Sidelineland

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

November 5, 2015 wrestlebard4 Comments

I gave up on trying to back track and pick a homoerotic wrestler of the month last month. Too much craziness and phlegm. But I’m on it this month. You know I have opinions about many of the new releases that came out in October. I seriously had my crank turned by several notable matches and remarkable wrestling performances. But I pretty quickly came to the conclusion that one particular wrestler did it for me best. Towering over the rest of a very, very impressive field was just once beefy baby heel that made me sit up, unzip, and take notice. The new reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month around these parts is…

0103_lg

…BG East’s big, bad Kayden Keller.

0105_lg — Kayden grabs the bull by the horns.

Kayden is nothing short of sensational in BG East’s October release of Ring Releases 3. I know, I know, in my review of the match I spent more time marveling at the coming of age narrative that centers on Kayden’s opponent, Leo Tomasi. Count me as highly attentive to lovely Leo’s future balls-out erotic wrestling appearances, because if he has a follow up that does justice to Ring Releases 3, his g-g-g-g-gorgeous ass will be an instant top contender for the title. But there’s just no getting around the fact that it’s Kayden’s 6’2″ domineering, ravishing ring presence that serves up the tasty dish of Leo’s beaten, naked ass to such perfection.

0112_lg — Kayden gets OWNED early going!

If you know me at all, you know that I occasionally slay my sweet tooth on a lopsided squash from time to time, but what truly nourishes my homoerotic wrestling hunger is the element of competition and an honest suspenseful tension in the ring. So when sweaty, beautiful, delicately vulnerable Leo opens up a major league can of whoop ass on the diabolical, babyface Wolf, I am both screaming, “No shit!” in stunned disbelief and having to do major adjustment of my crotch for the erotic value added of watching big Kayden get knocked out cold about midway through this match.

Not only was I not expecting to see big, bad Kayden get laid out by a lean, babyface beauty who has been steamrolled in every match prior to this one, but I was completely caught off guard by how sincere and stirring it was to witness Kayden going down for the count. Leo works him hard, and as I’ve said, I’m a little enthralled with the Tomasi character arc thus far. But a rising erotic young heel like Kayden who can sell me on getting dangerously distracted by his opponent’s sensational assets and then made to suffer like a simpering little twink jobber (which Kayden most definitely isn’t, but in this moment as Leo bears down on him, fuck…. yes, yes, yes), now that’s a range that I respect and that 110% turns me on!

0114_lg — Sensationally sexy ambivalence.

It doesn’t hurt one little bit that the dastardly heel’s humiliation is tripled by being awakened by having his face shoved up the astonishing rookie’s magnetic ass. Again, kudos to Leo for instinctively taking us (and Kayden) right to the place that his phenomenal ass was demanding from the moment the camera zoomed in on the prize glutes as he arrived ringside. And I believe it when Leo closes his eyes and looks like he could just about lose a load with nothing but the joy of shoving a dominant heel’s defenseless face right where fans are longing for a better look. But the sell here that makes me break out into a sweat is Kayden. Owning ambivalence is a nuance in homoerotic wrestling storytelling that I just don’t see attempted (much less pulled off) often. But as K comes to, the situation only slowly dawning on him, the bitter realization that his heel cred just took a seismic hit at the hands of a boytoy who’s been made mincemeat of by his prior opponents, I’m feeling the Wolf’s humiliation pulling hard in one direction and his erotic attraction to Leo’s bodacious butt driving his face that much deeper between those lush cheeks.

If you’re worried about lasting damage to Kayden’s heel cred, don’t. Leo’s choice to celebrate his early going victory by literally shoving in his opponent’s face is epically right for the genre, but oh so short sighted for really nailing down what would be the upset of the decade to ride out this match lording it over the beaten baby heel. No, shoving his tasty morsels in Kayden’s face eventually plays itself out when a once-again clear headed heel grabs hold of the problem by the balls and nearly rips them off. The visual of Kayden slowly climbing back to his towering height as lithe Leo crumples to the mat is sweet, sweet drama that is right up my alley.

h0108_lg — How much is Kayden enjoying this?!

I repeat, I love discovering more about Kayden’s range in this match, but the real crotch stirring happens when that sadistic smile stretches across his handsome face the louder Leo screams in agony. With the humiliation of those few moments ago still lingering on the lips, it’s just that much more compelling to watch the heel exact not just revenge, but the spine tingling thrill that a rising master in his field enjoys at making another grown man weep. Kayden taking it to the erotic novice is fabulous, and if Leo has even a fraction of the taste for a return to erotic wrestling that I’m hoping he does, I hope and pray he’s making mental notes about just how to milk me the moment of corporal domination for every ounce it’s worth.

0119_lg — I’m completely blindsided by the true breakout star of this match, Kayden’s ass!

You’ll have to (trust me, it won’t be a chore) watch the match and/or sign onto BG East Arena to savor the slow, seductive, sensational climax. Well, there’s the ring release that many fans will be tuning in to enjoy, but for my money, the real money shot is Kayden (having forced Leo to remove his trunks for him), plants his sexy, naked ass on top of Leo’s face and smother’s him there for days on end. I mean, message received, Kayden. You fucking owned this meat, body and soul, and he was completely your possession as this bout careened to its conclusion.

Having already popped my cork in adoration of Leo’s ass, it says something that the lingering image burned into my retinas by the time this match is over is that of Kayden’s meaty, naked glutes perched permanently across his prey’s trapped face. And in the spirit of the best ring releases, I feel like all three of us, Kayden, Leo, and I, want to be nowhere else in the world in that moment.

Kayden & Leo go precisely where my deepest longing wants them to go over the course of this match. But it’s that uncanny knack Kayden has of grabbing exactly where my eyes are drawn, shoving precisely where I want to see lovely Leo shoved, clawing, stroking, and possessing his opponent as if Kayden is listening to my unspoken cravings and moving for the pleasure of no one else but me. But clearly, that’s not the case. Because Kayden and Leo leave the ring with pleasure quite literally dripping off of them. Please, oh please, tell me that Kayden is even now tutoring his young padawan in the ways of balls out, full throttle, hot, sweaty, cum soaked erotic wrestling. In the mean time, pucker up boys, because there’s a new HWOTM in town, and he knows exactly where your lips belong.

0123_lg — Kayden, Leo and I are good right here, thanks.

Congratulations to Kayden Keller for owning the competition and leaving me dizzy and dehydrated as my new homoerotic wrestler of the month.

Cough

November 2, 2015November 2, 2015 wrestlebard3 Comments

I’ve seen photos of many of you hot hunks dressed in mostly nothing, as sexy versions of just about anything for Halloween. As for me, I dressed as a TB patient for the special day. Well, actually I’ve just had a disgusting, rattling chest cold, which did not leave me feeling sexy or in the mood to party with the rest of you hotties. So I missed seeing the gay male festival of flesh and camp in peron, damn it. Send me your sexy Halloween photos if you’re willing to let me post them here, so that I can enjoy second-hand a few tricks to go with all those leftover treats I’ve been binging on as I convalesce.

