Always Wrestling

I’m still contemplating taking up fishing on the off chance I get to see Chris Cuomo shirtless.

I used to post a lot more around here about largely non-wrestling related things. Well, I posted about things that are not inherently wrestling-related, but that in that perverse way I have, I can’t help but overlay with homoerotic wrestling innuendo. Well, really, I posted about hot hunks who, as far as I know, don’t have any relationship to wrestling, that I fantasize about in raucous, rowdy, balls out, full throttle gay wrestling scenarios.

Alexander Skarsgård inspires so many fantasies

My posts have become more and more focused on the world of unapologetic homoerotic wrestling, in part because I have less time in the midst of a busy life. That said, my remarkable penchant for recasting beautiful men into homoerotic wrestling fantasies in my imagination has never skipped a beat. I’m just not writing about it so much.

Perfect combo: Speed skaters and headscissors

I was reminded of this when “Commenter” commented on my most recent post, asking if I was planning on authoring another Olympics-gone-wrestling series. I’ve done this a few times, basically documenting what I’m always doing when I’m watching the Olympics, namely, looking for arousing, hot hunks and, regardless of their actual sport, picturing them wrestling one another.

I’m imagining the USA bobsled team has inspired more than just me this month

As I replied to “Commenter,” my time is achingly short to invest as much as I have in pulling off some round robins like I have for past Olympiads. However, if someone else wants to do the preliminary work of identifying the fantasy-worthy athletes and drawing up some brackets, I would do my best to sketch out where my mind goes. If different readers submit competing brackets, I will be happy to have you wrestle one another naked to determine whose brackets I should use.

I have intrusive erotic fantasies that star Eliad Cohen

In the mean time, I thought I’d just offer a quick update on the hot men who have made recurring appearances in homoerotic wrestling matches in my mind’s eye in recent months. For example, and as always, Eliad Cohen. Fuck, I can’t even open Twitter in a public place anymore because the first glimpse I get of Eliad’s magnificent, hairy muscles make me instantly erect.  Eliad appeared in a New Year’s Eve wrestling fantasy I wrote last year, as he appears in fantasy after fantasy ever since. Hey, wait, New Year’s Eve wrestling fantasies! There’s another fond tradition I slacked off on this year.

Marry me, Pedro Andrade

Another Twitter-infatuation I have that persistently drives me into wrestling fantasy territory is Pedro Andrade. I love this Brazilian beauty’s politics, his eye for photography, and apparently he’s a poet. So, fuck, yeah, I’m ready to propose marriage… and then he shares a little skin. Damn, he is gorgeous in every way. Brains and brawn? What a total threat he’d be as a babyface in the ring!

I’ll fuck this “sleeve”

I almost nearly lost my shit as I started watching the Netflix series Altered Carbon. I am a ridiculous Sci-Fi junkie, so believe me when I swear I had no idea that this series was packed with so much mouthwatering beef. And then basically in the first scene, Swedish stunner Joel Kinnaman shows up naked and glistening, covered in lube. And moments later he’s naked in a communal shower. And in the next episode he’s naked and having sex. And then people show up to his hotel room, and he just stands there naked, the camera strategically positioned with a potted plant or some such nonsense obscuring his crotch. So much naked hotness! Kinnaman reminds me again how easily I’m turned into a slack-jawed fanboy for pretty much any 6’2″ blond, stunningly handsome Swedish man who takes off his shirt, which in my experience is pretty much any Swedish man.

Squeeze those shoulders into my newsboy infatuation ranks, Baruch Shemtov!

My newest newsboy crush is apparently openly gay and buddies with Gio Benitez and Tommy Didario, so of course he’s got a place at my table anytime. But it’s not like he needs any coattails. Just fucking LOOK at the size of Baruch Shemtov’s biceps!? I vacillate between picturing him as the smooth beefcake jobber to Eliad’s sadistic ring villainy, or seeing the two of them as contenders for the prettiest tag team in history.

Warm up the winter Olympics with some sweaty wrestling, please

Those are the current roster of studs slapping on face-to-crotch headscissors and making each other scream. In a better world, I’d write down some of the matches in which they star in my imagination.  In the mean time, I’ll try to clear a little time in my calendar in case you come up with a Winter Olympics 2018 bracket of homoerotic wrestling contenders to work with.

