Polls close on Sunday, so let’s take a closer look today at a couple of the BG East “Besties” nominations, namely Best Butt and Best Bulge. In the interest of full disclosure, I tend to be more of an ass man myself, but even I have been known to have my eyes pop out at the sight of several of these best bulge nominees in action. What constitutes a “best” bulge or butt, of course is deeply subjective. Size, proportion, shape, and of course wardrobe choices that accentuate it just right… so many components to factor and figure. Let’s take a look at the front end first.
You have to imagine Jobe Zander is aching for this award after being bridesmaid two times running. His major gimmick is his “Centerpiece” after all!Hard to argue that’s a far above average bulge. Is it the best of 2014?Pete Sharp burst onto the scene just a couple of years ago, and there’s nothing that fails to catch my eye about the blue eyed bombshell. But I regularly gasp in astonishment at the size and heft of the mountain stuffed in the front of his trunks.That requires its own zip code!Best Bulge winner for the past 2 years, Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) is back again to slap down his junk and defy you to tear your eyes away.That trouser snake stretches the seams of every lucky pair of trunks that struggle to contain it!Jonny Firestorm’s first 2015 release makes him an instant frontrunner for next year’s best bulge, but it was hard to find a pic from pre-2015 that does justice to just how huge the reigning Best Heel is. But trust me. He’s fucking huge.Jonny packs major league heat!Hard not to see why Ethan Axel Andrews gets a gasp and a nod in the slate this year. We’ve watched his body get harder and that massive bulge seem to grow bigger every year. Now that’s a workout routine I want to see!Seriously. Massive, meaty, and swings like a sledgehammer.Finally, Gabriel Ross is a major player in this category, but I’ve been asked to make my posts safer-for-work lately, meaning I can’t show you exactly why Gabriel is a major contender. Suffice it to say that he’s much more a grower than a show-er.When this monster gets stoked, seriously, step back. He could put an eye out with that cock. But does that qualify for “best bulge?”
Despite my long-standing knee-jerk adoration for Mr. Joshua’s gargantuan bulge, and defying the momentum he has the undefeated winner of this category for the 2 years the Besties have been around, I have to say it’s Pete Sharp’s behemoth that owns me. Like everything about him, that mass of man meat is aesthetically gorgeous, defiantly huge while somehow seeming perfectly proportioned to his superhuman physique. I suspect Mr. Joshua will once again have a major showing in this category, possibly taking the 3-peat, and legions of Jonny and Ethan fans will of course chime in to support their boys. I’d say Ethan is the dark horse contender here, potentially pulling in both loyal fans along with those who objectively, simply have fallen in lust with the firehose he sports.
Now let’s take a look at the back end of the chassis. I get hottest considering the Best Butt nominees.
Goldenboy Austin Cooper has made major progress in plot points this year, leveraging a thrilling heel turn into a mind-fuck split personality. It’s evil Dr. Cooper that I jones on hardest, but either incarnation, it’s hard to argue with the fact that luscious, round ass is gorgeous!Muscled, athletic and sweetly round and squeezable at the same time. That’s one hot contender!I thought there had to be a typo when I saw Kirk Donahue listed for Best Butt. I mean, the handsome newbie is cute as a button with an imminently fuckable body, but his ass just doesn’t jump out at me as cream of the crop. Some nominator clearly disagrees with me, though.I’d spank it, sure, but best butt?Reigning 2 time winner of Best Butt, Kid Karisma returns to flex those glutes in your face again. Rugby, wrestling, working out… there’s a formula for crafting perky, hard, insanely grabbable ass cheeks like this, and Kid K is working it to perfection.2014 was also the year we got our first glimpse of this award winning ass completely naked. I personally keep a shrine to this divine work of art in my home. Is this beauty a 3-peat?Cameron Matthews poses a challenge to evaluating his cred in this category, because he appeared in products in 2014 that have to span at least 5 years, ranging from his barely legal beauty incarnation (pictured here) to his more recent rock hard muscle stud appearance. His butt is epic regardless, but you can decide if you’re voting on his more squeezable young glutes or his muscle power-bottom.Round, graceful, spankable 5-ways to Sunday.Gabriel Ross is the only nominee to show up in bulge and butt categories. The Gabriel 2.0 physique that debuted a couple of years ago undeniably sports a hot, muscled, mouthful of gluteus muscles.Not the biggest or hardest, but for fan fantasy ass worship, this naughty fallen angel just may be the fan choice for best butt in 2014.
You know I’ve got my favorite pick of this bunch. I don’t call myself the self-appointed president of the Kid Karisma fan club for nothing. I Austin’s ass makes a compelling second place finisher, though Cameron’s butt and bevy of crazy ass fans could spell an upset to Kid K’s run for the 3-peat. Whoever wins, I’d just like to suggest that he celebrate by bending Kirk Donahue over his knee and pounding that kid’s boy-next-door-butt until he confesses who he fucked to get on this list.
So for those who want any pointers, the Bard-approved slate thus far looks like this:
I’ve been anxiously anticipating the BG East “Year in Review Fan Poll,” or as it’s been nicknamed, the BG East “Besties.” First of all, let me point out that the banner linked at the top of the BG East homepage announcing the Besties didn’t show up on my iPad. Some software thingy or another appears to be the problem (sorry for the technical jargon). In any case, if you haven’t seen the poll yet, click here.