In the mean time, here are a few of the terrifying masked men who never fail to turn me on. Prizes for those of you with proof you partied as one of these hot mystery men!

Angelo Blanco is as mysterious as he is sensationally sexy!

hero — Everyone’s hard when Die Hard Conquers Dyno-Man!

Mighty Magnus perfectly terrorized musclebaby Surge behind that mask and all that magnificent muscle.

hero2 — Die Hard lays bare a terrified Steve Sterling.

Has there ever been a more unstoppable (and sexy) masked beast in the ring than The Enforcer? Maskador never had a chance!

ethan — Rock Hard Wrestling celebrated Halloween this year with Masked Mania.

Babyface heroes like Stinger are destined to get stripped and humiliated by villainous studs like Lightning and Cage Thunder!

Superhero Archangel was spoiled, plundered, and perverted into terrifying supervillain Dark Angel.

The Black Spider was ALL OVER El Mascarado Zamora!

Exile is a superhero, but that skin tight black suit, black goggles, and raging trouser snake would strike terror in any opponent!

Vantastic!

October 30, 2015 wrestlebardLeave a comment

Clearly, I’ve got my favorites. I nurse long-standing infatuations with certain homoerotic wrestlers that never fail to get my engine running, time and time again. But regular readers are also aware that another favorite sport of mine is spotting the fresh newbie who instantly turns my crank. Wrestling debuts always excite me. All that potential, the promise, the possibilities of what a new hot hunk might be in the ring or on the mat is a little like wine tasting for me. They won’t all turn into fan favorites (or one of my favorites). The timing, the charisma, the look, the feel, the sound, the sell… any number of factors could be off. But with every fresh debut, all I can think as I settle in to sample the newbie is that it all could be on. This fresh face and hot bod that I’m just meeting for the first time could become a tried and true infatuation for many matches to come.

Van Skyler 5’8″, 185 lbs, potential new wrestling crush

Meet Van Skyler. Debuting in BG East’s new release Ripped Rookies 2 (that title alone makes me hard), Van has a boatload of potential to get the time-tested Bard seal of approval. Those luscious lips! That ass. Those massive pecs! That ass. Those mountainous, square shoulders! That ass. Just watching him stretching out that sensational body, wearing nothing but boots and a hopelessly too brief pair of white trunks with blue trim, the possibility that I could be crushing on this dazzling newbie for years to come seems good.

And that name, Van Skyler. Fuck. What is it about the name that makes me want to see this dizzyingly beautiful boy get pounded viciously? Who names their child “Van” without fully intending for their genetically gifted baby boy to grow up and have men lining up to smack the shit out of him? There’s something transparently artistocratic, baldly contemptuous of the underclasses in the name Van Skyler. Of course, I know nothing about his back story, truth be told, so Van could be the child of a dock worker and a prostitute with a Ryan Reynolds fetish, for all I know.

Big Biff Farrell wants to know if this gym bunny can wrestle!

Well, we are treated to a little back story, at least as far as this match goes. From the narraitve, it appears Biff Farrell first caught a glance of sensationally sexy Van at the gym. In a move that only cements my fantaticism for Biff, the big boy sees Van’s magnificent muscles pumping iron and he instantly thinks, “I want to wrestle that!” You know that both of these superhuman hunks get stares for days when they’re working up a sweat at the gym. I think if Van does dumbell bicep curls shirtless, he’s got even the straight boys sprouting wood. So the image of big Biff sidling up and starting to pump iron right next to him, the two of them staring at each other in the mirror, silently sizing one another up,that scene belongs at the start of a gay porn. But this isn’t vanilla gay porn, so Biff follows up some gratuitous compliments of Van’s lush bod with the most erotic come-on of all, “But are all those big muscles good for anything?” Oh, fuck Biff, you are a quick study and a skyrocketing commodity on the Bard homoerotic wrestling stock exchange (BHWSE). They have a posedown, then and there in the gym. Muscles swell; egos bristle. Tongues fall out of mouths, I’d be willing to bet my firstborn, because can you just picture the magnetism of seeing these two gorgeous, built for days, hot young hunks getting up in each other’s face and talking wrestling smack with every gym bunny, cardio bimbo and average Joe looking on? I’ll bet my second born that there were guys hightailing it to the locker room to drop a few ounces of liquid weight with the image of Biff and Van flexing at each other playing on loop in their heads.

Biff was also a first-glance crush not so long ago. I love his look. His blond hair and blue eyes, that superhero square jaw. He looks so much like a barely legal musclefreak babyface who grew into that phenomenal physique so fast that he’s still figuring out the capacity and limits of all that beautiful muscle. He’s so incredibly solid. Everything, and I mean EVERYTHING bulges so beautifully on big Biff. And he possesses my favorite wrestling character trait for an ambitious babyface musclekid: he’s earnest. Biff wants to be a pro wrestling star so bad he can taste it, and all that pumped sincerity makes me think he could very easily realize those humungous dreams.

Biff has also had his fantasyman dream ass handed to him by some of the nastiest heels in the homoerotic wrestling business. Whatever the assests (admittedly impressive) that come with the body of a comic book superhero and the aspirations of a pro wrestling newbie, Biff learned the hard way that experience counts for a lot in the ring. A blatant disregard for human decency doesn’t hurt either. Earnest-as-fuck Biff got those big bulging muscles crushed and manhandled by the smarts and ring savvy of guys arguably nowhere near as massively put together as he is. So I’m digging Biff picking out his own next opponent, scanning the gym bunnies for just the right combo of mouthwatering muscle, overinflated ego, and no apparent wrestling credentials whatsoever. Yeah, I see you working it, Biff.

The mat action in back of the BG East compound outside of Boston catches me (and, clearly, Biff) by complete surprise. Not only does hotty Van know how to wrestle, but he’s aggressive, putting his foot on the gas pedal and taking the offensive convincincly from the start. If Biff honestly wanted to know if all of Van’s “big muscles are good for anything,” the unequivocal answer 3 seconds into their match is, “Fuck, and Yes!” Van slams all that beef to the mat with authority. He snaps those lightly hairy muscle thighs around Biff’s torso and makes the hunk suffer instantly. He’s rolling big Biff around the mat like a total chump, and then suddenly, smoothly, he takes the comic book superhero’s back and locks on a sexy, sexy, sexy rear naked choke, pressing that massively peaked bicep hard across Biff’s throat. Holy fuck, holy fuck, gym bunny Van can wrestle, and he’s OWNING Biff’s beautiful butt!

