Never Knew What I Missed…

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Christmas came a little early for me this year, and I was treated to some presents directly off of my wish list of matches-to-own. Personally, I would’ve thought I’d have fallen into the “naughty” category. But I’m not asking any questions.

Thumbing through the catalog for things that might show up under my tree, I’ve lately been aching for Ball Bash 2. Truth be told, I’ve got a little crush on Reese Wells aka Brody Hancock. Well, more accurately, I fantasize about crushing him. He’d put up a good fight, mind you, and he’s got some sweet sell. But in the end he’d be screaming a submission wracked across my shoulders, before I rubbed salt in the wound by dropping his back across my knee. When all is said and done and his spirit is broken, I’d walk away with his boots to hang them up as a trophy of good times.

Fortunately for me, Jonny Firestorm has handed Reese precisely the type of treatment I think Reese desperately needs. I wasn’t expecting Ball Bash 2 to be quite so competitive. However, there’s plenty of pretty salesmanship going in all directions for most of this match before it turns into a full-on ball bash squash. Jonny always impresses, and this match is no different. He’s got instincts for delivering exactly the content, pacing, and humiliation that makes ring action my cup of tea.

I have to remind myself that this release came out before anything else that I’ve seen Reese in. This is significant for me because although I’ve seen him flirt with full-on homoeroticism, never since have I seen Reese wrestle naked. And that’s a shame, because he’s got a really beautiful cock, and there’s something about the optical illusion that is Reese’s body that somehow makes perfect sense when he’s in the ring in nothing but those boots (that’d I’d rip off of him and take home with me). I’ve seen the career trajectory that starts out with some stud just translating straight-up wrestling for a homoerotic company, and then eventually evolves into a balls out, naked, full-on homoerotic fantasy fighter. But someone who goes the other direction seems like a novelty (and a little bit of a waste, as far as I’m concerned).

The moment in this match that completely captures me, though, comes when Reese still has his speedos on. Things have been relatively traditional up to this point, with Jonny and Reese taking and giving in approximately equal measure. But when Jonny snaps his legs around Reese’s waist, presses wide the pretty boy’s legs, and grabs hold and squeezes Reese’s balls, this match instantly careens off the straight-up tracks and deep into homoerotic territory. But it’s this moment in particular, and specifically, it’s Reese’s sell of this moment, that captures my imagination. Reese has nowhere to go. Jonny is showing all his cards, including the fantastic revelation that he’s out for nothing short of blood curdling screams. And Reese is writhing in pain, stunningly vulnerable, and totally humiliated. And with his jaws open wide in agony, Reese kisses the mat.

Good god, that kiss just sends me. It’s such an excellent moment of helpless agony. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a BIG fan of Reese’s destruction without trunks, and I’m nearly as enthusiastic about the target-thong that Jonny makes him wear, which is delightfully inadequate to contain Reese’s impressive member that simply can’t be described as entirely flaccid throughout the remainder of the bull busting. All the moving parts to this match line up perfectly, I think. Jonny is impeccable. Reese is astonishing for a “rookie.” The bodies, the wrestling, the setting, the gear (and lack thereof), are all brilliant. But it’s Reese’s lips planted on the floor in agony that makes this match one of my favorites. Thanks, Santa.

Inspiration

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I’ve been talking character construction with several folks offline recently. I’m big on visual inspiration for my imagination. So most of my characters evolve from a certain image or set of looks. Obviously a lot of my homoerotic wrestling fiction utilizes characters built off of real life people, though I am the first to make clear that I’m not writing about the actors and models who serve as inspiration. I’m just starting with how they make me feel and what they inspire in my imagination, and I’m building character from that skeleton. My title character for the Producer’s Ring series of wrestling stories is Eli Brody, who is a complex amalgam of many sources of inspiration. Not least of which, Mark Feuerstein serves as a major component in the construction of how I imagine my character, Eli Brody.

Squarehippies posted these caps from a recent flick with Mark. There’s just no angle I’ve ever seen of Mark that doesn’t drive me crazy with lust. He’s not a muscleboy, by any means. He’s not a lusty dirtbag. He’s not exactly pretty, either, at least as far as I’m concerned. A muscleboy, dirtbag, pretty boy (any combination of these) will always catch my attention. Without any of those elements, though, Mark is still off the charts on my lust radar.