So much to say, but let me just offer a few little PSAs by giving you some photographic data upon which to make your judgments about a few of the Besties. Today, let’s consider some hot bodies. For best abs, here are the nominees and the six/eight-packs that got them in the top tier for your consideration.
Dazzling Kip Sorrell looks like a Ken doll. He’s epically unsuccessful in the ring, but maybe he’ll come out on top when it comes to his washboard.To make sure you don’t get distracted and bedazzled by his dimples, let’s take a closer look at the six-pack. Nice bulges, but little definition to the serratus. Sure, I’d do body shots off of his lower abs for days, but are these the best abs of 2014?Z-Man is a perennial candidate and frequent winner of best body (and parts) in the last 2 years of Besties. He’s always in phenomenal shape, seemingly perpetually at peak fitness, which helps his hot abs pop.Z-Man is the total package, but this category is about the particular components that are his abs, so let’s zoom in here. Deep vertical separation, hot serratus, perhaps tighter around the middle than along the lower abs.Competitive bodybuilder Lon Dumont wins awards for his phenomenal fitness and muscle development well before he steps into a wrestling ring.A close up examination of what’s Lon is packing in this category reveals canyons of separation, development of the upper abs that is borderline superhuman, and crystal cut serratus. Hot, hard, and defined as fuck.Eli Black has won this category the past 2 years, and it’s hard to argue with his track record or his abs (and it’s near impossible to argue with Eli without getting your ass kicked). Possibly no one is leaner or fitter, but does that add up to a 3-peat best abs?Uh, wow. Simply, wow. This is an anatomy chart, with no pesky body fat at all to blur the lines of muscles, tendons, ligaments… fuck, bones even! Top to bottom even muscle development, ridged serratus, lean, lean, lean.2014 debut Cal Bennet makes a compelling case to climb right on top of the rest of the field on the merits of his outrageously hotly muscled gut.Cal takes so much shit from fans distracted by his ink, so let’s try to zoom in a little and inspect the goods up close. Solid definition, beautifully shaped abs stretching horizontally in sharp relief from the rest of his torso. Very little serratus development and/or not disguised by the ribcage tats.
To say I’m partial to a particular set of abs in this slate is an understatement. Lon Dumont makes me dizzy the moment he crunches his serratus. For fitness, definition, balance, muscle mass, and sheer beauty, I’m in Lon’s camp every time. I’m guessing both Eli and Z-Man will make strong showings based on the size of their extremely fanatical fan bases. And like I’ve said, they both have totally legitimate claims to the title, even though I think their fan following sometimes has to do less with their abs than other assets. I’d say Cal Bennett is the dark horse who could completely upend this category, though. His fan base is, as yet, untested. Detractors of his have been vocal about the ink, but sometimes the naysayers are just louder, not more numerous. I’ve gone on the record as being ready to cover Cal in honey and lick him clean, so I wouldn’t exactly feel blindsided by a Cal upset. But if you lined these five sets of abs up in front of me and handed me that bottle of honey, my tongue is going to be all over every inch of Lon Dumont’s steel wall of beauty each and every time. Who are you voting for? You’ve got until Sunday, February 8 at midnight.
It’s not uncommon for me to get distracted over the course of a month and forget to sing the praises of my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month as much as I intend. Before January slips away entirely, I just want to sit back and marvel at the Academy Award statue model that we so breathlessly call Trey “Oscar” Dixon.
I’ve got spare internal organs I’d give to trade places with Skip Vance right here.
Of course, Trey handily laid claim to the title of HWOTM with his fantastically revealing gear fetish work in Gear Wars 4. The prototypical and quite literal golden boy was bedecked sequentially in metallic gold tights and a luchador mask, a mustard yellow suction packed singlet, perfectly packaged golden designer undergear, a jock strap and, finally, gaspingly, tauntingly, absolutely nothing at all. From fashion show to wrestling ring to wrestling mat, Trey kept my heart racing from start to finish in Gear Wars 4.
I make that same face every time I watch this scene from Wet & Wild 7.
“Oscar’s” fairly brief tenure thus far with BG East (or any homoerotic wrestling company, as far as I can tell) displays an impressive aptitude for dominating wrestling and full throttle erotic intrigue. From the pool to the wrestling mat, Trey’s phenomenal physique and hypnotically blue eyes have demonstrated that he can both lull an opponent into lowering his guard and turn around and put a major hurt on him. His work taking Mason Brooks to the very limit in Wet & Wild 7 won him another reign as HWOTM last summer, and when I’m hard pressed for inspiration, his fully flexed bod and orgasmic face applying that poolside face-to-crotch headscissor on Mason absolutely never fails.
All sorts of right about the inferno generated by Trey and Skrapper!
It was Trey’s encounter with Skrapper, though, that really catapulted him into the upper echelons of my infatuation. I have occasionally complained about the less than explicit homoeroticism in so much of homoerotic wrestling today. Like a dickslap in the face, Trey’s combat with Skrapper in Passion & Punishment 1 pushed all my buttons at once. Very, very seldom have I seen a rookie so fully committed to bringing sexy to the mat, so much so that I have no trouble at all believing Trey gets it, deep down and hard as bedrock, in a way that I intuit a lot of very entertaining homoerotic wrestlers only approximate. Skrapper also gets it, and I’ve spilled gallons of ink and other fluids on marveling at the hotline he has to my crotch. So no wonder a savant rookie hardbodied hunk like Trey paired with never, ever, ever say die brutalist who gets off on pain of any sort (giving, receiving, hell, I bet just watching) Skrapper pegged the thermometer at too hot to believe. Trey’s stock is sky high and holding very steady in my attention, and I hope we continue to see much, much more of him. And if we do, I’d bet you money he’ll be back on the dais as HWOTM yet again.