Biff shows off the sweaty gym bunny beauty

Happily for all parties involved (well, you and me, mainly) the action is hotly contested, and with so much massive muscle hanging off the bone, nobody is going to count this as a cake walk. Biff flips the script with his own bodyscissors, really making Van’s groans jump an octave when he adds a hammerlock, pinning a massively muscled arm hard and high up Van’s gorgeous, sweaty back. Thank the homoerotic wrestling gods that Biff enjoys exploiting his advantage by locking down a long, luxurious full nelson that stretches Van’s phenomenally muscled bod out seductively for the camera. Van’s big, low slung pouch bounces and quivers as he’s hung out to dry. It’s not like we’ve never seen offense from Biff before, but damn, when he’s got momentum, all that muscle looks unstoppable.

It’s probably testimony to my shallowness, but there’s one particular moment in this match that makes me gasp, push rewind, and watch again and again. Van’s fought back for riding time. He’s put big Biff on his back and slowly, but surely, slid into place to lord over the sophomore hunk in a sensationally sexy schoolboy pin. Van’s dangling participle rests heavily on Biff’s square chin as Van hoists his incredibly meaty arms in the air and flexes his biceps domineeringly. “Who’s the champ now, buddy?” the ripped rookie demands to know. As the camera slowly circles the men, we can see that the top of Van’s incredibly muscled ass cheeks have popped out over the top of his sweat soaked trunks. The cocky schoolboy pin, the newbie trash talk, Biff getting an up close look at the meat market and you and me taking a long, lingering look at those exposed cheeks and crack… what a fucking perfect moment.

Gym bunny versus pro wrestling hopeful is a fantastic set-up for a match, and I’m so thrilled to see a second chapter in the Ripped Rookies genre. Van and Biff are ideal competitors to take the house-burning hotness generated by the inagural ripped rookies, Jake Jenkins and Austin Cooper, and make it all their own. And you know for a fact that JJ and Dr. Coop own hours and hours of ongoing wrestling adoration from me, years running. Biff has the instincts and the ambition to make me sit up and take notice anytime, and as of now, I’m certain that I will be first in line to watch any match in which Van Skyler sweats through his miniscule trunks and gets that gym bunny muscle butt beat viciously.

I don’t know if I’ll be obsessing about Biff and Van a few years from now, if they will have taken up residence in my roster of persistent infatuations that draw me back time and time again to replay the oldies and break a sweat over their new releases. But, so far, count me as an enthusiastic fan of both. Particularly of Van’s bare ass. Have I mentioned that?

If Biff keeps this up, he’s well on his way to pro stardom!

The Clone Arranger

October 28, 2015 wrestlebardLeave a comment

I think my favorite homoerotic wrestling superheroes are Power-Pecs and Flex from Eye of the Cyclone. Both sizzling hot superstuds have gone through “transformations” (shall we say), being reincarnated by different model/actors in the tradition of so many superhero franchises. And both babyface beefcakes have been brought back from the dead, thank the homoerotic wrestling gods, to titillate fans who are never satisfied with an unhappy superhunk ending.

To save the world, Power-Pecs let his foe snap his neck, leaving all of that mouthwatering muscle limp and lifeless. RIP Power-Pecs.

The newest return from the dead features Power-Pecs, who managed to thwart evil villain Cobra’s diabolical master plan in the issue “Sometimes They Come Back,” but only at the cost of his own life. It was one of those agonizing, deeply unsatisfying martyr climaxes, as gorgeous Power-Pecs let himself be killed in service to humanity. His phenomenal physique stripped, that huge lead pipe he swings hanging lifeless, the death of Power-Pecs was a bitter pill for his fans to swallow.

“The Clone Arranger” witnesses the return of Power-Pecs 3.0.

But this is a comic book plot. EotC got the beautiful blond beefcake model/actor back on the payroll for another go at the iconic character, with his super-geneticist doc finding a bit of body fluids on the fallen hero’s gear to clone a new, perfectly equally sensationally sexy superhero back to full form.

I’ve got another shot in the ass to make Power-Pecs feel better!

The newest chapter in “The Clone Arranger” has the handsy doc needing to check out how perfectly he managed to replicate every inch of Power-Pecs, because I’m sure he knows fans like I am would throw a fit if there’s even a hair out of place or an ounce of muscle mass difference in the Power-Pecs we’ve grown to know and adore.

Happily, everything about Power-Pecs, every last, luscious, mouthwatering inch of him is in place. You know that fantasy of the fabulously hot muscle hunk who’s tamed into compliantly allowing a mere mortal to feel, handle, and document every fabulous bulge? Yeah, this chapter of “The Clone Arranger” hits those notes fabulously.

A less kind critique than I might knock the doc for being a bit too thorough in his examination. I’m sure there’s a harsh commentary on the objectification of the male body in there somewhere, a dangerous social signal of the decline of humanity in the perverse pleasure I take in the calculated, domineering measuring the geneticist engages in, reducing Power-Pecs to just the sum of his sensational body body parts.

Pendulous, swinging cock hanging halfway to his knees? Check.

But somehow any social critique and critical self-reflection I might ought to embrace flies out the window the moment Power-Pec obediently drops the sheet and the doc kneels down with a tape measure to assess the size and scope of this supersexy cock. I am a shallow, predictable man, aren’t I? Shut up and don’t answer that. I’m busy zooming in on that last pic.

The implication is that doc has brought Power-Pecs back from the dead to get that fine, fine ass back into action defending the innocent and the good. So this detailed physical exam is merely a salacious diversion from the heart of my kink, watching a hunk like Power-Pecs wrestle.

Gorgeous, babyface hero in bulging-sucking tight singlet ready to throw down? Check.

This week’s chapter of “The Clone Arranger” ends by squeezing all of those gorgeous, bronzed muscles into an N2N wrestling singlet a size too small. Power-Pecs punches the heavy bag, reminding his clone muscles of what this sensational bod is re-built for. The plot points thus far in this issue are few, so I’m hoping that there’s a hunktastic sparring partner in Power-Pecs near future to really show what that superhot physique can do when tested in pec-to-pec combat. And if there’s a homoerotic wrestling god out there listening, that sparring partner will be as turned on by the prospect of winning control of this newbie-all-over-again beef steak. …TO BE CONTINUED…

Man of my dreams

October 27, 2015October 27, 2015 wrestlebard16 Comments

Someone reminded me this weekend of my simmering wrestling crush on BG East classic hunk Scott Williams. Similar to how I recently mentioned that I have this distorted perception of Kayden Keller’s height (he always seems smaller in my mind), I think of Scott has having a much longer wrestling CV than he actually does. He stars in just 5 products between catalogs 14 and 25, including his ensemble appearance in the spotlight feature on Philly’s gay amateur wrestling club, ~~Meet the~~ Spartans.

