Going Crazy

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Is it my imagination, or is BG East pumping out new releases (so to speak) with increasing frequency? I like the more frequent release of matches, and I love the on demand options. It holds my flea-like attention span better, and it more efficiently satisfies my need for instant gratification.

Speaking of gratification, have you seen Bobby Horton’s schooling of Tyrell Tomsen yet? This is another one of the moments when I’m happily surprised to discover that the “other guy” in the match turns out to be my new fixation. When it comes to Tyrell, I love studying his body nearly as much as Tyrell loves studying his body. I can never get enough of his naked ass in Strip Stakes 1. He’s got a beauty and a power that’s simply fantastic. I was drawn to Ring Rookies 3 to get a little Tyrell fix. What I found was Bobby Horton grabbing hold of my crank with both hands and turning it like a champ!
This is a classic tale of muscle/power/beauty versus speed/guile/skill. Both wrestlers do a nice job of telling this tale, and I’m sucked along for quite a while, unsure exactly who I’m hoping most will come out on top. I’ve only seen one other bout with Bobby, when he lays down a punk’s challenge to Mitch Colby (back when Mitch was still ranked my #1 favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy). But against Tyrell, Bobby opens up a pro-wrestling clinic that convinces me that he is much, much (much) more than a long-haired, bright-eyed-and-convinced-of-his-own-youthful-invincibility surferboy. He’s quick, decisive, and he pieces together some high class moves that take me completely by surprise.
His frequent low-class moves are actually just as entertaining, frankly. Bobby does exactly what it takes to neutralize Tyrell’s superior strength and momentum, and then he does quite a bit more to make the big man suffer. When Bobby refuses to accept Tyrell’s second fall submission until he uses the word “quit,” I gain an entirely new respect and lustful attraction for Bobby. He has a slightly-psychotic laugh that bubbles up with increasing frequency throughout this match, as he takes obvious delight in watching his bodybuilder boy opponent laid low and hurt. He wants to not only defeat Tyrell. He wants to hurt him, and to take a nice long time watching the muscle hunk writhe on the ground, suffering.
Finally, there’s just something that takes my breath away when a massive, gorgeous, cocky bodybuilder is laid out helplessly, and his smaller opponent poses proudly over top of him. Bobby’s not nearly as big as Tyrell, though there’s nothing at all unaesthetic about Bobby’s beautiful muscles. His biceps aren’t even close to being as thick and meaty, and his pecs look nearly adolescent (if you were a gym bunny as an adolescent) by comparison. But when Bobby struts and preens, flashing a double bi and crunching out a most muscular, his sliced up muscles are exactly what the doctor ordered. He sells that incredible moment where the massive bodybuilder can only look up in shock and disbelief as his punk-ass heel opponent shows him the trim fighting-machine that brought him to his knees. I’d like to lobby for more of sadistic, gorgeous Bobby as heel in the ring, taking more BGE hardbodies by surprise and humiliating them with sadistic, gleeful satisfaction! Who’s next!?

An English Thing

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Brit go-go boy and wrestling fanatic Chris Geary has posted pics and brief preview clips of two new beautiful boys posing and wrestling. Personally, I miss seeing more of Chris in front of the camera, particularly when he gets his muscled ass kicked and humiliated. Don’t get me wrong, I love his work. I just particularly love his work when he’s in front of the camera and getting his muscled ass kicked and humiliated.
I was tracking Chris and enjoying his website before he opened up his pay-site on the side, HorneyModelBoys.com. I completely understand the notion of the gay wrestling kink connoisseur and dabbler going entrepreneurial, but I’m a little sad that there’s so much fun wrestling out there and my personal finances are relatively so limited. I dinked around in HorneyModelBoys.com for a while. Had fun with it. But I redirected my pennies elsewhere to pursue more frequent updates.
Chris has posted a new wrestling update featuring purported straightboys Rowan and Paul. I say “purported” just because I’m feeling a little catty. I don’t really care what they call themselves. Beautiful, hardbodied boys wrestling naked in oil is homoerotic, regardless of whether the boys identify as homo or not. Still, why is it I never meet these knock-down gorgeous muscle stud straightboys who are happy to have me film them wrestling naked, jerking off, showing their asses, and letting me handle their goods? Perhaps I need to move to the England. This is an English thing, right? You UK readers can tell me, this happens to you all the time, right?

