I Need a Hero

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I was initially very excited about the concept of Heroes when it premiered a few years ago. I ate up the first season eagerly, particularly pleased with the beautiful bodies of Milo Ventimiglia, Adrian Pasdar, and Sendhil Ramamurthy. All three of them immediately claimed starring roles in more than one of my wrestling fantasies.

The second season lost me. I just lost track of it entirely about halfway through. A friend encouraged me to give it another try. I recently finished off both the second and third season, and I’m hooked again. They pulled the story back on track and continue to keep the story and the characters evolving. They also understand the particular joys of introducing to us new, hardbodied heroes along the way, such as Justin Baldoni.
He only appeared in a couple of episodes, but he immediately grabbed me. Even before his post-shower shirtless scene, I was a fan. An Italian boy with a stunning Roman nose on a chiseled, handsome face simply can’t be wrong. Pack on some sweet, shredded muscle, and my jaw can’t help but drop open.
As I wiped away the drool that formed at the corner of my slack jaw, I wondered why I haven’t seen much, much (much) more of sweet Justin. He swims in and out of Heroes far too quickly, and otherwise it looks like he’s mostly a daytime soap opera boy. Not sure why he hasn’t yet been discovered for much bigger and better things yet. I suspect in the Producer’s Ring, his time will be coming soon!

Classic

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I took advantage of some fire/flood sale prices at BG East recently to snag some VHS tapes way, way cheap, including a compilation tape of long, hard, hot scissors. It’s like the sampler plate at Red Lobster… a little of every headliner, tasty entree to make you salivate. What this compilation reminds me is that my kink is not satisfied by just one hold. Even the delights of a savage scissor can get old. Again, to return to food metaphors, it’s like a three course meal of all desserts. Sure, the first several bites are awesome, but the sheer lack of variety can make even chocolate cake seem boring.

Then I came upon some long scissors featured in Kid Leopard’s X-fight with ballet boy, Joey Smit. The description of this match from the website says that watching how KL “uses is feet to manipulate Smit’s big hard dick out of his bursting bulging pouch will leave you gasping.” This is truth in advertising, gentlemen. I was breathlessly awed.
KL cooks up the perfect recipe of erotic stimulation and punishing pain on poor Joey, blurring the lines between the two in just the right pacing and proportion. He has Joey’s arms nelsoned, and KL’s ankles are locked together across Joey’s lower abdomen. Joey is gasping, wincing in pain when KL hammers down on the pressure. Then, wordlessly, KL unlocks his ankles and uses the ball of his left foot to stroke Joey’s flaccid cock inside his grossly inadequate pouch. Joey groans, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Then in a flash, KL snaps his ankles together and squeezes until Joey cries out in pain.
Then again, wordlessly, KL unlocks his ankles and starts stroking Joey’s cock. Back and forth, he alternates the pain and the pleasure. Joey’s cock, God bless him, swells before our eyes. Joey clearly doesn’t require the services of an off camera fluffer to work up the obvious heat for this scenario. KL is playing the ballet boy like an accordion, pushing buttons and squeezing and making Joey irrepressibly hard. Back and forth, KL scissors and then strokes, scissors and strokes, as Joey’s cock swells and finally pops free from his pouch. As you could have guessed, he’s a big, happy boy, and his fully erect cock bobs from side to side as KL continues alternating between squeezing and stroking.

This may require me to purchase the entire match now (you sneaky marketing bastards!). This is just what I like when I’m in the mood for an X-fight. Hot, hard bodies leaving me entirely convinced of their arousal and their enthusiastic buy-in of the wrestling kink. Classic.

Bard’s Ass Get’s Kicked

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This day is kicking my ass! Holy hell, I’m in danger of losing my hard-fought momentum to post something new each day. That would suck at this point, since I’m closing in on less than three months to go of a full year of daily posts.

But as I say, this day is beating the crap out of me as I run from meeting to meeting, and I’ll I can do is stand here and take it. If I’m going to get the crap beat out of me, I can think of so many more satisfying scenarios. They pretty much all involve Mitch Colby (no surprise).
So wish me luck that I can stumble across the finish line today, and forgive me if this is a little bit of a half-assed post for your reading enjoyment.

More Alpha Dogs

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Have you read Joe’s recent post over at Kubla Kong entitled, “My Dear Old Dog?” It’s a fantastic, thoughtful, and eloquent reflection on what a canine companion has to teach us about ourselves and our humanity (and, frankly, theirs as well, I think). My mind keeps wandering back to Joe’s post as my own dog lays her head on my lap and drowses off.

