A Taste of Things to Cum

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Reading back over my recent posts (like a year or more), I think it’s safe to say I’ve been orally fixated lately.  My descriptions of wrestlers and matches as “delicious,” “tasty,” or “mouthwatering” have been my regular, go-to metaphors for my subjective experience of being turned on by choice homoerotic wrestling fare (see, there I go again).  Homoerotic wrestling just tastes so damn good!  Of course I don’t literally want to eat anyone (other than perhaps a couple of politicians I can think of… on toast), but I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity for a long, wet, lingering lick of a wrestling hunk’s body to stimulate the taste buds.  Do you know what I mean?
BG East’s Blueboy clearly knows what I’m talking about in Masked Mayhem 4, momentarily turning always dangerous masked muscle heel Enforcer into a quivering bowl of jelly in the corner of the ring with a tongue lashing of his tantalizing nipples.  Holy shit, this photo captures so much about homoerotic wrestling that defines me!

I think there’s a bit of a stroke of genius at work at NakedKombat for incentivizing face licking.  Not a lot of the kombatants I’ve seen take advantage of available points for slathering spit across the cheeks of a locked up opponent, but Gavin Waters was one hardbodied fuck machine who seemed to relish just that.  In his May 25, 2011 tag team match with partner Nikko Alexander, Gavin to advantage of his overwhelming muscle and weight advantage to lock down lean twink scrapper Matt Singer and drive him fucking nuts by dragging his tongue all over the babyface battler’s face.  Talk about a tasty little morsel!

Matt’s partner, however, was a little too much for Gavin to pull off the same maneuver… by himself, at least.  Long-time pornboy wrestling favorite of mine, Trent Diesel had Gavin’s number both in singles and tag-team competition, and the stunningly hot tattoed stunner was not as easily subdued.  However, another NakedKombat rule permits partners a few seconds of double-team advantage moments after a tag is made, during which Gavin would enjoy the chance to lick the sweat off of Trent’s brow while Nikko picked up the baton to take his place mounted on top of the muscled stud puppy.  Fuck, Trent hated his face licked!  He squirmed like craaaazy as Gavin lapped up his salty goodness.  Hell.  And yes.

Can-Am’s Pro Sex Fight series has been seriously satisfying me since it debuted a couple of years ago.  The precise balance of pro ring wrestling and overt eroticism is awfully compelling.  Tongues have been regularly on the menu starting with Pro Sex Fight 1, when massive muscle star Michael Vineland slaps down a post-victory tongue lashing on the infinitely perky, hot pecs of g-g-g-gorgeous former HWOTM here at neverland, Landon Mycles.  Landon was more a kisser than a licker, which I totally respect, but fuck-fuck-fuck, Michael working over that highly responsive nip on the blond bombshell was sweet dessert after an intensely hot main course of highly erotic ring wrestling.

When another long-time favorite wrestling pornboy of mine, Rusty Stevens, got his shot at Michael in Pro Sex Fight 5, the competitive side of things was decidedly more pronounced.  However, post-match, Rusty delivered the move that I’ve been fantasizing about for years, absolutely worshipping Michael’s massive biceps with his tongue.  Rusty isn’t exactly what I’d call someone graceful in defeat… or victory… but a lustful moment of fully engaged muscle worship from the normally smart-assed, hardbodied hot head grabs me hard.

Rusty also slapped done a tongue lashing in Pro Sex Fight 4 against angelically beautiful muscle stud, Kevin Crowes.  If he hadn’t, I’d have written a letter in protest, because if there’s any word to describe Kevin, it’s “delicious.”  Rusty totally dominates the early moments of this match, stripping the rookie pornboy naked (in this case, not a moment too soon), terrorizing and torturing the bodybeautiful stunner in the ropes, on the mat, and when thrown into the corner, licks that chiseled chin slowly.

You can tell Kevin tastes delicious, because Rusty’s tongue travels slowly down the angelic pornboy’s neck and laps aggressively across the stunner’s sweaty chest, lingering long and hard on those aesthetically perfect nips.  As an aside, this also tweaks a little bit of kink I have for seeing a wrestler stripped and dominated while his opponent has managed to still hang onto his gear.  There’s just something about that inequity, that extra dose of humiliation and dominating ownership, that makes my engine rev harder.

Kevin is no shrinking violet here, though, and when the patient pornboy finally gets an opening, he makes Rusty pay back all that trash talking muscle domination with interest.  Swarming all over the stunned veteran, Kevin uses that work of art he calls a body to press Rusty to the canvas and hold him still for a taste of glory of his own.  I can feast for days on watching Rusty Stevens dominate in that soul-withering style he has of destroying an opponent psychologically as a prelude to crushing him physically.  However, watching heaven-sent pornboy Kevin work up a serious head of steam all over my long-time favorite emeritus is incredible entertainment for my dollar.

There is also another entire subgenre of muscle licking.  The forced worship submission (“Lick my bicep, bitch!”) has it’s own story, and I can read that story over and over again and never get tired of it.  Kid Vicious, looking even buffer and more beautiful than ever in Wet and Wild 4 (can I call KV beautiful and not get my ass kicked?), forces a battered Lobolito to pay homage to his gorgeous, bulging, veiny bicep.  Unlike in the stolen tastes of muscle I mentioned above, Lobolito looks like he’s been so bashed he doesn’t quite appreciate this plot twist nearly as much as I do.  Forced to lick, tongue-work in wrestling can communicate with crystal clarity that total domination by the object of oral adoration over the licker.  Forced to be licked, as described above, turns the tables and speaks perhaps even more directly to the orally fixated side of me.