Anyhow… Chris has a good eye for beauty, as evidenced by Rowan and Paul. Paul is a tad beefier and inked, but I have to say Rowan is sending me into fits. Those abs need caution tape up around them, because their cut so sharply someone could get hurt!

I’m just tasting the appetizer, so someone with a HornyModelBoys subscription needs to tell me how the main course tastes. Typically, Chris’ wrestling boys are a little weak on the wrestling and the action is a bit choppy and slow paced. But I’m a sucker for most any hard, naked hunk grappling in oil and showing off.
I’m serious now. Where do I find these incredibly gorgeous, exhibitionist straight boys willing to strip naked, get oiled up, and wrestle for me on camera?

Recaps, Goodbyes, and Till-We-Meet-Agains

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I’m happily making headway on the final match of the Secretarial Pool auditions. Those of you not particularly following the story in my wrestling fiction may be a bit bored with my postings on the topic, but I’m finding that getting my imagination fully engaged with these boys intensely and repeatedly to write this elimination tournament is quite an intimate experience. Even when I’m not writing about them, I catch myself thinking about them. If you haven’t read a match yet, be forewarned that today’s post is a post-mortem on the also-rans whose fates have already been decided in the unfolding story in my wrestling fiction.
Of course, it helps that these boys are gorgeous hunks of muscle. Try to squeeze Alan Ritchson’s bubble butt into a skimpy speedo, and I’m doomed to ruminate on him. Alan was the first to get his ass kicked out of the tournament. He was nothing if not overconfident in his first round match up. He assumed that Jared Prudoff was going to be a pushover, little more than a rung in the ladder that Alan would be climbing up to grab the brass ring. Little did Alan realize that he’d drawn perhaps the shortest straw in the bunch, going head to head with the competitor that would be the first to clinch a spot in the finals of the tournament. In typical Jared-style, Alan was suckered, drained, and then put away wet. I imagine him, these days, lounging by a pool, obsessively replaying what went wrong for him in his bid for a recurring role in the world of my wrestling imagination.


The next slab of beef kicked to the curb in the tournament was Jakub Stefano. Jakub was seriously difficult for me to let go of, after Nick Auger schooled him so viciously in the importance of committing to a job and seeing it through all the way to the end. In my imagination, at least, Jakub is quite a sympathetic character. He’s a surprisingly gentle giant, genetically gifted with the body of a god, but more comfortable with being worshipped than with using those muscles to dominate. I fondly picture Jakub these days with a splint around his broken finger, enthusiastically self-worshiping in the shower, perhaps more than a little turned on by the vivid memory of finding himself entirely at the mercy of eventual tournament finalist Nick.

Next out the door was the big, confident power of Sean Sullivan. Sean was also particularly difficult for me to see exit the tournament. Sean may have been a little distracted by setting his initial sights on Ellis McCreadie. Sean thought that he had his first round match all sewn up, with an underhanded ambush to start with and his relentless, dominating power to subdue fashion boy Rafael Verga. He seriously did not see it coming when Rafael entirely derailed him with tongue-wrestling as a prelude to stripping Sean naked and spreading his legs wide with Rafael’s foot poised on top of Sean’s balls. I imagine Sean still can’t quite believe that he was beaten, and he lives in fear that the story of his humiliating stripping and beating will get out.

