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.

True Calling

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Clearly, I’m predictable. It doesn’t take an extensive literature review of my posts to detect the themes that capture my imagination and spark my erotic obsessions. StayPuft generously sent me some pictures of MMA boy Phil Baroni, and explained to me why Phil is the sort of musclegod that I’m into.

Yes, yes indeed. The transformation of Phil from pretty muscle adonis to kick-in-the-face bad-ass wanna be is a beautiful sight to behold. This is a prime example of the wonders that some body-to-body banging and suffering can accomplish with someone a little too beautiful.
StayPuft really, really knows me well. In his email to me, he points out that Phil doesn’t win all the time, and that, coupled with a fierce, cocky never-say-die attitude casts Phil as a classic muscleboy jobber. Slap some body hair and a liberal layer of sweat on those muscles and this is the man of my dreams.
Any musclegod with that body and who has the attitude that tells him to wear his shades to weigh in must be punished mightily. Some of his interviews suggest that he’s got swagger/dickishness that just begs for seeing his ridiculously gorgeous body tortured and humiliated.
The tats, the swagger, the firm flag planted on the frontier of jobberland all work for me on so many levels. Phil may think that his destiny is to slap down his cock to measure up in the MMA world, but he’s missing his true calling. This is a man made for a pro story line that MMA just can’t write for him. His full potential to entertain and own a market will only be realized on the pro-stage. This is a man of fantasy. StayPuft, I feel so close to you!

New Kids on the Block

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I’m not sure when matmuscle.com came online, but they have three fighters featured in three matches. The $24.95 download price for a 16 minute bout is a bit too steep for my socioeconomic status, but more power to those who are happy to pay up. Fortunately, the masterminds at matmuscle have loaded some short teasers on YouTube to give me a taste of what I’m missing.

I’ll cut right to the chase. The match pitting tanned modelboy Aaron against pale, shaved head bodybuilder Bill immediately caught my eye. Matmuscle seems to have a quirky business model, in that they seem to take pride in finding guys who’ve never wrestled before (as well as mat veterans, though I don’t know if they’ve shown evidence of that yet). They promise that despite Aaron and Bill being complete novices, these muscle studs are full of promise.
By the look of the Bill v Aaron teaser, I can believe that neither of these guys have wrestled before. Aaron looks a little more mat savvy and quick on his feet. Bill looks like he has no idea what’s happening, which could make for a sweet story line if his huge, hard body was being set up for some intense initiation. My sense from the teaser is that this is not really the story here, though.
Still, these two bodies are fantastic, and the posing pouch gear is fun to watch. Aaron in particular has his pouch swinging for the rafters as he bounces and bobs his way along. Matmuscle is looking (and by the looks of it, need) more wrestlers. So I’m nominating you, fine reader, to sign up. I have no idea where these boys are located. I tried contacting them for more info, but their contact-server is a dead-end. But I think that you should remain persistent. Get on the roster and squeeze Bill’s bald head between your thighs until he gasps in pain. Maybe we’ll meet up there. And then both of us can tell the front office that $24.95 per 16 minute download isn’t a sustainable business model.

Spittin’ Image

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I’m okay if no one else sees that hockey star and Canadian savior, Sidney Crosby, looks an awful lot like Brad Rochelle. I know what I see.
It appears that Sidney may have one of those faces that everyone thinks reminds them of someone else, though. Someone’s drawn the comparison with Adam Sandberg. Hell, more’s the better, I say. They could all use a serious spanking over my knee.
But the resemblance to photos of Brad from about twelve years ago is striking, I think. Of course, Brad’s bigger than Sidney and looks like he could crack him like a peanut, then and now. Still, even without Brad’s extra beefiness, Sidney’s packing a nice shape that just makes me think of Brad.
I’m sure Sidney’s untouchable now, and he’ll be raking in dough until the day he dies planting that gorgeous face on products from breakfast cereal to gym equipment. But still, wouldn’t a face off with Brad be breathtaking? Brad squeezing the boy wonder in a bearhug until he literally cries… tell me that’s not an image that would bring you to your knees, regardless of your nationality.
Okay, so it’s entirely possible that today’s post is just an opportunity for me to lust after Brad once more and imagine him in yet another scenario that would make me fire over the shoulder. Kid Leopard has offered teasers in the BG East yahoo group that, although we haven’t seen much of Brad on camera lately, he’s still connected with the operation behind the scenes and may still show up in action someday.
I can think of more than a few opponents I’d be whipping out my… credit card to see Brad in the ring with. While Sidney will probably have to remain a grappler merely in my imagination, I’d be ready to provide my own economic stimulus effort to own Brad pec to pec with my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, Mitch. Throw him in the ring with eager young stallion, Denny Cartier to let him crack the veteran’s whip on one of the newest flexible musclestuds. But make sure that we get to see Brad do some serious suffering, say at the hands of Cole Cassidy.