It wasn’t always trash talk and derision between Shane McCall & Scott Williams

When I had the titillating pleasure of interviewing and being provoked by classic hunk Shane McCall, I mentioned my slackjawed crush on Scott, knowing that the 2 of them horsed around together in the Spartans. My reference to “Scott man-of-my-dreams Williams” got quite a rise out of Shane, who couldn’t resist dishing out some trash talk for his former rival. But I stand by the statement of fact that I have held, for quite a long time, and continue to hold a fanatical infatuation with the beauty, power, and wrestling style of hotty Scotty.

Having been sent down memory lane, I’ve been browsing clips and pics of Scott and instantly getting that swelling feeling in my crotch. Aesthetically, physically speaking, there’s something both classically handsome and atypically tantalizing about his appearance. I say classically handsome because of his gorgeous proportions, his thick, ultra lean muscle mass, the jaw and chin of a Hollywood leading man and the nose of a toga clad Roman aristocrat. My tendency (certainly not 100%) to prefer smooth, lickable muscle men notwithstanding, there’s an effortless, masculine perfection about Scott’s thorougly coated, impeccably groomed hairy torso.

Hair, muscles and sweat in all the right places

At the same time, I say Scott speaks to me as an atypical wrestlng fantasyman mostly because of his bare pate, which is a downright novelty in homoerotic wrestling circles. There’s something effortless and real about a sizzling hot wrestling hunk with a bald head. Scott’s calm, sneering, underspoken confidence translates into over the top hypermasculinity, not just because of his rocking hot muscled body, but also because of that unapologetically muscledaddy smooth scalp. My hunch is that Scott isn’t all that much older than I am, but premature baldness made him always, from my earliest introduction to his wrestling, a mature, wise, worldly fantasyman that has always and will continue to make me infatuated with any “seasoned coach” wrestling character (hello, Mitch Colby).

I’m sure I’ve mentioned Scott’s sell before, but fuck, I’m on a roll now, so I’m mentioning it again. I absolutely love the way he milks a hold. There are a lot of wrestlers (or at least guys wrestling) for whom I struggle to suspend disbelief. They apply an armbar or wristlock and we can all plainly see there’s no actual pressure on the joint. I never had to suspend anything other than my impulse to pull my hair trigger watching Scott Williams wrestle. He puts his opponents’ joints through their range of motion, so that when abruptly the lucky stud in his clutches goes from halfheartedly groaning to suddenly choking out a cry of pain an octave higher and 20 decibels louder, you can believe that shit just hurt. When any part of some fortunate fuck gets trapped between his wiry, crushing thighs, Scott works every inch of his body into screwing down those crushing scissors as tight as humanly possible. His hips twist to add pressure, he transitions his upper body from angle to angle to dig his legs as deep as possible into every available inch of flesh and muscle.

And then that face. Holy fuck, that face. When he purses his lips in concentration and effort, I’ve got a ravenous need to lock lips with the handsome hunk. He’s not the most demonstrative in his sell. There’s a slow simmer about him that doesn’t rely on a bullhorn to convey his emotional state. Rather, steering with such an even keel, every subtle smirk or gasp, every gutteral grunt speaks louder than most wrestlers’ screams and incessant monologues. You can see every fucking muscle fiber on his fabulous body because he’s just that amazingly lean, so Scott doesn’t need to growl like the Incredible Hulk to signal with complete clarity that he’s flexing, squeezing, pressing, or crushing.

And then that smile knocks my knees out from underneath me. Completely disarming. The kind of face that young, ambitious bucks would bust a nut to get the chance to see deliver an approving look, a nod of respect, a seriously appraising eye.

Like me right now, Scott looks like he needs to towel off

I’ve heard from the grapevine that Scott continues to wrestle in private, or in front of custom cameras in command performances only these days. Which is a crying shame, as far as I’m concerned. Because I’ve so many Scott Williams wrestling fantasies, and he’s got such an abridged catalog. So, yeah, I’m a big, big fan (getting bigger by the second just thinking about him). In a 2nd golden age of homoerotic wrestling, with classic comebacks like that of Christopher Bruce and Shane McCall, and the long-rumored return of the likes of Liam Ryan to competition, this fanatic will always carry a torch for one of my first, longest lasting, and instantly provocative classic wrestling infatuations, Scott man-of-my-dreams Williams.

A Mad Mad Mad Mad World

October 24, 2015October 24, 2015 wrestlebard3 Comments

“You really want to get beat by me, don’t you?” Mad Mykel asks as Ty Alexander leads him to the BG East ring in Ring Releases 3. “I wouldn’t say that,” Ty coyly replies. Because anyone with a passing familiarity with Ty’s resume has got to suspect that Trophy Boy is a total glutton for punishment. He’s had that fine ass of his beaten and battered, stripped and spanked, tied up and knocked down time and time again, leaving the unmistakable impression that, while Ty is no pushover, he very well may get off on getting owned.

Mad Mykel’s got a screw loose (and I kind of like it)

This is just the second time we’ve had an opportunity to see Mad Mykel in action. His dismantling of babyface bombshell Richie Douglas was no fluke. Coming from out of absolutely nowhere, MM is vicious, sadistic, and more than just a little touched in the head. It’s after midnight at BG East’s Florida facilities. The place is all buttoned up with no one but Ty, MM and some unnamed lucky fucking cameraman around, but Mad Mykel is repeatedly distracted from this wrestling match by the roar of crowds that only he can hear.

Mad Mykel likes the look of Ty locked up tight

Not that the unhinged one doesn’t deserve some cheering fans. In fact, count me in. I like this kid a lot. I wasn’t sure I would, when I first got a look at him, but the more I see of him, the more he makes me laugh and turns me on, which is a particularly intoxicating combination for me. He’s relentless, merciless, and viscerally titillated by witnessing the suffering of his opponent at his mercy. And then those skin tight red trunks come off and… oh… fuck! That is one beautiful, beautiful cock!

Which speaks volumes as to the chemistry in this match because Mad Mykel’s mouthwatering member seems like the perfect compliment to that bouncing bubble butt that Ty shoves in every opponent’s face sooner or later. There’s a sly earnestness about Trophy Boy. I’ve watched him in match after match, I’ve chatted with him online, and not once, ever have I seen him break character as the super ambitious Eve Harrington determined to awe-shucks-and-dazzle his way into the hearts and pants of BG East wrestling fans. With some wrestlers I’ve connected with off the pages of this blog, I’ve come to see the men behind the wrestling personas, the insecurities, the foibles and quirks, the non-wrestling passions and pass times. But I’ve come to the conclusion that with Ty, what you see is what you get. And what I see is a hot little tanned twink babyface beauty with a singular focus on big, big wrestling star dreams and a bucket full of eye-batting charm and confidence. And that ass. If ever there were two puzzle pieces that you want to see fit together, take a look at Mad Mykel’s glorious cock and Ty’s bubble butt.

