Stunning Salesmanship

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I’ve decided that I’m not particularly a fan of the serial wrestling match. Can-Am dribbles out 6 minute segments of some of their upcoming releases, sometimes leaving me frustrated a week or so at a time between clips. When it’s a match featuring the rising stock of 6’1″ beast, Rusty Stevens, the delayed gratification can seem cruel.
Speaking of cruel, though, I’m transfixed by the second movement in this symphony of pain, when Rusty recovers from some initial suffering to put his foot on the gas pedal and treat 5’9″ Aryx Quinn like a defenseless rag doll. Rusty is selling fierce better and better in each match I see him. He’s using the extra pounds of muscle mass he’s been packing on to string together absolutely relentless and impressive power moves, punctuated by some feral growling and snarling. He crushes Aryx in bearhugs that go on for days, keeping the smaller man off his feet convincingly. Rusty slams him repeatedly, spitting out his humiliating banter that assures Aryx that his ass is destined to be owned. But it’s Rusty and Aryx’ selling of repeated over-the-knee backbreakers that truly transports me.

I have always been in awe of the repeated OTK backbreaker, as one man drives his opponent’s back across his thigh, tortures him there for a while, then scoops him up again to start the cycle of devastation over and over again. The size differential between these two boys comes in handy, here, I’m certain. Rusty looks like he’s beating up on some cocky adolescent here, bending Aryx backward with convincing brutality. Rusty’s massive chest is flexed and stunning, and as he throws his battered boy to the ground, his taunting is savage and completely demoralizing.
I have to say, Rusty is mounting a stunning run in my imagination to overcome Mitch Colby as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy. Depending on how Rusty polishes off Aryx, I think this could spell an upset in the rankings. As Mitch doesn’t have a current release out, he’s left watching this drama unfold, his fate entirely in Rusty’s hands (just like Aryx’ ass).
For those who still want to exercise their right to vote in choosing the boys who will do battle to join the secretarial pool in the fictional wrestling-obsessed world of the Producer’s Ring, I’ll be keeping voting (top margin to the right of this page) open for another day. So far, Nick Auger, Jared Prudoff, Kerry Degman, Rafael Verga, and Sean Sullivan appear to be poised to claim their spots in the upcoming elimination tournament. The remaining two spots look like they’re up for grabs.

You Decide

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The team at Brody Productions is pouring through photos of aspiring executive assistants. You can lend a hand in selecting the elite eight to compete for a shot to join the corporate team in the fictional wrestling-obsessed world of the Producer’s Ring. Ellis McCreadie is already given a pass into the tournament based on nepotism. Deal with it. You can help decide who he’ll be facing for his shot at power:

Phil Baroni was an early nominee, but I have to put my foot down and say that in the world of the Producer’s Ring, Phil is more like his pretty, modelboy self than the MMA jobber stud he’s become in our world. The question you have to ask yourself is whether pre-MMA Phil had the stamina and determination to fight his way to the top in baby oil and a speedo.
Alan Ritchson was also nominated, though he could easily qualify as one of the acting talents who also wrestle in the Producer’s Ring. Still, if you’d like to see Alan tracked into the secretarial pool, vote for him to join the competition here. If he washes out, he still may have a shot on camera, perhaps with his vanquisher calling the shots of his on-screen career.
Sean Sullivan was a beautiful new face to me that was nominated for a shot in the Producer’s Ring. He’s got a fratboy look, which might not bode well for him in competition (just be forewarned), but he very well may bring something surprising to the audition. The curls are made for yanking, which I suppose might earn him some votes and lose him others.
Rafael Verga is one stunningly, classically handsome hunk of man who I’m thrilled to be introduced to through the nominations process. The pec tat is demanding to be licked. In competition, I think that wouldn’t be the only thing requiring oral attention.
Van Jameson Logan was nominated for obvious reasons. Winning America’s Most Smartest Model competition doesn’t bode well for mastering the mind games that are as much part of the competition in the Producer’s Ring as the bodies. Still, it doesn’t necessarily take book smarts to be smart in the Producer’s Ring.
Kerry Degman was another obvious choice for the elimination tournament, due to his credibility as a kick-ass wrestler in high school. Whether or not Kerry could translate amateur success into the down and dirty work required in the Producer’s Ring remains to be seen.
Nick Auger is a fitness model who looks like he’s just aching to prove himself. He’s got the confidence, the muscles, the chiseled chin… but does he have the support of the fans?
Bryan Thomas looks to me like he’s ready, and able, to rip someone’s head off. The tat, the hairy pecs, the rippled abs… can you say no to this man? More importantly, can anyone else fail to say, “I give!” to him?
Don’t let my well-documented obsession with Jamie Dominic sway your vote… let me just say that this man appears regularly in my own private wrestling fantasies, and he’s one fiercely sadistic hellcat.
Jared Prudoff is someone I just haven’t been able to tear my eyes away from since he was pointed out to me. He’s stunning, yet not your standard smooth, plasticized plaything that so many models are. If he makes the cut, I predict he’ll bring something unique into the competition with him.
Matt Schiermeier is another new face to me. Someone was clearly playing to their audience when recommending I check out gorgeously muscled and tattooed Matt. I hope that including two pics of Matt doesn’t skew the poll results, but I just had to share the astonishing view both coming and going, and a shower scene just drives me crazy!
The final applicant under consideration is Czech bombshell Jakub Stefano, who is absolutely everywhere these days. He’s adorable in his YouTube videos, but I have to imagine that the nice guy gloves would come off were he handed the opportunity to join Brody Productions. I predict any match with Jakub would find him enduring some concentrated pec abuse, because, let’s face it, those massive mounds of muscle and mesmerizing nipples are unavoidable targets.

Never let it be said that I’m a tyrant. Let the democratic process commence. (Perhaps I’ll even honor the vote)….

Taking Nominations

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The clouds are beginning to break, and I’m anticipating some time opening up in the next few days to get back to one of my favorite past-times: writing homoerotic wrestling fiction for fun. My mind is always drifting into imagining the sights, sounds, and smells (tastes… feels…) of two (sometimes more) beautiful men in sweaty, body-on-body competition. Brutes, beasts and babyfaces all make regular appearances in my imagined wrestling bouts, but I have a soft spot for the sight of pretty boys in an ugly battle.

My frequent co-conspirator Swito lets me know that he shares a lot of my kinks and tastes, including a taste for the picture of a male model in a fierce fight. In my wrestling fantasy world, the Producer’s Ring, male models populate the ranks of the bureaucrats of the entertainment-industrial complex. Sometimes the “secretarial pool” battles with the actors, disciplining the out-of-control egos of the headliner talents who frequently forget their place. Occasionally, they secretarial pool has broken out into intramural bouts as the pretty boys do battle with one another.
It appears that there’s a new position opening up in Brody Productions, and a new executive assistant will be hired soon to join the ranks of the secretarial pool. The qualifications are, as always, a pretty face, a body made for battle, a healthy dose of near-overconfidence, and a readiness to step into character in the Producer’s Ring. A few of the current executive assistants have been based on talents such as Ben Godfre, Andrew Stetson, Luke Guldan, Miro Moreira, and Wendell Lissimore.
As with every significant decision in the world of the Producer’s Ring, the decision as to who will join the ranks of the secretarial pool will come down to a wrestling tournament. Eight extremely eager male models will be given a shot at earning a seat at the producer’s table. Now the only question is who will be the boys with the balls to show up for what will surely be a brutal battle of pretty faces.
Swito has nominated babyface Ellis McCreadie for an invitation to the tournament. As always, Swito’s taste is impeccable. Now we’re looking for seven more body-beautifuls to put their asses on the line for a shot at a job. Fitness models, fashion models… hell, hand models could all be considered, but whoever shows up better be ready for a nasty competition that will leave most, if not all competitors, a little less pretty. As you can probably guess, tats are always a plus, but not required. Any nominations from the floor?