Striving for Perfection


I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: numbers are sexy. Take the numbers 19, 26, 7 and 3. That’s the number of inches around Joey Nux-Justice’s upper arms, inches around his upper legs, times Joey bashes Ronnie’s back into a turnbuckle, and times I’ve gotten off on watching Joey and Ronnie pound it out in the ring for Wrestler4Hire.

Reaching for perfection

Of course, when I say “pound it out,” I’m referring to Joey tenderizing Ronnie like a stubborn cut of beef.  “You think you have the perfect body,” Ronnie muses, arriving to find Joey measuring his bulges and shoving them in our faces. “Well, I think I’m the perfect wrestler,” Ronnie explains. “So how about we wrestle and figure out who’s perfect?” It’s a classic narcissist bodybuilder meets savvy pro heel scenario, with a sensational twist, namely that the bodybuilder beats the living fuck out of the veteran pro wrestler.

What gum chewing deserves

Both Joey and Ronnie get a little ire from me. One of my pet peeves is a wrestler chewing gum in a match, so I’m hating on Ronnie the moment he steps into the ring and starts gnawing on the wad in his mouth. It’s too casual. It feels disrespectful to the audience. It makes me want to see his opponent slap him so hard his gum flies out, then pick up up, shove it down the front of his trunks, and force the gum back down Ronnie’s throat on the tip of his cock. As far as I’m concerned, a wrestler chewing gum in the ring needs to suffer that much more bitterly for the faux pas.

Joey is all about the optics

On the other hand, there’s Joey, who persistently digs his wedgied trunks out from between his muscled ass cheeks throughout the match. This is less a matter of respect than it is just a stubborn refusal to satisfy an audience that wants to appreciate every nook and crevice of his gorgeous physique. I typically root against a wrestler, particularly a gorgeous specimen like Joey, who keeps stretching his trunks to cover up his cheeks.

Ronnie screams. A lot.

So I suppose I start the match a little ambivalent about who I want to get thrashed more. But that question is quickly resolved as Joey assertively grabs Ronnie by the wrist and flings his back crashing into a turnbuckle. Perhaps if Ronnie hadn’t been caught flat footed from the start, this would have been a more competitive match. I know for a fact Ronnie’s got more moves than MJ, and 9 days out of 10 he’s a devastating ring tactician. But Joey injures him early, and then often, and unlike 9 out of 10 rookies, Joey doesn’t relent for a second until Ronnie is screaming like a bitch and writhing at his feet.

All about the back

It’s mostly about breaking Ronnie’s back. The Irish whips corner to corner make Ronnie’s knees buckle out from under neath him. The body slams over and over and over again reduce the handsome pro to a quivering, screaming, drooling puddle. Bearhugs, torture racks, a camel clutch and Boston crab all concentrate every overpowering muscle on Joey on the task of fucking up Ronnie’s spine. The only thing missing, and don’t think I didn’t notice, is an OTK backbreaker to show off Ronnie’s hot, packed bulge.

“You have something to say to me?” Joey asks.

“Are you sure you wanna wrestle?” Joey asks, mostly rhetorically. He doesn’t really wait for an answer, even if he expected one. He’s come such a long way since his debut MDW match in which he tearfully confessed that “I don’t really wrestle, man.” He’s no Ronnie Pearl, but fuck, he does a sensational impression of an assertive, aggressive, confident muscle pro with something to prove. “You have something to say to me,” he demands, holding Ronnie by a fistful of hair and shouting in his whimpering face.

Ronnie dials it up to 11

The match feels like a solid intent to put Joey over. It’s all about Joey. It’s about his gorgeous muscles and power. It’s about his shocking dismantling of a seasoned pro. It’s about his cocky swagger and deafening gun show. If anything, Ronnie oversells his suffering, which is not nearly the mortal sin that underselling is. Either way, Ronnie gets reduced to impotence by a gorgeous hunk of a man bigger and, as it turns out, badder than he is. Joey never needs to plead, humiliatingly, “I don’t really wrestle, man,” anymore, which feels like the story arc of this match.