I have to wonder about a man that doesn’t own a dog. It’s not a fatal character flaw to be unconnected to a canine, but it just makes me wonder. Are they just “in between” dogs, still grieving the death of a beloved companion before they open their heart again for a new relationship? Do they travel too much to be capable of proper care of a dog (…get a new job)? Or are they truly flawed, and not drawn to the shared life of the pack?
As I’ve mentioned, having a canine-better-half makes a man exponentially sexier than they otherwise would be. Take for example, Jon Hamm. I know that he makes men and women melt, but for me, I haven’t been entirely sure that he’s lustworthy. He’s been a possibility, but not a certainty for my affections. Then I find pics of him walking his dog, and I have no uncertainty left. He’s a hot, gorgeous man who will be adored.
John Krasinski is another handsome boy that I’ve been on the fence about. I’m immediately drawn to him. He’s one of Squarehippies’ husbands, so clearly his worship worthy. He’s long, lean, hot-yet-cuddly. He has great comedic timing, which I think translates directly to prowess in love-making (just a theory). But is he someone that I can’t help but lust over?
Seeing him playing with his fiesty pup, it convinces me that John is, without a doubt, “my type.”
I’ve been off the fence for quite a while about Ryan Gosling. He’s one of my favorite actors these days, and he’s got an incredible sexual energy about him at all times.
Put a dog at the end of Ryan’s leash, and he’s just hot as hell. Check out the banner pics for this fan site of Ryan’s, and you’ll understand why I say that I’d give my unborn child to trade places with his dog. His depth as an actor, I’m sure, is directly related to his capacity to be loved by his dog. I don’t know the science, but it’s what I know, nonetheless.
On the other hand, I didn’t really think that Bradley Cooper could get any sexier, but seeing him walking a dog does the trick. The fact that Bradley’s beefed up for his role in the new A-Team movie (jury is way out on that one!), doesn’t hurt, either.
Finally, I consider the complex case of Kellan Lutz. He’s quickly carved himself into a musclegod. He’s handsome and hot as hell. And yet… somehow, I’ve not been entirely moved to worship at the feet of his young hardbody. He’s everywhere these days, advertising underwear and showing up in more and more movies. Still, all the pieces haven’t fit for me to recognize him as someone I must lust after.
Then he goes jogging with his dog, and I’m infatuated. In fact, there are photos of Kellan with his dog everywehre. He must be okay.
In response to Joe’s musings on his old dog, I just want to conclude by saying that, as certainly as I know that a man’s comedic timing is directly related to his prowess as a lover, I’m absolutely and unshakably convinced that whatever heaven exists, dogs get to decide who gets in.

Livin’ La Vida

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Ricky Martin has publicly come out as gay! I don’t know why this is so exciting to me, but it is! I still remember that awed, sexual excitement at seeing Ricky stun everyone when he performed out of nowhere at the Grammy’s in 1999.

I first saw the news yesterday on Towleroad, the source of all relevant news to my life. Now the announcement is everywhere. Ricky posted online that, as he’s preparing a memoir, he decided to let himself be freed from baggage and come out.
I probably don’t have anything unique to offer to the analysis of Ricky’s announcement. Has it already been noted that he’s a hunky daddy? He’s beautifully tattooed? He’s smooth as butter?
So perhaps it isn’t such a mystery why this makes me so excited. On pretty much every count, he’s my sort of Latin lover (spread the word).
I know that not everyone is safe or able to come out publicly, so I think anytime one of us says it out loud and proud, he deserves plenty of support and encouragement. When he’s a gorgeous hunk of a man, all the better!

Users Behaving Badly

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The internet is quite a forum for letting it all hang out. I certainly don’t share the depth of intimate details with perfect strangers that I encounter face-to-face, that I’m willing to share with personal strangers who remain faceless on the other end of an internet connection. The medium is a remarkable venue for confession, community, and self-disclosure. Clearly, it’s also a medium ripe with opportunities to behave poorly.

I’ve noticed an uptick in the number of people attempting to comment on this blog using non-Latin-based characters and embedded with multiple links. While I sincerely appreciate the international following that the blog might attract, just be forewarned that any comments with embeds will be rejected, and the only non-English comments permitted will be those written in Swedish (ask Swito). I do my best to be a generous host, so I expect my guests to behave themselves appropriately. Embeds with potentially dangerous links are bad manners. To those of you who might want to comment with embeds linked to spyware or other noxious tricks, I think someone needs to sit you down and teach you a thing or two about manners.
Similarly, the large number of notes I get each day notifying me that I’ve won Britain’s national lottery are just bad form. No I will not give you my bank account number so that you can deposit the millions of pounds to which I have miraculously become entitled. I won’t give you my bank account number so that you can give me your dead husband’s millions in oil revenue from Africa. I won’t give you my bank account number in order to assist you in a most profitable business venture. I could not, would not in a house. I could not, would not with a mouse.
I’m just talking about good manners. Don’t try to steal what doesn’t belong to you. Don’t prey on the naive. Don’t bilk the simple-minded or gullible. It’s just bad form. And to those of you who persist in angling to cheat and steal, trick and betray, I can only hope that someday someone will powerslam your ass so hard your teeth rattle, climb on top of your chest, pin your throat to the floor and spit in your face until you submit, relent, and think better of your bad behavior in the future.
Manners, gentlemen. Manners.

