wrestlebardLeave a comment
Topic: Barely clothed, hot bodied men engaged in physical combat for sale. No, I’m not talking about the homoerotic wrestling industry… but I could be, couldn’t I? Rather, I’m referring to another delightful installment of male models posed as fighters. Specifically, I’m celebrating Tomislav Maržic and Ivor Jurjević modeling for Lodoli Underwear (via Homotrophy).

I’m finding little else on either of these pretty boys other than multiple references to this photo shoot. I believe Ivor has a Facebook page, and all signs appear to me to be pointing to these boys, like the underwear, being Croatian.

If I’m right, Ivor is the tattooed hardbody on the right, which makes him my favorite in this imaginary bout with Tomislav.

I love the pec tat in particular… and his thick arms and shoulders… and his powerful thighs… and the heft in that pouch.
But, let’s be clear, being my favorite does not at all necessarily equal being the one I want to see win. Looks to me like Tomislav has his eye on using Ivor’s pouch like a speed bag, and I for one, am ready to curl up on the couch with some popcorn to watch a tatted muscleboy beatdown. Tomislav has a bit of a Cliff Conlin feel about him in this match-up (sans fur). He may not be the prettiest, but he just may be the meanest, which could turn out to make him the sexiest.
Ah, hell. This is a win-win, regardless. As long as Ivor’s six pack gets pounded, his pecs get clawed, and perhaps his pouch takes some punching, I’d buy either of these pretty, pretty boys coming out on top.
wrestlebard1 Comment
Is it wrong that I find this incredibly sexy?

Of course, in my mind I easily photoshop out the woman and replace her with me. That hand on Sam Witwer’s bloody thigh is my hand. I’m the one perched cozily between his knees. I’m the one that’s been sucking the life out of every inch of his beautiful body. I’m the one that’s been squeezing his sweet, hard pecs with my right hand and massaging his balls with my left hand shoved underneath the bottom of his underwear.

Oh wait, that last bit actually doesn’t happen in this scene from Being Human via SyFy, at all. But you know me, I re-write scenes in my imagination all the time. The sexy vampire shows up in my homoerotic fantasies repeatedly, I note. I don’t find blood, in and of itself, erotic. But Sam, covered in stage blood, slipping and sliding on the bathroom tiles in an orgasmic feeding frenzy all works for me well and above what Sam’s barely clad body, by itself, does. Should this disturb me?

The same scene (really) from the original BBC version brings to mind the unavoidable comparison, and I’m hard pressed to say whether it’s Sam Witwer or Aidan Turner I’d rather be sliding across the blood soaked bathroom floor with. I hate Aidan’s floppy, needs-to-be-shampooed-more-often hair, so that’s a plus in Sam’s column. Sam also has a harder body. But damn, Aidan’s dark, hairy body along with the Irish accent evens the score in a blood pumping heartbeat. This is so much closer a call than I’d have guessed a few weeks ago. Only one good way to really sort this out, of course. These two suckers simply must fight it out, and there’s no place that will work other than a bath house arena in Seattle with boys in towels grunting and cheering them on to a final, decisive, explosive decision with copious amounts of body fluids.

Of course, if there’s a battle of beautiful boys for whom I’d be willing to overlook a little homicidal blood lust, whether it’s Aidan or Sam coming out on top, he’d have men of my fantasies waiting their turn for a shot. Slather Alexander Skarsgård in any liquid, including blood, and it’ll only make me swoon that much more for the giant Swede. Alexander is undefeated in the fictional wrestling competition in my imagination, and he plans on staying that way.

For all my infatuation with vampires, I still haven’t seen Vampire Diaries. It sounds bad from a distance. Still, Ian Somerhalder as a sexy, naked vamp is an inspiring picture. Ian got his ass beat hard in his only appearance in my wrestling fiction, but he put up a really good fight. I could imagine that he’d be nursing a hunger for some redemption.