But as for me, I’m mostly infatuated with watching Ronnie. I’ve been entranced by him for years, since I first saw him climb into the ring with his long mane of curly locks, his smoking  hot body, and an obvious feeling of being right at home in a pro wrestling ring. He has decidedly improved from that stellar starting point with age and experience. He has the best head of hair in wrestling, as far as I’m concerned (maybe that’ll be a year-end award for 2018). I’m skeptical of most beards on wrestlers, but there’s a classic Steve Reeves-does-Hercules look about Ronnie that makes me crush on him even more. His muscles are certainly not as huge as Joey’s. He’s not a competitive bodybuilder. But line Joey and Ronnie up and let me have 57 minutes to do what I want with their naked bodies, and no shit, I’m giving even stunning Joey a hard pass to get my hands on Ronnie.

I call dibs on that ass!

Ronnie’s absolute obliteration at the hands of the muscle-newbie shows off his smooth, gorgeously proportioned body from every angle. He twists and writhes, flexes and stretches, until the camera has treated us to a detailed inspection of pretty much everything one can see with Ronnie’s trunks still on his body. His ass, in particular, makes me push rewind often. There’s something effortlessly sexy and infinitely fuckable about his black clad ass cheeks that incite intrusive images of me pounding him doggie style, my hips wet-slapping into his beautiful butt.

Not where you expect to find a seasoned pro heel

The longer I enjoy homoerotic wrestling, the more I realize how much I enjoy these comeuppance moments when a terrifyingly destructive heel gets shocked, awed, and owned. The humiliation is that much more poignant. His screams and begging and sobs make my crotch twitch that much more persistently. “You have something to say to me,” Joey asks, getting up in the heel’s agony-twisted face. “You said you wanted to wrestle, right,” he taunts the crushed and helpless hottie, driving home the powerful plot point that a devastating pro heel is getting his fuckable ass handed to him because 1) it turns out overpowering muscles can be pretty useful, even on a ring rookie, and 2) gay wrestling fans like me want to see an invincible, straight-laced, handsome hunk like Ronnie witness his body and his illusions shatter before him.

I really wrestle, man!

In the end, even my skeptical self has to admit that Joey could actually be a player on the scene. He’s got some moves that a decently equipped opponent can sell solidly. He’s obviously got the pin-up boy angle entirely covered. Bring on more Joey.

Fuck, I love Ronnie in jeopardy!

But as for Ronnie Pearl, please, oh please, keep me guessing. My infatuation with him is only enhanced by the possibility that he could, on a given day, get the shit kicked out of him and get his gorgeous body pried apart and laid out like a Thanksgiving turkey. Or he could dazzle and destroy like a cruise missile. I love the suspense almost as much as I adore his quivering ass cheeks.

Hold him right there for me, Joey!

Achilles’ Heel in Socks

I had no idea how much I needed to see Van Skyler square off against Fabrice until I was watching it happen in Undagear 29: Sock It to Me. I’m a fan of both of these beautiful men, but somehow it hadn’t really occurred to me to picture the magic that might be conjured by pitting them against one another.

Van eyes his prize

I’ve talked before about the value added for me when contrasting bodies face off. Van and Fabrice stroke that spot sensationally. It’s definitely as big vs. little scenario, but who’s big and who’s little sort of depends on the camera angle. On the one hand, Fabrice towers over Van. A wrestler staring down from a 5 inch height advantage is so inherently domineering! Fabrice is his mysteriously frosty self, cocky and quietly fierce.  On the one hand, Van’s lush lips line up in a perfect position to clamp onto Fabrice’s ten cent nips.

Magnificent muscle built for dominating lesser men

But on the other hand, Van weighs in at a reported 40 pounds heavier than the tall boy. I maintain a healthy skepticism about wrestler stats, but I buy these astonishing numbers. Fabrice is almost painfully lean, which he wears gorgeously. And Van is built like a Tom of Finland powerhouse. He earned a legitimate second place for Best Body in voting this year for excellent reasons. Frankly, I’ve suspected that Van may be significantly more coverboy than battle boy, but even if I still thought he was mostly glitz, I’d have to admit that his muscles are luxuriously thick and dense. So even staring eye-to-nipple with Fabrice, the gravitational force of Van’s vastly superior mass pulls the big/little contrast magnificently in his favor.

Van forefeeds a mouthful of his gorgeous ass!