I took the news of Greg Plitt’s accidental death last Saturday hard. The story is that he was apparently on an unauthorized photo shoot on railroad tracks when he was struck and killed by a train. I sort of can’t fathom how this happens, but I suppose unexpected (and often expected) deaths often do that to us.
To say that I’ve been infatuated with Greg is a little understated. I’ve frequently found myself unable to tear my eyes away from an image or video of him. There was something superhuman about his physique and superhero about his devastatingly handsome face.
My first New Year’s celebration after beginning this blog featured Greg prominently in my first wrestling fantasy written specifically for neverland. How could you not project him into your homoerotic wrestling fantasies? Seriously? I had such fun with it that it became a tradition for the next 4 years to write a special new year kick off wrestling fantasy for myself.
I didn’t follow what was apparently his rise as a reality television star. I didn’t become a member of his online cult of personality pay site. But I never failed to gasp a little each and every time I came across a new image of his perfectly proportioned physique, those ripped abs and minuscule waist, his thick, meaty pecs and big broad shoulders, the mountainously peaked biceps and that Clark Kent babyface.
I’m sure my affective reaction to Greg Plitt’s sudden death is closely tied to my more personal loss a couple of months ago. Losses do that to us sometimes, stretch across time and context and tweak one another in intuitive, even if seemingly unrelated ways. I’m sad for those who cared for him in real life. And I will always remember with extreme fondness New Year’s Day 2010, when Artie Napiontek and I double teamed the massive mountain of mouthwatering muscle, subdued and bound him, and gut punched him until all three of us were profoundly satisfied.
Not long ago someone mentioned the classic homoerotic wrestling pinup boy, Tommy Lopez. I immediately had a complex Pavlovian response that involved salivating, heart pumping, and crotch swelling, which inspired a breathy “Yum!” from deep inside me. As I thought about it, however, it occurred to me that I haven’t actually given any love to the curly-haired beauty here among these pages. Let me rectify that oversight right now and think a little more about why he may not have shown up much prior.
Curly haired babyface beauty with an eye-catching bulge!
I have to confess that I haven’t seen Tommy in action. My appreciation for him has arisen entirely from admiring him in still frame. There’s a generational conversation to be had, I believe, about the relative salience of still frame vs video in igniting homoerotic wrestling lust. To start, let me just say that like a good book, homoerotic wrestling pics have always had the capacity to tweak my imagination just right, and I’ve fallen deeply in lust (and, truth be told, naively in love a few times, as well) over and over again with stop frame cues that I’m more than capable of splicing into my deeply satisfying homoerotic wrestling spool running through my mind. That said, this retrospective testimonial of my affection for Tommy is inspiring me to add his catalog to the south wing of my home known as my homoerotic wrestling library.
BG East Private Bout #22: Scott Rogers vs Tommy Lopez
Tommy’s resume demonstrates that he did wrestle plenty outside of my imagination as well. He was an early Private Bouts battler at BG East, grappling with other iconic forefathers like Kid Leopard, Sailor Rob, Thom Katt, and Scott Rogers. There’s something graceful and captivating about his body in the shots from these vintage matches. Paired with a snarling, cocky game face, that’s pure gold as far as I’m concerned.
Tommy looks ready to rip Scott Roger’s leg off at the knee!
Believe me when I say I’ve combed through the still-frame galleries I can find of Tommy for evidence that at some point someone grabbed those cherubic, curly locks and dragged him around by them. That head of hair screams for dirty, no good pulling to make his beautiful face twist in insulted agony. So far I haven’t seen this maneuver captured on film, sadly.
Look at Tommy’s meaty thighs as he’s controlled by The Boss!
I get the impression that Tommy was a delight to get your hands on because from a company notoriously reticent to tape rematches, aficionados like Kid Leopard and Dark Rogers faced beautiful Tommy more than once. On opposite sides of a tag team confrontation now available in KL’s Classic Spotlight, there’s a strong whiff of lambs to the slaughter. The much finer photography and delightful study in the erotic beauty of wrestling is the photo story of KL and Tommy doing one-on-one battle in some unfinished room. This match either wasn’t videographed or no longer available, but the stunning photos are breathtaking. Both wrestlers look like they got their licks in, but it’s the shots of KL working his heel magic and angelic Tommy contorted like a twist tie and inches from being broken in half that make my heart race fastest.
That big bulge Gino’s packing is making tantalizing Tommy squirm.
The same unfinished basement (?) is the setting for another photo story of Tommy in babyface white trunks getting manhandled hard (and I mean HARD) by hairy-chested italian hunk Gino Gentry.
Gino and Tommy star in one of the most satisfying homoerotic wrestling matches I’ve never seen.
There are full throttle naked scenes in Tommy’s library. There’s plenty of evidence of the meat stick regularly struggling to wrestle its way free from Tommy’s trunks, so just believe me when I saw it’s as stirringly beautiful as every inch of the rest of him. Better yet, look it up yourself in BG East’s Arena and marvel more of what Tommy was bringing to the mat that inspires my Pavlovian responses.