And speaking of redemption, Sean Faris got beat bad and humiliated overwhelmingly in his only appearance in my wrestling fiction, losing hard and nasty in bare-assed action with Brad Pitt (specifically, with Brad’s bare ass smothering Sean’s smarmy face). But Sean joining Vampire Diaries makes me give him a second look. Perhaps Sean is primed to bite and claw his way back up the ladder of success. Of course, Brad also played a smoking hot vampire as well, so he may be primed for a return to action.

We’ve seen a Werewolf Rumble in my homoerotic wrestling imagination. Sooner or later, there’ll have to be a Blood Sucker Beatdown. Once the bitter yoke of work-related writing projects eases up, I’ll be posting more fiction.

Asses Named

wrestlebardLeave a comment

I think I must study homoerotic wrestlers’ asses more compulsively than you. Or, perhaps, you just played yesterday’s game of Name that Ass at home, rather than drop a comment here. In either case, topher and Jose D. get smiley faces on their homework for excellent effort, with Jose D. getting an extra star on his for correctly naming (if tentatively) 4 out of 5 of the asses. For the record, and for you playing at home, here were the correct answers:

Ass #1 belongs to the top contender for the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy: BG East’s Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you! and extra credit to Jose D. for mentioning this fact). I figured this might pose a challenge because, seriously, it’s an uphill battle to try to tear your eyes away from Mr. J’s mammoth package to appreciate his remarkably beautiful assets elsewhere. I think the best shot of his fantastic, sweaty, hard muscled glutes show up when he’s stripped to his thong in his match with Rocco in Jobberpalooza 7. True, Mr. J is completely bare-assed at the hands of Brooklyn Bodywrecker in Mr. J’s Wrestler Spotlight, but this is mostly smoke and mirrors, and I remain bitter at being personally taunted by BBW at the end of this bout (well, not me personally, but all of us suckered into snapping this piece up to see Mr. J’s naked piece… doesn’t happen). Mr. J pulling out some thonged ass domination on Rocco, for my taste, is the best for ogling his carved, round muscle glutes.

Ass #2 from yesterday’s game belongs to Rock Hard Wrestling rookie sensation, Travis Storm. I like Travis. A lot. His teeth attract my attention first. His got a major mouthful of them. A close second favorite attribute of the rookie his is sweet, round ass. Jose D., wracking up extra credit after extra credit, correctly noted that yesterday’s pic #2 comes from Travis’ delightful match against the butt-fantastic likes of Cody Nelson. Travis’ deep-seated camel clutch on Cody is like a clash of Titans, as lucious mounds of muscle press against luscious mounds of muscle. I will pay to see more of Travis’ gorgeous ass, and there are two ways of interpreting that statement, and both are equally accurate.

Ass #3 from Name That Ass belongs to another homoerotic wrestling rookie desperately in need of another match: Can-Am’s Landon Mycles. Jose D. gets partial credit for naming Landon, but only tentatively. There’s nothing tentative about Landon’s hot, hairy, blond naked ass in Pro Sex Fight 1 against Michael Vineland. If this pornboy does not turn up naked and soaked in sweat in the ring again, this will be a crime against wrestling kink nature. Landon was a one-time favorite homoerotic wrestler of the month, and I have my fingers crossed that someday he’ll have another crack at the title.

Ass #4 was again, tentatively and correctly identified by Jose as belonging to my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, Trent Diesel. Damn, I love Trent’s ass. Sure, I love Trent’s everything, but that ass is so aesthetically pleasing. He seems to like to require his vanquished opponent’s to bury their faces deep between those gorgeous cheeks, and while I’m not really up for that with just anyone, Trent would definitely be on my list of boys to rim. Occasionally, Naked Kombat takes the boys into the shower for “round 4,” which is the context for this shot of Trent soaping up across the shower from Ryan Rockford who just beat Trent’s tantalizing ass in oil. Ryan may have come out on top in NK points, but Trent is by far the most entertaining element in this, and nearly all, his matches. Long live the king.