So the set up is instantly titillating for me. But the execution turns my crank hard with both hands. One reason this is the case is watching Van calmly, confidently, and convincingly assert a commanding offense. Fuck, I’ve been waiting for this pretty boy to develop his wrestling chops. His Undagear 26 match with Payton Meadows shows some flashes of Van’s potential brilliance on offense. I’m guessing this match with Fabrice might have been recorded around the same time. Maybe it’s Fabrice’s thin man presentation that inspires the muscleboy to open up showing some sweet, powerful, gorgeous offense. He musclebullies the French beauty early and often. When Fabrice makes an effort to slip free at one point, Van growls, “I don’t think so, buddy,” and then presses Fabrice’s face against his taut hamstring and reaches behind him, pulling on his ankle and absolutely crushing the blond’s head in a vise. The harder Van squeezes, the more firmly this opponent’s face is smashed into the muscleboy’s gorgeous, mountainous glutes. There’s just so much right about this hold, but first and foremost, it’s an awesome glimpse into Van’s growing awareness of just what he can do with that drop dead gorgeous body of his.

So much for that height “advantage”

The optics are similarly perfect when Van cinches on a dragon sleeper. I’ve never really considered the mechanical physics of this move nearly as much as I did watching this musclebound “little” guy lock it onto his long, lean opponent. The results are that Fabrice is laid out even more vulnerably than most in this humiliating hold.

Van shoves his socked toes down Fabrice’s throat

The second biggest surprise to me in this match is how engaged I was by the sock kink angle. Perhaps what makes it such a turn on is discovering that the impetus behind making this a “sock fetish” match comes from Van. Fuck, he is into this! He makes Fabrice suck on his socked toes. He slowly, indulgently pins the Frenchman’s cheek to the match, quite transparently taking deep pleasure in using his socks as devices for debasing his deceptively delicate opponent. Fabrice seems irritated by it at first. Of course, being physically forced to suck on your opponent’s socked toes would be irritating, but even more than that, it feels like Fabrice is personally pissed to being made a prop in what is quite obviously Van’s kink for sock domination. So these are Van’s terms, and I am loving this implicit little insight into the lusts behind the muscle.

Shimmering muscle god

The biggest surprise, however, comes when Fabrice finally cottons on that Van is taking way too much carnal pleasure in using his socked feet as a tool for humiliation and domination. Honestly, I was already counting the Frenchman out about 2/3rds of the way through, because this was so completely Van’s match. The muscleboy, slicked up with sweat, starts flexing overtop of the opponent who he just had to literally capture and drag back to the middle of the mat before Fabrice could complete his crawling escape from the room. Fabrice becomes our avatar, obediently putting his hands on Van’s stunning muscles. I so fucking want to trade places with him right then. Perhaps that’s why I’m just as convinced as Van is that Fabrice is ready to concede, for the stark pleasure of worshiping the muscled god who so clearly has bested him. Fabrice milks it, stroking and exploring to do us proud.

Show of hands, who wants to take Fabrice’s place?

But then, rising to his feet and abruptly towering over Van, he snaps on a sleeper from behind. That’s not really the surprise. We’ve seen aesthetic beauties like Van get suckered into their own hype, undone by believing the erotic control they have over us fans will automatically translate to every opponent. No, the surprise comes as Van starts to sag in the Frenchman’s arms. They slide to the mat, with Van nestled intimately between Fabrice’s super long legs. Van pulls at the arm pinching off his carotid artery. He struggles to maintain a desperate grip on consciousness, and frankly, he’s strong enough to prevent Fabrice from sealing the deal entirely.

Van muscles a tiny bit of breathing room into that sleeper

It’s a stalemate moment, with Van incapable of escape, but Fabrice not strong enough to apply the pressure to finish him. The Frenchman slowly extends those super long legs and grinds his knees into Van’s tiny waist, using the extra leverage for more pressure on the sleeper. His legs are just so fucking long, though. Fabrice’s ankles cross directly overtop of Van’s swollen package. Tentatively at first, the Frenchman presses his socked feet into Van’s bulge to try to break the stalemate. Van groans, his face twisted in defensive strain or erotic pleasure or both.

By any means necessary

And then Van takes one hand away from his defensive grasp on Fabrice’s forearm crushing his throat, and he grabs the Frenchman’s ankle, slowly and unmistakably pressing Fabrice’s socked feet pressed even harder into his bulge. Van groans with pleasure. He cannot get enough of his opponent’s feet manually stimulating his muscleboy cock! This isn’t torture. This isn’t humiliation. This is one of the most mouthwatering specimen’s of aesthetic muscle currently competing getting his buttons pushed so completely that he willingly gives up the fall to ride this ride to the very last split second of consciousness before gasping a submission that sounds like he was just about to cum in his undagear.