Babyface beauties Scott Rogers and Tommy Lopez going toe to toe before a rowdy, live, gay audience!? How do I not own Live at San Francisco?
He wrestled live in a match that was videographed in front of a live audience and now available from BG East as part of their Live at San Francisco vintage release. This was the rematch of Tommy taking on pre-Dark Scott Rogers, who I have well-documented for my deep, lustful infatuation with.
Sailor Rob new exactly what I was thinking when it was his turn to get his hands all over every throbbing inch of Tommy!
Another photo story that appears to not have a video mate is a dizzyingly hot living room battle between Sailor Rob and Tommy (again, you’ll need to check it out in BG East’s Arena). If you’re looking for two lean, luscious, fully aroused grapplers in full bloom, make sure you put this one on your itinerary. Sailor Rob is ripped and roaring and Tommy is quite clearly stoked hot and very bothered by Sailor Rob’s hands-on, unapologetically erotic offense. I was just remarking the other day that I’m missing more naked wrestling in my diet, and the shots of Sailor Rob and Tommy hard as granite and locked in combat is precisely what I’m talking about.
Photo you can find in the dictionary under: homoerotic wrestling.
So while I am putting Tommy Lopez in my cue of videos to own, I’m also making a pitch here for something that video can’t always deliver. Tommy is on a pedestal in my homoerotic wrestling lusts because of the entirely satisfying wrestling he has starred in in still frame, translated expertly, directly into the moving pictures that only my mind’s eye can see, but is nevertheless perfectly erotic, pitched precisely to my tastes, and scratches an itch that more literal homoerotic wrestling action only occasionally hits so perfectly. Again, I will preempt the inevitable comments that will warn me against leaning too heavily on nostalgia, but I will also insist that there’s a pleasure to the still frame as well as the written word that can, and often does, satiate my homoerotic wrestling hunger more satisfyingly than the mountain of videos I delight in regularly. The respondent conditioning that makes me spring to life and break out into a sweat at the name of Tommy Lopez is deeply compelling, and its the alchemy of my active imagination and the visual stimulation of lovingly shot photography that puts Tommy at the head of the class before many of the hot hunks who I’ve fallen in lust with on video.
Looking that like that doesn’t hurt in stoking my fanaticism, as well.
That handsome face, the lickably smooth skin, that rocking ass and surprisingly meaty legs on such a lean babyface don’t exactly hurt Tommy’s case either.
Homoerotic wrestling sculpture!Bending and bulging in Andy Bailey’s OTK backbreaker.Bending, bending, BENDING in Kid Leopard’s over-the-shoulder backbreaker!But far from broken, Tommy dished out some humiliating offense of his own and looked like an angel mid-orgasm as he did!
“So you come in here all tough and shit and you think you can take on me. Do you even know who I am!?”
Do you even know who I am!?
Cal Bennet looks on dumbly, professing not to know. Let me explain things to you Cal. This is Damien Rush. This is the muscle stud I’ve been aching to interview for years. This is the hardcore pretty boy who I’ve been begging his producers to send me a pair of his trunks. Daddy’s little rich boy with a personal trainer, a high paid NHB wrestling coach, and a live in masseur (baby where do I apply for that job!?).
Damien is meatier and sexier than ever!
Muscle Domination Wrestling released their newest season today, and the first release that catches my attention is Damien Rush facing suddenly-everywhere Cal Bennet. Six Pack Bash 6 promises that this is Damien Rush like we’ve never seen him. No longer a naive daddy’s-little-rich-boy. Meaner. Meatier. Hungrier.
Damien is here to grind some muscle.
“I”m going to grind you up so fucking hard you’re going to be crying,” Damien snarls at delicately featured Cal. “You’re going to be begging me to stop, and you know what? I fucking won’t.” I like Damien’s energy a lot here. He’s on offense and offensive. The running metaphor is that Cal is fresh meat and Damien is here to grind him up.
The thong and that body make up, somewhat, for some undersell from Cal.
It seems like it’s probably a good thing that Damien is in charge and pacing this battle, because Cal looks like he’s in a little over his head. Of course he’s in over his head against a veteran like Damien, but I mean sell-wise. Cal doesn’t sell SPB6 like anything other than a hot boy with a beautiful body and a dearth of wrestling experience. As promised in the match description, however, Damien is mature, intimidating, dominating, and sugary sweet Cal can melt all he wants because Damien’s packing the heat.
I know what I like about this position!
“Do you know what I love about this position?” Damien asks, stretching Cal’s luscious torso out in a back-breaking standing Dragon Sleeper. “You’re so open and vulnerable for me to take full, fucking, advantage!” Taking advantage sort of sums it up, really. Cal is flat footed. He stumbles over a few ham-handed attempts at banter. He struggles to look entirely like he’s struggling, but damn it all if Damien doesn’t pick up the slack and at least in a few places actually make the pretty boy hurt. When Damien slams his back down across his knee, the grunt and explosive exhalation from Cal suggests that he, indeed, got the wind knocked out of him. And it hurt. The more he struggles to sell, the more I’m getting into those moments when I think Damien actually makes him hurt. Fuck yeah, make the pretty boy hurt, Damien!
There’s a moment when spine impacts with knee that actually hurts, thank goodness.