Olympic Spirit Finale

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Okay, so even I have to admit that the gold medal men’s hockey game was high drama. I generally can’t follow hockey (my eyes must be getting too old to see the puck), but what an exhilarating end to the 2010 winter Olympics! And the gold medal-clinching shot came from a Canadian hottie with known shirtless pics circulating! Score again!
Sidney Crosby is 5’11, 22 years old, and 200 pounds of hot, hot (hothothot)muscle. But it’s his lips that are driving me nuts! Any sport that requires this man to suit up in a uniform that disguises every inch of his stunning body and face is seriously in need of retooling (my apologies in advance for all of you hockey fans who are offended by that comment).
Is it just me, or is Sidney looking like Brad Rochelle’s secret love child. Don’t tell me that it’s just me. I’ll resent it. I’m not actually sure that Brad could be old enough to have a 22 year old love child, but I think that they’ve got to be from the same corner of the gene pool, one way or another. Yes, Sidney has got to be Brad’s love child, and I’m sensing a fictional wrestling match coming on. Perhaps a new generation vs. ring veteran who sort out their daddy issues to eventually team up for serious tag team destruction.

He has a serious fanatic blogging about his every sneeze, and I totally respect that in a stalker/fan. I suspect after the emotional climax of his overtime goal to win the Olympics last night, Sidney will be coping with a lot more post-coital fanatics and stalkers.
Way to go Canada, for an excellent Olympics, a smoking hot field of Canadian competitors, and the setting for world class athletes to test themselves and one another.

Fighting Back

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The newest BG East releases include another ball-torture-themed product. The first match on Ball Busters 1 features pendulous Jobe Zander and boy-man Reese Wells crushing each other’s testicles and suffering mightily. The second match stars the anxiously awaited return to action of recently unseated contender for my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy title: Derek da Silva.
I still don’t quite “get” ball abuse products. I own a couple of them, but the specific focus on testicle torture doesn’t quite carry a whole storyline in my mind. And what’s with the indecisive titling? Ball Bash, Crotch Crushers, Ball Busters… these are essentially variations on a theme… without the “variation” bit. Despite my ambivalence about the format, though, I’m helpless when faced with the opportunity to see more of fabulously tattooed, bubble butt extraordinaire, sweat soaked, hairy muscle stud Derek, who seems to show up in these particular products regularly. It’s an added treat to see more of Tyrell Tomsen, though the difference between Tyrell’s competition-ready body and his softer-middle is really remarkable. This match appears to be shot around the same time that Tyrell battled Mitch. I prefer the shredded to the bone Tyrell, but he’s a pleasure regardless.

I haven’t seen the tape yet. I’m saving up for it, though. In the mean time, the text and teaser pics are enough to get my motor running. Derek always does some impressive yoga posing prior to his matches. Tyrell clearly does what I’m always thinking someone should do to Derek when he’s so stunningly, vulnerably on display. He drives his fist into Derek’s crotch just as Derek is in a full bridge.