The tide turns

He likes it. He loves it. And now that Fabrice knows it, he’s going to carve up this beefsteak and serve Van on a platter.

So much mountainous muscle to conquer

This is momentous character development, as far as I’m concerned. I’ve always known exactly what it is about Van that gets me instantly hard, but now we know just a little of what drives Van over the erotic line.

Van undone by his own kink

If anyone sees Van, let him know that I’ve got a sweaty pair of socks and a bottle of lube with his name on them. In the mean time, I’m cuing up that epic moment once again where the muscled beauty telegraphs the biggest tell, the most sensational Achilles-heel-reveal I’ve seen in a long time.

Button: pushed.

Twitch for Me

Have Damien’s muscles outgrown the boss’ ability to control?!

In what way has Muscle Master Kevin NOT humiliated Damien Rush over the years? The archives of MDW are littered with daddy’s little rich boy getting thrashed and trashed again and again by the boss. It’s been done so often that I didn’t actually expect to see anything new in Season 27’s “Zzz 14.” In one sense, I was right, in that the age old story of Damien squashed and trampled by Kevin plays out pretty much like we’ve come to expect. On the other hand, I was wrong, because there are some provocative new elements in the classic formula, and the chemistry gets me off like a space shuttle launch.


The first thing that’s new is Damien. Oh, sure, we’ve seen Damien countless times. But we’ve never seen this Damien before. Fuck, he’s huge. I mean, fuck, he’s HUGE! He says he’s getting ready for a bodybuilding competition, and I believe him. A physique like that has little other purpose, really, than to be strutted nearly naked on stage and judged for it’s aesthetic beauty. One might make an argument that a body like that could also be well employed dominating opponents in a homoerotic wrestling context, but this is Damien Rush we’re talking about. Other than a few dazzlingly inspiring moments of clarity and purpose in which daddy’s little rich boy ran rough shod over an opponent in the past, for the most part, he’s mincemeat.

The boss’ muscles

The more pertinent issue as Kevin walks in is what value Damien’s huge, fuckable body is to the entrepreneur-in-chief. “You need more size, because size sells,” Kevin explains patiently over the course of his muscle domination. “We’re going to get you in competition shape, and we’re going to get me some cash.” I’ve always wished that Kevin enjoyed heeling for its intrinsic value. I’ve wished there was more of an insider’s appreciation for the eroticism of wrestling at MDW. But short of that, I have to admit there’s something erotically compelling about a relatively straightforward story about cultivating gorgeous muscles for mauling as an acknowledgement that you and I get off on it. Eroticism is in the room, even if it’s a pretty straight-edged nod to your and my erotic interests.

All in a day’s work

While I typically tune into MDW for the flashes of hot wrestling, I have to admit there’s something profoundly moving about the domination aspect of this match. It’s not a match, really. Damien puts up nothing but his whimpering, wheezing, will-bended, forced-to-flex obedience to his muscle master. But Damien’s jeopardy tweaks my kink for the delight of watching his self-appraisal go up in flames at the hands of his constant tormentor and employer. The gear itself is deeply arousing to me. Watching one hunk’s vulnerability represented by the briefest of posing trunks, contrasted by his opponent in street clothes (well, if you happen to walk shirtless down the street in sensationally sexy, skin tight leather pants), is an angle I’ve struggled to put into words before. Personally, I’d have enjoyed it even more to see Kev stroll in in a business suit and slowly pull off his tie and unbutton a couple of buttons on his shirt as he dices this meat just like he does. One guy clothed, casual, getting down to business as if he wasn’t planning to have to grapple, digging into another guy who’s nearly naked, prepped and fluffed for obvious erotic examination, is a seldom satisfied erotic taste I have.



Muscle Master Kevin’s use of his legs also gets me off hard in this match. The theme is variations on the sleeper, which isn’t always at the top of my list. But Kevin uses his legs so seductively to accomplish his tasks. And of course, legwork which is typically near the top of my list. His crotch pillow leg choke is that much sexier for the fact that he’s in pants.  His leg nelson is gorgeous as fuck both for the sexy way it highlights Kevin’s legs and for the sensational way it shows off Damien’s hot, bodybuilder body.