There’s a point in this match when Mad Mykel’s insanity defense seems to push its luck just a bit. He’s bullying Ty relentlessly. He’s worked up a head of steam and lording it over the Trophy Boy with something bordering between erotic sadism and just outright malice. He’s riding hard, then gets up, motions for Ty to peel his hot ass off the mat and get to his feet. But just as Ty goes to do so, Mad Mykel shoves the Trophy Boy in the shoulder and sends him sprawling back down. It’s subtle. Not anywhere near the most vicious maneuver or the hardest hit. But judging by Ty’s scramble, suddenly lashing out, sweeping the insane one’s legs out from underneath, and taking him down and CONTROLLING him completely, I’m guessing there was some unscripted passion poking its head out, brought on by MM’s dancing just a little too close to the edge.

And speaking of heads poking out, have I mentioned Mad Mykel’s fabulous cock? He’s got such a babyface, that there’s something slightly shocking about his lovely member bouncing around unbridled once the trunks and the jocks are off. That burst of Trophy Boy offense eventually gives way to the successful heel assault of one of the newest sexy heels in the BG East ranks. And Ty gets worn down, muscle by muscle, hold by hold, and the more MM shoves that giant bulge in his opponent’s face, the more I get the impression that Ty’s not so secret desire all along as been to get a total beatdown that leaves them both gagging for a messy ring release.

And, well, you know the title of the product, so definitely, all of that unbridled erotic intensity, that intoxicating, aromatic mix of sweat, tears, spit and pre cum send this seriously hard bumping tussle into an oddly competitive full on foreplay session. Maybe MM is still under Ty’s skin, because the Trophy Boy refuses for a time to let the victor stay on top, even as they’re in a full throated make out session and mutual masturbatory fire stoking. Ty turns the tables, seemingly unsatisfied with the jobber role, no longer ready to let the winner of the match dictate the terms of surrender quite as fully as he did with, say, sizzling hot hunk daddy Goren Ford in Dark Knights 12. Soon enough, though, Ty erupts on command, followed closely by a Mad Mykel’s three count face slapping cock pin.

Yeah, Ty gets dragged by his wasted cock out of the ring by his diabolical new owner (someone get Goren on the line, because I want to see him win Ty back from MM!). But there’s a petulance, a raging, ego driven wrestling competitor who keeps popping out in Ty’s matches that says there may be a whole lot more to the Trophy Boy than we’ve seen yet. Maybe I’ve been wrong. Maybe there is much more to Ty Alexander then meets the eye!

A Complete Revelation

October 22, 2015October 22, 2015 wrestlebard2 Comments

0102_lg — You may think you know Leo Tomasi, but you don’t… yet.

Reminding myself of my new mantra not to obsess over saying everything on the way to neglecting saying anything, I want to reflect some thoughts and opinions on one of BG East’s most recent releases. Ring Releases 3 features 2 cum-to-victory matches that deserve some attention. For today, let me start with match #1, pitting notorious baby heel Kayden Keller against heel-bait beauty Leo Tomasi.

h0113_lg — Get ready for some up close attention to Leo’s luscious ass.

If there’s a headliner star to this match it’s Leo’s awesome ass. Whoever the cameraman is, I’m placing a sizable bet that he had erection throughout the taping of this bout, because he’s giving Leo’s gravity defying derriere a zoomed-to-perfection eye fuck from start to finish. I first came across Leo watching him get beat to a (literally) bloody pulp by Dr. Cooper in full heel mode. Honestly, I was a little surprised that the doctor didn’t terrorize the gorgeous stud right out of homoerotic wrestling. But not only is he back, not only is he looking way eager to square off against rising full throttle erotic star Kayden, he’s somehow managed to squeeze his truly glorious ass into the tightest, most provocative, leaves-nothing-to-the-imagination-thank-God denim screen print super-super snug square cuts. Holy fuck, dangling that ass in those trunks in front of this opponent!? I had no idea that luscious Leo was this game. Based on his previous outings, I was totally assuming Leo was going to stay on the G-rated side of the action (well, PG-13 for suffering brutality that would terrorize small children).

And then there’s Kayden Keller. In my mind’s eye, I picture Kayden about 5 inches shorter than he is (then again, in my mind’s eye I picture myself about 5 inches taller than I am). So I have to gasp just a bit when he meets up with Leo in the middle of the ring, and he absolutely towers over the 5’8″ studpuppy. Kayden is quickly marching in line behind Kid Vicious as a wrestler who seems to read my mind, a heel whose eyes and hands seem to respond to my deepest desires, who somehow seems to be my living, breathing, sensationally sexy avatar. As they stand there, facing each other down (Kayden staring way down his nose), I’m thinking, fuck, grab that mouthwatering bulge staring back at you. And then, like he heard me, Kayden wraps his long fingers around Leo’s big package and says the words that I swear to the homoerotic wrestling gods are at that moment forming in my mind, “Real nice shorts there.” Kayden’s presence is massive, and it’s not that he outweighs lithe Leo by 35 pounds. It’s a deceptive maturity behind that beautiful babyface of his. It’s a confidence that he’s had in every match, but one that appears to me to really coming into his own, telegraphing with a glance and a smirk a whole arsenal of sadistic, erotic torture he has in store.

The revelation in this match is that Leo isn’t just game to get his ass tagged in a balls out homoerotic cum-to-victory blowout. It’s that this is precisely the genre that he was born for! If I were his manager (services available, Leo), I’d insist every match from now on be in the Ring Release, X-Fight, Dark Knight end of the shelf, because the explicitly erotic content here brings out a side of him that we have not seen before and we must see again and again. Holy shit, he takes it to Kayden. Shorter, lighter, considerably less experienced, and still Leo works up a sensational head of steam on the veteran. He does exactly what he needs to do to hang in a match with the likes of Kayden. He’s mercilessly brutal, viciously attacking the big Wolf’s balls, and pairing almost hold for hold crippling combat with completely distracting erotic offense. Clearly Leo doesn’t fail to notice what I’m enthralled with, namely the fact that Kayden can’t keep his hands of that beautiful ass. So what does he do? He puts the heel down to his back and luxuriates as he plants those gorgeous glutes on top of his opponent’s face. There’s no disguising how turned on Kayden is, and like the erotic pro Leo most definitely is, he exploits every inch of his intoxicating body to debilitate the seasoned erotic warrior. Kayden gets so distracting, and Leo doesn’t miss a beat in bearing down harder and harder with each of the heel’s missteps. I’m nothing but shocked when suddenly the novice not only latches on a sweat soaked sleeper, but he holds it tight, fucking milks it for everything its worth, and again, I say holy shit, Kayden goes out cold!

