Available for Rent

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Jake Shears is so fucking hot. I apologize for offending your delicate sensibilities, but I just can’t say it any other way. I honestly don’t have a lot of rock star groupie fantasies. He, I’m not ashamed to say, stars in one.

Towleroad let me know that Jake is illustrating why he turns all my cranks, by advertising the Scissor Sisters new release as a rentboy.com profile. He’s generously showing us his ass, underarm, sexy torso, and strategically-placed-towel naked shot as samples from the new release play in the background.
Whatever he’s selling, I’ll buy it. Oh, and the music is hot, as always.

J-8… Miss!

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I’m highly skeptical. I played Battleship as a kid. A lot. I had to beg my family members to indulge me over and over. And then one day it occurred to me: this game is seriously boring. So when I hear that there’s a movie in the making based on the Hasbro game, Battleship, I’m highly skeptical.

Enter Alexander Skarsgård as a naval officer idolized by his younger brother played by Taylor Kitsch, who I know only as Gambit though I realize he’s made Cosmo girls swoon in many more places than that.
Whatever. Bring the brother on brother forbidden fantasy that we all share (don’t try to deny it), or go home with this one. There’s going to have to be major skin to make me buy a movie ticket to a game based on such riveting dialogue as “E-4…. miss…….. J-8…… miss…..”
Even for my favorite fanged 6’4″ Swedish adonis, I’m highly skeptical.

Double-billing

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BG East has viciously exploited my well-known weakness. Having no impulse control whatsoever, I was sucked in to both order the new release Demolition 14 AND buy a 24 hour rental of Mr. Joshua’s match against Austin Raines. The deliciously detailed description of the match on their website leaves me helpless to restrain myself. I’m paying twice for the same match. Those evil, evil marketing geniuses.

Run, do not walk, to order this product. This is firing on all cylinders. Austin Raines takes a fantastic quantity of punishment and humiliation, with Mr. Joshua teaching him the 5 rules of wrestling demolition. Personally, I think Mr. Joshua skimped on rule #5. Sure, as he says, his 18 inch arms, 32 and a half inch waist, and 46 inch chest are entirely deserving of adoration. But it’s those 8 unspecified inches that he mentions and the bowling balls beneath them that are surely Mr. Joshua’s best assets.
So while continuing to mercilessly tease us with a story line centered on Mr. Joshua’s crotch, this definitely takes things much farther along in my personal fantasies of what I’m dying to see out of a Mr. Joshua match. Sitting on Austin’s face and plopping his package down across Austin’s mouth, Mr. Joshua asks rhetorically if the rookie is familiar with teabagging.
Those teabags could steep several gallons of sun tea, Mr. Joshua. Despite kicking myself for being so easily manipulated into my double purchase, I defiantly say that it was worth it. I am seriously happy with what I’ve seen. Once I get a gander at Lon Dumont decimating a baby face, I’m confident this DVD will be at the front of my cue for a long time to come.

Earning a Shot, continued

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I’m not trying to start anything here, but I have to note that SteelMuscleGod has been silent on his video posts with Adam400m posting twice in the past few weeks, looking more massive, tanned, and cocky-confident than ever. Okay, so I am trying to start something here, and that something is more video postings from SMG. As it is, he and Yann are in danger of looking like last year’s news right at the moment that Adam is piling on new muscle and pleasing his slack-jawed worshipers. It’s really no wonder Adam so handily dispatched the French phenom who posts old material. Last I thought about it, SMG was swooping in to kick the Frenchboy while he was down.
SMG pulls hard on Yann’s hair, prying the demolished hunk up to his knees. “Flex for me,” SMG commands darkly. Yann sways on his knees, his right leg almost entirely numb from the damage inflicted by Adam. “Flex for your god!!!” SMG yells at Yann, a speck of saliva inadvertently flying into the Frenchman’s face. Adam has taken SMG’s place, leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his massive chest as he watches with a pleased smile.
Yann swallows hard, his chest heaving in exhaustion and fear. He blinks his heavy lidded eyes rapidly before biting his lower lip and lifting his right arm, crunching out his massively peaked bicep impressively. SMG watches, crouching over the decimated muscleboy domineeringly. “That’s it,” he mutters. Yann’s mouth drops open as he gasps, past the point of exhaustion, his right arm dropping limply at his side as he once again sways unsteadily on his knees.
“You’re big,” SMG snarls in words that sound impressed but in a tone filled with contempt. “You may even be bigger than me.” SMG leans low, lifting his right arm and flexing his bicep inches in front of Yann’s face. “But size isn’t the same as strength, and I’m infinitely more powerful than you, mortal!” SMG pumps his bulging arm slowly, his peaked bicep flushing more massively with each pump. Finally, he stands up again, staring down at the fallen contender.
“Your most muscular,” SMG barks. “Let’s see it!” Yann closes his eyes, his face toward the ceiling in exhaustion and resignation. “Show me!!!” SMG snarls angrily. Jutting his chin defiantly forward, Yann sucks in a deep gulp of air before grasping his right wrist in this left hand in front of him, flexing his muscled torso. The striations in his pecs pop, his abs separating in incredible detail. The veins on his thick arms rise to the surface, as Yann flexes obediently.