The final ass in my inaugural Name That Ass game (there will be more… I had fun, whether you did or not), stumped even Jose D. Indeed, this ass is featured over at Thunder’s Arena. But it does not belong to Z-Man or Ace Hanson. No, I’d trade even their fine butts for this one. This ass could belong to none other than Mr. Ass-tastic himself, Big Sexy. I first cottoned on to the thrill value packed into Big Sexy’s amazing ass when he showed up as Santa for Thunder’s Arena’s holiday novelty match. In head-to-toe red spandex, there was just no mistaking that the athletic glutes on this man were world class. I’ve since gone fishing through many of the Big Sexy archives, and for my tastes, his #1 asset is displayed most pleasingly in his 2010 appearance against Z-Man for the Halloween Pumpkin match. Holy hell.

So how did you do? Did you beat Jose D.’s score? Perhaps more clues will be in order next time around.  Till then, you’ll have to practice. Watch lots (and I mean LOTS) of homoerotic wrestling, paying particular attention to the fine, fine, muscle asses you see. Good luck.

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.

The Kid Club

wrestlebardLeave a comment

A couple of weeks ago I mentioned that I was celebrating “Porn Sunday” with a fresh, new purchase in support of the fine, hardworking people who bring us high quality wrestling kink. Okay, so it wasn’t all philanthropic on my end, I admit. It’s also true that I was craving, in particular, a taste of a sweaty, leopard thonged, red-headed muscle boy.

Wait, leopard-thonged!? That’s right. In my newest purchase, Sexy Showdown 5: Florida Fun, red-headed hardbody Kid Karisma is sporting a snazzy leopard thong. When Len Harder first gets a glance at the thong under Kid K’s trunks, Len is living large and in charge abusing the hell out of Kid K’s balls. Fascinatingly, Kid K desperately points out that he had “special permission” from the Boss to don the leopard print. For Kid K’s sake, I hope he was being honest about that.

My Porn Sunday 2011 purchase pleases me. Kid Vicious’ match against Skrapper is astonishingly sexy as only Kid Vicious can deliver. But for today, I’d just like to marvel at the wonder that is Kid Karisma’s match against Len Harder.

Kid K entertains me more with every match I see him in. He’s putting the erotic into the homoerotic wrestling gig more and more explicitly all the time, and I’m loving it. He has a twisted, sadistic sense of humor that, paired with his “Teutonic god-like” physique (nicely put), makes him some of the highest quality wrestling kink on the market these days, I think.

Did I mention the red hair? That’s a rare piece of gorgeousness to be admired. From someone with a bit of Scot in my genetics (accounting for red facial hair on my otherwise brunette composition), I frequently have a taste for a red-headed gym bunny with a homo-fratboy-feel about him and a gleeful delight in dominating and humiliating an opponent. In other words, I frequently jones for some Kid K.

This match is closer than you might imagine (or at least it was for me), primarily due to Kid K’s overconfidence. If I had a body like his, I’d be overconfident too… at all times… in all ways… Len looks downright adolescent in comparison with Kid K’s hard muscle tone, massive pecs and shoulders, fantasy ass, and powerful legs. But Len likes to dominate and humiliate as well, and every fraction of a second that Kid K gets distracted by his own success, Len manages to make the “Teutonic god-like young man” (really, nicely put) pay. Ass-to-face, crotch-to-face, claw-to-crotch, claw-to-pec, bearhug, inverted bearhug, forehead-to-forehead, mouth-to-mouth… the dark intimacy throughout this mat romp is non-stop and intense. I’ve never scene a crotch-to-crotch battle quite as literal as theirs, but indeed, hands behind their backs, Kid K and Len take turns plowing each other’s crotches into one another until one of them is the clear winner of that fantastic exchange.

Frankly, I must admit, when I first saw Kid K, I questioned the wisdom of letting him claim the moniker of “Kid.” Another big, stunning boy tried to fill those shoes before and found himself out the door under the weight of disappointed expectations far too soon (as far as I’m concerned). But just like the dubious, dangerous wisdom of Kid K in a leopard print thong, I think Kid K has established himself as a risk-taker, a nasty tool for delivering delightful punishment, and a legitimate member of that exclusive fraternity, each known, deceptively, as “Kid.”