Classic Sterling

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BGWrestle has recently posted some very generous shares from the classic vaults of BG Wrestling. Check out the blast from the past teaser consisting of more than 15 minutes worth of massively thick bodybuilder Steve Sterling in tight, white trunks. This is nice quality for classic clips on YouTube, and it definitely whets the appetite to own more of the prototypical homoerotic wrestling muscle god.
That ass…. leaves me speechless. The BG and Can-Am catalogs nicely document Steve’s rise in the world of gay wrestling, so he’s yours to own from ham-handed god to a legitimately smooth salesman; from relatively demure competitive bodybuilder to full frontal nasty sadist.
I just have to say it again… that ass…. My, oh my. Steve’s man-handling of a double team in Bondage in Oil 1 opened up so many worlds of ecstasy for me. The sadism, the oil, the bodybuilder on full display, the naked 2-on-1… that’s the foundation for a library of fantasy images and scenarios to come back to, over and over again.


I wonder what Steve was like in real life. He was so physically dominant, his producer’s clearly struggled to find physiques that could legitimately sell anything but a squash. Perhaps my favorite musclegod v musclegod clash of the titans was probably Steve battling with Ramon Villabos in Steve’s International Submissions product. Ramon is more handsome (at least for my tastes) and classically beautiful than Steve, so watching these two stretch and squeeze and pry each other’s stunning muscles is nearly a hands-free orgasm. Given half a chance, Steve could sell a suffer, and up against a couple of the biggest boys in International Submissions, he’s given more than just half a chance.

Once Steve firmly established himself as the daddy-of-all musclegods of homoerotic wrestling, he dabbled somewhat demurely into bondage work. Infinite delights of humiliation and power can be found in Steve’s tussle with another favorite musclegod, Scott Randsome, in the Zeus production, Punishment 2. I never get tired of seeing Scott Randsome punished like the bad, bad boy bully he is. When the corporal correction comes from a stashed fantasyman like Steve, it’s a thunderous story of power versus power, flexing, muscle humiliation and screaming destruction.
John Savage and Rants, Roids & Rasslin’ has some nice caps of more class Steve Sterling, with the message that BG Wrestling is, indeed, still open for business.

Tickled Breathless

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From the world of bizarre, comes a story of a disgraced U.S. Congressman who has resigned his office under allegations that he groped his male staff members. No, it’s not that the New York Democrat is married with two children that makes this story so strange (not at all, in fact). It’s not even that this guy has suddenly started telling the story of Rahm Emanuel cornering him, naked, in the shower to strong arm him into voting for the President’s health care agenda…

Just wait a minute while my heart stops racing from imagining Rahm Emmanuel naked, in the shower, strong arming someone…. I’d wrestle that man for the soap anywhere, anytime.
Okay, no, no, it’s not any of this that makes this story truly bizarre. The truly bizarre bit is that this guy goes on a rabidly conservative [insane] television “news-ish” show to talk about the whole thing, in which he explains that not only did he grope a male staffer, but he tickled this employee “until he couldn’t breathe, and then four guys jumped on top of me.” And now he’s astonished to have been charged with sexual harassment.
Oh no, there couldn’t be ANYTHING sexual about that scenario (how’s that for sarcasm, Joe?). On an entirely unrelated topic, I was thumbing through Can-Am’s tickle-fetish catalog and thinking to myself, what sort of sick fuck gets into this crap?
I guess now we know. Should’ve guessed it was the straight guys with wives and children downstairs. (My apologies to you tickle fetish boys out there. You can tie me down and tickle me to teach me a lesson).

Ass-Whoopin’ Time

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I’m not saying who it is, but somebody clearly needs an ass-whoopin’.

Carl Edwards has been on my radar since I first saw him in all his shirtless glory. After this weekend’s dramatic NASCAR crash, attributed to Edward’s bump, Carl is revealing why he will, indeed, make a fantastic character for my fictional wrestling world.