I’m sure Freud would have plenty to say about all of this oral fascination.  Then again, Freud was a dumbshit when it came to sexuality and eroticism.  As another example of an element that clearly distinguishes the homoerotic from the straight-up wrestling worlds, a whole-hearted tongue lashing makes my mouth water.

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

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Before I get to the really important business at hand, anyone have experience with WordPress that would be relevant as I consider migrating neverland there?  Let me know.

Now to the real issue that needs settling right away.  Who will lift the mantle of reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month off of the massively muscled shoulders of Naked Kombatant Will Parks and claim the title for the hottest wrestling release in June?  The field is deep, so I’ll try to stick to the cream of the crop to give you the contenders who made it to my final round of consideration.  Starting with Will Park’s bailiwick, Naked Kombat has been hit-or-miss since I signed back on, but bearded muscle daddy Landon “the Law” Conrad debuting drenched in oil against Alex Adams has sorted me out several times.  Over at Thunder’s Arena, I’ve got a fast and furious crush on new meat Mr. Sean sporting his own five o’clock shadow and looking like an Abercrombie boy ripped from a politically incorrect billboard ad to face in very short order no fewer than 4 opponents over the playtime of Bodyspace 44 and Bodyspace 47.  In Muscle Domination Wrestling’s VIP lounge, there’s a double-team made in heaven, featuring Damien and Master Kevin together working their beautiful muscles in tandem all over the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet in Duo Cop ‘N’ Jerk (also check out their cruel, cruel teaser for upcoming Season 4 matches!).  BG East’s Catalog 99.1 packs the field of contenders, so  I have to be brutal in narrowing down the very top of the heap that vied for my lustful attention, starting with perennially dangerous favorite and current title holder for overall favorite homoerotic wrestler, Lon Dumont, pushing and getting pushed to the edge of consciousness against Paul Hudson in Knock Outs 2.  My fantasy come true match, Tag Team Torture 16, puts up potentially the most powerful tag team contenders (for my affections), Christian Taylor and Skip Vance, who have their hands and mouths full with the likes of villainous brute, Morgan Cruise.  In a bodybuilder bonanza possibly the likes of which have never been seen before in the ring, both Chace LaChance and Braden Charron are unbelievably muscle-beautiful gladiators in the Summer Sizzler’s Bonus Match.  From Mat Hunks 9, newcomer (but NOBODY’S rookie) Vic Madone has been haunting my dreams for his work brutalizing lovely Ray Naylor, 3-time HWOTM Eli Black and former HWOTM Cameron Matthews make it incredibly difficult to decide who to root for, and long-time favorite emeritus and former HWOTM Mitch Colby may never have looked sexier (on the mat, at least) than when paired with my longtime simmering crush, delectably sexy Rafe Sanchez (mmmmmm, Rafe!!!!).  So, clearly, no one is a loser when it comes to the quality homoerotic wrestling pumped out in June, least of all me (and you).  You can swing a sweaty jock strap without slapping in the face an incredibly sexy, totally legitimate contender for the title of homoerotic wrestler of the month.  There’s no wrong answer to this question, but after sweating it out and studying the evidence extensively, I’ve decided there is, however, a very, very correct answer as to who is the new homoerotic wrestler of the month…

Rafe makes me swoon just by stretching out!

Rafe Sanches (mmmmmmm, Rafe….) oozes sex.  It doesn’t matter who he’s wrestling or what the context, his presence exponentially increases the erotic in a match until I (and typically, he) explodes.  How has Rafe failed to sit on the HWOTM throne before?  There’s a considerable mystery to that question that I can’t quite explain, because I’m a big, big booster.  One likely factor is that as incredibly pleasing as his wrestling has been, his releases have come out at the same time as some barn burner chart toppers that have edged him out of the top spot.  A series of just plain bad luck for Rafe could be a legitimate explanation for how he has owned my lusts so entirely and yet remained title-less.

Rafe’s hands are full with powerful muscleman, Mitch Colby.

Then again, another potential thumb on the scales may also be that Rafe has frequently been eerily quiet, sometimes even silent when he wrestles.  For a wrestling fanatic like me that can live for days off of nothing but highly charged erotic banter of two wrestlers before they ever make physical contact, an ominously silent hunk, however kinetically erotic, is at a disadvantage.  His Mat Hunks 9 appearance, however, features Rafe in clear, perfectly pitched voice, taunting, snarling, and snapping at Mitch with a quickness and confidence that leaves me shaking my head that this luscious mat hunk has been so quiet in the past.

Big Mitch taunts Rafe relentlessly.

Okay, it also doesn’t hurt a wrestler’s homoerotic appeal to go toe to toe with the likes of my very first-to-be-crowned favorite homoerotic wrestler, Mitch Colby.  Mitch is sliced to hell, sporting the leanness that makes me gasp and earns him an extra snarl of contempt from longtime “rival,” heel extraordinaire (and also former HWOTM) Cage Thunder.  Cage has gone on the record giving Mitch the barest of grudging respect for his work when he’s beefed up, but against Rafe, he’s tanned, toned, and the leanest slice of beef imaginable.  An opponent could pale in comparison, of course.  But despite being several shades lighter in complexion, Rafe absolutely holds is own and somehow his exponential sexiness quotient multiples many times over when juxtaposed against (and especially writhing in the grasp of) gorgeous Mitch (that’s a lot of math to say, fuck, Rafe and Mitch are an insanely hot pairing!).

Rafe gets swallowed up between Mitch’s ripped thighs.