Earning It

wrestlebardLeave a comment
My homoerotic wrestler of the month, DJ, is unquestionably Naked Kombat’s Mr. Franchise. DJ represents precisely what NK brings to the homoerotic wrestling universe. He’s as tenacious as a terrier and as physically fit as my yoga instructor (which, I know, means nothing to you, but he actually looks a whole lot like my yoga instructor who is incredibly lean and gorgeous, which explains my workout regimen lately). DJ knows NK points forward and backward. His mat skills are a work of art. And his cool, calculated humiliation and domination in round 4 gets nastier and more entertaining all the time.
DJ is back yet again headlining this week’s NK offering against rookie thug, Nikko Alexander.  Nikko has one victory under his belt, but you’d think from the way he struts and sneers that he’s a dyed in the wool veteran heel. So he beat up on Jake Austin. Please. Who hasn’t?

Nikko trash-talks like a back alley heavy to start the match. As reward for his derision, DJ puts him on his back within the first 5 seconds of the match. DJ is wearing his hair very short (perhaps tired of the subtly racist jabs at his “troll doll” appearance from most of his opponents). I swear he continues to put on thicker muscle, ounce by ounce, all the time (though I think this match may have been released out of order… still…). I don’t suppose he’s ever going to be competition bodybuilder, but he’s built for exactly the purpose in front of him: kicking Nikko’s sweet round ass.

I’ve grown to enjoy DJ’s work so much that I must say, there’s something about him wrestling in his speedo and jock strap in the first two rounds that just seems odd. He’s perfectly, quintessentially DJ once there’s nothing between him and his opponent but that astonishingly long, beautiful, uncut cock of his.

It’s not as if DJ is a classic face, by any means. He’s got more of a stoner, skateboard punk vibe about him, in my estimation. But this match-up has me cheering out loud for each and every humiliating hold he slaps on Nikko, as if I’m watching a classic knight-in-shining-armor humble a big, bad heel from 80’s pro. Nikko is such a thug-in-training.

Nikko is not above some “inadvertent” rakes to the eyes and painful yanks on DJ’s nose. Hell, those are about the classiest things he brings to the NK mat. DJ is working is athletic ass off, executing an NK-style assault like few others can, and Nikko is just trying to figure out how to be a homoerotic wrestling bully.

So perhaps it’s not 80’s pro wrestling that this match evokes for me as much as a classic AMG softcore wrestling skit. The good guy (as far as I’m concerned) wins, conquering the snarling shenanigans of the thug. Of course DJ’s force feeding of his cock deep down Nikko’s throat, whipping Nikko’s face with it, and fucking him dizzy aren’t so much the literal translation of an AMG flick, but the spanking in the middle of that scenario is, in fact, classic AMG. DJ swats Nick’s thug ass with a satisfied grin, each blow sending Nikko’s body into spasms of shocked pain (overacted to precisely the same degree as an AMC scenario, I swear). Nikko’s florescent red ass come count 10, though, isn’t an act, nor is the distracted, lip-licking pleasure DJ takes in stroking and scratching his opponent’s stinging cheeks.
I think I sold DJ way short when I picked him for the current homoerotic wrestler of the month. Looking back, I think I may have made it sound like he’s the least mediocre boy in the running among last month’s new releases. I didn’t intend that, at all, and DJ’s bout with Nikko yesterday proves what should be abundantly clear. He’s a hardworking, beautiful, skilled homoerotic wrestling pornboy who gets nothing handed to him for free. He earns every inch of what he gets.

Playing to the Audience

wrestlebard2 Comments
Kid Leopard v Matt Carlton – BGE  Live in San Francisco

Today’s BG East Arena update features several galleries from the vintage Live at San Francisco collection of matches. In addition to reminding me that I need to get a copy of these live audience matches featuring some of the early lions, it also reminds me that I really like homoerotic wrestling in front of an audience.