The only thing missing in these caps is Mark’s chart-topper prize of hotness: his gorgeous, bigger-than-your-average-white-boy’s ass. I’m a major fan of Mark’s booty. Mark may not be at the head of the line in your rankings of lustworthy boys, but he gets my engine running like few others can. I don’t know who you might be picturing when you read a story with Eli Brody in it, but as for me, Mark is foundational to the hotness that is the West Coast Titan.

Gratitude

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This is my second Thanksgiving Holiday since starting this blog a year and a half ago. I have so much to be thankful for these days. I have a home, a job, people who love me, animals who are excited to see me when I come home. More pertinent to this blog, I’m thankful for a lot of delicious, delightful, homoerotic wrestling inspiration, and for so many of you who share in that delight.
Joe is always at or very near the top of my list of most excellent things about the virtual wrestling kink community we share. If at any point you’re feeling bitter toward me for taking a day or two away from posting new material here, just remember to pop over to Ringside at Skull Island and get your dose of fine wrestling kink commentary there. I generally agree with Joe’s tastes 97.48 percent of the time (I’m a stats person), and his blog feeds my imagination and brings a smile to my face (and a pleasing pressure to my crotch) consistently.

I’ve had a wonderful time over this past year working some new collaborations. I’ve worked with several readers/writers, including two projects right now that the ball is in my court on (I promise, compatriots, I’m working on them!). In addition to co-authors, I’m grateful for the opportunity to chat sidebar with so many fine gentlemen with something to share, complain about, and recommend.

My last note of gratitude for the blog today is to Kid Leopard for his generosity and encouragement of my toils here. He’s been extremely generous with my frequent reposts of BG East material. He’s given me more than I deserve this year, including some thoughtful feedback when I’ve strayed into topics that I talk about much more than I really know about. He’s been understanding and tolerant of my not only writing BG East-based fiction, but even writing him in as a recurring character (my own version of him, of course). For KL, as well as for all of the creative minds keeping the homoerotic wrestling industry turning out new delights, I’m grateful for their ability to find the right formula to stay fresh and creative in the face of consumer criticism and, let’s face it, back seat driving (I fully admit to being a prime offender in that category).

My hope is for nothing but the best for all of you who read my words, for all of the hard workers in production in the homoerotic wrestling industry, and for the beautiful and inspired wrestlers and performers who give our little corner of gay kink a go. Play hard! Play safe.

Movement in the Ranks

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Ohmygodohmygodohmygod! I just saw one of the most entertaining Naked Kombat matches ever. The set up was golden to start with. Trent Diesel, who’s grabbing me by the balls lately and demanding my attention, teams up with DJ in a mat tag match against Cameron Adams and Leo Forte.

This match rocks me hard, simple as that. Trent and DJ are shredded and hotter than hell. Cameron and Leo are softer and command less fighting experience. I was sure from the intros that Cameron and Leo were headed into a one-sided beat down. I was so wrong.

Truth be told, I think the match wasn’t as close as the official score (55-53), but it was certainly highly competitive. I love the 2-on-1 “grace period” that NK allows when a tag happens, permitting the tagging team to double-team their opponent for a while before kicking the tagged out teammate off the mat. Both teams work the 2-on-1 aggressively. All four boys work their asses off and never say die. And best of all, they generate some serious heat, as egos are bruised and the entertainment turns to defending of pride. Leo in particular cannot STAND getting double-teamed, making it that much more delightful to watch when he’s on the bad end of it (and listen as DJ cackles with delight over Leo’s screams).

Leo’s telling the story of being Cameron (“the weakest link”) Adams’ coach. He’s barking instructions throughout whenever Cameron’s on the mat. And I think it makes a huge difference. Cameron looks like he doesn’t know which way is up quite a bit of the match, but he obeys Leo’s commands and more often than not works him way out of a fix. I was slightly astonished to watch DJ be the total top in his partnership with Trent. During their 2-on-1’s, DJ is snarling out instructions at Trent like a fierce daddy. Just to spoil the drama for you, when they come out on top and take command in the sex round, it’s DJ calling the shots and Trent seeming happy to take his lead.