Cage Thunder has long rhetorically slammed Mitch for his long record of beating up on smaller guys, so fully expect he may chime in again to point to this newest evidence.  Mitch’s physique dwarfs Rafe.  Mitch is just a couple of inches taller, but packing on about 25 pounds more muscle than his lean, smooth challenger.  Again, a less apt opponent could get completely overshadowed by Mitch’s display of power and dominance.  Not so, Rafe.

“Same fucking move every time!!!”

Rafe gets pissed off in this match.  Have we ever seen Rafe pissed off?  I can’t remember seeing it, and the sight is so fucking hot that I have to think I’d have remembered.  Mitch swallows him up, going again and again to squeezing the air and will out of Rafe with various parts of his body trapped between Mitch’s massive thighs.  Rafe gets fucking fed up with Mitch taking the path of least resistance, turning again and again to scissors to sit back and expend minimal effort in squeezing out one submission after another.  “Same fucking move every time!” Rafe snaps furiously, rubbing his head and checking to make sure his skull is in tact.  Now, I don’t fault Mitch for wracking up a boatload of submissions with the same hold.  Fuck, I’d clean his pool for a month for the chance to feel those tree trunks wrapped around me over and over again.  But the magic that he works on Rafe is inspired, as typically quiet Rafe gets angrier, chattier, and more determined than ever to grab hold of some sweet revenge.

Rafe dishes out a taste of what Mitch has been serving.

Perhaps it’s the hint of Cage Thunder in this match that pushes Rafe way over the edge for my lustful tastes as well.  Mitch taunts him when he’s scored 3 unanswered submissions.  Rafe sits back and studies the beautiful beast in front of him for a moment before responding, “Yeah, rub it in Bitch… um, I mean Mitch!”  Holy shit, did Rafe Sanchez just signal that he’s learned a thing or two from Cage Thunder!?  It’s Cage who has relentlessly refused to call Mitch anything but Bitch Colby for years.  Suddenly, despite being down 3 falls, Rafe seems instantly more dangerous, more compelling, and… holy shit is it possible…. sexier!

Mitch’s cocky cock-pin.

Rafe and/or Cage Thunder fans will already know that these two have very notoriously met in wrestling action before.  They collided in the BG East ring, and the overt, explicit erotic intent of both studs burned my retinas just a tad.  As one might expect, Cage Thunder owned lovely Rafe in the end, or, more accurately, owned his crotch as he sat on Rafe’s unmasked face and insisted that the graceful, smooth stud pound out a submission-emission.  I’m guessing after that match, there were words exchanged, perhaps a little advice shared from the veteran to the ever-ready lean sex machine.  Somewhere, Rafe picked up Cage’s disparaging nomenclature for Mitch.  And somehow, when Rafe slaps down the taunt right smack in the middle of his mat match against Mitch, it feels to me like almost a 2-on-1 opens up, putting my longtime infatuation with Mitch at a distinctly unfair double-team advantage.

“Payback’s a bitch, pussy!”

Rafe gets some revenge in the match that I savor with a pause-and-slow-motion treatment.  Mitch has taunted and humiliated him repeatedly, flexing his top-tier fuckable muscles in Rafe’s face relentlessly.  So when Rafe turns the tables, plants his own fine, fine, fine ass on Mitch’s face and pumps his own lean, powerful biceps, I’m absolutely sold.  “You think you can handle this!?” Rafe taunts him disbelieving.  Powerful Mitch flat on his back with his lips planted between Rafe’s cheeks is an epic sight to see. “You crazy or something!?” Rafe taunts, in an even more epic moment to hear. “Payback’s a bitch, pussy!!!”

Mitch grinds Rafe’s face hard and deep.

Damn, damn, damn!!!!  It takes a whole lot to hold my gaze with Mitch Colby on the screen, but the second half of this match, I’m absolutely entranced with Rafe.  Fuck me if I wouldn’t actually give up the chance to get repeatedly crushed between Mitch’s thighs for the chance to aggressively tongue bathe ever inch of Rafe’s baby smooth body.  His revenge is fleeting, popping up once or twice more before the end, but that angry frustration, that contemptuous disdain for the mighty muscle man climbing back on top is sweet as honey (speaking of which, let me add a lathering of honey to that aggressive tongue batch fantasy of mine).  Rafe hurts, a lot.  He agonizes, crushed and twisted and pried apart in the big muscleman’s accomplished hands.  And never, not once, does he let his slow boiling rage wane for an instant, no matter how overwhelmed and outmuscled he becomes.  He’s snarling and snapping stubbornly, forcing Mitch to absolutely lay waste to him, drain his tank of every last ounce of willpower and strength, leave him so obliterated that Rafe can’t pick his head up off the mat, much less continue to fight on, before Mitch can finally declare he’s bought Rafe’s body for keeps.

Rafe oozes sexiness!!!!

It’s not like I’ve ever failed to be wildly turned on by Rafe Sanchez (mmmmmm, Rafe….).  But his personality shines through in Mat Hunks 9.  His lust for dominating a muscleman is unmistakable. His nerve, grit, and defiance of the numbers are incredibly compelling.  And more than ever before, he tells a story… a seriously sexy, incredibly homoerotic wrestling tale that makes me (like Mitch) sweat profusely and launches all sorts of personal fantasies starring me, showing up moments after Mitch exists the sun room, leaving a wasted, demoralized, stunningly beautiful Rafe behind for me to find.  Good work, Mitch.  Absolutely stunning work, Rafe.  Set that beautiful, lean ass down on the thrown as my newest homoerotic wrestler of the month!