Brooklyn Bodywrecker v Scott Rogers & Matt Carlton – BGE Live in San Francisco

A reader recently chatted with me about the concept of gay wrestling in front of an audience. We both agreed that the concept really moves us. I’m not entirely certain what all the moving parts are that multiply the eroticism of homoerotic wrestling with a live audience, but I have to believe it has to do with the shared intimacy of watching arousing, hardbodied athletes playing to a mutual kink.

Reed/DJ v Rouge/Tucker – Naked Kombat – December 23, 2009

Naked Kombat taped three incredibly hot matches in front of an audience before calling that venue quits. Their boys always got hurt when they wrestled in front of a crowd of cheering fans. Did the kombatants experience an extra rush of adrenaline when the boys in the stand roared with delight at each homoerotic hold? Did they find themselves trying a little too hard, pumped a little too much, with a jeering, cheering, hungry audience egging them on like the crowd that inevitably forms around schoolyard scraps? Maybe that’s part of the equation of what turns me on, as well. There’s an extra dose of adrenaline with an audience watching. There’s not only the fantastically intimate relationship hammered out between the wrestlers, but also the relationship between the wrestlers and the audience. Like a threesome, it adds something exotic and extra intense to an already erotically charged moment.

Reed/DJ v Rouge/Tucker – Naked Kombat – December 23, 2009

My recent introduction to the illustrated storybooks Sexfights at the BG Arena captures this ménage à trois sentiment quite nicely. The story of one night in an explicitly gay, live audience, ring wrestling arena, suggests that the wrestling studs fighting to cum out on top experience a synergistic, orgasmic psychic connection with the audience, carried across the sound waves of the audience’s shouts of encouragement, instruction or derision. The wrestlers, financially rewarded on a sliding scale based on how hardcore the victory sex gets, find themselves nudged further in brutality and passion as a result of the boys in the chairs, aroused and enthralled at the live, homoerotic, 110% wrestling kink action occurring just a few feet in front of them.

Chuck Tiger Collins v Fallen Angel – BGE Live on Campus

So perhaps a Sexfights at BG Arena scenario might have trouble finding an insurance carrier (which I assume was the real nail in the coffin of Naked Kombat’s live audience matches). And perhaps as homoerotic wrestling has become more established, there’s less opportunity for the ragged spontaneity of a Wrestlefest, for example.

Brad Rochelle v Patrick Donovan – BGE Wrestlefest 2

But I’ll keep a candle burning for the hope to someday buy my ticket for a ringside seat to watch the kink infused melodrama of homoerotic wrestling played out close enough for me to smell the sweat. Surely the seats would be packed for an opening bout with, say, my favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy division – Lon Dumont swagger out and climb commandingly through the ropes to work his bodybeautiful, indypro-informed magic on – how about – BGE veteran delight, Patrick Donovan. Patrick would be rewarded by those of us in the seats for copping some gratuitous feels of LD’s gorgeous pecs, but LD would surely pound his amorous opponent into a sweaty, exhausted, defenseless pulp, earning even more awed adoration from us in the crowd. Match 2, I’m thinking, should be a little kinkier. Let’s say Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!), eager to show up LD, climbs into the ring next, against Grapple 101 emcee, Ashley Ryder. Ashley lets us in the seats know that if he conquers my top contender for the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy division – he’ll give us all what we’ve been swooning for for more than a decade: an unobstructed view of Mr. Joshua’s stripped cock and balls. Hell, the crowd would turn on Mr. J in a flash, wouldn’t we!? Our blood would pump faster with each small advantage that Ashley managed to claim over Mr. J. When Ashley found himself bullied and slammed by his opponent, we’d roar in protest, desperate for our fresh-faced champion to deliver the goods he cockily promised. Knowing Ashley, sooner or later, boots would be stripped and the tension would rise over his fetish for claiming his opponent’s socks. And, let’s face it, Mr. J would likely capitalize on Ashley’s single-minded devotion to his gimmick, beating the Britboy’s face into the turnbuckle, tying him in the ropes and battering him with every appendage, before choking him out in the center of the ring as we catcalled, watching our hopes to see Mr. J’s goods fade with Ashley’s consciousness. But as full of himself as Mr. J is, he isn’t immune to the adrenaline rush of the roaring crowd. We’d chant, “take it off, take it off, take if off,” making the adonis pause as he’s stepping through the ropes to make his exit. “Take if off, take it off, take it off,” we’d chant like devotees of our druid god, weaving a spell so powerful that Mr. J, in his lust to be worshipped, couldn’t refuse. He’d tease us. He’d start to strip, and then wag his finger at us, plucking our pumping heartstrings like a harpist. Take it off, take it off, take it off… we’d keep whispering, breathlessly, desperately, until his eyes closed in rapture at the sound of our worship, and as if with a mind of their own, his hands peeled his skin tight trunks down his long, muscled legs. He’d grab his balls in his right hand and his cock in his left, giving them a habitual tug, before lacing his fingers behind his head and flexing his eight-pack directly over top of Ashley’s prone body, soaking in the impassioned shouts and grunts of our climactic adoration.