I’ve marveled at Cal’s body before, and instantly been assailed by several fans complaining about his artwork. Too much. Distracting. Whatever. I’ve seen shitty ink, and although I don’t think Cal’s is anywhere near the hottest, it’s fine with me. As I mentioned to one critique of Cal’s tats, I’d be more than happy to smother him in honey from top to bottom and lick him clean. In his case, the ink is neither here nor there for me.
Damien is on fire!
Again as billed, Damien, on the other hand, is bigger, hairier, and… heelier than I’ve ever seen him before. His physique is bulkier than in the past, and he’s definitely not nearly as cut and polished as his saccharine sweet fitness boy opponent. But I’m turned on about 15% more by Damien’s new, rawer look. After licking the honey off of Cal, I’d like a second course of Damien covered in chocolate sauce.
Honey.
The match is a little plodding, I won’t lie. Damien has to do all the heavy lifting, so I appreciate that he paces himself, and happily he milks every hold. One of the first MDW matches I’ve seen in a long time not filmed in the ring, SPB6 is set in a garage, on wrestling mats, and the camera work is intimate and up close as a result. I’m accustomed to looking up from someone’s shoulder mount ringside, so it’s nice to get to see more, and closer in this setting. The cameraman loves cock, so kudos to you buddy, whoever you are. He keeps one wrestler or another’s cock center-frame about 60% of the match, which when you think about the twists and turns and scrambles of even a deliberate and one-sided mauling like this, is pretty damn impressive. Another 20% of the time, it’s one hunk or another’s ass center-frame, so again, way to go camera guy. The final 20% is a little rough, probably a few too many attempts at close ups, lying on the mat next to the boys mid-hold, trying to hover directly overhead, zooming in, pulling out. A little nauseating at times? Sure. Intimate? Raw? Absolutely.
In the hands of the master.
Damien crushes Cal, and for those half a dozen moments when Cal actually looks like he’s genuinely getting torqued and tweaked into legitimate pain, I’m sold. The rest of the time, I’m just thanking my lucky stars Cal is so damn pretty and Damien is so fucking hot, hairy, and beefy and making me feel deep down what a prick-richboy heel he’s got inside. Sadly, Damien’s promise to make Cal cry is not realized. And I am fucking disappointed in that.
“Damien Rush is not the type of man to fuck with, or…”
“Damien Rush is not the type of man you fuck with,” Damien announces, flexing so, so finely over a choked out Cal, “or he fucks you!” I need to consult Joe about the grammar here. I think there’s a discourse analysis called for, but if Damien is saying what I think he’s saying, then let me officially announce that I’m ready to fuck with him. Whatever happens by the time we diagram his sentence, I’m going to be happy!
I really enjoy newbies. In addition to the extra sexiness of untested waters, of anticipating who they will reveal themselves to be when unleashed on the mat, I also just enjoy the taste of fresh meat. I also enjoy deep, sexy accents, and I’ll never say no to a tall, ripped, blond hunk of a man with a mammoth, monster, more than a mouthful of a phenomenal cock. So it should come as little wonder that I’m deeply moved by the debut of stunning, 6’3″ Ivan “the Terrible” Gregory fresh off the plane from South Africa.
Jessie Colter faces ripped newbie Ivan Gregory
Ivan’s veteran opponent in blue is 6’2″ Jessie “Cut-Throat” Colter, who I’ve mused on before as backdrop to other fantasy men who have captured my imagination. It’s not as if Jessie is chopped liver. His body is delightful and his enthusiasm on the NK mat is thrilling. I’d climb him like a jungle gym and claw those pecs for days, but Jessie gets the lucky distinction of doing battle with simply stunning, fantasy pornboys that I have trouble tearing my eyes away from. Case in point: Ivan.
I think Ivan is getting the hang of this.
Ivan swears he as absolutely zero wrestling experience in his pre-match testimonial, which makes Jessie smirk in the background. A perfectly proportioned muscle god with no idea how to engage in kombat? You can just about see Jessie’s beautiful cock squirming excitedly inside his tight trunks as these two face off. So imagine Jessie’s surprise when big, beautiful Ivan doesn’t just hold his own, he grabs Jessie’s as well and wrings the veteran’s cock relentlessly. The South African’s technique isn’t refined, but with all that muscle, he consistently puts his opponent on his back in round 1. You can see him having to think through, move by move, how to accumulate NK points, which is a step beyond simply dominating an opponent with wrestling offense. But stud puppy demonstrates some innate talent, forcing Cut Throat off balance and smothering the veteran with his bulging package. When Jessie turns his back to swat a stripped pair of trunks off the mat, Ivan launches his massive muscles on top of him from behind. Body and brains? This beauty needs a wrestling ring and a few lessons from a pro heel, and he’d be unstoppable!
And the real star of this match: Ivan’s monster cock!
I swear to the wrestling gods I hear a choir of angels break out into 8-part harmony when Jessie manages to rip the red trunks off of newbie Ivan. The thick, massive, monstrous cock that’s unleashed makes my jaw drop. Some big, tall muscle hunks with absolutely impressive members nevertheless look somehow undersized due to their oversized everything else. However, 195 pound, 6’3″ Ivan’s phallus is, if anything, disproportionately huge on his gladiator body. Even more epic of reveal, as the tussle continues with his monster unchained, the South African phenom gets hard, fast.
Ivan challenges Jessie to come and get it!