Let the Games Begin

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I really do appreciate your patience. Some of you have been sending me emails asking when the secretarial pool tournament will start in the Producer’s Ring. I hope to post the first match of the tournament later today. To recap, you the readers selected our 8 finalists to participate in an elimination tournament to determine who will be hired as Brody Productions’ new executive assistant. The voting was enthusiastic. The nominees were all highly qualified. But in the end, as always, there were winners and losers.

The first match of the secretarial pool tournament pits blond ambition against tall-dark-and-handsome. 6’2″ Alan Ritchson is making a play to step behind the camera and get a piece of the real action in the entertainment industrial complex.
Alan has received abundant exposure through both his modeling work and television credits. Clearly everyone recognizes what Alan brings to the table: that huge, smooth body, and in particular that squeezable, round ass.
As a contender in the secretarial pool, Alan walks a fine line between cocky self-assurance (which, as you know, is an absolute must), and overconfident entitlement (which, as you know, can be disastrous).
What will determine whether Alan claims victory or falls to disaster is the 6’3″ beauty, Jared Prudoff. Jared’s glowing brown eyes and gorgeous stubble are entrancing. He’s a long, lean fashion model with unbelievable abs.
I applaud any runway fashion model that keeps it hot and hairy. Jared clearly trims extensively, but that chest, lower abdomen, and those legs are fantastically fur-lined.
Is it me, or is Jared frequently showing off his pits? Not that I’m complaining, of course. And the shots of his amply filled package illustrate that Jared’s got the necessary equipment to impress in the Producer’s Ring. The only question is whether those abs, the legs, and his overt sensuality will be enough to overcome the freight train that is Alan’s body, butt and assurance of his own destiny to succeed.

Stop Searching No More

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SteelMuscleGod wants you! And let’s face it, you want him, too. Perhaps I should just speak for myself: I want him. (Oh hell, who are you kidding? You want him, too).
As SMG waits and watches YannS challenge Adam400m for a crack at his godliness, he’s dropped a new video asking us, his worshippers, if we’ve found anyone else as delightful as he is. Have you failed to find anyone as ripped? “Well, stop searching no more, because you’ve hit jackpot.” The voice, the accent, the supremely (shall we say, divinely?) cocky strut, and yes, indeed SMG, you have the muscle to back up your boast.

SMG sells hard. “If you really want to see real hard action, yeah, this is the place to be.” When it comes to my lustful adoration, it’s true: SMG is in the driver’s seat. He’s crushed Adam into a quivering slab of beef worshiping SMG’s pecs. Now he’s just waiting to see if Yann can earn his shot at unseating the god.

Just look into those eyes! Yann might want to think twice about whether he wants a piece of that. (I hope he still does!). SMG has promised that he’s ready to wrestle for his worshippers. Whoever emerges from the Adam v Yann challenge, I think he’s going to find his work cut out for him.

The Main Course

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JoshH has been intentionally provocative in a series of comments on my post about Rio Garza’s journey through the world of wrestling. In short, the question comes down to who brings what to the table in comparing the products of competing homoerotic wrestling companies. While I don’t really think of NHB has particularly homoerotic, it has to be said that homoerotic wrestling kinksters (present company included), must comprise most of their business. The bouts are generally sincere little mat scraps with an air of a frat house throw down. Clearly, NHB is playing to our tastes, though, as evidenced by the very, very brief trunks that typically have a hard time covering the young athletes’ sweet asses.