June 2013 Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month: Rafe Sanchez

The News that Counts

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I feel like I should have something to say about the Supreme Court rulings on marriage, but I just don’t.  Every time I start to try to compose something thoughtful about the federal recognition of same-sex marriages, I get stuck on the Supreme Court’s simultaneous roll-back on voter’s rights protections and the tightening of restrictions against promoting diversity in higher education.  Hell, just when it comes to the citizenship of gays, I’m hard pressed to get up a head of steam about a marriage license when we have no federal protection against simply being fired from a job or refused housing or lodging just because we’re gay.  So marriage.  Yeah.  That’s cool, but…  Then again, my political comments are always guaranteed to raise a rant, which I have little energy for today, so I should stick with what I know and love best.  On that note, let me just do a quick round up of things I should have posted about in the last couple of weeks, but I’ve been just too damned slammed with work to make it happen.

First, Alex recently guest posted (thanks again, Alex… you rock!) about the theme of the bad assed, low down, dirty rotten cheat of a jobber (or, the heel/jobber).  I loved his analysis, and was provoked by his suggestion of how this variation on the jobber motif might stir the pot in homoerotic wrestling.  Readers had a couple of examples of wrestlers who might be considered to make this angle their own.  One reader who was mentioned in the post, Darius, also was inspired to send a private comment to me along with some juicy, non-photoshopped evidence of precisely what he looks like ready to wrestle in black gear.

The gear to accompany a bad ass attitude!

Mmmmmm….  Da-a-a-a-ammn.  I’m on board to watch Darius fill whatever role he wants in the wrestling ring.  And I can think of no more ideal heel/jobber move than for Darius to not only show up in bulge-sucking black gear, but also to have said gear used to choke a babyface hero viciously as we finally get a look at every massive muscle that this beautiful man packs into his trunks.

No need to imagine Darius dressed to wrestle down and dirty in black gear… 

Darius is a truly outstanding friend of neverland, and I continue to hope to see much, much more of him in the ring. Promoters and private aficionados of high quality muscleman wrestling need to hit this hunk of stunning beef up… hard.

Then again, even in black, Darius is such a babyface beauty!

My next writing project to publish is a special match dedicated to two of my favorite friends of neverland, one of whom is none other than stunning Darius.  As soon as I get my boss off my back, I’m polishing that puppy off and getting it posted.

You think the body is hot?  Check out what goes on in that homoerotic wrestling kinked head of Ben Monaco!

In other news from the homoerotic wrestling friends of neverland, Ben Monaco has been updating his blog, Monaco Off the Mats, answering the question of which of the BG East battlers would he be “all over” given the opportunity to wrestle them.  He’s doing a fantasy top 10 countdown that’s become seriously distracting from my aforementioned perfect storm at work.  We have numbers 10 through 8 so far, and Ben’s description of what about these gorgeous studs speaks to him most makes for incredibly hot reading.  This is exactly why I think the world needs more homoerotic wrestlers blogging.  Ben Monaco on the mats is guaranteed to make me explode (particularly when lips are involved), but Monaco Off the Mats takes us into that interior monologue, sorting through the tastes and kinks, lusts and longings that we might never catch wind of watching the bruising Canadian smothering some lucky bastard with his pecs.  I love the titillating glimpse inside Ben’s head, having spent hours enjoying lingering looks at his delightfully hot body soaked in sweat.

The Cheshire Cat of Homoerotic Wrestling

And one last item in friend-of-neverland news, Drake Fucking Marcos has been updating his new blog, Drake Marcos: The Cheshire Cat of Homoerotic Wrestling as well, demonstrating one of the most delightful side-effects I’ve enjoyed from chatting with on-screen wrestlers over the past 4 years: learning that these guys are complex and passionate about all sorts of things on and off the wrestling mats.  Personally, I’m hoping we get to read more of the internal smack down between Drake and his mild-mannered alter ego, D2.  When they start arguing with one another in print, there’s something incredibly sexy (in a twisted, probably diagnosable way) about it all that gives me a strong hit of Brad Pitt and Edward Norton pounding the living shit out of each other (well, Brad pounding the living shit out of Edward) in Fight Club.  Which suddenly makes me think what an insanely hot idea for a homoerotic wrestling fiction piece: Brad and Edward facing off again to settle just a bit of all that confusing, fucking hot, dissociative, violence-inspired self-love/hate sexual tension.  Yes, that’s what I’m picturing when I read Drake interrupting and slapping down D2.

Drake Marcos wrestles with himself.

I can’t promise more frequent posts for the near future, sadly, but I’ll do my best.  In the mean time, I’m thrilled that the homoerotic wrestling blogosphere is increasingly populated by more tasty treats for us all to enjoy.

One final news-ish note, I got an alert from Blogger (corporately owned and barely run by google) that they will be “cracking down” on blogs that “monetize adult content.”  Since I don’t get paid penny one from this blog, I’m assuming this does not refer to me.  I have been sorely tempted, but in the end declined several requests to post actual ads on the pages of this blog, even for the producers and companies that I talk about incessantly in my posts.  Are homoerotic wrestling sellers “adult websites?”  Is my rave, uncompensated review of a product an ad?  Are our google overlords so ridiculously underworked that they are seriously going to spend time trying to whitewash their empire as other than fueled by guys getting off on online content?  If someone else has a better platform to suggest, let me know.  I’ve been wanting to buy back my soul from google for a while now, and perhaps this “threat” about adult content is just the thing I need to jump ship.