No shit, the ripped blond newbie porn god from South Africa is tied with the saucy, seasoned veteran to finish round 1. In the post-match review, Ivan mentions that he was a little surprised and very enthused by to learn that he kept points even after his blistering first round on the NK mats. That smirk on Jessie’s face is decidedly vanished as he sucks down air, posing like a statue for the camera to study his every inch between rounds as NK does. Bulldozing a pretty boy looks like it’s simply not in the cards for Cut Throat, so he’d better pull out some NK savvy in order to avoid a deeply humiliating (though you have to figure very exciting Sex Round) finish.
The newbie uses those long, strong limbs to lock down Jessie and make the veteran squeal.
There’s an awesome moment at the very end of round one where Jessie has the newbie hunk in a cradle, using his free hand to score points by poking the rookie hole (one of the finer subtleties of NK competition). Ivan writhes and groans in frustration. Suddenly, he roars, pops free and absolutely bench presses big Jessie off of him, tossing him halfway across the mat. Holy shit. However, round 2 sees big Ivan start to seriously get winded, and Jessie starts to really batter him hard. The physical and sexual domination is matched beautifully with verbal domination as the veteran unleashes a stream of trash talk, prophesying the newbie’s downfall and promising a wad blowing sex round victory for the veteran. Even as the big South African grows weaker and less able to defend himself, his mammoth cock swells harder and, unbelievably, bigger as the kombat unfolds.
Judging by that ever ready monster cock, Ivan isn’t too disappointed to have to pay the price for his first Naked Kombat loss.
There’s a sweet intensity in this match that’s punctuated periodically by Ivan giggling, mostly in a self-deprecating way, marveling at how Jessie is slowly but surely taking possession of him. By the end of round 2, Jessie opens up a 9-point lead. By the end of round 3, Ivan can barely drag his gorgeous body off his hands and knees to return to the neutral position to learn his fate. Ominously, Jessie reaches over and spanks the newbie’s awesome ass to encourage him to face the music. The 3rd round points were even, but it was that devastating round 2 that result in Ivan’s debut loss by 9 points to Jessie.
Ivan wants more! Jessie looks like he does, as well.
Fantastic debut from a truly stunningly gorgeous newbie with a thick, marble-mouthed accent. I hope he gets his wish to make a sophomore appearance with NK and let us see the look of horror on some losing opponent’s face when he realizes that monster cock is headed his way. I hope I get my wish to see this handsome superhero make an appearance in a pro wrestling ring sometime!
This will surprise no one, but I begin today’s post with the premise that I like male bodies. A lot. I like them in a variety of incarnations, proportions, hues, and composition. There are certainly specific male bodies that I don’t like, but the collection of bodies that fall into the “like” category are varied.
Produced by Greenwood/Cooper, Director Tom Kurthy, released 1994
Early in my exploration of the homoerotic wrestling universe (that sort of makes me feel like Captain Kirk), I found the Greenwood/Cooper produced video “Wrestle” in my enlightened “home video store” (wow, now I’m feeling old). I felt rather daring picking it up off the shelf and paying to rent the provocative VHS based on the promotional jacket.
The product description on the back reads, “Competition wrestlers, pitted against each other in combat, strain their tight, sinewy, well-muscled bodies and their indomitable wills to bring you an experience of unequaled beauty and force.” Uh, yeah. This was at a time when I was a lot more cautious about outing myself, but there was no way I wasn’t going to slap down $3 to study this work of art for every second of the 3 day rental. I’m pretty sure I skipped at least a couple of my graduate school classes to get every penny’s worth out of “Wrestle.” It was soft core, set in and beside Roman baths. The wrestlers were young and gorgeous. As I remember, the wrestling pairs started in posing straps or towels wrapped around their waists, but most of the action was entirely naked, presenting for anyone who appreciates the male body 6 spectacular specimens entirely unadorned and videographed in intimate, up close detail. The combat was highly stylized, severely restricted by tile mosaic floors. It came across to me like perfectly pitched performance art, presenting my deepest fantasies in fantastical and inciting beauty.
I strongly suspect that were I to set down with “Wrestle” again, I wouldn’t be nearly as awed as I was in those early days. My homoerotic wrestling library needs a new wing built onto my home these days, and the novelty that made me dizzy in soaking in “Wrestle” many years ago just isn’t as compelling for me today, in and of itself. Then I again, whether or not it’s the nostalgia talking, I think I may try to track it down again, if for no other reason than sometimes what I really, really want to watch is two beautiful, powerful, entirely naked male bodies locked in combat. And surprisingly, considering the size of my library, it isn’t always easy to find.
Landon Conrad wrestles naked with Alex Adams at Naked Kombat.
I think Naked Kombat comes closest to stoking that nostalgia I feel as I think about my experience of discovering “Wrestle.” When the NK pornboys finally rip each other’s gear off and go to town entirely naked, there’s a depth of intimacy and vulnerability that makes the physical combat that much more captivating as a spectator. Naked Kombat is hardcore, however, and the artistry and beauty so appropriately named in the product description of “Wrestle” take a back seat (or perhaps just tenuously being towed along in a trailer far behind) to the sex and fury. Not that I don’t get off on NK sex and fury frequently. But NK is a different breed than “Wrestle.”