I LOVE being surprised watching a match like this! That even keel Kayden owns gives way to getting sensationally dominated in the sexiest of ways by babyface erotic prodigy. Like I said, Kayden is out. Way out. I’m thinking to myself, this is over and done with, because Leo can do whatever the fuck he wants with the big Wolf now. And what does Leo want, he wants to shove that pulsing, throbbing muscle straining the pouch of those instantly legendary trunks into Kayden’s slack jawed mouth. Again, my avatar proves he moves to my deepest desires by beginning to hungrily gnaw on the vacuum packed man meat before he’s anywhere near fully conscious again. What a way to wake up! Luscious Leo is in control. He owns this moment. He owns the shocked baby heel on his knees in front of him. And again I saw, Leo was born for this! And then seductively, with his eyes rolling into the back of his head just a little, Leo turns around, reaches behind him, and rams Kayden’s bewildered face into his top shelf ass. This is total erotic domination. Leo has paid for this moment with completely legit wrestling offense, aggressive seduction, and sweat. No one is begrudges this moment for the novice to shine, because Kayden is coming fully awake and in total ecstasy buried deep in those glutes.

h0123_lg — Kayden digs deep to turn this around.

Like I said, this could totally have been over and done with the moment Leo put Kayden out cold. A lesser man would’ve just counted his opponent out and walked away. A bigger heel would’ve ripped of Kayden’s black trunks, gagged him with them, and tied the 6’2″ hunk into the ropes to own him body and soul. But there’s something poetic and copacetic about the turn in the plot when the big Wolf interrupts the beautiful boy’s victory celebration with a ball crushing reversal of fortune. With new respect for the erotic novice, Kayden sees it’s time to take Leo to the next level. No surprises really at this point, as Leo suffers long and hard, though I have to admit that I have a whole new appreciation for Kayden’s beautiful naked butt, now that I’ve seen him plant it across Leo’s face and take out a year long lease. This is another moment that I’m inexplicably shocked by the sheer size of the big Wolf. That baby, baby face (beard and all) is such a complete misdirection when it comes to me really integrating the fact that Kayden is a 6’2″ hunk of man.

0125_lg — The big Wolf takes the situation firmly in hand.

Both of these beautiful men want each other so hard you can smell it wafting off your screen by the end. Kayden holds him down and shoots his load across Leo’s torso. Before the lovely loser can reciprocate, his new daddy drags his sweat and cum soaked hot body off the mat by his balls, out of the ring, and out the door, with the cameraman yet again zooming in Leo’s wildly munchable naked ass.

0118_lg — “One of the perkiest asses in the business” in the crosshairs.

Let me just conclude by repeating myself. Leo is made for this type of match. Manage to squeeze those glutes back into that pair of painted on trunks and toss this erotic pro back into the ring again, please. Soon. And if he and Kayden walk out some day as a juggernaut, baby heel, full-on erotic tag team phenomenon, save me a seat in the front row. And I would offer a parting message to Kayden Keller, about how sensationally his heel career is taking shape, and exactly what and who I hope to see him doing next in my fondest homoerotic wrestling fantasies… but I guarantee you, he already knows what I’m thinking.

0120_lg — You know exactly what I’m thinking, don’t you Kayden?

The Whole Pack of Losers

October 18, 2015 wrestlebard6 Comments

It’s been ages, I know. I think this has been my longest absence from posting here at neverland ever. Thanks to those who reached out to check in. I’m well. Just candles lit at both ends. I miss the exercise of posting here, thinking through my erotic tastes, comparing notes with those of you who comment. I’m going to try to get back on the wagon here. Comment often. It’s positively reinforcing for me.

Republican-Presidential-Candidates-2016 — The news is dire.

My goal is to keep things concise in order to post more regularly. One of my traps is to overthink things, intending to say so much that it takes forever to get down on the page, if ever. I’m also going to work on reflecting on my homoerotic interests in vivo, spending time more on what’s turning me on as I trek through my days. And casual readers of these pages know that I tend to spend a lot of time worrying over politics. So let me handicap the U.S. Presidential candidates today based on the only measure that really moves me: who I’d want to see in a homoerotic wrestling match.

original — Martin O’Malley brings sexy to the Presidential candidacy!

Fuck. With every Republican and his turtle running, you’d think the field would be so much richer than it is. But, again, I say, fuck. So let’s start with the standout and most obvious choice over on the Democratic side: former Maryland governor Martin O’Malley.

6790379989_fc2c796d5d_b — Fuck yes, that’s a winner!

I’ve been hot for his muscles for years, mind you. The 6’1″ stud puppy is entirely fuckable, and adding to his allure is the fact that I’m pretty sure big Marty knows it. It isn’t by accident that you do charity appearances that require you to go shirtless. Of course, I’m not the only one with my eyes on big papa’s pecs. Jim Webb comes in a distant second place for the Dem I’d most like to see strip down, climb in the ring, and work up a hot lather in homoerotic combat. So sure, Marty’s got a snowball’s chance in hell of being our next Prez, but in the homoerotic wrestling rankings, he’s got the top spot locked up tight in a side headlock.

Marco-Rubio-Water — Sweaty, nervous, luchador doughboy jobber.

Finding anyone at all to contend with Marty is challenging. Assuming they wrestle with a ball gag locked in place so I don’t have to hear a word of their bullshit, it’s still a tough call to imagine any of the other side of the aisle making me consider even the slightest swell of support. Marco Rubio could be a ripe, young babyface jobber worth considering. I’ve never seen the senator shirtless, and I get the impression he’s a little doughboy underneath his Men’s Warehouse big boy suits. At 5’10”, the Cuban prodigy might make a compelling enough luchador on his way to getting unmasked, tied in the ropes, and totally owned. But I feel like I’m seriously having to stretch my imagination with that one.

Trump requires at least a mention (remember, the ball gag). It really requires no imagination at all to see him as a sloppy, underhanded, big bellied pro wrestling heel circa 1987. He talks shit constantly. He’s all bluster and overinflated ego built on cheating, lying, and stealing his way to the “top.” In the ring (let’s put him in extensive tights, because any more visible flesh than absolutely necessary on that putrid Baron Harkonnen-esque freakshow would kill any chance of a buzz), maybe, possibly I could get off on a high drama greasy, nasty, 6’2″ heel nearly cheating his way to victory of O’Malley with ball bashing and hair pulling, only to have the big, beautiful babyface hero battle back to leave the loudmouth screaming and crying and begging his way to loser-ville. Still quite a stretch for me, though.

randpaul3.1.13 — Daddy’s little richboy needs a big, nasty beatdown.