Dennis the Menace v Jay Austin – BGE – Paradise 2

Holy crap! I got completely lost there in my own fantasy of a BG live audience event, now didn’t I? Surely there’s got be at least another two or three more matches on the card, but I’ll save the rest of that fantasy for another day. For now, let me just say again that I think there’s an awesome chemistry to live audience wrestling, as evidenced by straight-up mainstream pro wrestling profits, that would only be that much more appealing in undisguised homoerotic fare. My candle is lit for a return of live audience action to gay wrestling, and me with my ticket to a front row seat.

Methinks

wrestlebard4 Comments

I’m of the disposition to intentionally turn away from a tragic spectacle. I used to think that this was a sign of my moral superiority. Lately, though, I think it’s just another example of me having a weak stomach. Now, I adore some full contact combat with loads of suffering and humiliation. And I’m actually a major fan of the horror movie genre; the more psychologically twisted the better. But real life tragedy makes me queasy. I never gawk at the accordianed car on the side of the highway, for example. I just keep driving with my eyes forward.

The past 10 or 15 years of Tom Cruise’s public life has been a little like driving past the horrific car crash on the side of the highway. At some point I just started turning away. I stopped going to his movies. I turned the channel when he offered the worst acting performance of his career on Oprah’s couch. I just shook my head and tried not to watch when he tried to sell himself in a role of a postmodern critic of the biomedical model of treating postpartum depression. It all just makes me increasingly uncomfortable to watch.

I was way over Tom Cruise gossip years ago (*ahem**cough*Kyle Bradford*cough*cough*). If there was ever a character ripped from a Greek tragedy, I think it has to be a talented, handsome Hollywood hunk with a wrestling fetish, trapped behind layers of a secretive, sci-fi religious sect and a lifetime of personal and professional moves devoted obsessively to proving his heterosexual credibility. To quote the original Bard who said everything better than it’s ever been said since, “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

But the newest “news” that Tom will be singing (!) in a big screen adaptation of the musical theater production Rock of Ages grabbed my attention despite myself. If it were just that he seems to writing a new tragic twist to his tragic life, presuming that he can both perform as a singer and appeal to the traditional musical theater audience, I’d probably just drive right by without a second glance. But I just had to take a second look when I read the EW coverage of the casting.

Furthering the frantic effort to legitimate his heterosexual credibility, the brief EW piece points out that in Rock of Ages, Tom will be receiving a (presumably heterosexual) lap dance. In what’s probably intended as further heterosexual legitimacy, EW also says that, in the role of womanizing rocker Stacee Jaxx, Tom will also be taking “more than one punch.”

I doubt I’ll ever see Rock of Ages once it’s produced and released, but Tom on the receiving end of a punch does something for me. I’ve imagined what a full contact homoerotic battle starring Tom might be like. The idea works for me, just like the gossip that he allegedly used to be into homoerotic wrestling for hire always did it for me.