The final first round loser was the Kerry Degman. Kerry’s speed and skill were entirely unmatched by his opponent, Ellis McCreadie. Kerry had his way with Ellis, nearly from the beginning to the end of the match. Kerry had Ellis completely at his mercy repeatedly, from taking him to the brink of unconsciousness with Kerry’s ass smothering his face, to back to back rapid-fire suplexes, Kerry put together a can’t-miss game plan to secure victory. Somehow, still, he missed. By sheer, dumb luck, Ellis managed to snatch victory out of the jaws of defeat just as he planted his own victorious cock inside the jaws of his beaten opponent. I can’t help but think that Kerry’s skill and beauty won’t stay down for long, and despite this set back, he has all the right assets to thrive in the postmodern world of my imagination.

The semi-finals were populated by competitors that I was loathe to see knocked out of contention. I could imagine dozens of fights starring the devastatingly handsome Rafael Verga, for example, and never get tired of setting him loose on still one more opponent. Like Alan in the first round, though, Rafael ran into the buzz saw of finalist Jared. Still, the way I picture him, Rafael is sexually irrepressible, devastating with strikes, and thoroughly miserable to have been humiliated at the hands of Jared (said hands clawing at Rafael’s balls as he was captured in an over-the-knee-backbreaker). Some time away, fishing shirtless and meditating on the direction of his life and career, are likely in order for the Brazilian beauty.

First to get an invitation to the tournament and last to be eliminated prior to the final match, Ellis McCreadie is another beautiful boy that’s hard to say goodbye to. Ellis survival into the semi-finals was as mysterious as the source of the call inviting him to claim a spot in the auditions. Ellis took a lot of punishment from start to finish, even prior to walking into the rec room, and still he managed to rise way above expectations. His victory lap after forcing a submission from Kerry Degman in round one gave just a hint of what sort of fighter a seriously confident Ellis could turn into. Much more than confidence, strength or skill, what Ellis excelled in was in bringing a stunning string of luck to bear upon his matches. That, paired with his ability to endure prolonged, humiliating punishment, gave him staying power that’s hard to part with. I imagine Ellis will continue to ride his incredible string of good luck to land on his feet, despite submitting in a seated rear choke under threat of being plowed unconscious by finalist and muscleboy extraordinaire, Nick.

Frankly, I strongly suspect you’ll be seeing at least a couple of these worthy competitors again, considering the difficulty I have in saying goodbye to them. I’ll be publishing the final contest pitting Nick against Jared shortly, finally bringing to a close the long, slow unfolding of this tournament of champions. The only thing to count on at this point is that there will be one last goodbye before the auditions are history.

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

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In my continuing efforts to spread the love, I’ve decided to highlight a “homoerotic wrestler of the month.” While I’ll continue to track the tugs and pulls at my heart for reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler (pornboy and nonpornboy divisions), I’d also like to promote the efforts month in and month out of the hard-working wrestlers and production companies fueling our fantasies. My hope is to give a shout out to a homoerotic wrestler who catches my eye, starring in a freshly released production in the previous calendar month. Now this “-of-the-month” may end up favoring specific wrestling companies that put out new material more frequently than others. Thems-the-breaks. Pornboys and nonpornboys are eligible, and any company that I can keep up with will be in the running each month, as long as they’re putting out new material.

My inaugural homoerotic wrestler of the month for his original performance released over the past month is Naked Kombat’s Trent Diesel: 6’0, 185 pounds, blond, with hot, classy ink, and definitely in the pornboy division (as evidenced by his name).
Trent earns the title as homoerotic wrestler of the month for his July 7th release on the NK site, in which it takes two opponents to manage to last just one match against Trent. In his first-first round against veteran Patrick Rouge, Trent lowers the boom and tweaks Patrick’s neck enough to send him packing.
Stuck with an abbreviated forfeit, NK found Alex Slater to show up another day and pick up the action against Trent. Thing is, Trent spanked Alex’ ass up and down, forward and backwards, coming and going, so much so that Alex could only manage 3 rather than the standard 4 rounds against Trent. Thus, this release required two wrestlers to go the full 4 rounds with my homoerotic wrestler of the month.
Needless to say, Trent comes out on top against Alex as well. I like Trent’s look. His face is handsome. His tats are gorgeous. His body is fantastic and fit. There’s just something about his legs that push me over the top, particularly when naked and squeezing his opponent between them. Trent’s record is 2-0 on NK, and with a few more appearances on the same trajectory as his first two, Trent could definitely be a contender to knock Mitch Colby out of his #1 Contender spot for my running favorite homoerotic wrestler pornboy. With the way he’s dispatched his first three challengers, I hope NK doesn’t run out of competitors willing to take a shot at him!