The most astonishing thing about this match has got to be DJ. I’ve seen him on NK several times (including getting his ass handed to him by Trent), and I’ve liked his work. But in this tag match, he’s incredible! I swear, he holds his own nearly as well on the short end of a 2-on-1 as he does 1-on-1. He kills the double-team advantage for Leo and Cameron on more than one occasion, leaving them simply unable to capitalize on what should be a points bonanza. Frankly, he outwrestles Trent, though Trent on the paralyzed receiving end of Leo’s body scissors, then turning around a couple rounds later and returning the favor long and hard, is fantastically hot.

It’s DJ that makes the biggest jump in my estimation, coming from the unseeded masses to position himself as a serious contender to be one of my homoerotic wrestling favorites (pornboy division, of course). But truth be told, this match nudges Trent sufficiently upward (even if covering less absolute distance), to unseat my #1 contender homoerotic wrestling pornboy, Mitch Colby. Yes, for the first time since I started keeping track of the rankings, Mitch has been suplexed right out of the top two, leaving Rusty Stevens looking over his shoulder at a new #1 contender: the ridiculously hot, hard, gorgeous-with-a-dirtball-edge (in the very best way), Trent Diesel. Congratulations, Trent! Way to climb on top and pound the competition into submission!

Unmentionables

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I’ve been out of town for work for several days, but now I’m very happy to be back at home. Of course, leaving town requires that I work twice as hard before I go to prepare to be away, and then twice as hard when I get back to catch up on everything that’s piled up in my absence. On my list are several emails regarding the blog and wrestling fiction sites to reply to. Since I get some repeat questions, I thought I’d give a couple responses en masse…


First, the wrestling fiction groups are still up and operating. Anyone who signs up (and gets approved) for either the Producer’s Ring or Sidelineland wrestling fiction groups will (I think) get automatic approval to view the websites that have all the archives of wrestling fiction stories I (and some of you) have written and shared.


Some of you clever people have found the sites directly and then asked for 1:1 permission to access them. That seems to work as well, though if you aren’t signed up for the gateway group lists, you won’t get email notices of new stories posted or be able to participate in discussions that arise from them.  So if you’re interested, I’d recommend you to the sign-up pages for each group, and you’ll get full access to the whole sha-bang. Links to the websites are on the home pages for each group. And one last note on the groups, I’ve seen some very clever “reasons you’d like to join” submissions lately. To the new member who simply wrote, in all lower case letters, “please let me in,” I just have to say that’s just adorable. I had a vision of Oliver Twist standing in line for a second helping of gruel. Made me laugh (and I like to laugh).


My other administrative message is, I believe, a repeat. Some of you can’t get enough, and you’ve discovered that I actually administrate a third group called “On Deck.” This “group” is actually just a little workshop area I created to keep track of works-in-progress and try to tame the beast that is Google formatting. I think of it a little like my underwear drawer. I don’t generally show it off to guests. Some of its contents are a little ragged and would be embarrassing for others to be poking around in, frankly. Once I’ve assembled the pieces and finished them off, I promise I’ll post final products in one of the two homoerotic wrestling websites.


I have a lot of other homoerotic wrestling business to catch up on as well, with more to say (hopefully soon) about some new stories in development as well as some new products I have in hand and can’t wait to view and review. You who follow and comment on the blog and fiction continue to be a generous, entertaining, and enjoyable group of folks with which to exercise my imagination. Thanks for the support and encouragement and contribution of your ideas!

Kneeling at the Altar

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“To worship: 1) to honor or reverence as a divine being or supernatural power; 2) to regard with great or extravagant respect, honor, or devotion.”

Okay, somehow Merriam-Webster doesn’t quite capture it. Worship as an element in homoerotic wrestling has to be defined with the word “awe” in it…. to be awed and breathless at the sight, touch, smell, and taste of another’s body. That’s gets a little closer, I think.

The preview pics of upcoming releases by BG East, available in the Arena, are getting me all excited, in particular for what looks to be some tasty body worship of Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you). It’s about time! 


To fail to be awed by Mr. Joshua’s body simply defies belief. The hot mat boy he’s facing off against in the upcoming Matmen 21 can be seen stroking Mr. Joshua’s washboard abs and feeling his big biceps. I’m filled with envy and at least a little twinge of bitterness toward the new guy.