Freshly Inked

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I think it’s been a while since I mused over my infatuation with tattooed wrestlers.  It’s true that my own ink likely biases me toward my appreciation of illustrated hunks, but then again, my appreciation of illustrated hunks definitely influenced my own body art choices.  Not everyone looks good inked.  Definitely not all ink looks good, as far as I’m concerned.  But there are many tattooed wrestlers who instantly own my allegiance when the step onto the mat or into the ring, in large part because they’ve got incredibly sexy ink that I crave to see wrapped up all over their suffering opponent.
Here’s some of my choice pics from the recent crops of new release homoerotic wrestling products, featuring ink that grabs my attention and makes me pull for one hardbodied hottie over the other based in large part on the artistry they embody even before they sculpt their bodies into that most provocative aesthetic form: homoerotic wrestling.
Illustrated Eli: BG East’s Mat Hunks 9
Okay, I love me some Cameron Matthews.  His attitude, his wit, his relatively recently redefined incredibly conditioned physique, that ASS(!!!)… it’s hard not to find myself wanting to identify with the babyface brawler turned muscle daddy for a heel bid.  But fuck!  Eli Black works his magic in my shorts once again in Mat Hunks 9, solidly holding my gaze and making me acknowledge he’s my boy in this match, and I have to think it’s his ever growing collection of tattoos. 
Kevin Crowes’ crows: Can-Am’s Pro Sex Fight 4
A relatively recent release in what I think is Can-Am’s best genre contribution to homoerotic wrestling pits epically long-time favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy of mine, Rusty Stevens, against almost painfully beautiful pretty boy, Kevin Crowes in Pro Sex Fight 4.  I have a documented record years-long that proves that there’s almost nobody to compete with Rusty Stevens in delighting, entrancing and infatuating me, starting well before he lays a finger on an opponent.  And Rusty’s got some sweet ink, albeit he could use some touch ups, if you ask me.  But Kevin Crowes’ combination of imminently fuckable classically proportioned beauty along with his bold, massive, gorgeous ink does what perhaps only one man before has been able to do: hold my attention and settle my ass securely and convincingly in the opposite corner from Rusty Stevens.
Paul Hudson’s tatted bicep makes Lon Dumont just a little less pretty.

Lon Dumont’s skin is smooth, clear and entirely absent of foreign pigment.  It’s not the art tatted onto Lon’s body that has propelled him into the top echelons of my favorite homoerotic wrestlers, but the incredible beauty of his competition physique paired with a smart, vicious persona and high quality pro wrestling execution.  What could make me root against my reigning favorite!?  I think it’s two things, really.  One, there’s something deeply stirring watching a whittled to an anatomy chart physique star go slack over and over in a knock outs match, and (more to the point of this post), his opponent Paul Hudson surprises me by smacking me firmly into the Hudson camp with his bulging trunks and upper arm ink.  Lon’s face slack and smashed into the black band inked across Paul’s right bicep is simply gorgeous.

Illustrated MJ rides Attila’s ass

The 3rd match in Mat Hunks 9 catches me by surprise by how compelled I am by it.  Attila Dynasty (and in particular, his ass) has long been an infatuation of mine.  But MJ Vergara is visually astonishing the moment he walks into the BG East mat room and shoves Attila stumbling ahead of him.  The mohawked muscle man is amazingly built, veins popping, muscles bulging, 25 inch waist (my guess, I haven’t measure him myself… but I’d be very happy to).  His bold, beautiful tattoo stretched across the whole of his left pec and massive deltoid and trapezius muscles is simply beautiful! Attila is such a smart ass, such a cocky, swaggering, proven-dangerous son of a bitch, of course, and there are plenty of matches in which that character is exactly the one I can’t wait to watch work up a head of sadistic steam all over his crushed opponent’s body.  Not this time, however.  Fuck, I’m all on board with compact muscle stud MJ going ape shit all over Attila’s fine, fine ass, and I’m thinking that he’s got me sucked in to identifying with his plans for bully revenge thanks in large part to that gorgeous ink that absolutely swallows up Attila whole.

Beauty and power you just have to touch.

Chace LaChance and Braden Charron in BG East’s Summer Sizzler’s bonus are both in the best shape I’ve ever seen either of them, and sporting more ink than I think we’ve ever seen on either phenomenal muscle men.  All of that inked muscle wrapped around each other, squeezing, stretching, and flexing is breathtaking.  Who to root for when both stunning physique stars are in the best condition and most extensive ink ever?  It’s a toss up for me, but I’m not complaining.  There’s no way this can miss!

 Big Sexy’s big, sexy ink on display.

Less surprising is Thunder’s Arena’s Big Sexy owning my lustful allegiance in Battle Space 45.  If there’s a “total package” in homoerotic wrestling these days (by the way I estimate packages, at least), Big Sexy probably has the best claim.  He’s smart and funny, highly skilled on the mats, handsome as hell, beautifully built, one of the most fuckable asses on the planet, and all of that beautiful artwork!  Both an artist and a work of art, I’m entirely a Big Sexy fanatic when he steps onto the mats with the entirely tattooless muscles of a muscle star, Muscles.

Oiled ink on ridiculously hot Landon Conrad.
Naked Kombat’s newest release makes me gasp.  Even if Landon Conrad didn’t have a few, modest tats  on that insanely hot muscle bod, he’d definitely be my man in his match against amazingly hot, yet somehow unavoidably diminished in comparison, Alex Law.  However, ridiculously handsome muscle hunk Landon does, indeed, have tats that drive home the point that this porn gladiator is suddenly my #1 Naked Kombat kombatant in any match for the foreseeable future.
Specimen illustrates total domination.

Thunder’s Arena has long been the place for the battles of the big men, and Battle Space 46 is a prime example.  Looking for everything like Superman’s alternate universe arch enemy Bizzaro, bad boy and mighty meat head Vinny was never going to be my man after the tiff he dusted up around his “gay taunt” earlier in his Thunder’s career.  But then again, with beautiful, branded beef like Specimen is serving up, it wasn’t like Vinny had a chance anyway.  Beat his ass, make him cry, and give him an up-close examination of every tat, Specimen!