The look on Tyrell’s face is fantastic here. He’s so pleased with himself! He’s clearly relishing the sight of Derek’s suffering. Get in line, Tyrell. Get in line…

I suspect that Derek’s performance could boost him enough in the standings to give Rusty Stevens a run for the #1 contender spot. I’ve been watching the unfolding chapters of Can-Am’s Arena 2 match-up between Rusty and Aryx Quinn, and despite Rusty’s continued fantastic verbal and physical dominance, I don’t know if Rusty’s performance will enable him to hold onto his spot in my personal favorites. Rusty continues to bash BGE, and the story is a little flat so far. Depending on how much pleasure comes from Derek’s latest performance in comparison with Rusty’s tussle with Aryx, the #1 contender spot is distinctly in play right now. Mitch is still sitting pretty on top of the heap, but there’s a lively scrap just beneath him.

Jamming the Gaydar

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I like to think that I have a fairly sensitive and accurate gaydar. I realize not everyone believes in gaydar. But I do, and I exercise mine regularly. Some things throw off my gaydar, though. A south Georgia accent, for example, always triggers my gaydar for some reason, despite my certainty that not all men with south Georgia accents can be gay (though I’ve known quite a lot!). Another thing that can mess with my gaydar is the sexually secure straight man.
Fortunately/unfortunately I don’t encounter many sexually secure straight men, so it isn’t often an issue. Most straight men I meet, even the “open-minded” and “affirming” straight men, are powerless to avoid letting their insecurities show. The awkwardly averted gaze, the mention of his girlfriend/wife apropos of nothing, the knee-jerk retreat to sports talk when surrounded by too many women or gay men… straight tells are easy to pick up. But a seriously secure straight man is a novelty that makes me have to check myself, in a good way. Joe at Ringside at Skull Island posted the link to a sweet story about a nationally ranked amateur wrestler, Hudson Taylor, who’s an outspoken advocate for gay rights. And he’s straight. And hot… as… hell, and totally messing with my gaydar.
Australian Rules Footballer and musclegod, Nick Youngquest is also straight (I’m convinced), and explicitly happy to be the object of gay men’s lusts. And lust is exactly what I do when I see these fantastic images of Nick’s hardbody that he displays so openly and proudly in calendars and gay magazines.
Online pal Swito virtually introduced me to the wonders of Nick-worship (thanks, Swito!). Nick tweaks most every kink I’ve got, particularly once he started collecting ink. The cleft chin drives me insane. He has a solid body built for laying the hurt on other thickly muscled men. And he shares his beauty so generously.
Swito and I are working on introducing Nick as a character into the fictional wrestling universe of the Producer’s Ring. With Nick’s natural cockiness, confidence, and ability to straddle the world of fierce footballer and stunning seducer, I predict he’s going to be a big, big star (in any universe).

