My Left Kidney

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The next season of True Blood is quickly approaching, so news and teasers are popping up with increasing frequency. In turn, my obsession for the Norse god, Alexander Skarsgård, is kicking into high gear.

Alexander is also a study in scruff. I think Hollywood must have a shortage of razors, considering the prevalence of stubble everywhere. Alexander’s beard is a bit sketchy. Some beards just don’t grow in as well as others. Alexander’s is patchy and not altogether value added, I think.

Case in point that not all facial hair gets my vote. Also, case in point that I’d sell a kidney to buy the opportunity to have this 6’4″ Swedish stunner pick me off my feet in a bearhug (hope he doesn’t mind me cumming on his abdomen).
Speaking of Alexander and bearhugs, he’s made three appearances in my wrestling fiction, though only two featured in the ring/on the mats. In the Producer’s Ring he is undefeated, savagely dominant, and chomping at the bit for more shots at propelling his career to greater heights.

In my imagination, Alexander as wrestler is a total ball basher. Interestingly, in this world, at least one fan couldn’t help herself from grabbing a handful of his crotch, not unlike his performances in the Producer’s Ring. From the pics of this scene from Just Jared, Alexander looks pretty nonplussed by the crotch grab, which only adds to my fixation on his performance as a ball bashing, cock torturing, so-far-unstoppable Swedish buzzsaw. I love battlers with balls of steel (e.g., Chip Slater).

Apparently a new teaser for True Blood shows Alexander shirtless, ripped, and potentially entirely naked. Just the thought makes my heart race and my head a little light. This is a man of my fantasies, indeed.

Earning a Shot, continued

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The battle of the internet muscle gods is firing up again. A couple days ago, SteelMuscleGod posted a new clip, showing us that he’s continued to build his beautiful muscles while he’s been absent from posting recently.

Of course, Adam400m, even on vacation in Cyprus, can’t let SMG have the last word, so he posted an update of his gorgeous, Mediterranean tanned, sun bleach blond muscle body today. Adam’s growing into his role as worship-worthy. Check out his gloating smile and nod of self-congratulation as he admires his own muscles at 0:24 and 0:34. Sizzling…
Which reminds me that we last left the Battle of the Gods some time ago, with French stallion Yann making Adam weep and beg in a figure-4 leg lock.
While torturing Adam’s tree-trunk legs, Yann lifts his arms and flexes his massive biceps, his torso turned to face his true target, SteelMuscleGod. Adam screams in primal anguish as his back arches and his torso flexes futilely. “This is nothing,” Yann snarls, his upper lip curled in disgust as his eyes remain riveted on SMG who remains leaning against a wall watching the action. “If this is your best competition, your days as a god are numbered!” SMG purses his lips and flexes his thick pecs intimidatingly, ominously silent.
With Yann’s attentions on his next bout, he fails to notice Adam twisting his shoulders, slowly rolling toward his right side. Too late, Yann’s eyes snap back to see Adam capitalize on his size advantage, rolling both men over to their stomaches. The switch in positions leaves Adam free to bend his captured knee, and quickly Adam presses himself off the mat. Disentangling their legs, grabs the Frenchman’s ankles and slowly lowers his muscled ass down across the small of Yann’s back, immobilizing Yann’s legs.
Yann grunts in pain, pounding his fist on the floor in frustration. Adam’s mouth hangs open, his tongue out slightly in concentration as he laces Yann’s ankles together and then pulls hard on the Frenchman’s left foot, stretching the tendons in his ankle and knee dangerously. Yann cries out in panic.
“For that sucker kick, I’m going to snap these little pencils that you call legs in half, you piece of shit!” Adam barks down. He twists harder, feeling the tension approaching the breaking point in his opponent’s knee. Adam chuckles, his eyes closing in reverie. Silently smiling at his own domination of his opponent, he whispers, “This is going to hurt a lot, my mortal friend.”