My final tat shout out is for another a BG East newcomer, bad ass Vic Madone.  Vic is a perfect example of the difference between still frame homoerotic wrestling images and homoerotic wrestling in action.  In still frame, this gorgeous stud is GORGEOUS!  I mean, crystal blue eyes to swim in.  A face  that should be hocking ultra-expensive men’s cologne. A lickable body that appears to be the perfect intersection of form and function.  Even with all of those very, very nice tats, I could picture still-frame Vic easily donning a tuxedo and walking a red carpet (and then climbing into a wrestling ring for a rip-n-strip extravaganza).  But when I watched his debut match on Mat Hunks 9, there was nothing “pretty” about Vic.  He mumbles non-stop, and I’d pay money for a translator, because I’m sure that incessant trash talk is sexy as shit.  But Vic is an object of my lust like Michael Imperioli is in the Sopranos.  He’s rough, mean as hell, machismo oozing out of his pours, and absolutely BRUTAL!  Personally, I’m likely to root for anyone going up against Ray Naylor simply because I’m dying to see someone seriously ride that epic ass of his.  But Vic is honestly phenomenal in this match, slowly warming me up from an initial tingling in my crotch to a full-on raging fever over the course of the first 5 minutes.  I pity anyone who faces this hot, inked hunk, but I fully expect that if anyone does, you can count on me standing right behind Vic in anticipation of him doing serious damage.

So ink seems to be adding up to my allegiance lately.  Of course, just because I’m rooting for one wrestler to win doesn’t mean I don’t thoroughly enjoy being surprised, having my boy bested, watching the power I’m invested and identified with tamed and conquered.  But tattooed muscles wrapping up and locking down an outmatched opponent is a particular brand of hot for me.

DrakeFuckingMarcos

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Drake Marcos: The Cheshire Cat
About halfway through my interview with BG East new kid Drake Marcos, I sat back and told him that he had a lot to say that needed to be said.  I still harbor a seriously raunchy wrestling fantasy in which Drake and his doppelgänger, John Fugelsang, rip and strip one another to pieces until one is riding the other like a Funny or Die video starring Dave Franco.  Drake’s got that persistent, perpetual smile on his face every time the camera rolls, unable to disguise (if he wanted to… not that he does) that there’s nothing in life he likes more than to square off against another wrestler and see what crazy shit happens next.  He’s well read, well spoken, and he connects the dots between a lot of topics that I intuitively recognize as closely tied, but have never, myself, managed to articulate as clearly as Drake does how all of the pieces fit together.  Gay culture, wrestling fans, homoerotic wrestlers, body image, gear, pain, domination… all of these elements are part of what moves me most about the subject of this blog, but there’s a proportionality and aesthetic about the precise concoction of each element.  Too much body worship without wrestling, or body worship that bleeds into body fascism, or aggro wrestling that buys too much wholesale a hetero male macho construct, and the whole hot genre starts to crack and peel away.  What I like about Drake, both in my interview that I posted and in several private conversations since, is that he’s got both an all-in enthusiasm for homoerotic wrestling and a critical eye for what works, what doesn’t, and why some things that seem to work perhaps shouldn’t.
Ray Naylor rides Drake in Mat Scraps 2

So I started early and continued often to tell Drake he should open up his own corner of the interwebs and get his words out there unfiltered.  A couple of weeks ago, I got a cryptic message from him: “Shhh… he’s writing.”  A few days later, I got this link: Drake Marcos: The Cheshire Cat of Homoerotic Wrestling.

Ray squeezes the smile off Drakes face

You want to check it out.  Like a few before him, Drake tells a bit about his early days of discovering the erotic satisfaction of wrestling.  Unlike anyone I’ve ever read, he writes with the voice of both of his personalities (diagnosable, to be sure, but somehow that much sexier!).  D2 is apparently a highly calculated, cautious, deliberate planner who thinks the hell out of everything.  I’m guessing it’s D2 that brings the critical lens that catches me off guard when I’m chatting with him/them.  D2 is not impetuous or impulsive.  I picture D2 as an aspiring chess grand master, which makes total sense to me how he could both find his way onto a wrestling mat and execute a studied, dispassionate game plan to topple and conquer a hardbodied hunk with plans of his own.

Drake gets himself into the sweetest of tight spots!

Then Drake interrupts him, at times a little unkindly (“Shut up you sappy windbag!”).  Drake is raw, running on red bull and a hard on.  I’m guessing it’s Drake whose grin stretches from ear to ear when he stares down an opponent, picturing, perhaps tasting the carnal delights he’s about to sample in hard, sweaty, vicious wrestling.  Drake fires all cylinders on intuition and lust.  Drake gets himself into precisely the tight spots that all of D2’s planning is intended to avoid.  Drake loves to hurt an opponent. He loves to be pushed to the edge of endurance and have his impressive tolerance for pain tested to its limit.  It’s Drake that fearlessly faces down an opponent, whether it be a muscle stud in a singlet or D2’s own self-doubt, and I strongly suspect that it’ll be Drake that gets into more enviably tight spots (aka, face buried deep up Gabriel Ross or Ray Naylor’s ass).

D2 may be wondering what Drake got him into

Looking forward to hearing more from him/them!

Don’t forget, you’re buying the popcorn!

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Eli Black faces Cameron Matthews in BG East’s Mat Hunks 9
I haven’t thought of Eli Black as a flirt before.  A sexy, dangerous, vicious grappling machine, yes.  A flirt?  No.  But BG East, in their wisdom, brought out some awesome new sides of my first (and so far only) 3-time homoerotic wrestler of the month by pairing him with one of the most engaging, flirtatious, wittiest grapplers on anyone and everyone’s payroll, Cameron Matthews, in new release Mat Hunks 9.