I think my pick O’Malley’s opponent for the money shot, however, is Rand Paul. Again, I feel the need to emphasize that he’d have to wrestle with a ball gag. But daddy’s little (5’8″) rich boy is handsome enough, with curly locks screaming out to get dragged around the ring by. I see a catchweight match with Marty. Pasty white and soft in the middle, daddy’s little rich boy is all swagger and substance, certain of his manifest destiny to shoot his load across O’Malley’s bulging pecs. And I totally get off on a little guy working a big muscle hunk hard, so I’m giving Rand a ton of riding time, lots of shock and awe, high flying, bouncing off the ropes, schoolboy pins for days. Marty is pressed hard, soaked in sweat, looking like he could go down for the count in a munchkin figure-4 choke that makes both pols hard. But then dripping with melodrama, big Marty flips his opponent and the script, knocking the senator out with half a dozen gorilla press body slams, slapping him awake with his raging cock, and then forcing the ideologue to scream out his weeping submission wracked across the big papa’s bulging shoulders with one hand yanking down hard on his balls and the other pulling viciously on those curly locks.

Yeah, I just don’t see anyone coming out (or cumming out) on top over big Marty so far. And as for the rest of the Republican field, I’d sooner pop wood watching Hillary wrestle, which is a complete impossibility. Mostly, though, I just prefer them all with ball gags.

Nuts and Bolt

October 15, 2015October 23, 2015 wrestlebardLeave a comment

Although my life has hovered around all new levels of bat shit crazy lately, I have relied on some recreational viewing of homoerotic wrestling to keep me entertained, and relieve a whole lot of stress. Thunder’s Arena recetly announced that new babyface bon bon Bolt has taken a commanding lead in their sales lately, so I hunkered down with former HWOTM Marco and Bolt in No Holds Barred 49 to see what all the fuss is about.

Okay, I get it. I mean, no, Bolt isn’t the second coming of Brad Rochelle exactly, though I think he hits similar notes. He’s seriously young, and he’s both painfully pretty and unmistakably masculine at the same time. In other companies, he’d be a breakout star of the “Fantasymen” genre, almost definitely fitting equally well on a homoerotic wrestling mat and a go-go boy pole. He’s a tasty boy-next-door with sweet muscles, hairy armpits, and (be prepared to do a double take) a massive bulge making that blue singlet’s pouch hang low. Miss the pouch? No worries. The camera helpfully zooms in to let you study the hinted at man meat packaged underneath.

bolt10 — The star of the match: Bolt’s bolt.

When the porn-star-ready newbie encounters Marco on the mat in a low cut red singlet, there’s that fratbro give and take that is Thunder’s Arena’s bread and butter. Dripping with Southern gentility and a heat-stroked slow drawl, Bolt says he’s wrestling today to represent all amateur wrestlers everywhere. Marco shrugs those massive, muscled shoulders of his and reminds the newbie that he’s here representing Thunders. In other words, buckle up boys, this is going to be an initiation of a naive newbie at the hands of a seasoned homoerotic fan favorite.

bolt6 — “We may be small, big we’re big at the same time.”

“I’m here to tear you up!” Bolt boasts when Marco is predictably underwhelmed by the pretty new flavor of the week. The veteran points out that he has a distinct weight advantage over the rookie. In response, Bolt grabs that massive bulge and tugs on it hard. Fuck, that’s one big, hefty handful of newbie! “We may be small, but we’re big at the same time!” the rook slyly boasts about the relative size of his body to his eye catching pouch.

bolt2 — Marco wastes no time getting his hands on Bolt’s nuts and bolt.

So yeah, there’s the predictable innocence spoiled narrative here. They scramble on the mat. Bolt is seductively fast and confident. Marco is steady as a rock and waits for just the right moment to snap his tree trunks around the newbie’s head. Just to properly say hello, he also clamps on a ball claw, which I’m guessing is mostly just to test out whether that improbably massive mountain is all meat or some stuffing. My take is that’s 100% grade-A rookie meat by the look it and the sound of Bolt’s gasping whimpers.

bolt15 — So, so much camera love for Bolt’s bulge!

“You grab my dick!?” Bolt snarls, grabbing Marco back and then slapping him into bodyscissors. That plaintive disbelief in his voice sort of pisses off. Of course he fucking grabbed your dick, newbie. 99% of the audience is gay men. You know that. He knows that. We know you know that. You’ve been grabbing that anaconda stuffed in your pouch, shoving it in Marco’s face, bragging about it from the start. Shut the fuck up and do this thing.

bolt3 — Bolt gets a taste of Marco’s signature move.

“Did they warn you about my signature move?” Marco asks, sliding onto Bolt’s bulging chest in a schoolboy pin. He pulls newbie’s face hard into his balls, and here’s where Bolt sort of starts to redeem himself just a little for me. The kid laughs, somehow not exactly appalled, maybe just a little panicked, maybe just little intrigued. The obligatory pass at being shocked and offended is quickly dispensed with, and, well, yeah. Getting your face shoved in Marco’s crotch should make you somewhere in the middle of panicked, intrigued, and laughing with embarrassment. You’re getting owned, pretty boy. So thanks for skipping the gay panic defense and just enjoy the ride about 1/10th as much as I am enjoying watching it.

bolt7 — “Why don’t you get yourself another handful?” Marco invites.

As documented many, many times before, Marco is my favorite Thunder’s boy for not shying away from the homoerotic content (mostly subtext, but often pretty fucking explicit double entendre). So it’s pure Marco when Bolt defensively grabs the veteran’s cock to try to claw his way free, then quickly pulls away, like he’s a little shocked at the feel of the python beneath. “Why don’t you get yourself another handful?” Marco invites the kid to sample his meat selection again.

bolt11 — Bolt seems to enthusiastically enjoy Marco’s lesson in what makes this homoerotic wrestling.

Somewhere in the scrap, Bolt starts to blossom. His hands inadvertently claw at Marco’s big, bulging pecs, and the veteran instantly calls attention to the subtext. “You grabbing my chest?” he asks. “Yeah,” he coos seductively. “Feel that. You like that?” And then, with more enthusiasm than any of us had any right to expect, Bolt gushes enthusiastically, “I like it! I like it!”

bolt8 — “Kinda big,” Bolt marvels at Marco’s pecs. “I like it!”