“No, no, look at this,” SMG dismisses the French hunk. Pounding his right fist in the palm of his left hand, SMG crunches out his most muscular pose. His abdominal muscles flex hard, the distance between them disappearing between the mounds of muscles notably bigger and better defined than the Frenchman’s. His delts and arms freeze in solid slabs of muscle, and his pecs slowly crunch hard, the contraction rolling from the center of his chest outward. SMG’s jaw drops open in concentration, even as the corners of his mouth rise as he watches Yann’s eyes roaming up and down the length of SMG’s stunningly displayed frame. “Just tell me now that I’m your god,” SMG says, his voice strained as he continues his powerful flex. “Just say it now, and I’ll spare you more torment.”

Yann swallows hard, his eyes dazed, soaking in SMG’s towering body. He licks his lips quickly, his chest starting to pump harder again. Breathlessly, Yann whispers, almost in awe, “No.”

A Tie Is Not a Win

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I’ve gushed about Portuguese footballer bodybeautiful Cristiano Ronaldo before. His thick, vascular legs are built for nothing if not for an oil wrestling match up featuring some doomed hopeful getting his skull crushed between them. Now Nike has an interesting behind the scenes montage featuring Cristiano in the locker room. It’s not nearly as salacious as it might sound, but his swagger as he makes his way through his world is sweetly cocky. This looks like a man who believes every worshipful word written about him. Which reminds me: Cristiano Ronaldo will truly become a superstar only once he shows up for a wrestling match with me in my backyard (there, it’s written… he must believe it).

Since I believe everything in writing, also, I must believe the report from the New York Post that Cristiano was fuming at Vanity Fair for forcing him to share his underwear-only cover with Ivory Coast rival football hottie, Didier Drogba. Considering the Ivory Coast/Portugal World Cup opener ended in a 0-0 tie, I smell an All-Star hardbody fued that will surely only be settled in a private jock strap match in my homoerotic wrestling imagination.

Giving Good Face

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Bradley Cooper sent many a hearts a fluttering, at least in the stills released for the dubiously conceived A-Team movie. Bradley has a little more grit-look about him than the original Face, Dirk Benedict. I had many a fantasy about Dirk Benedict as a kid (hey, I think I smell a What Turned Me Gay posting coming on…). Bradley’s fantastic, long, fit body is sweet enticement to relive my youth, but I’m holding out for the DVD release.


Bradley has already made an appearance in my wrestling fantasies. He was in a three-way battle with Justin Timberlake and Ryan Reynolds for the Green Lantern feature soon-to-be released, which translated into him being in a three-way, balls out battle of domination between the same three hardbodies in the world of my wrestling fiction. Bradley strikes me as a hunk with smarts, and he brought a winning game plan into the arena with Justin and Ryan. Sadly for him, the execution wasn’t quite as winning as the game plan. The point at which Ryan has Bradley in a kneeling rear choke, and then takes the opportunity to twist his neck around to lick the sweat off of Bradley’s cheek, it’s all win-win-win from that point forward for me.
With nice beefy pics of Bradley as Face, I could definitely imagine him needing another shot in the Producer’s Ring. Alpha Dogs should always go to the head of the line for a second chance at glory in my homoerotic imagination.

The Wrong Beach

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While the remaining pool of applicants in the Secretarial Pool auditions take a rest for a little while longer, my eye has been captured by a new modelboy crush.

Steven Patenaude is his name. He’s apparently a Seattle-based male model with über pouty lips, a smokin’ smooth body, and fantastically hot tattoos. At least, the tats look fantastic for what I’ve seen of them. I’m still looking for a full on shot of Steven from the back… preferably naked, but I’ll take what I can get.
As opposed to the massively muscled boys that often capture my attention, Steven looks more shredded/whipcord, which is no less intoxicating for me. Steven could be in the pipeline for a feature role in the Secretarial Pool himself someday. Those legs may be thin, but they look to me like they could crack coconuts.
The shots I’m finding of him oiled up and enjoying the beach just put me in the summertime mood. Why don’t I see stunning male models in their underwear hanging out at the beach? Clearly, I’m going to the wrong beaches. I’m off to try a new beach, in search of hot n’ spicy, nearly nude bodies like sweet Steven.