I don’t wish Tom ill, at all. I’m typically a live-and-let-live sort of guy, without much energy to offer to discussions of how other people ought to be living their lives. But I do feel a strong sympathy for anyone out there engaged in herculean efforts to fit the heterosexual ideal of a hyper-masculine, misogynist alpha male when, in quiet moments in dark solitude, he’s really a homoerotic wrestling fetishist. It’s okay to get off on hot, hard, sweaty wrestling with another guy. It’s a beautiful thing to celebrate mutual physicality and sexuality. If there’s any one thing that this blog has been about for nearly two years, it’s been about sharing a positive perspective on homoeroticism and wrestling kink. If that’s new to you, whether you live in Iowa or Hollywood, whether you’re a working class stiff or a multi-millionaire celebrity with an army of publicists and attorneys, I hope you know that there are tons of happy, healthy, beautiful and sexy men (lots of whom read and comment on this very blog!) who are living proof that homoerotic wrestling kink can be a life-affirming, sex-positive part of your life.

A True Romantic

wrestlebardLeave a comment

I’m not into Valentines Day, really. Too much compulsory heterosexuality in the air. It’s NOT that I’m not a romantic. It’s just that I can’t take red heart chocolate boxes and red roses seriously (well, I’m always a sucker for receiving flowers… just something other than red roses, please).

The Enforcer v Blueboy – BG East – Masked Mayhem 4
Even more than the compulsive heterosexuality, there’s something intentionally fictive about Valentines Day that irks me. No one’s relationship, even the most melba toast straight couple, looks like the gooey, saccharine, “you complete me” idea promoted in commercials and greeting cards. There’s something passionless and sterile about the whole production that swings the whole constructed reality of romance toward enmeshment and abstraction and away from physicality. Sure, the morning news shows mentioned men giving lingerie to women as evidence of the link between sex and Valentines Day. But if I were to hazard a guess, I’d say that there’s likely a decrease in the amount of sex happening today, directly attributable to the chocolates-and-roses sentimentality of it all.

Kid Karisma v Len Harder – BG East – Sexy Showdown 5: Florida Fun

Now, if there were a Valentines Day card that said something like, “Show me that you really care: Wrestle me to the ground, pound me into submission, and then shove your tongue down my throat,” well, then perhaps I’d think that this contrived “holiday” has something for me.

Dean Tucker v Drake Jaden – Naked Kombat – 7/22/09

If there were an FTD card that I could send with the orchids that said something like, “First to cum gets ridden like a pony,” that might enhance the romance of the day for me.

Landon Mycles v Michael Vineland – Can-Am – Pro Sex Fight 1

If a date promised me that, for dessert, he’d treat me to an over-the-knee backbreaker, then just maybe I might associate Valentines Day with some sexual passion.

Mitch Colby v Patrick Donovan – BG East – Wrestler Spotlight – Mitch Colby

A jock strap, buckets of sweat, and a schoolboy pin lip lock are a so much more to the point than chocolates and lace and plastic-wrapped shrubbery. I hope today has something truly romantic and passionate in store for all of us, which will have absolutely nothing to do with Hallmark, FTD, or Godiva. It’s not that I’m not looking for romance. I just don’t think it comes to any of us tied up with a bow with the sales receipt in our pockets.

Crowning a New Champion

wrestlebardLeave a comment

It probably hardly needs mentioning, does it? I was so completely charmed by my interview with Lon Dumont that no one could be surprised to learn he’s reclaimed his title as my favorite homoerotic wrestler (non-pornboy division).

Since I stumbled across Rusty Stevens’ resignation from porn, the serious competition has been in the non-pornboy rankings, as far as I’m concerned (no disrespect intended toward Trent Diesel, of course). Joshua Goodman’s (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) last two matches have been stunningly erotic, even while still including no actual nudity. When Mr. Joshua decided to put bodyworship on the table, and invite a gym bunny admirer to wrestle for the pleasure of owning Mr. Joshua’s gorgeous body, that nudged him right over the top of inaugural title holder, Lon. But after having the opportunity to actually chat with Lon, there’s no doubt about it. He’s managed to body slam Mr. Joshua back into second place.