Honestly, I doubt either of these body beautiful beefcakes plays for my team. Just a guess, and my gaydar has been known to be off before. But there’s a long and deep tradition of straight boys populating homoerotic wrestling products. And Marco brings Bolt along in one of the innovations at Thunder’s that makes me give them a lot more credit than I used to. They acknowledge the homoeroticism in this moment. They talk about what you and I are thinking, bringing into the foreground the sexual, sensual eroticism of two hot young hunks locked body to body. In an inexplicable break in the action, the two shrug their big shoulders out of their singlets and compare upper bodies. Marco is bigger. No contest. But it’s Bolt treating himself to an eager feel of his opponent’s pecs that make this much more than about size. “Kinda big,” Bolt’s Southern drawl curls the awed compliment out like molasses. “I like it!” the newbie concedes, again with more enthusiasm than I expect. Marco clearly appreciates the Adonis in front of him as well. “Little happy trail,” he grins, pointing at the kid’s flat lower abdomen, “Big package down there!” Marco acknowledges. Yep, that’s what I like about Marco. I don’t ever expect to see him sucking on any guy’s cock, but he’s stone cold unafraid to signal that this is homoerotic fare to you and me. There’s none of that old school “no homo” bullshit that drags too much “homoerotic” wrestling into the self-loathing side of things. Just some hot boys living in the moment and not backing down from acknowledging that all this muscled man-on-man friction is ridiculously sexy.

bolt4 — “I LOVE BALLS IN MY FACE!” the rookie screams.

There’s fratboy hijinks as well. This wouldn’t be Thunder’s without them. Sitting on the rookie’s face, the newbie’s hot, sweaty bod all wrapped up in a small package, Marco refuses to let him go until he screams the words, “I love balls in my face!” Trash talk, spanking, taunting schoolboy pins back and forth in less and less gear. Bolt is always following the veteran’s homoerotic lead, but it’s a tried and true hot lead he’s following.

bolt9 — “I’m going to kick your ass,” Bolt whispers hauntingly.

There’s one moment that haunts me just a little from this match. It comes after an awkward camera cut, so I’m feeling absolutely certain it’s completely scripted. But Bolt climbs on top of his supine hunk opponent, leans in, his lips pressed right up against Marco’s ear, and whispers “I’m going to kick your ass.” Fuck, that whisper is hot. If he’d screamed it or laughed through it, it would’ve been standard fratboy fare. But delivered just that way, in the context of Bolt seeming to grow more enthusiastic the more explicitly Marco draws attention to their hot bodies, that whisper grabs me by the balls.

bolt12 — Speaking of getting grabbed by the balls…

Both of these boys have stellar bodies that look better and better the more gear that gets ripped off. There’s a high lickability about Bolt’s baby smooth upper body and ever so lightly hairy peach fuzz legs. And Marco’s flexing, muscled ass… holy shit. Thunder’s has some of the hottest young physiques in the business, and the attention that both of these beautiful boys pay to each other’s bodies it pitch perfect for the best of what this match has to offer: hot, sweaty, gorgeous bodies.

bolt13 — The money shot: Bolt’s popularity in clear focus.

It’s an abrupt knock out finish to the match that brings this all to a close. The moment is sort of apropos of nothing else in the match. It’s sloppy story telling, as far as I’m concerned. It has a little feel of “we’ve got enough action recorded, so wrap this up.” So I’m a little bitter about that. So much raw material to work with in these two young men. But there’s some big picture perspectives missing.

bolt16 — Marco has to adjust his hand placement repeatedly as he goes for this gorilla press.

But for what it’s worth, for what it is and what it does, I’m significantly satisfied with Marco vs Bolt. Just like Marco, I really, really want to hear Bolt scream. And just like Bolt, I really, really (really) like the look of Marco’s hot, bulging, big muscles.

Mouthwatering

September 23, 2015September 23, 2015 wrestlebard6 Comments

0201_lg — Rookie stud Gus Row – 5’11”, 170 lbs.

I love fresh, rare meat. Since I’m a vegetarian, I suppose I should clarify that I love fresh raw meat like BG East rookie Gus Rowe in Bearhug Beatings 1. Handsome. Lean. Superbly fit. Entirely game. Yum, let’s tuck in right now and savor the choicest slice of beef on this pretty, pretty boy.

Dat. Ass. I often feel guilty when one particularly eye-catching feature captures me so completely. It’s not like gorgeous Gus is lacking in more than a dozen aesthetically notable features. Hand me a body of baby oil, and I’ll be happy to meet him in the ring and give you a guided tour. And he’s shown up in Bearhug Beatings 1 with a delightful earnestness, a naive confidence, and a bubbling cauldron of terror just beneath the surface. Gus deserves a first review from a blogger to be about more than his sensational ass.

But, fuck! I have a hard time tearing my eyes away from anything else with this cued up. The rookie doesn’t possess the outrageously built muscle glutes of, say, Best Butt winner many times over, Kid Karisma. The kid is lean, but his soft edges merely accentuate the palpable youthfulness, all that untested raw material. I have no idea whether Gus’ ass is literally virginal, but the quiver and give of those glutes are perfectly paired with his lamb to slaughter character as jobber-no-more Braden Charron beats the living shit out of him.

0215_lg — Braden squeezes the goods on behalf of us all.

Braden bearing down on a rookie like this is pretty compelling, I have to admit. I say that I have to admit it because I’m hit and miss with Braden lately. Often he puts me way over the top, but sometimes the story he tells feels too safe, too contained and well-worn. I’d hardly say he’s a raging heel in Bearhug Beatings. He’s vicious and merciless. He introduces gasping Gus to the shocks and awes of homoerotically inclined professional wrestling just fine. But his part feels much more to me that of the better endowed, more experienced, fan favorite hunk who gets to let loose on his achingly sweet rookie opponent.

The years that Gus spends suffering in Braden’s bearhugs in this match show off his moneymaker to perfection. That gorgeous ass is center frame for ages, writhing and flexing, bobbing and shaking. Gus is stubborn early going, refusing to acknowledge the plain truth that he’s in way, way over his head. He gives Braden not an ounce of satisfaction. He somehow manages to submit without conceding anything. Until, that is, Braden seriously starts to fuck with his head. Up in one of those quivering bearhugs, Braden stretches his fingers down the kid’s right glute and yanks upward, hard, on Gus’ teal trunks. Those beautiful cheeks pop free. That word “virginal” screams like a siren in my head. The intimate vulnerability and the attention on baring that beautiful ass pulse with heat. And when the kid finally gives, again, and is thrown to the mat, he feels his bared cheeks, weeping in agony, and with disbelieving shock in his voice, cries, “You gave a wedgie!?”

h0205_lg — Garnished with a side of sweat.

That’s my favorite moment of this match, the paradigmatic moment when Gus reveals that he was not expecting this. He realizes that he was not prepared for any of this. He has at least 10 more minutes of humiliating brutality left to suck on, and it’s just now dawned on him that he isn’t just going to lose, he’s going to be laid out and garnished like the prime cut of young beef he is. In my heart of hearts, I’m a little worried that having his eyes opened to the depths of torture and humiliation that he’s going to face in the BG East ring, lovely Gus may never darken the BG East doorstep again. But if there’s anything good in this world, then gorgeous Gus got up, licked his wounds (seriously, let me know if you need any help with that, Gus), and said to himself, “Fuck that was intense. I need more!”

0252_lg — Fuck that was intense. I need more!

At least, that’s what I’m saying.

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