The camera work also strikes me as different, in a great way, than a lot of MDW matches. The camera lingers long and hard on Damien’s suffering muscles. There are several up-crotch close ups as Damien sits on the precipice of unconsciousness with his legs spread wide and his tiny posing strap wedged up his ass crack, leaving plenty of mouthwatering gluteus muscles bare. Whoever is behind the camera this time gets my applause for unflinchingly following our gaze.

Every single magnificent muscle here belongs to the boss.

“You may not be the top wrestler, but I’m going to make sure you’re one of the top grossing wrestlers,” Kevin explains as he shoves Damien back and forth over the line of unconsciousness. He hits that seductive domination element that is corporal ownership skillfully. Kevin possesses Damien’s magnificent muscles. He claims them and owns them. “So you’re going to keep training like you have been,” Kevin explains why he’s willing to dish out some compliments to the big stud. “You’re going to get bigger and better by the day. You’re going to watch that diet. You’re going to hit those weights. You’re going to stay at peak shape, so that I can film all of the quality matches that I want with you.” While I consider the master/slave/dom/sub scene in the neighborhood but down the street from my kink home, I absolutely get off to this element of physical possession between Kev and Damien.


The last element that catches me by surprise in this product is when Kevin force feeds Damien a banana. There’s something kitsch about the idea of this, but in its execution, fuck it’s hot to watch. It helps matters that Damien deepthroats the banana.  Twice. If I can’t be there to face fuck him myself, it turns out watching Kev shove a banana down his throat is a reasonable stand in, at least from a voyeur angle. Honestly, I’ve never gotten off on watching food play before.  I won’t be able to say that now.


Damien’s whimpering, beaten, completely dominated hotness is forced to flex on command. At one point he literally attempts to flee the scene, which earns him some leg torture as Kevin works to make sure the beast won’t be able to walk temporarily (and happily for me, more close up focusing on those monster quads). “I want you and your muscles to understand who your fucking Boss is,” Kevin explains patiently. “Every time I walk into the room, your muscles are going to twitch.”


I’m twitching, too, Muscle Master Kevin.  Short of me stuffing my ripe banana deep down Damien’s throat, this muscle mastering confrontation hits all the notes that crank on that part of my kink that wants to see some hot bodybuilder beaten and erotically owned. It’s not as if I haven’t seen Damien plowed under by Kevin in the past. But I’ve never seen Damien this stacked. I’ve never seen Kevin so explicitly committed to possessing Damien’s muscles for our delight. And I’ve never enjoyed it quite this much before.

Ripped for your pleasure


And the Winner Is…

Congratulations to the winners of the BG East Besties for 2017! It was a fabulous year in homoerotic wrestling, and all of the nominees demonstrated the deep bench that BG East can rightfully boast. Some of my picks earned the most votes overall. Some didn’t.  They all (but one) get nothing but respect from me. It’s certainly not the first time I’ve seen evidence that my tastes intersect and diverge with other homoerotic wrestling fans. Happily, there’s plenty for all of us to enjoy, and awards or not, my sincere thanks go out to the beautiful men in front of and behind the camera that make BG East a leader in wrestling for a gay audience.

Sexiest Match: Sexiest Match – Ty Alexander vs. Bruno LaBestia (Ringwars 28)

Bruno enjoys the taste of victory


Best Mat Battle: Austin Cooper vs. Christian Taylor (Undagear 28)

The biggest upset of the year (not a category) had to be Austin Cooper getting owned by Christian Taylor


Best Ring Match: Cole Cassidy vs. Joshua Goodman (Ringwars 26)

This hold alone is already the stuff of legend


Best Squash: Lane Hartley vs. Kirk Donahue (Demolition 22)

Kirk trashed for the win


Best Submissions: Kayden Keller vs. Richie Douglas (Kayden’s Spotlight)

Kayden masters the beautiful art of submission


Hottest Liplock: Christian Taylor vs. Mason Brooks (Bedroom Brawl 3)

Mason aids Christian in remaining the reigning kissing champion


Best Overall Match: Cole Cassidy vs. Joshua Goodman (Ringwars 26)

Cole throttles his trophy


Top Heel: Kayden Keller

Kayden for the upset win over both Jonny and Kid Karisma!