Powerful Luck

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I’m happy that my writer’s block seems to have been unblocked lately. My commitment to pick away at the Secretarial Pool auditions regularly until they’re done is paying off. Happily, I’ve just posted he last semi-final match, pitting the unlikely pair of fitness muscle giant Nick Auger against doe-eyed underwear model, mop-headed Ellis McCreadie.
Some of you may remember way, way back when the votes were counted for the Secretarial Pool applicants, that Ellis got a pass into the elite eight without going up for a vote. It seems that the other competitors in the competition didn’t take kindly to such favoritism, and they’ve all been gunning to beat out of Ellis the secret to how he got a direct invitation while everyone else had to face the somewhat humiliating process of vying for popular votes.
Nick makes this job number one as he steps into the rec room with Ellis. Ellis has a string of remarkable, dumb luck behind him, propelling him a breath away from being one of the finalists. Nick is one big, big (big) boy who was overwhelmingly the fan favorite in voting, just as he’s been pretty physically overwhelming in the competition thus far. Dumb luck pitted against overwhelming muscle makes for the story in the new match in my wrestling fiction.


Jared Prudoff can’t wait to see who steps out of the rec room and into the final round with him.

Hard To Beat

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I’m not a subtle person. By and large, I tend to say what’s on my mind. So when I realize that I have no more then two postings featuring Daniel Craig in the year that I’ve been blogging about beautiful men that turn me on, I realize something’s gone terribly wrong. Without a doubt, Daniel Craig is on my mind much, much more often than that. In fact, I’d have to say that I think he’s just about my favorite gorgeous movie actor on screen these days. Why it is this is only the third time for me to mention him here is beyond me.
The specific occasion for his mention here is that apparently he got the call to star as Michael Blomqvist in the Hollywood rendition of The Girl with the Dragon Tatoo. This makes me happy on so many different counts. For one, anything that gets Daniel’s baby-blues and pouty lower-lip screen time works for me. For another, as someone who enjoyed the book, I know that Blomqvist has a lot of sex in the book, offering an abundance of opportunities for Hollywood to show off Daniel’s rocking body. For still another reason, I have a soft spot for all things Swedish.
The whole situation begs the question, though, as to why cast Daniel Craig as a Swedish media critic journalist. Yet again, a thoroughly Swedish movie character gets tossed to a non-Swede. My Swedish friends will likely have bitter words to say about this, though I haven’t talked with them yet. In this particular case, I’m not sure I’ll really have all that much sympathy for them. It’s Daniel Craig, for God’s sake! He’s a blue-eyed, blond stud puppy. Despite being a tad short among the Norse giants, Daniel would blend in on the streets of Stockholm nicely, I’d have to imagine. And I don’t think there’s any question as to why Daniel would want the part. It’s a good story. It’s continued to rage across book clubs for the past several years. And, without giving away too much for those who haven’t read it, I think he’ll have an opportunity to bring us all to our knees again, similarly to his tie-me-up-and-beat-my-balls scene from Casino Royale (ahhh, good times).
And speaking of Daniel naked, sweaty, and bruised, all this also brings to mind one of the many loose ends in my celebrity wrestling fiction. It’s not that I endeavor to tie up all loose ends, by any means. Keeping ends loose keeps me exercising my imagination and writing more. But still, Daniel in the news reminds me that he’s part of an old storyline that’s still unresolved. One of the very first matches I wrote pitted Daniel against Christian Bale. With an axe to grind, Daniel humiliated Christian by grinding his cock into his face as Daniel did naked push ups over top of him (among other humiliations). Christian has been determined to earn a rematch, once he’s taken care of some work assignments that Eli Brody has handed him. Since then, Christian’s star has been on the rise, raising the possibility that when the two finally meet again, Daniel may not be able to manhandle him quite as easily as he did the first time.