Value Added: The Ryans

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I’m still a little fixated on facial hair lately, so I’m just thinking through a couple more cases in point:

Tear your eyes away from Ryan Reynolds’ gorgeous pecs and ripped abs with every line of his torso pointing like an arrow to his crotch. I’ll give you a minute…


Okay, now consider the slightly(?) airbrushed face. There may be a little scruff there, but from this distance, we have an essentially clean shaven hunk. Gorgeous facial structure. Great, strong chin. The perpetual Ryan Reynolds smirk. Nothing at all wrong here.
Now let’s examine Mr. Reynolds with a full beard. I know, I know. Having him in shackles, bruised and bleeding, and on his knees totally biases this little comparison. This is directly out of a homoerotic bondage fantasy. Still, try to examine the face again. For the time it takes me to construct a jack-off fantasy, the beard is total value added.
While we’re on Ryans (double entendre intended), let’s consider my other favorite Ryan as of late. Ryan Gosling is extremely fond of the two-day scruff, but here’s a pic of him relatively smooth shaven and absolutely mouth watering with his bulging biceps and shoulders and fantastic pecs stretching the confines of his club boy sleeveless T. If I can manage to stop fantasizing about alternating pain and pleasure applied to those nipples, I say this hunk is worship-worthy as is.

Ryan with a full on beard, and I’m a little light-headed. Kissing a bearded face like this is a major plus in my experience, despite the scratchy/itchy whining I’ve heard from some of my friends. A little pain is nothing but more erotic (as if I need to tell that to this crowd!). Speaking of which, maneuvering this pouty hardbody into a camel clutch, with your fingers laced just underneath that bearded chin, and I swear I’d be cumming across his upper back hands-free. Definite, undeniable, stick a fork in it, value added.

Filthy/Gorgeous

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I try to restrain myself from controversial topics here. Sure, I’ll ponder the pleasures of wrestling kink and consider its connections to BDSM. I’ll examine the intuitive eroticism of gorgeous men crushing one another with nothing but their barely clad bodies. But I do my best (though often I fail) to avoid really sticky topics like politics and music. I brace myself for inciting someone’s rage if I ever venture into such subjective tastes that clearly do not unite us as a wrestling kink community.
But I simply can’t ignore the recent pics from Tetu of Scissor Sisters rocker Jake Shears that are popping up all over the internet. Homofantastic Shears is jaw dropping gorgeous in this photo shoot.
Full disclosure (bracing myself): I am a fan. In fact, I frequently listen to Scissor Sisters when I’m heading into a particularly trying day, which usually transforms me into someone fuck-it-all empowered, seriously-fuck-it-all eroticized, and ready to take no prisoners. Just this morning I was getting my full dose injection of Scissor Sisters, singing along to Music is the Victim.

They might not agree, but I think the band is populated by kindred spirits. The overt homoeroticism of Scissor Sisters is unapologetic and laced with more than a healthy dose of humor. Jake clawing at his own balls on stage stripped to his bikini underwear is highly motivating for me, and whatever it is, it’s flipping the same switch that goes off inside me when I see a muscled badboy cracked backward in an over-the-knee backbreaker getting his cock squeezed by his sneering opponent.
I’m not hugely into music, really. But an over the top homo male stripper hottie turned homoerotic disco rocker will always be able to grab me by the balls (in the good way).

Ridiculous

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Along the lines of facial hair, a new teaser pic for the upcoming movie Immortals gives us a fantastic look at Henry Cavill looking shredded, dirty, and sweaty (yes, yes, and YES!). Excellent, highly motivating tease, indeed!

Henry is ridiculously handsome. “Classically handsome” just doesn’t quite capture how completely, perfectly beautiful he is. The aristocratic nose, the chiseled chin, the square jaw, the slightly pouty lips… it’s just ridiculous. He’s what an Abercrombie ad wants to be.

I’m not too surprised that Henry seems fond of the scruff. A little roughness around the clean edges helps soften the ridiculousness of his handsome face. He’s somehow a little more human with a couple days’ growth.