With the bluster of a pro-wrestler being interviewed post-match after splitting open his opponent with a folding chair, Carl says: hell yes he bumped Brad Keslowski from behind, sending him airborne so high he nearly flew over the barrier protecting the fans. And, Carl assures us, Brad deserved it.
These two have apparently tussled in the past, and Carl felt that the dramatic up-the-tailpipe move was coming to Brad. This is melodrama made for old-style pro, with Carl even appealing to his “personal code” that tells him that when a competitor dicks around with you, he deserves to have the boom lowered hard and decisively – let the chips fall where they may.
We all know what’s required here. Two punks need to strip to trunks, climb in the ring, and settle this shit. And who, may you ask, is going to have to face off with 6’1, 185 pound muscle stud, Carl?
Meet 5’10, 155 pound (seriously, I’m not making this up), Brad. Picture babyface Cameron Matthews‘ humiliating beatdown at the hands of hung hunk Beau Nasty. Ah, hell, I’m going to be obsessing about this until Carl v Brad shows up in the Producer’s Ring (hopefully soon).

Breaking Down the Unbreakable

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When I was about 7 years old, my older brother offered to let me punch him in the stomach. “Sure!” I said, since he was always bullying me. I swung for the rafters, not really knowing how to put much behind a punch, but fueled with a desire to make him hurt. He winced, but his flexed abdomen was none the worse for wear. “Now it’s my turn,” he said ominously, beginning a gut punching session that I had never agreed to. He was often a dick that way.
So gut punching tends to take me back. These days, I more often identify with the puncher. Perhaps I’m living out my fantasy of what I should have done to my brother when given the free shot. Frankly, though, I don’t really have my brother in mind when I see Ricky Martinez’s tasty ass planted on Troy Baker’s babyface as he humiliates the goldenboy while rapidly pounding Troy’s stunning abs.
Vinny Trevino’s double fisted pounding on Patrick Donovan is an awesome example of the erotic testing of a muscle stud’s core. Patrick was destined for this moment of agony painted across his face from the moment he stepped into the ring with this badass bodybuilder. He should have known that outweighed and outmuscled, there was nothing but humiliating pain in his immediate future. But cocky overconfidence is a jobber’s bread and butter, and so Patrick squeezed into his pink and white trunks banking on his ring-veteran savvy to overcome Vinnie’s power and youthful invincibility. Fifteen minutes later, Patrick is on his back, clutching desperately at Vinnie’s wrist, screaming in pain with his ankles in the air. Very nice story.
In babyblue and white trunks, Justin Pierce was similarly suited up for a devastating pounding from the fists of sadist musclepunk, Joe Mazetti. The systematic picking apart of the muscle stud who has complete faith in his own invincibly shredded abs is absolutely awesome. I want to see the muscled babyface on his back, writhing in pain, with his pride-and-joy six pack quivering and defenseless. I want to see Justin owned. Joe does not disappoint.
Sadist extraordinaire and aptly named, Kid Vicious never fails to deliver. His relentless attention to Steven Thomas’ wall of muscle is a work of art. With Steven’s wrists bound overhead and his lower abs bright, bright red from being used as a punching bag, Kid drives home the point that some beautiful bodies are simply made for suffering, and when it’s done right (KV always does it right), it’s a win-win-win situation.

Not that KV needed it, but he does take advantage of a 2-on-1 scenario at times to break down Steven. The 2-on-1 gut pounding is a particular delight for me. I know, I know. Not everyone is into a double-team beatdown. I’m a big booster of the 2-on-1 most of the time. When two gorgeous muscle sadists, Daz and Big John (where the hell did those two priceless gems disappear to!?) capture and immobilize infinitely arrogant Mr. Joshua Goodman, Joshua’s truly marvelous, ripped abs are primed for punishment. It’s not like Daz or Big John needed to double team Mr. Joshua. They’re both powerful and nasty enough to have broken him and his lamb-to-the-slaughter partner, Kieran Dunne, singlehandedly. But the double-team, like the gut punching session itself, is about the story of breaking down the hunk who believes he’s unbreakable. Much more than just about a decisive victory, it’s about proving the arrogant face wrong, destroying his ego, transforming him into a humiliated piece of property who will never again be able to strut and preen without one eye looking over his shoulder.