Some homoerotic wrestling producers manage to capture the “beauty and force” that “Wrestle” managed, but steer clear of the daring genre of pitting their wrestlers against one another naked. Rock Hard Wrestling, Movimus, and Thunder’s Arena come to mind, playing on the relative innocence and innuendo of old school soft core like “Wrestle.” Thunder’s is playful and specializes in beautiful muscle, but their playfulness and tongue-in-cheek score low on the earnestness meter. RHW’s commitment to video production quality makes me think more of the earnestness of the camera angles in “Wrestle.” Both “Wrestle” director Kurthy and the production crew at RHW clearly have a commitment to artistically document the living sculpture that is beautiful male bodies grappling. But a full 20 years after “Wrestle” was produced, RHW does so with a more demure tack, letting the homoeroticism be conveyed primarily by the viewing eyes, and not stepping into the hetero-iconoclastic territory of full-on naked bodies.
Brian Bodine and Rusty Stevens briefly grapple naked in their full-throttle Arena match to see who gets fucked.
Can-Am and BG East both feature naked wrestlers, and again, both get my engine running hot. However, neither of the big boys in the business tweak that nostalgia (or stroke the still valid sweet spot) that “Wrestle” did. Like NK, Can-Am tends to cast pornboys, and the naked chapter of the combat is too often all too briefly sandwiched between geared wrestling and the post-match fucking. Some of Can-Am’s Arena series featured the wrestlers in naked falls, but even as satisfying as it is, for example, watching Rusty Stevens and Aryx Quinn crushing one another nude, the surprisingly brief moment between combat and full throttle sexual content is simply a different animal than the hour or so of pure and simple naked wrestling in “Wrestle.”
Gear Wars 4 briefly turns naked wrestling for Skip Vance and Trey Dixon.
BG East is always right in my wheelhouse for their earnestness, but theirs is an earnestness about the integrity of wrestling itself. “Wrestle” advertises as “competition wrestler pitted against each other in combat,” but BG East much more legitimately owns the current scene with regard to experienced, accomplished, enthusiastic wrestlers in their matches than just about anyone else producing (Cameron Matthews is making a strong play for that market lately, however). But I’m hard pressed to think of a BG East match that simply lets two “well-muscled bodies” wrestle naked for very long. In the new release, Gear Fetish 4, Skip Vance and Trey Dixon (current homoerotic wrestler of the month for this match) slowly trade for skimpier and skimpier gear until the last fall is fully naked. But that last fall lasts, what, 45 seconds? Not that I can blame the boys for being clearly driven to distraction by the full throttle fetish arousal they’d worked up to a lather by that point, but it’s not a “naked wrestling” product, in the sense I’m musing on today.
MDW is teasing naked bodybuilder wrestling in upcoming Oil Hunks 4, featuring full monty Specimen and Mutant.
Nakedness does appear more frequently at Muscle Domination Wrestling lately, and there’s a particularly enticing teaser of Thunder’s Arena bodybuilder alums Mutant and Specimen appearing to be about to wrestle entirely naked in the ring in their upcoming season. MDW’s commitment to the narrative, though, along with a lower production quality than most of the producers today, makes me think that as surely as I will be pulling up a table to feast on naked bodybuilders grappling in Oil Hunks 4, it won’t quite tweak the “experience of unequaled beauty and force” that “Wrestle” did for me.
The more I muse, the more I think that I’m caught by nostalgia. It may have been less about Greenwood/Cooper’s “Wrestle” itself, or the 6 hot hunks who starred in it, or the setting or camera angles or lighting, than it was about me, 20 years ago, in a different time and place, with a different perspective, exploring something new and titillating and dangerous and novel. I’ll definitely have to find me a copy of “Wrestle” to sort this out. Then again, if I saw this DVD cover in a store today, I’d snap it up for 20 times the price I rented it 20 years ago.
The first couple of times I saw Flash LaCash I struggled to decide what I thought of him. Fantastic body, of course. Handsome, sure. The porn stash? Just retro enough to be value added for me, I think. But I have to admit that I just couldn’t get off the fence. I think it was, in part, the name. I don’t think it suits him. There’s something frivolous and ostentatious about it that strikes a dissonant chord with who you see climb into the ring. Well, in Demolition 18, Flash picked me up off the fence and shot-put me about half a city block firmly on the side of being entirely turned on and a serious fan.
JJ sparkles in stars and stripes.
His opponent is of course the recurring infatuation of mine, lovely, lithe, limber Jake Jenkins. Jake tends to bulldoze opponents everywhere except for the ring. All of that amateur wrestling and MMA background appears to amount to a pile of shit once the acrobatic babyface steps foot on the ring apron. And we know his gorgeous ass is grass the second we set eyes on the doomed American flag trunks he’s wearing in Demo 18. Again. After his heroic tag team efforts in Tag Team Torture 15 with Austin Cooper ended in such devastatingly brutal, humiliating, soul-crushing failure, you’d think the über-patriotic briefs should have been retired, at least by JJ. Has ANYONE ever one a wrestling match in those trunks? Honestly, it’s like taping a “Hit Me” sign to the back of some Freshman dork, only this sign reads “Beat my ass, crush my body, and don’t stop until I’m writhing in a pool of my own sweat and tears.”
Writhing in a pool of his own sweat and tears…
This is a Demolition match, so it shouldn’t be too disillusioning to reveal that JJ continues his long tradition of getting the shit beat out of him all over the BG East ring. And I always love his sell. He must have some acrobatic background, because he bends and twists like few wrestlers can manage, and when he really works up a head of agony, his screams and whimpers make my sternum tickle.