To watch body worship is another entirely homo aspect of homoerotic wrestling that makes it a cut above straight up or innuendo-only wrestling (in my opinion, of course). To dominate and control is hot, erotic stuff, but to enjoy a visceral appreciation of your opponent’s body is just fantastically entertaining. Even for the non-pornboy division, to worship or to be worshipped connects more of the dots for me than otherwise. Mr. Joshua getting worshipped in his upcoming release could very well be what he needs to body slam Lon Dumont out of first place in my rankings of my favorite homoerotic wrestlers – non-pornboy division. Of course Lon and Joshua in a mutual body worship wrestling scenario would be nearly too much for me to handle… but I’d be very, very willing to give it a try.

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DListed seems seriously pissed at the news that Ryan Reynolds has been selected as this year’s Sexiest Man Alive. He’s at least in my top 10 or 20, so I’m willing to give People a little more slack than DListed is. That said, I completely agree that the photo that they chose for their sexiest coverboy is ridiculously lame, and oddly airbrushed.  This is evidence of being the sexiest man alive?

Now THIS could be evidence for a claim on the title of sexiest man alive:

In my imagination, of course, he came in a very, very close second in a balls out wrestling contest with Chris Evans, who I think is glaringly absent from People’s list. I do, on the other hand, strongly approve of Joe Manganiello (yes, I promise, I’m still pecking away at his debut in the Producer’s Ring).

And Glee’s Matthew Morrison is grabbing me by the balls and holding my attention in the past few days (metaphorically). His People pic, again, looks oddly photoshopped yet hot. I’m not into absolutely every guy’s underarms, but I could definitely be into his.

His Details spread, though, is propelling him quickly into the cue for a wrestling match in my mind.
But who might initiate Matthew into the Producer’s Ring?

Pain and Regret Called-For

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Ace Hanson over at Thunder’s Arena has been working his stunning ass off lately! This busy, big, bruiser of a boy (6′ even, 220 pounds, tree trunk thighs… did I mention is ass already?), is facing off with some even bigger boys lately (notwithstanding his squash-like-a-bug of Angel). As of this moment, he’s the featured new release against Cage, who looks like the last face you’d want to see in a dark alley. At 6′ and 215 pounds, the tale of the tape would suggest these two are tit-and-tat. But side by side, they’re actually quite the study in contrasts.

First of all, Cage is smuggling a grapefruit in the front of his trunks, whereas Ace is smuggling two regulation size basketballs in the back of his (which would seem like a perfect combination). Second, blond behemoth Cage is just outrageously massive, whereas Ace is constructed of thick and defined, hard muscle, no soft curves anywhere. Third, Cage is not pretty (unleash the grapefruit, and maybe I’ll change my mind about this, but I doubt it). In stark, stark contrast, Ace is absolutely, indisputably, yet somehow deceptively, very, very pretty.

I have a deep respect for Ace’s work because he keeps going toe to toe with fellow big boys. Regardless of what you think about the work itself, the big, hard wrestlers who continually tackle (and I do mean tackle) fellow big, hard wrestlers are, pound for pound, carrying more than their fair share of the homoerotic wrestling load. The physical workout itself has got to be intense (not that Ace’s quads could fail to be up to the challenge of doing squats all day with Cage across his shoulders), and the potential for injury has to be heightened in his session with Cage or Uno, as opposed to Angel (well, at least for Ace… the calculus probably doesn’t add up the same way for Angel).
Ace comes across to me as straight up straight boy happy to bring in some extra cash by appealing to the wrestling fetishist among us gay boys. More power to him. As with most all the work at Thunder’s, there’s something oddly demure about the ferocity and stagecraft of Ace’s wrestling performances of late that leaves me craving a look at that moneymaker (in Ace’s case, this is most definitely that muscle ass of his). Happily, Ace’s prior incarnation in homoeroticism (as Eric Reins) feeds the need. In Can-Am’s Sex Submissions, Ace/Eric was working that fine, hard ass of his against the bodybuilder bruiser, Gauge. Unlike his more recent work, he wrestled bare naked (and with a ridiculous haircut… you’ll find that easy to ignore when you get a look at his glutes and cock).
Despite the “sex” in the title, Ace/Eric did not obey the rules of sex wrestling: he refused to get fucked when he lost, opting instead to masturbate and then exit the stage for another wrestler to come in and do a much less impressive wrestling performance against Gauge but eventually take it up the ass. I think this should be considered a serious foul in the game of homoerotic wrestling for which Ace still needs to be draped across someone’s knee and spanked bare-assed until those glorious glutes are red as beets and he’s littered the floor with his tears of regret and pain.
Somehow, I don’t see this scenario happening anytime soon in Thunder’s. But I’m keeping my eyes open for it, nonetheless.