So when SteelMuscleGod offers to let his sidekick use his abs for a punching bag on YouTube, I’m seeing so much potential opening up for SMG. I’ve suggested that Lon Dumont do the honors of welcoming SMG to America (admittedly, in order to see more of Lon as much as to see SMG in the ring). BGE has a whole stable of hungry studs who could do the honors nicely, though. Who would you suggest to roll out the red carpet for SMG’s debut in the arena in which his godlike status was clearly born to be tested?

Feel the Steel

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So I thought I’d scored when I saw that SteelMuscleGod is back with a new video. He’s playing to his true audience (me and you). This is almost all about gut punching. SMG’s sidekick looks like he’s swinging with some passion, which only goes to show that much more what a wall of steel SMG is packing there. I snagged the following cap, just to ask you how you feel about this view:

Personally, I like it.
Imagine my ecstasy to discover that SMG has a live website up and running as of a couple of weeks ago with so many more mouth watering pics. His ass in a thong is like manna from heaven (as in, I’m desperate to taste it)!
SMG’s about-me page is absolutely adorable. He teases us with the tidbit that he’s been a competitive freestyle wrestler in high school and college. Sweet Jesus. Like this man needed to be more eroticized for me.
I’m fascinated to read in his forum that worshippers are discussing the erotic joys of imagining SMG crushing Adam400m in a wrestling competition. Somehow, somewhere that sounds familiar… Ah, well. Great minds and good tastes must think alike. SMG promises in his forum to post some videos with wrestling, at which point my head will explode (well, at least I’m certain there will be a whole mess of bodily fluids involved). I’m more a secured-payor internet consumer, but once SMG is paypaling, I’ll be helpless. Better yet, with his wrestling background and penchant for gutpunching, some brilliant mind needs to buy this boy a ticket to Boston and a date in the ring with Lon Dumont.

More Jokes and Jocks

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I still love the combination of class clown and hot hunk. There’s just something that much sexier about a handsome, hardbodied hottie with a quick wit and a sharp sense of humor. Superherofan, God bless him, capped some nice pics of funny man Joel McHale from NBC’s Community, in a strip pool game. Joel is always a ham, which is somewhat disarming and leaves you unprepared to be so astounded by that rockin’ body when he’s left standing in his briefs (then implied full-on).

Like other funny man hardbodies, Joel earns respect with his humor, which is the surest sign of an impressive intellect (which ups one’s hotness exponentially, in my book). Joel is pretty self-deprecating at times, not appearing to take himself too seriously (at least that’s the schtick… he may be a complete narcissist in real life). So seeing him ham it up as he strips down to reveal some thick, clawable pecs and a tight, tasty body is a delightfully jaw dropping.
And this is, indeed, the only appropriate response to a shiny, happy hardbody on public display. Public nudity and body worship of a class clown stripped to his stunningly hard nakedness… this is seriously hot stuff.

Runaway Train

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Just between you and me, I really hate the word horny. It lacks imagination. It suggests to me a state of hormonal overload that’s divorced from the most erotic tool that we have: our imaginations. I think of horny as a state of animal impulse that doesn’t necessarily even take pleasure in and of itself. It’s a drive that’s satisfied by emotionless physics and physiology: friction, blood flow, and the release of bodily fluids. The joy of eroticism for me is that it’s so much more than that. Still…

I’m so horny this morning! Holy shit, I’m ridiculously at the mercy of my libido. I can hardly type.
Is it the approach of Spring? Is it the cycles of the moon? Damn, I’m about absolutely nothing more than friction, blood flow and bodily fluids right now.
Before I blow a gasket, I’ll wrap this up with one final thought. Even at the mercy of my libido, I’m passionately drawn to the image of the erotic fighter. This runaway train isn’t about to stop for anything, but what seriously stokes the fire even at this moment is the muscled body poised for erotic combat. I’m always capable of taking care of these matters myself, which I will take my leave this morning to do. But tonight, my friends, I have a date with a musclehunk who has no idea that our regular grappling session is going to be supercharged.
Seriously, I gotta go.