Top Babyface: Richie Douglas

Richie beats back a challenge from Kirk Donahue


Jobber of the Year: Kirk Donahue

Fuck, I hate this jobber for beating my boy Drake Marcos


Debut of the Year: Zip Zarella

Zip wasn’t my top pick, but you get no arguments from me


Best Abs: Kid Karisma

Kid Karisma beats runner-up Mitch Colby for Best Abs


Best Bulge: Joshua Goodman

I’m thrilled to see Mr. Joshua’s bulge beat last year’s winner, Kirk, to the curb


Best Butt: Kid Karisma

Despite Ty’s social media campaign, he couldn’t rip the title away from the perennial favorite glutes of Kid Karisma


Best Body: Kid Karisma

BG East fans agreed with me that it just doesn’t get any better than this!


Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

There were several outstanding candidates for Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month for the last month of 2017. The new releases were varied and outstandingly sexy, with notable appearances by a number to deserving hunks. Newbies and veterans alike turned my crank and made me stand up and cheer, but one hot hunk edged the fierce competition with sheer tenacity. December’s HWOTM is none other than…




Kayden Keller.

Kayden knocks the stuffing out of Carter Alexander

Not every Wrestler Spotlight adds up to being HWOTM, but Kayden’s debut Wrestler Spotlight easily hands the title to him. All three matches in the collection are fabulous. Kayden digs into Carter Alexander, Kirk Donahue, and Richie Douglas with studied, personalized brutality.


Kayden is a fan pleaser

Kayden’s magnificent demolition of hot bro Carter Alexander was entertaining enough to earn my vote for Best Squash of 2017. The optics are outstanding. Kayden’s red trunks are perfection on his tall, smooth, sexy body.  Carter is the rare opponent who’s tall enough to pretty much look Kayden in the eye, so the apparent evenly matched set-up is that much more titillating to watch Kayden beat the living fuck out of the pin up boy mercilessly. Everyone hits the pause button when Kayden grabs the back of Carter’s trunks and yanks them violently up the pretty boy’s ass, giving Carter fans more of what we love about him so much.

But, those legs….

During my interview with Kayden last summer, I nearly had to take a break because his legs were turning me on to distraction. So, watching those mile long beauties squeeze and crush Carter to screaming, weeping agony make a particularly potent image for me. The match as a whole is a contender because both studs are contributing maximum effort. Carter is selling like a mother fucker, and ever since he let slip to Kid Karisma in a moment of passion that he enjoys getting his hair pulled, I can’t help but picture him settling in with the remote control and a bottle of lube to get off on watching himself yanked around and cracked in half in this match.

A belly button piercing!? Fuck, I hate this guy.

Nearly as satisfying for me is the second match on Kayden’s Spotlight, in which he beats the shit out of hot little pro punk Kirk Donahue. Fuck, I hate that guy. I mean, sure, he’s got one of the sexiest middle weight bodies in wrestling. And, yeah, he’s a phenomenally talented pro wrestler. So, I confess, he ticks off every box that should make me worship his lusciously round ass. But despite all of that, the instant I see him in the ring, I’m cheering for his opponent to rip him to pieces and make him cry. Am I the only one with this much antipathy toward Kirk?

Scream, Kirk.  SCREAM!

Clearly, I am not the only one, because Kayden tears him limb from limb with a certain relish that convinces me that, as is quite often the case, he and I are exactly on the same page. A clear difference between this match and Kayden’s match with Carter is how competitive this is.  Kirk drives Kayden to that point that I enjoy so much, with Kayden’s high pitch screams of desperation digging him a hole that most dominant heels don’t have the ego strength to climb out of. But Kayden does, and I love watching him climb, dishing out that much more vicious punishment for the trouble. I just so love questioning if Kayden can still pull a match out, and then watch him rise to the occasion and walk away with his heel credentials completely intact (and Kirk’s balls not).

“Let me show you some legs with real power.” – Kayden Keller

Knocking that smirk off of Kirk’s face and making him scream like sniveling bitch alone would have earned Kayden the title!

Boy next door Richie Douglas puts the hurt on the big man

The final match on Kayden’s Spotlight pits him against It-Boy Richie Douglas. Richie’s stock has been skyrocketing lately, because he’s ridiculously sexy and has slowly revealed a growing appreciation for the sexy side of wrestling. The mismatch in size is stunning. Kayden towers over the boy next door. There’s a sweet give-and-take momentum to the match, however, which feeds both my desire to see Richie improve and to see Kayden have to climb out of a hole.