Still More Olympic Spirit

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Closing ceremonies are this weekend, but the winter Olympics are just now seriously heating up. Of course the formal competition has been hard hitting, but I’m referring to stumbling across an homage to the beauty of the American winter Olympian bodies. In answer to the inspiring photo shoot of Canadian hardbodies, the Americans have this provocative answer.
The flag bearer for the team of American hunks is gold medalist snowboard crosser, Seth Wescott. Fantastic look here for Seth, with his low risers revealing the underwear and that solid, sculpted torso on display underneath his unbuttoned dress shirt. I simply have to imagine that Seth would be the one to slam Canadian snowboard crosser, Rob Fagan, in the center of the ring and then relish the joy of making him scream in pain as Seth drags him by his hair to have his head driven into each and every turnbuckle. Gold medalist, indeed.
Snowboard halfpiper, Louie Vito is built for pro-wrestling. Despite being only 5’4″, he’s got the look of a fabulous heel. He’s the champion sagger here, with his happy trail knocking at the door, and he’s displaying his fine ink with a cocky I’ll-soon-have-your-head-crushed-against-this-bicep look to him. In head to head, body to body competition with, say, naked Canadian freestyle skier Kyle Nissen, I’d have to give the edge to Louie delivering some acrobatic arial assaults that lay poor Kyle out cold. Then, of course, Louie would do an air guitar routine to celebrate, with his knee pinning the Canadian’s chest.
Silver medal ice dancer Charlie White has a seductive, sexy hunk babyface air about him here. Can’t you just picture him climbing through the ropes with his naive “good will win out” grin on his face as he pumps his fist, mugging for the crowd? How much more delightful it would be to see Canadian Warren Shouldice dive through the ropes and destroy the blond hero in complete humiliation. Warren’s over the knee backbreaker would set a fine table for a smorgasbord of torso punishment on the suffering babyface. Canadians would definitely claim a gold, bringing the medal count to 2-1 for the Americans.
Cross country skier Andy Newell also has a babyface hero look about him, which is ominous to see for those rooting for the Americans in this competition. Andy’s body looks lickable and good for light reading. He must have impressively sized balls to explain his showing off his modest bicep so proudly. I think Andy would put up an impressive fight against Canadian freestyle skier, Ryan Blais. In fact, I think this would be a close fought battle that would grow progressively nastier as babyface heroes get increasingly frustrated and decide to take short cuts that bend the rules. In the end, though, I’m picturing Andy dazed and disoriented following a series of a half dozen snap suplexes, allowing Ryan to hook the leg, get the 3 count, and then spit in Andy’s stunned face. Who knew the Canadians could get so fierce and nasty? Apparently making the medal count even at 2-2 is driving the boys from the North to new lows.
Oh my. Talk about babyfaces. 19 year old American speed skater, JR Celski looks like a lamb heading the slaughter here. Sadly, this pic is prior to JR’s fantastic pec ink that he put on display after a race in Vancouver recently, but still, it’s provocative to see the young stud looking like he’s about to jump right out of those jeans. Unfortunately for eager-beaver JR, if he were to find himself in the ring with Canadian speed skater, Francois-Olivier Roberge, he’d be nothing but a plaything for the Canadian. This would have the crowd aching for Francois-Olivier to put the kid out of his misery, but the Canadian would be sadistically prolonging the humiliation by yanking JR up by the hair repeatedly on the 2 counts. I think the Canadian would finally and decisively deliver the message that Canada is in it to win it with a bouncing, smiling torture rack. Canada would be up 3-2.

The final hope for the Americans to keep this respectable would rest in the hands of figure skater Evan Lysacek. I have to admit, I was a little surprised at just how hot Even looks here, including the provocative lightening tattoo pointing to his moneymaker. As evidenced by Evan’s gold medal performance in Vancouver, he is one cool cat when under pressure. Face to face with young Canadian speed skater Denny Morrison, I’m picturing Evan launching a highly scientific breakdown of the Canadian with patience and precision. Babyface Denny would be struggling to keep up, but Evan would stay one step ahead of him, concentrating on high impact moves to the lower back to leave young Denny writhing in pain and helpless to defend himself. All the momentum would be swinging Evan’s way, as he schoolboy pinned struggling Denny to his back in the center of the ring. Denny would struggle to pull his shoulders free, but the ref would count: 1… 2…. But just as overconfident Evan pumped out a double bicep to seal the deal, Denny would hook his gargantuan legs under Evan’s shoulders, flipping the American to his back and leveraging his superhuman quads to pin Evan’s back to the canvas for a shocking 3 count.

Whew! This is the competition I’ve been waiting for! The Americans fielded a fantastic team, but the Canadian’s managed to come out on top in 4 decisive victories. Go Canada!

Missing a Ball Gag

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There probably isn’t a lot that hasn’t already been said about Joe Rogan’s “documentary” about the stalker who always watches him change after jiu-jitsu training. There’s probably even less that actually needs to be said. Still, I feel compelled to take note of a few points:

1. Joe Rogan is a sizzling hot hunk of man… until he opens his mouth. Generally I don’t get into such things, but a ball gag would transform Joe (back) into the worship-worthy muscle god that he was before he talked. The fantastic tat, the smoking hard body, the jiu-jitsu… then he talks. It’s like an angel food cake that’s been iced with pickle relish. Something so right gone terribly, terribly wrong.
2. Joe is way, way into being stalked. From the intro to this video, I thought Joe and his buddies were planning a homophobia-fueled, locker room beat down on Joe’s admirer. As it turns out, Joe gives a running monologue that includes his explicit permission to ogle him as long as the stalker doesn’t touch him. “You know what,” Joe confesses, “I don’t give a fuck… you don’t touch it, don’t go crazy with it… You got your own shit, dude. Everybody’s got their own kink. You got yours. I got mine.” Sounds good to me. I’m definitely checking out Joe’s dick, balls, and ass the first opportunity I get.
3. Joe refers to his cock as his “hog.” (See #1, above).