No Comparison

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This was Zac Efron at the beach a year and a half ago. Now I don’t have anything against twinks in general. But this just doesn’t make me sit up and take notice. There’s a little too much pubescence at work here for my tastes.

Here’s Zac at the beach a couple of weeks ago. I’m taking notice. He’s still on the twink side of the hot boy spectrum, but he’s put on some serious muscle poundage in the last year and a half. His lats alone give this a definitively post-pubescent shape that is much more my taste. Towleroad refers to this as Zac’s “Daniel Craig moment,” I assume in reference to Daniel’s iconic image emerging from the surf layered in slabs of beef that make even straight men have to adjust their pants.

So I wouldn’t go quite so far as to say Zac’s recent pics are somehow comparable to Daniel Craig’s 007 hotness. In fact, if I were Mr. Craig, I might take offense at the comparison. Hell, I might even have to go so far as to insist on teaching the young muscle twink a lesson in bare naked bath house NHB celebrity wrestling.
Daniel is undefeated and, frankly, untouched in my homoerotic wrestling fiction. Zac, on the other hand, is 0-1, having suffered a crushed nose as a result of James McAvoy’s facebuster with a cum shot to the face finisher, just for good measure. True, James is my undefeated lightweight buzzsaw, but is any twink so naive as to believe that he could stand face to face with the longshoreman pornbody muscles of Daniel Craig? I think I could imagine that…

Aussie Dreams

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I’m in an Aussie sort of mood, and what better way to appeal to an Aussie sort of mood than naked Hugh Jackman? Hugh has made two appearances in my wrestling fiction, once going pec to pec with Daniel Craig and once as a guest referee with is thumb on the scales (sneaky bastard).

Hugh’s appearance in X-Men Origins: Wolverine was nearly more tease than I could handle. The implication was that there was plenty of muscleman Hugh nakedness, but it was all so coy and lasted little more than two frames at a time. Still, I have HD and a pause button, and what I see is a stunning specimen of bulging Aussie muscles.

There’s even a little wrestling kinkster payoff in the movie, if you’re patient. He starts off boxing with a superhuman size/strength mutant in order to win some information from him. In a clean boxing match, Wolverine/Hugh is completely outmatched. Like any good heel, he doesn’t let that stand between him and victory.
Tossing the gloves, Wolverine/Hugh leaps up to the turnbuckle, launches himself through the air, and drops a licktastic, muscle pumped, vein popping elbow down on his opponent’s head. The shape that Hugh got into for this movie is incredible, and there’s nothing to be done but to worship this man. Watching him ham it up pro-wrestling style only confirms what I’ve known for some time: that Hugh is a man of my wrestling fantasies.
Sweaty, veins bulging, hairy beast that he is, Hugh must be worshipped. Or, if you’re Daniel Craig starring in my wrestling fantasies, Hugh must be pec clawed with his face smashed deep up your gorgeous English musclebutt. Either way, it’s a win-win for me (and Hugh, the way I write him).

Any Day, Anytime

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I completely get it why some of you aren’t going to find these beach pics of Christopher Meloni hot. I think you’re absolutely missing out on some fine, gorgeous man-worship, but I get it. He’s looking a little bloated around the middle. I think it’s the fault of a poor choice of trunks, though. You can still see the outline of his hot muscled abs. Absolutely gorgeous hunk of man meat here, so if you don’t get that, mores for me to love.
Nothing about Christopher Meloni fails to ooze sexy. Did you see Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle? I swear to you, before I recognized that it was Christopher, I saw him in his grotesque, horror flick inbred freak get up (literally named, “Freakshow”), and I thought to myself, “That’s one gorgeous hunk of man disguised under all that makeup.”
It took me about a minute of listening to his voice before I nailed it. Yes, that’s a man straight out of my fantasies.


Christopher has a recurring character role in my homoerotic wrestling fantasies. He has a nasty attitude. He cheats whenever he needs to and can get away with it. He’s sent more than one young buck hopeful to the hospital. And slowly, so slowly, he’s finally been tamed and is turning into a blunt tool of the producer’s for punishing young muscle stars who’ve grown too big for their britches.

Yes, oh yes. I’d climb into the ring with that any day, anytime.