But with a full beard, I find Henry irresistible. Clean shaven, he’s more like something that should be put under glass. With a full beard, though, he’s something that must be touched, stroked… (grabbed in a headlock and then suplexed…. which explains his two matches in my wrestling fiction). With The Tudors coming to an end, I’m glad to see Henry hitting the big screen… shirtless… muscled up… and in fight scenes. I’ll always be a fan of his late-seasons Tudors look, though, a little shaggy and with a full on, sandy brown beard.

Value Added

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Facial hair is all about taste. Some have the taste for it. Others don’t. In the abstract, it doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with wrestling, per se. It’s like gear. It’s usually secondary to what draws us to watch the action.
Still, I’m a fan of some facial hair. I’m not talking about the exquisitely trimmed pencil drawings on some faces. Joshua Goodman’s “soul patch,” for example, just looks like he needs to wipe his lower lip. It’s not that that the tiny little triangle of hair under his lip somehow makes him anything less than a stunningly muscled hunk worthy of abject worship. I just don’t think it adds anything to the masterpiece that is Mr. Joshua’s gorgeous form.

Same goes for Cole Cassidy. The patch underneath his chin just looks a little odd to me. I’d lick every inch of him until I passed out, mind you, particularly after he locked me up tight in a crippling figure-four leg lock. But his facial hair isn’t so much of an asset to the treasure that is Cole’s body, skill, or charisma.

Still, it’s not as if I think facial hair is categorically negligible. It can significantly enhance the story in a match. Young whipcord, Brigham Bell, was deceptively babyfaced when clean shaven. Blond and pretty, Brigham could frequently tell the story of the underestimated skinny kid who then opens a major can of whoop-ass on his unsuspecting opponents.
I actually liked his goatee later in his BGE appearances. He looked more vicious and needing to be reckoned with. After being the underestimated babyface over and over, a darker, more threatening persona is nice character development.
BGE icon, Brooklyn Bodywrecker, early on sported a fantastic 80’s stash. It’s fantastic not because I think it was particularly attractive, but it was so entirely apropos of a burly, bearish Brooklyn thug bent on erotic domination.
I’m an even bigger fan, though, of BBW’s goatee. It does just as much to tell me the story of his sadistic, kinktastic persona as does his leather harness and chaps.

And frankly, between you and me, his greying goatee stokes me even more. A huge, muscled, savage, egomaniacal sadistic heel daddy decimating and claiming his baby-bottom-smooth opponent (yes, Mr. Joshua, we’re looking at your ass) is hot stuff.

Overly coiffed adds nothing for me. A heel with a goatee is definite value added.