What makes me think of NHB with respect to my conversation with JoshH, is that Denny Webb (aka Cameron Matthews) is in their recent release of Battling Bodies 54. Danny/Cameron has shown up a lot for BGE work in the past couple of years, in both their homoerotic and straight products. He’s also prolific as an indy pro, and he just did a new product getting pummeled by a massive bodybuilder for Thunder’s Arena.
With each incarnation, Denny/Cameron brings a different performance. I think that’s impressive, in and of itself. The indy pro work of his that I’ve seen has him as an adolescent never-say-die scrapper who’s often outweighed and outmuscled, but who nevertheless gets his licks in. For BGE, he’s the babyface who sells suffering like the pro he is, showing off that astonishingly round ass as he’s pummeled convincingly. I confess that when I saw Cameron wrestle in a jock strap for the first time, I actually swooned for just a moment! For NHB, though, Denny/Cameron sticks to the goods that make all his performances work: his strength, speed, and impressive skills. It also doesn’t hurt that his speedo just can’t resist climbing up his crack.
On the same recent release that Denny stars in, I can’t help but take a second look at the other bout starring gorgeous, tall hardbody Connor Flynn and the ass-tastic sensuality of Chuck Rowen. Chuck’s ultra skimpy speedo never stood a chance of covering the muscled expanse of his glutes (thank God!).
It seems like I’ve been jonesin’ for shorter-than-average swimmer bodies lately, so it should be no wonder that Chuck is giving me whiplash. Squeezed and tossed by his much bigger opponent, Chuck is a delight to watch. Mounted on top of Connor with his thick legs and round ass on display, Chuck connects all the dots between frat house romp and homoerotic wrestling kink.
Back to my conversation with JoshH, I’d say that NHB is on the opposite end of the homoerotic wrestling kink spectrum from Can-Am. There really isn’t much fantasy at all in NHB, just hard, sweaty boys, silently battling it out with nothing but their barely clad bodies. Can-Am, on the other hand, invests in sets, scripts, costumes, and the thoughtful display of pornboys telling a crowd pleasing story. BGE seems to me to be somewhere in the middle, with a little fantasy and lovely body worship counterbalanced with a general emphasis on athleticism and an indy pro feel. I think that JoshH and I are in agreement about the scope of the playing field. Our sparring appears to break along the lines of where some talents may be wasted by one company versus another.
As JoshH and I battle it out over relatively fine distinctions of homoerotic wrestling kinks, I just want to clarify for all that I’m a supporter of the industry and all its contributors, particularly those who generously show off their gorgeously round glutes (I’m looking at you, Cameron!).

I Need a Hero

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In a world full of politicians who check the polls before they decide whether to take a piss, where people who sell coffee are legally required to give written notice to customers that their hot beverage may be hot, where a televised same-sex kiss in prime-time still merits a parental advisory… I need a hero. I need to imagine that someone out there is courageous, selfless, and duty-bound to use his dominating power in defense of the powerless.
Oh, and this guy really has to be gorgeous with the body of a Greek god. So just to recap, Ryan Reynolds will be starring as Green Lantern in an upcoming production that I will be desperate to see. Ryan Reynolds in a skin tight superhero outfit… that image has been blatantly plagiarized from my erotic imagination. Well, not really, considering Ryan already played an anti-hero in Wolverine.
Ryan plays the smart ass comic so well, I’ll be interested to see if he can pull off the larger than life, inherently melodramatic portrayal of a defender of the universe. In my imagination, of course, he had to win this role by literally beating out both Bradley Cooper and Justin Timberlake at the same time, which he succeeded in doing in a all-naked double choke-out (how else?).
Also previously announced, Australian hot commodity, Chris Hemsworth will be starring soon in the movie adaptation of the Norse god turned comic book hero, Thor. I was seriously doubtful about this casting, but I’m getting more convinced with each new shot of Chris I see. He’s clearly putting on slabs of muscle.


Chris and his brother, Liam, were recently photographed in a fight (well, sort of…), outside a bar in Hollywood. The snarling look on both Hemsworth boys’ faces has inspired me to start thinking about a brothers team tournament in the Producer’s Ring. Indicative of his skyrocketing Hollywood career, Chris has already shown up twice in the Producer’s Ring, both times getting seriously (and satisfyingly) worked over.

The most recent casting announcement to tickle my fantasy is Chris Evans as Captain America. Chris has the body of a gay pornboy, and any movie with him fully clothed is blatant disregard for his true calling. His hairy torso is just about the most sexual thing I’ve seen on the big screen. His body was almost too distracting in his previous foray into superherodom, as Johnny Storm in Fantastic Four.

Like Ryan, I think Chris has an extra burden of toning down his natural comedic skills to play it straight, particularly for Captain America. Of course, he’s already the stuff of my wrestling fantasies, appearing against Ryan in an early match in the Producer’s Ring. In that match, both boys had to battle their inner class clowns to stay focused on hammering the smirk off of each other’s faces. Chris took a particularly savage turn in that bout, surprising even himself with the depths he would plumb to conquer his hardbody opponent.
Reynolds, Hemsworth and Evans are excellent answers to my need for a hero these days. I’m fully supportive of more superheroes in my life. So squeeze into that spandex, pump up the pecs, and take on evil with that cocky self-assurance that, in the end, whether you start the fight or not, you’ll be man enough to finish it.