Who knows. Perhaps there may be some Swedish hunks who’ll be demanding to defend their national honor against the would-be Michael Blomqvist, as well. A word to all comers, though. In my imagination, this blue-eyed, blond haired, pouty lipped, pec-tacular muscleboy is hard to beat.

The Gasp Heard Round the World

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I could hear gay men across the country gasp at precisely the same moment I did, when I realized that the gorgeous naked ass unexpectedly running across my widescreen television was Joe Manganiello in his first (of hopefully many) bare-assed appearance on True Blood last Sunday. Thank all the gods there are to thank for high definition.
Seconds later, I swear I could hear the cap heads (bless them) across the internet clicking their mouses frantically freeze framing every fantastic fraction of seconds that this 6’5″ mountain of muscled deliciousness appeared sans clothes. Clearly I’m as desperate for more of this man as the next gay fanatic. I’ll take a little blur here and there. Just show me that excellent pair of glutes pumping!
And again!
And again!….. Damn, I need to take a break for a minute and free up the use of my hands.
In the mean time, take a gander at the stunning delights of a fully clothed Joe appearing in a Joe sandwich beside his two costars. I’m hungry for a Joe sandwich of my own. Look at the cleavage in that skin tight t-shirt! This man is getting promoted to the head of the line in my wrestling fantasies.

On Bended Knee

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I’m not sure why, but I haven’t really taken a taste of BG proboy Dick Rick. He looks hot. He sweats nicely. His ass looks awfully sweet in tight briefs. But I haven’t seriously sampled the goods there yet.
That’s probably why it took me a little while to place a familiar face I saw in a national jewelry store commercial recently. The first time I saw it, the hot, muscled hunk proposing to his girlfriend as they wash the car caught my eye. Nice looking hottie, I thought. I wouldn’t grouse like a nasty bitch just because he bought the ring at “Ritzy Jewelers,” if he offered to make an honest man out of me. The second time I saw the commercial, I thought to myself, not only is he hot, he’s vaguely familiar. The glimpse of some awesome six pack abs underneath his wet t-shirt at the end of the commercial triggered something. That face. Those abs. Where have I seen this guy?
I think it was the third time I saw it, when he sweeps his girlfriend up in his thick arms in a bearhug, that it dawned on me. Look at that bearhug… Hey! That’s Dick Rick! That’s fantastic!


Dick is pitched just right for this low budget commercial. He sells a fast and silly premise with zero dialogue and an annoying co-star (I know I’m projecting, and I’m fine with that). Soaking him down at the end of the commercial so that we all get hint of those thick, round pecs and sliced up abs is genius marketing. First and foremost a pro, Dick sells.

Still, he’s wasted on hocking engagement rings. I seriously wish him nothing but outstanding commercial success, but I’d much prefer to see him selling a savage boot heel planted into my top contender for the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestler, non-pornboy division, Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you).
I like seeing the performers in the homoerotic ranks of professional wrestling out and about in the mainstream world. There’s something even sexier about the image of a beautiful hunk who sells engagement rings to happy couples by day and climbs into the ring and dishes out hunk-destroying punishment by night. Still, I can think of a lot better reasons to see this man down on one knee than a commercial for engagement rings.