Birthday Suits

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Neverland is a year old! The anniversary of when I started this extended wrestling kink conversation sort of snuck up on me. At times, this past year has been challenging, particularly at the point that I committed to post something new each day. But all in all, this has been a lot of fun, and it’s been very rewarding making a lot of enjoyable connections with plenty of other kinksters across the globe.
As regular readers realize, I’m actually pretty demure. I tend to shy away from full frontal nudity on this blog. It’s not that I’m trying to spare those of you who are searching for your wrestling kink hit at work. Personally, I think you get what you deserve when you browse for porn at work (such as inopportune erections, pre-cum stains on your suit pants, etc.). But in keeping with the whole theme of promoting the homoerotic imagination, I tend to like to leave a little to the imagination with the graphics that accompany my ramblings. But in honor of the auspicious occasion of the 1 year anniversary of neverland, I’m treating myself (and you) to some of my favorite boys celebrating in their birthday suits.
At the head of the line has to be my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, Rusty Stevens. Rusty has “only” appeared 9 times over the past 12 months in this blog, but his snarling, humiliatingly domineering possession of the title as reigning champion is sure to boost his numbers quickly. Rusty tugging at his own handsome cock is fantastically hot. Rusty’s naked body gets credit for quite a lot of my homoerotic fantasies as of late, particularly since his capture of the championship in my own little imaginary competition.
Next in line, appropriately enough, is the top contender to unseat Rusty, Mitch Colby. Since Mitch had a commanding headlock on the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy for most of the past 12 months, it’s no wonder he appeared, by far, the most often in this blog (a total of 30 of my posts include Mitch!). Mitch’s entry into full on nude, hard action over the past couple of years has been an incredible treat. I’m seriously jonesin’ to see him back on the mats/in the ring, putting that stunningly gorgeous body on the line in muscle-on-muscle competition. And ANY match that ends in a passionate, soapy shower scene with Mitch and his opponent is guaranteed to be in my library (I promise!).
Derek da Silva and his gorgeous, round muscle butt have to make an appearance in the parade of birthday suit homoerotic wrestling pornboys, as I celebrate the anniversary of this blog. Derek has shown up in no fewer than 14 different posts over the past year. Derek looks ready to put that stunning body to good use, clawing his way back up the rankings.
The naked form of Tyrell Tomsen is the stuff of classical sculpture. Tyrell’s growing body of appearances in the BGE roster, extremely proudly displaying his incredible muscles, has definitely been a source of joy for me this past year, ending him up in 8 posts in neverland. His striated muscle butt and his massive, yet beautifully proportioned cock make Tyrell paydirt from any angle. This simply can’t just be considered “porn.” This is art on par with the masters of absolutely any medium.
My final favorite wrestler in his birthday suit is the underrated Rafe Sanchez. Rafe has only shown up in 3 posts over the past 12 months, which is a little misleading, considering he stars regularly in my personal erotic fantasies. Rafe is certainly not as massively constructed as, say, Tyrell, but Rafe absolutely loves every inch of his body not one iota less (which is saying a lot, if you’ve seen how much Tyrell appropriately worships his own muscles). When Rafe is rode hard and put away wet before losing his gear, he leaves me breathless. When he’s irrepressibly erect, his passionate pleasure for his work (and himself) makes me ache just a little to join in the fun with him.

I still get messages every so often from homoerotic wrestling kinksters who are just discovering, “I’m not the only one!” Good God, no! You aren’t. And fortunately there are enough of us to comprise a market for accomplished artists like these to be financially rewarded for the incredible, hard work that clearly goes into crafting every inch of their beautiful bodies and then displaying those precious treasures in body-on-body erotic competition. Not only is there a market, but there are also plenty of us with the time on our hands to ramble on, reflect, deconstruct and reconstruct the wrestling kink fantasies that turn us on and inspire a growing body of blogs. By no means are you the only one. By no stretch of the imagination are any of us alone. Thanks for your support, everyone!

How Does That Feel!?

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It’s cliche’, I know. But I can’t help myself but be sucked in when one wrestler snarls at his opponent, “How does that feel!?“

It’s not as if it’s a real question. It’s typically asked when one man is clearly suffering. The obvious answer is, “It hurts!” The question is rhetorical. It’s not asked in an effort to gather information, but to domineer. It’s a question intended to humiliate, to drive home the point that the suffering man is paid for and owned outright by his opponent. Asking the question, “how does that feel,” is about pointing out all that’s obvious here: I control you. Where your pain starts and stops is completely in my hands. I own your body, and once you acknowledge the foregone conclusion that you have no choice but submit to me, you’re entirely mine.
Let me just put it out there. When I’m watching a favorite homoerotic beat down and I hear the rhetorical question, “How does that feel,” I frequently answer. Out loud. Emphatically. As usual, even as I type this I wonder, “Am I just disclosing way too much?” Ah, what the hell. When I hear Cole or Mitch or Rusty or Derek snarl down at some muscled boy that they’ve just broken in body and spirit, asking him how it feels, I often answer, saying something like, “That feels fucking awesome!” I realize that they aren’t actually asking me, but that question can collapse the distance between entertainer and entertained for me, transporting me ringside where my muscle champion inflicts pain explicitly for my pleasure. Sure, he’s looking down into his opponent’s face as he crushes the suffering man’s balls beneath his feet, but his question is for me, “How does that feel, Bard?”
He’s digging his claws into the fantastically meaty pecs of his jobber boy, whose face is contorted with pain and near-sobs are wracking his body. And when he asks, “How does that feel?” he’s asking me, “Is this what you want to see? If I claw my fingers in deeper, how does that make you feel, Bard?”
It’s a contemptuous, domineering, humiliating throw away line that’s just meant to tell the story of one man’s complete domination. But when the fighter on top asks, “How does that feel,” the words frequently transport me ringside, where this muscle on muscle battle is being waged for my pleasure. The ars erotica of the beautiful body beatdown becomes more than just implicitly for my pleasure. The dispenser of punishment is considerately checking in with his patron. “How about if I twist his rippled body a few inches farther? What if I crank his neck until he cries. How does that feel, Bard?”
Feels fucking awesome, Mitch. Keep it up.