Flash threatens to pop Jake’s head off
So chalk up yet another confirmation that JJ can make me weak at the knees on the receiving end. The real story for me here is the revelation that Flash can own my lustful attention as completely as he possesses Jake’s tortured body. There’s something intensely erotic to me to see a wrestler with pro experience calmly and systematically carve up a mouthwatering opponent like Thanksgiving turkey. The pace is primarily high impact brutality punctuating Flash’s slow, slightly smirking savoring of JJ’s anguish. Less sell from Jake and this would be plodding, but the combo here is spot on demolition perfection.
The bitter edge between bending and breaking.
Flash controls every inch of Jake’s writhing body, and I can’t decide who’s ass is hotter (now that’s a problem to have!). When Flash works up a thick, shiny sweat across his tanned torso, his glistening, suction packed blue trunks give the appearance of this muscleman having just stepped out of a shower with his gear on.
The quivering edge
Part of my well-documented infatuation with accomplished pro wrestlers in homoerotic wrestling is the obvious, intimate understanding they possess concerning the tolerances of the human body. Flash knows exactly how to position himself and his opponent for maximum leverage, for bearing down on a particular joint, for wringing out anguish by bending limbs to the quivering edge of breaking. He doesn’t just know what hurts a man, he knows what drives a man to the edge of panicked certainty that he’s about to snapped in half. A seasoned pro in the homoerotic wrestling universe is like a professional concert cellist, stroking out a masterpiece where a fashion model or exotic dancer might merely manage to squeak out a melody.
This is what happens when the strong man and the trapeze artist duke it out.
And in their Demolition 18 encounter, Flash and Jake convey a sense of fantasy-driven circus performers, defying disbelief and demonstrating what mere mortals best not ever try at home. When I say circus performers, of course I’m not talking clowns. No, JJ’s barefoot toe point and gracefully tortured stretches are that of a babyface trapeze prodigy, meant to be worshipped in mid-air, make our hearts pound in horrific anticipation of his heroic body crashing to the ground. And Flash, the mustachioed hunk could be nothing other than the supremely confident, cocky, hardbodied strong man performing feats of sheer brawn that demonstrate his powerful physique totally undersells the superhuman strength residing in those muscles.
Just right.
Like I said, I knew Jake can grab me by the balls (any day). I knew that I’d be leaking fluids at his first whimper of panicked anguish. His unspoiled beauty sparkling with youthful earnestness about to be trampled underfoot is always pure gold. I just didn’t know how provoked I would be by big, bad Flash LaCash. He gets just the right amount of bemused pleasure by crushing JJ’s throat under his knee as he flexes victoriously over him. He manages to look both barely winded by his devastating feats of strength, and glistening, dripping even with sweat. His mastery of the pro wrestling ring and his completely dominating size and strength over the lightweight Boy Scout is pitch perfect. Awesome pairing of wrestlers in order to tell a profoundly compelling homoerotic wrestling narrative.
Eye of the Cyclone continues to own the superhero homoerotic wrestling comic book scene. I got reacquainted with EotC in 2014 and have slowly been working my way through the back catalog of scorching hot comic-style storytelling. You’ve got to be patient for the unfolding serials, because like clockwork EotC releases precisely one new chapter a week, sometimes switching back and forth between 3 or 4 open narratives at any given time. Last April “Idle Hands” started up, starring the divine mind-fuck of a physique on superhero Archangel. The final chapter in this magnificent melodrama just posted last week.
You know my soft/hard spot for inked muscle, so this superstud grabs me by both balls instantly. And speaking of getting grabbed by the balls, an insolent, evil army of bodiless hands seem like no match for the granite carved muscleman until they start clawing at his crotch and ripping off Archangel’s super gear.
Sure, just a few little disembodied hands seem like no match for a superhuman muscle god. but while trying to keep them from peeling him out of his silver trunks, Archangel is caught off guard by a metal column sent abruptly crashing down on him, knocking him and all of those fantastically gorgeous, powerful, suddenly impotent muscles out cold.
When the ripped Boy Scout rouses, he discovers the maniacal little hands have trussed his hot bod up in devilishly ominous red chains, leaving the masked muscleman’s luscious muscles stretched out vulnerably for more sadistic groping. My hands are already pleading the case to become unattached in order to join in this super take down!
Those blood red chains have a life of their own, wrapping themselves all over the superhero’s fantastic physique, caressing, crushing, and possessing him from every angle. A mysterious red glow envelopes the helpless hunk, burning the good right out of the fallen angel, replacing his earnest silver trunks with minuscule, intensely sexy red ultra briefs. His golden fetish face mask is remolded into a demonic form, glowing red eyes peering out symbolizing the maleficent spirit now in possession of the magnificent muscleman from the inside out.
The army of evil, disembodied hands gather around their newly incarnated super villain master who flexes those stunningly sexy muscles, tugging at his already barely adequate briefs. Once as unblemished and angelic as the fresh fallen snow piling up at my doorstep, the superhero is vanquished and replaced by a hellishly cruel spirit with just two things on his maniacal mind: 1) stroking this phenomenally sexy body his minions have acquired for him, and 2) lusting to use all of these stunning muscles to crush and conquer every super hero hunk he can get his hands on.
Watch out, Supersonic, because I’m hoping like crazy he’s coming after you’re hot bod next!
If you enjoy hot hunks, superheroes, and full on erotic combat delivered in classic comic-book style, check out Eye of the Cyclone for every enticing panel of Idle Hands and dozens more stories.
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