at Joe’s incredibly insightful, provocative, and entertaining interview with Kid Leopard. It’s been up over a week already, but along with sparse postings here at neverland for the past couple of weeks, another casualty of my summer work travel has been less time following the rest of the wrestling kink world. I nearly missed Joe’s interview with the head of BG East, but thankfully a friend asked me what I thought of it. I instantly dropped work, clicked over to Ringside, and settled in for a delightful read.

I’m always learning something new from Joe. In this case, he’s exceeded himself (that’s a biblical allusion, for those keeping track). Having majored in history as an undergraduate, I’m particularly drawn to the incredibly fascinating narrative that KL offers over the course of the interview, explaining his own start in wrestling and the circumstances that led to him planting the seeds that grew into BG East. Like any good story teller, KL leaves us with new questions in precise measure to every answer he gives (e.g., the phrase, “Buddy’s fundamentally criminal mindset wreaked havoc on all things BG” makes me pine for more of the gritty details!). But all told, this interview bathes the history of the homoerotic wrestling industry in bright, sometimes brutal light.

There’s also something almost intimate about Kid Leopard’s detailed description of the creative process that goes into distinctly BG East wrestling that sets it apart from the rest. I’ve always appreciated the unmistakable and unfakable artistry in BG East products, that’s explained so effortlessly in KL’s metaphor of producing wrestling as directing ballet. I’m also delighted and provoked by his words reflecting on the way that the closet impacts the world of homoerotic wrestling both at the level of wrestlers and the level of competing wrestling companies. This isn’t just food for thought, it’s a banquet that anyone with even a twist of wrestling kink in them has got to find fascinating, inspiring, and illuminating. This is essential reading that should be a prerequisite for anyone with even a passing arousal at the sight of unapologetically homoerotic wrestling.