Pushing and pulling

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Whew! BGE finally put me out of my misery and delivered my copy of Tag Team Torture 12. I’ve been craving the second appearance of Lon Dumont for months now. All this pent up anticipation was making my right eye twitch. Needless to say, I was loaded for bear with a hair trigger as I ripped open the package and pressed play.
Lon impresses me even more in motion than his stunning photos from his tag team match. He is one tightly muscled package of tastiness. He and his partner, Chace LaChance, are both a little unnaturally tan, smooth as silk, and packed into their destined-to-job bright orange and metallic polka-dotted trunks impressively. Here’s the story as I see it: Two relative ring veterans (Donnie Drake and Lon… watch Lon in action and it’s evident he’s no rookie), are facing off against one another, each veteran bringing with him a protege/apprentice. Lon has the smooth moves, speed, and savvy to tie Donnie up in knots. Donnie has just enough savvy, dumb-fratboy cockiness, and overwhelming muscle mass to power out of any knot he gets tied into. So the story is mostly told in the boys on the side.

Lon brings to the ring Chace LaChance, who looks like he’s been ripped off of some go-go pole. He has better moves than I expected with his babyface, club-boy look. He suffers quite nicely, in fact, and he sells his one-on-two demolitions with some sweet style. So the story goes, Lon is on the sidelines barking instructions to his protege, so that Chace’s youthful eagerness is guided like a cruise missile by the cool hand of Lon calling the shots. I, like his opponents, underestimate Chace throughout, which makes this all considerably more fun.

Sadly, though, Lon and Chace don’t really have much chemistry between them. They lose their story somewhere, and other than a fantastic sequence of moves to win fall #2 (where they bat young Doug Rand between them like two cats playing with a ball of string), Lon and Chace seem primarily merely fodder for 2 on 1 abuse at the hands of their opponents. Donnie and Doug, on the other hand, play the coach/protege story consistently and enjoyingly. Doug looks a little like a doofus, full of bluster and an arsenal of moves that he’s just too green and slow to know how to unpack. So Donnie is persistently pulling arrows out of Doug’s quiver, barking orders that Doug faithfully follows. Donnie orders Doug to sidewalk-slam Chace, and Doug instantly lifts his opponent off his feet and slams him to his back. Donnie commands Doug to claw Chace’s pecs, and Doug digs in with abandon. Donnie does a nice job convincing us that he’s a sick fuck who gets off on dominating and humiliating. And the edge in his voice ordering Doug around gives just a hint of a daddy/cub backstory that would have been SO hot to see play out between Lon and Chace (alas).
For lusting after Lon, his debut against Eddy Rey remains the purchase of choice. Getting a glimpse of Lon’s ability to sell suffering and push his opponents’ story is sweet, though I think Lon’s personality and wrestling skills were just to big for this particular tag scenario to really make the most of him. I’m loudly rooting for more of Lon, louder Lon, more dominating Lon, matched up against some more opponents who can move, fly, and scramble even half as skillfully as Lon clearly can. I’m happy to own a little piece of Lon tanned, highlighting his really stunning body. But frankly it’s Donnie who comes out the surprise winner from the match for my attentions. He’s not the smoothest or most skilled. There are bigger boys. But Donnie told me a hot story that sparked my imagination.