Mr. Joshua v Chico Valdez – Ring Rookies 2

I think it was the moment that Lon thanked me for noticing the fine way he fills out his wrestling trunks, that the title technically changed hands. He just has a graciousness about him with regard to my insistent adoration of his granite-carved physique that’s astonishingly sexy. As is abundantly evident in both the interview and Lon’s matches, he’s quick-witted and smart, and I wouldn’t be all that surprised to see him make an appearance competing on Jeopardy (and likely kicking ass there, as well). Graciousness and smarts as accessories to a competition bodybuilding body with years of hardworking wrestling experience? Hell, yeah! Lon Dumont is definitely the undisputed title holder in my book.

Lon Dumont v Terry O’Daly – Demolition 14

The only blemish on Lon’s BGE career thus far is the tag team loss he suffered at the brutal hands of Donnie Drake and rookie sidekick Doug Rand. I had intended on asking Lon more about this cloud hanging over his match record, but I was completely charmed by his passion for sharing his life with rescue animals. So, let me tally this us once more… graciousness, smarts, granite body carved by Michaelangelo, veteran wrestling savvy, AND sensitive, socially conscious animal lover!? My, oh my… Mr. Joshua, you’ve got your work cut out for you.

But back to Lon’s only match loss, the question I’d planned to ask Lon was about his tag team partner in that fated match, Chace LaChance. Personally, as a firmly established Lon fanatic, I’d think Lon would have had better odds of coming out on top taking on Donnie and Doug single-handedly. I thought that Chace brought almost nothing to the table other than his sweet, go-go boy muscles (which, let’s face it, fall into the category of “cute” next to the sliced and diced hardness and definition of Lon), his five-o-clock shadow, and that metaphorical target painted on his pretty, all-over-tanned ass that said, “Kick the shit out of me!” In fact, my take was the Chace was a net competitive loss for the LaChance/Dumont side of the equation (though he does bring plenty of “pretty” to enjoy).

Chace LaChance

Chace has been getting that sweet ass of his beaten left and right in his short tenure with BGE, so I don’t know if he’ll even have the audacity to show up again, particularly after his abject humiliation in a second appearance against Donnie Drake, where Donnie manhandles and mauls both Chace and Brent Salvo simultaneously and single-handedly (only further proving my point that Chace was clearly the weakest link when he teamed with Lon). But if Chace is still sniffing around for more BGE action, then I think Lon ought to re-open that wrestling school of his that he mentioned (and a can of whoop-ass) with Chace LaChance as his first pupil. Corporal punishment would definitely be standing orders.

Lon Dumont v Eddie Rey – Fantasymen 32

I suppose, when it comes right down to it, I’m not sure who wouldn’t make Lon look good. Perhaps Joe Robbins could fit the bill that Lon suggested might earn a victory over him, considering Joe is, indeed, right around 100 pounds heavier and over half a foot taller. But as I said to Lon, I pity any wrestler who thinks that’s the only thing it will take to defeat him. When it comes to who might be “foolish enough” to accept a forced-to-flex challenge from my favorite bodybuilder battler, I’d nominate Kid Karisma (who would NEVER believe that his muscles could be inferior to anyone’s), or perhaps a green rookie who needs initiated into the ring, like Attila Dynasty. Of course, it goes without saying that there’d be just about no bigger battle of egos than a Lon v Mr. Joshua face-off, but I still say that Mr. Joshua should devote himself exclusively to matches that involve wrestling amorous admirers intent on worshipping his body and tapping his ass, if they can defeat him. Much more of that from Mr. Joshua is his best chance at clawing his way back on top of Lon’s rippled abs and reclaiming the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestler, non-pornboy division.

Someone is, at this very moment, complaining that Lon granting me an interview has unjustly swayed my rankings. Let me just emphasize that these favorite homoerotic wrestling rankings are always MY favorite homoerotic wrestling rankings. This is always about who’s turning me on and entertaining me the most, and hands down, that would be Lon these days. Of course, if there are any other contenders who’d like to even the playing field by giving me an interview, I’m more than happy to oblige! That said, it’ll be tough to charm me quite as much as my reigning homoerotic wrestling non-pornboy, Lon Dumont.