Not Alone

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These images by photographer Joe Oppedisano have reminded me of comments I’ve heard from several readers who tell me that reading this blog and others like it have helped them recognize, for the first time, that there are others who are turned on by wrestling. Depending on the circumstances of where you grow up, just coming to terms with being attracted to the same sex can make one wonder, “Am I the only one.” If no one talks about it, acknowledges it, or normalizes it, it’s no wonder that so many of us experience significant periods of our lives as a struggle to figure out if what we feel indicates that there’s something wrong with us.
As for me, at this point in my life, I’m feeling more and more certainty that not only is it a normal part of the diversity of human sexuality to be attracted to the same sex, but it’s also remarkably common to find the image of male wrestlers centered in the eroticized gaze.
Sexuality and physical competition are closely paired in many species. In the classic heterosexual formulation, the young, virile bucks start the mating season by locking horns, butting heads, sparring, or competing for who’s bigger and more intimidating. As the heterosexual logic goes, the fighter who comes out on top proves himself to be of better breeding stock. His offspring will inherit more hearty genetic material. And he, therefore, lays claim to his choice of the female (or females) with which to mate.


Of course, more and more we learn that homosexuality, and same-sex mating and pairings are much more common across many species than the heterosexual version of evolution would suggest. And the story of young, virile men battling with one another is both age old and intimately tied to erotic arts, sexual prowess, and physical attraction. And clearly, mainstream fight-sport is pitched not for female eyes at all. MMA, boxing, wrestling, frat house grappling… these are not packaged and pitched for women to consume. It’s not a female audience that makes televised fight-sport profitable. These competitions are between men, managed by men, for male eyes to hungrily witness.

I wouldn’t suggest that all men who treat a UFC pay-per view as must-see television are raging ‘mos. But I certainly don’t buy the argument that the physical excitement, passionate intensity, and visceral delight that so many men take from following the UFC, or boxing, or pro-wrestling, or their frat brothers scrapping in the chapter house, or the furious young punks throwing down behind the gym after school is somehow an intellectual pursuit divorced from erotic pleasure. Viewers aren’t engaged on a simply cerebral level, no matter how exclusively they sleep with women. They care because watching young, fit, fierce men battle single-handedly for physical domination is titillating. They’re hearts beat faster. Faces grow flushed. Lungs automatically pump faster. Adrenalin is released at the sight of the hard bodies going head-to-head. And men of all stripes find themselves physically reacting, aroused at the sight of young bodies locked in battle for domination, with a physical, climactic thrill to see one competitor decisively triumph, leaving his challenger entirely, physically at his mercy.


You and I aren’t at the far margins of human sexuality. Straight men may not actually have sexual fantasies about wrestling competitions between hard-bodied men (and then again, a lot of them probably do). But the physical arousal to witness beautiful male bodies in body-on-body competition is hardly some unexplained, bizarrely fringe, freakishly abnormal kink.
Perhaps straight men don’t actually orgasm to the delights of wrestling. Perhaps a lot of gay men don’t place wrestling at the center of their erotic fantasies. But for those of us who have a passion for the homoeroticism of wrestling, I certainly don’t believe that we are at all far removed from what is at the heart of the human condition and masculinities that cross many cultures. The heterosexual version of reality will continue to expend a lot of energy attempting to narrowly define normality to protect the privileges that hetero-normativity has long provided. But let’s face it: hard, beautiful young men squeezing and tossing and pressing their muscled bodies against one another to settle who’s dominant is hot. You and I just appreciate it a little more explicitly than most.

And Then There Were Three

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Making progress on my wrestling fiction, I’ve posted the first semi-final match in the Producer’s Ring Secretarial Pool auditions. It pits first round stand-outs Jared Prudoff and Rafael Verga in a balls out, back and forth battle to the bitter end.

As I’ve worked my way deeper into this tournament, I’m finding myself having trouble saying goodbye to the inevitable losers who have to fall by the wayside. Choosing between Jared and Rafael to survive in my wrestling fiction world, for example, is a painful pill to swallow.
In the end, there are no ties in the Producer’s Ring, and one beautiful man inevitably comes out on top, though in this case someone also manages to cum out on the bottom. In the reality of the Producer’s Ring, the final decision of who will be victorious and claim a job with Brody Productions will have happened by the end of the day.
In our reality, it’ll probably take me another week or two to finish off the last two matches, though happily, both are already well under way. Hopefully they’ll be worth the wait.