4. I’d really like to know what Joe’s aforementioned kink is… and does it involve a ball gag?

Prometheus Bound

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What is the relationship between a homoerotic wrestling kink and bondage? Is the wrestling kinkster a subset of S&M bondage kink? Are they kissing (punching) cousins? Is it all the same, just packaged differently?
Like Prometheus bound or St. Sebastian, the image of a muscled hunk suffering in restraints is essentially homo-provocative, I think. Power captured, virility claimed, challenger conquered… the bound hardbody certainly tells a story that rings true (and rings my bell) to what gets me so hot and bothered about wrestling. The virile, arrogant young hot shot with all the confidence in the world in his powerful muscles and determination to be victorious is highly eroticized for me at the point that he is restrained, made vulnerable, and suffering in the humiliating realization that he has been bested.
The bound hunk shows up regularly in homoerotic wrestling. Is Paul Perris, with his arms bound at his sides in a rope and suffering the sadistic whims of Bart Tyler, essentially the same provocation that makes me hard at seeing Paul Perris body scissored, writhing and immobilized in pain? The wrestling hold is, after all, simply another means of binding a hot hunk in sweet vulnerability.
Still, I’m not so sure it’s all the same thing, at least not to me. Some days I’m hot for a hunk tied up like a rack of lamb, but somedays I’m not. My tastes for bondage with ropes, chains, shoelaces (etc., etc., etc.) are inconsistent. Justin Pierce finding himself literally tied in knots with the boxing tape that was moments ago wrapped protectively around his wrist is not always the scene that I keep rewinding over and over again to see until I’m driven irresistibly to climax. Sometimes it is, but not all the time.
But Brad Rochelle sobbing in pain cracked backward across any opponent’s knee is always, always, always instantly gratifying to me. The humiliation of Brad taped into the corner of the ring, hanging in unconscious humiliation between beatings is a sweet sight, but seeing the Enforcer tie him up with nothing more than Brad’s own arms twisted around his own neck like a Christmas bow is, without fail, guaranteed to make me salivate.
Affectively, then, the hunk bound and the hunk wrestle-bashed is not necessarily the same (again, at least for me). The elements are almost identical: the battler suffering, paralyzed, captured, and claimed. But the means of achieving his vulnerability seems to make a difference. Mr. Perpetual Erection, Dino Serra, is always in need of a severe spanking. Admittedly, suspended from the ceiling certainly displays his most impressive muscle more vividly than almost any other means of his destruction. Frequently, watching him be bound, stripped, and have his cock and balls worked over with sadistic glee is entirely filling: check please! But it isn’t as invariable as watching Dino’s erection get slapped around as he’s squeezed between the thighs of his grinning opponent.

Of course, sometimes the bondage with other than human restraints and the wrestling domination is indistinguishable. When Brooklyn Bodwrecker and Shane McCall tape Brian Powers into the corner, and then proceed to drive Brian’s partner, Liam Ryan, inverted and crushed against him… well, where does the bondage begin and the wrestling humiliation end? For that matter, where does BBW begin and Shane McCall end? The scenario of immobilizing capture and sadistic humiliation is complex, creative, and frankly an impressive feat of physics and human ingenuity.

Perhaps it doesn’t really matter. If we just follow the lead of our cocks, I suppose like any form of art, we’ll know what tweaks our kink when we see it. Still, it all makes me wonder what is the essence of the wrestling kink that gives me (and so many of you) so much pleasure. Not all bondage does it for me, by any means. Even the bondage that does it for me a lot of the time doesn’t always do it for me. But wrestling hardbodies telling the story of cocky competition to decide who’s on top and who’s destined to suffer the humiliating defeat at the hands of the better man… these are always what gets my blood pumping in all the right directions.