Italian Hotness in Siberia

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New readers to this blog may not even know of my obsession with Chris Cuomo. Chris has been off my radar for a while now, particularly since his departure from Good Morning America ripped him out of my cozy, rousing morning routine. Banished to Siberia (aka 20/20), Chris has just been out of sight, and thus not popping up often as a subject for me to obsess over here.

I recently caught up with Chris’ twitter account, where I was directed to his new Facebook page and behind-the-scenes video prep for 20/20 over at ABC. It’s not a lot, but it made me swoon all over again. There’s not a lot new by way of pics, but a few choice photos are making me fantasize about grabbing those big Italian pecs and squeezing.

I note that there are fishing pics, but not the shirtless pics that showed the world Chris’ hard, smokin’ hot bod a year and a half ago. He can play coy all he wants. Now that we’ve been given a taste of what lies beneath, we’re all filling in the gaps in what we don’t see with him in a suit and tie. He remains an object of lust, a character in fantasy, and completely wasted on Friday night newsishness. I’m glad to see that he’s got a PR machine keeping him and his hotness in the public eye, though.

Of course, in my imagination, we last saw Chris escort his ABC news protege and fellow news stud, Matt Guttman, to the ring in a young news stallions match against Abercrombie boy, David Muir. The match is between Matt and David, and David comes out on top, but somehow, it’s Chris coming out on the bottom.

Good God, he still does things to me…

DIY

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You know how this works. Some hot thing catches my eye, and my imagination starts working on overtime. Since TLC is now endorsing right wing nut jobs by paying them to advertise for future runs to install themselves as religio-fascist authoritarians, I’ve migrated to get my DIY-fix over at HGTV. The parade of hot carpenters continues to astound me, certainly foreshadowing a sequel to the Carpenters battle royale in my wrestling fiction (eventually… my plate is very full at the moment). But I’m obsessing most over two hosts with the most who, I think, are tailor made for a classic babyface hero v heel ring match.
Our knight in shining armor must be Income Property host, Scott McGillivray. Holy hell, this Canadian is gorgeous. His floppy hair, big white teeth, and clearly fit body (though we never see enough of it) were made for entertainment.
Other than the prerequisite of possessing a babyface, what makes him the babyface hero in my emerging scenario is his subtle, confident, and loving to be cheered-for persona. He’s such a ridiculously clean cut, play by the rules, cut no corners, completely transparent good guy with a false-humility standing in for a healthy dose of self-righteousness, and a folksy Canadian accent to go with it.

And the flop of hair always threatening to fall into his face is screaming out for someone who doesn’t mind hairpulling to fling him across the ring by his locks.

Enter my nominee for the heel to spoil Scott’s lust for crowd approval: Marc Bartalomeo. This New York Italian hosts the show Kitchen Impossible, where he swoops in save renovators who’ve gotten in over their heads with kitchen rehabs. Despite working the same gallop-in-and-save-the-day scenarios, Marc has a distinctly different style than Scott, I think. Scott gives options, respectfully collaborating and negotiating. Marc plops down his junk, tells the homeowners what they need, and steamrolls right through.

With his New York accent and a body built for demolition, Marc is destined to heel. He’s shown that he’s ready to play naughty with some early career modeling shots. Where Scott comes across as simply adorable, Marc strikes me (please) as dripping with sex, a line ‘em-up-and-fuck-‘em-against-a-wall sort of sex pig who lures them in with a wink and a dimple, and then instantly turns into a foul-mouthed sadist.

I don’t imagine that Scott would job here, mind you. In fact, with a screaming crowd behind him, I could see him going toe-to-toe with Marc, possibly sporting superior technique and speed (the overachiever that he is).



But when Marc lands some low blows, drags smiley boy across the ring by his hair, pins his face to the canvas with his crotch, and ties him up in the ropes, Scott would simply have to make the decision that he doesn’t want to face. He’s either going to take a stroll to the dark side to fight fire with fire, or he’s in for some nasty humiliation, perhaps with a well-worn Italian cock planting a flag of victory up his ass as he’s bent over a turnbuckle (in front of the awestruck crowd).


Either way, I’m all for it.