An ass-lovers feast for the eyes!

First let me just get the most obvious out of the way and say connoisseurs of fine, athletic, aesthetic wrestling asses will be in heaven.  Cameron was barely edged out of the title of best ass of 2013, and no one, including Eli Black, has failed to notice that Eli’s lean, lean, lean rump is simply phenomenal.  In many ways, this is a study in contrasts, with Cameron’s meaty, round bubble butt juxtaposed next to Eli’s anatomy chart muscle glutes.  On the surface, this just begins to describe the apparent contrasts in this bout.  Cameron is much better known for his extensive indy pro wrestling credentials, compared with Eli’s high performing amateur wrestling and cage fighting MMA resume.  Cameron is a champion smart-ass, slapping down both trash talk and flirtatious double entendre in an intoxicating mixture that no one I’ve ever seen before can quite duplicate.  Eli, on the other hand, seems to approach his matches with a more upright, straightforward mental approach, testing himself and his opponent until he finally finds 5th gear and goes ape shit all over whatever slice of beef gets trapped in his arsenal of holds.  I can’t remember Cameron ever failing to speak directly to the homoeroticism of his wrestling, while I can’t remember if I’ve ever seen Eli name the homoerotic tension in his work out loud.

Cameron brings out something new in Eli
That’s the last time I can write those words, because well before these two mat hunks get their hands on one another, Eli has more than risen to the occasion of Cameron’s flirtation-laced psych-up/out pre-match trash talk.  As they snarl back and forth at one another about talk being cheap and whether it was worth Cameron’s wait for tardy Eli to show up, Eli smirks, “I can more than pay for something!”  Like a lightening strike, Cameron makes his move to knock Eli on his heels with a pick-up line. “Good! You’d be a pretty good date, you know?”  Lesser men have been caught flat-footed in the line of fire of Cameron’s double entendre offense, but Eli just cracks the slightest smile and tosses it right back in his face. “Don’t forget, you’re buying the popcorn.”  
Voluntarily and forcibly compromised positions abound
In a different context, this could be a train wreck about to happen.  If either one of these beauties uttered the phrase, “No homo,” I swear I’d have turned off the DVD player in an instant.  But not only do they not back down or apologize, the sexual tension and double entendre grow more explicitly peppered throughout some incredibly beautiful mat wrestling.  Eli offers to start the second fall with Cameron in his guard, meaning all of the sudden Eli drops to his back, lifts his knees, and invites the indy pro veteran to climb on board.  “I don’t know if I know you that well!” Cameron protests half-heartedly, his gaze lingering at his opponent’s waiting crotch.  It’s only about 2 seconds of apparent indecision, but holy shit, I think somebody just out-eroticized Cameron Matthews!  A smart-ass retort, either verbal or physical, isn’t on the tip of Cameron’s tongue.  He has to think about it, ever so briefly.  Oh my god, Eli Black just out-flirted Cameron Matthews!
Saddle up!
It’s a rare, possibly unique moment to see in a Cameron Matthews match: he’s ever so briefly the one caught flat footed by an overtly homoerotic offense.  Again, the wrestling action that ensues is intense, powerful, and incredibly gorgeous.  But not long after Cameron brings the pinfalls back to even, it’s the indy pro veteran who grabs the bull by the balls, so to speak, and ratchets up the sexual tension much, much more than I’ve ever seen in an Eli Black match.  Dropping to his hands and knees and shaking that stunningly hot bubble butt, Cameron muses that Eli looks like a man who likes to be on top, so he’ll offer to start the next fall in referee’s position.  “Saddle up!” Cameron chuckles, spreading his legs and arching his back just a bit.  It’s Eli’s turn to raise his eyebrows and have to think for a second.  And perhaps we find the edge of the envelope, as far as Eli can go.  Rather than hold the erotic tension, he finally just shakes his head and marvels at the technical mistake Cameron is making by starting the fall off in such a vulnerable position for someone as skilled and proven-dangerous as Eli is.  The upright, straight-spined Eli kicks it into high gear, as the flurry of holds and counters gets nastier, more vicious, and stretches both boys to their limits.

Eli wrings the sweat out of Cameron’s gorgeous muscles
Bodies and experience like these two bring to the mat guarantees that this is astonishingly entertaining wrestling.  While I love, love, love the smart, whip-cracking homoerotic banter, and I’m always a fan of the explicitly homoerotic side of homoerotic wrestling, when push comes to shove, it’s wrestling that tops me off.  And the wrestling in this match is a delight, with notorious sweat-stud Cameron glistening starting at about the halfway point.  There are wrestling products in the universe that leave me unconvinced that either pain or hard work were actually involved as the suspension of doubt wears thin for me, but this is the opposite of one of those matches.  I buy every second, as big, beautiful egos and powerful bodies pound and crush and rip and wrench each other with such force that it hurts just a little to even watch.
Cameron teaches the new kid a little humility (just a little).
The explicit storyline is that Cameron is here to teach relative newbie Eli a lesson in humility.  So much love, so much attention has been heaped on Eli, and not just by me!  It’s been, what, a year and a half since the stud puppy first climbed into the Rock Hard Wrestling ring and introduced the homoerotic wrestling world to the fatal mistake of underestimating the damage this brutally lean gladiator can inflict?  A year and a half, and he’s been my homoerotic wrestler of the month 3 times, mentioned in 24 posts (this makes 25) here at neverland and elsewhere interviewed and broadly admired.  Which perhaps puts Cameron’s initial response to me when he won my homoerotic wrestler of the month title into perspective.  “It’s about time,” he said simply.
Flirtatious banter and play turn joint-cracking serious

Their match in Mat Hunks 9 is a barnburner to the very end.  The power moves and muscle-against-muscle holds stubbornly persist until the very last moment of this match, when one truly astonished hunk takes a bruising blow to his ego by being forced to utter the final and decisive 3rd-in-a-row submission.  This is extremely high quality mat wrestling, entertaining glimpses into both the intellectual and kinetic smarts of both boys, and chart-topping sexy, sexy, sexy viewing.