Kayden ties Richie in knots with his incredibly long legs

Richie’s sell is the least compelling on this DVD, which only marginally detracts from the visual artwork that is watching Kayden pry him apart at the seams. The action includes a sweet mix of rapid fire momentum flips and long, succulent, crippling submission holds.  Richie is, indeed, improving in every match, and he’s just enough of a tasty challenge to hold up his end of the bargain as Kayden tells that sensational tale of getting upended and driven to the edge of despair, only to dig deeper into his bag of sadistic passion to plow an opponent under.

“Do you regret ever getting into the ring with me!?”

Kayden Keller’s Spotlight is beautifully consistent without a hint of redundancy. Each opponent brings a different set of assets and challenges that test the rising heel in unique ways. Challenge by challenge, Kayden sucks down the hard knocks and summons his inner heel to not just turn the tables, not just conquer, but to utterly defile the trio of beautiful babyfaces determined to knock him off as BGE’s hottest young heel. And maybe that day will come. But it is not this day!  This day, Kayden Keller is the heel in charge and, unquestionably, homoerotic wrestler of the month.

Kayden Keller – December 2017 Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month









Best Lightweight

The year-end awards season often seems to focus disproportionate attention on the big boys in homoerotic wrestling. Superlatives like “best” seem to inevitably lend themselves to “biggest,” which for many fans may be just fine, but not for me. I have a well documented appreciation for small wrestlers, the lean boys, the “scrawny guys” as Charlie Evans proudly self-identified. In fact, I’ve got a whole lot of lightweight love to give this year, so I’m unilaterally handing an award to my favorite lightweight who I enjoyed seeing wrestle in 2017.  I’m also unilaterally deciding to focus on wrestlers under 150 pounds for this honor. It seems to me Wrestler4Hire and BG East have the deepest benches of lightweights, which I’m sure reflects something about the wrestling content across the industry. In any case, here are my favorite lightweights from action in 2017.


My third favorite lightweight homoerotic wrestler in 2017 was W4H’s Dashing Dustin. Dashing Dustin is paradox to me. On the one hand, he looks skinny enough to snap like a twig. Cameron lists him as 5’8″ and 140 pounds, which is seriously lightweight. But on the other hand, there’s something substantial and fierce about him that makes him seem like he’s bigger than he is. He is, indeed, dashingly handsome, and if he really is James Quarterstaff’s boyfriend, I hope they’re wrestling like gladiators and fucking like bunnies morning, noon, and night. Strike that.  I actually think that Dashing Dustin is way out of James’ league, and the Dashing one ought to consider trading up to a cuter boyfriend/blogger.


My second place pick is the super tall drink of diet water Fabrice via BGE. At a reported 6’1″ and 145 pounds, it’s hard to put a finger on a “scrawnier” wrestler in competition. Like Dashing Dustin, Fabrice is deceptively substantial though, and he’s a nasty son of a bitch on the mats. I don’t think I ever realized how much I need a tall, skinny mouthful with a seductively sexy vicious side until I saw Fabrice in action. I’d still like to see quite a bit more muscle on this gorgeous boy just in the interest of good health, but he’s an incredible lightweight homoerotic wrestling contender as he is.


My favorite lightweight of 2017 is easily the boyband lead singer-come-wrestler, baby boy Nino Leone. At 5’8′ and 140 pounds, he regularly tackles (quite literally) opponents 50-60 pounds heavier. I greatly enjoyed the opportunity to meet Nino in person this summer at the BG East compound, and I was delighted to discover that he possesses a razor wit and disarming charm to go with his hot, hairy, beautiful body. Nino’s epic takedown of bodybuilder Calvin Haynes this year is a perfect demonstration of how the homoerotic wrestling world is infinitely sexier and more surprising with fierce, tough, sexy “little” guys in it.

Calvin Haynes completely underestimates Nino
Nino has his way with the shocked and awed bodybuilder


Nino shows Bruno he’s not so little after all

There are plenty more lightweight wrestlers who more than deserve honorable mentions for putting up with size-obsessed wrestling fans, including Charlie Evans (5’8″, 130 lbs), Eli Black (5’7″, 130 lbs), Ricky Vegas (4’9″, 90 lbs), and Kid Romeo (5’5″, 130 lbs).

Who did I miss?