Shrines

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“…a complete stranger’s secret masturbation shrine.”

A link to this post from Thought Catalog was forwarded to several of us with an overlapping interest in blogging and BG East.  It’s a clever, well-written post from some straightboy in California who stumbled across a particularly indicting… well, let’s just say indicative… scene on a recent walk in the woods in SoCal.  The author, I’m sure correctly, surmises that this is what is left of a remote jackoff session, with the remains of black-and-white computer printouts of “semi-nude male wrestlers.”  Referring to this as “a masturbation shrine,” the author marvels at the untold story of these artifacts.  Why, for example, did the owner of these images travel to such a remote spot in the woods to settle in for a moment of private ecstasy?  With the obvious availability of these images from the internet, why leave the color computer screen behind and surreptitiously carry black and whites 4 miles up a hiking trail and into the bushes to possess them for gratification?

The stuff of fantasies: Kid Karisma wrings the sweat out of Jake Jenkins in Hunkbash 12.

The reason this perhaps tongue-in-cheek blog post was forwarded to several of us was not so much for the words, but the images attached.  Take a look, and you’ll see that these are not simply printouts of “semi-nude male wrestlers.”  These are shots of some of the finest, sexiest BG East boys (with copyright intact, no less) going at it in the ring!  The close-up photo from the blog post is easiest to identify.  It’s quite clearly my top contender for the status of my favorite homoerotic wrestler, Kid Karisma, bearhugging achingly pretty, barefoot beauty, Jake Jenkins and showing absolutely no mercy in Hunkbash 12.

Barefoot beauty Jake Jenkins looks achingly vulnerable under Kid Karisma’s control

Studying the more wide angle on the scene, I’ve managed to identify 2 of the other 3 images.  Both also come from Kid K and JJ’s smokin’ hot match in Hunkbash 12.  One shows Jake looking for the world like a reincarnation of barefoot gladiator babyface Kevin Von Erich from the 80’s, getting his arms stretched out behind him as Kid K takes advantage of JJ being flat on his fine, fine ass.

Kid Karisma feels Jake’s hot body melt in a sweat soaked Boston Crab

The other image I can make out (anyone else decipher the badly “soiled” image on the bottom?) is an exquisite shot of Jake sweaty and slapping the mat in agony as Kid K torques the living shit out of JJ’s gorgeous lower back in a spine-snapping, ass-bonanza Boston Crab. Readers of neverland may remember that this is the match that, at the time, Kid Karisma identified as easily his favorite. In my interview with Kid K, he marvels at the memory of “getting a hold of that body!… I mean, I truly got to work him over completely!,” Kid Karisma enthused. “But when I had him in the Boston or bent over my knee…God, you can just feel his body melting and weakening…pretty epic.”

Pretty epic.
Epic indeed! This is quite clearly the stuff of fantasies, clearly a fantasy match for Kid K, absolutely a fantasy match for me (it’s one I come back to again and again!), and obviously a fantasy match for the creator of this masturbation shrine in the woods. I don’t know if necessity is what drove this person to find such a remote site to let the fantasy take him, or if he has a particular thing about black and white homoerotic wrestling images enjoyed in the woods. Or perhaps, as the Thought Catalog author suggests, perhaps this is making an ironic artistic statement on the disposability of culture and passion.

Fueling fantasies near and far.
Whatever it is that explains or describes the person who left these images behind, I know one thing for sure: he’s a homoerotic wrestling fan like you and I are.  And perhaps like the Gideons and like me, he’s just spreading the word about what he’s passionate about, leaving behind some provocative images that, while lost on a straightboy remembering sorting himself out as a kid to National Geographic boobies, may yet inspire another hiker to catch a glimpse of what turns him, and me, and you on: hot, hardbodied hunks wrestling for our enjoyment.
Worth a 4-mile hike.
If the kindred spirit who left these images in the woods happens to read neverland, let me know you’re out there, buddy.  Let’s strategize a better way for you to access the beauty of Kid Karisma making Jake Jenkin’s muscles melt under his control in a Boston Crab.  And I’ll personally do my best to get you an autographed, color photo from at least one of these fantasymen.  A 4-mile hike to spend time with them?  You deserve at least that!

Heel = Jobber [Guest Blogger: Alex]

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In trying to help Bard with content, I have discovered that writing for a blog is difficult. Maybe I just don’t have that much to say. One of my limitations is that I don’t watch nearly as much wrestling as others. So today, I’m going to flip the script and ask you a question. I’ll seek your advice and perspective.

I admit it. I liked Barry Horowitz, with his pulled-too-high trunks and back patting antics. Barry, Reno Riggins, Brooklyn Brawler … these are just some of the guys who I don’t think I ever saw win a match, but I found their arrogance and optimism oddly appealing.
Sure, Brawler, you’re going to be the one to defeat Tatanka. Good luck with that.
While face jobbers are required to look scared, weak and may not even mount any offense, heel jobbers start out with unearned confidence, a bag of dirty tricks (that are doomed to fail) and manage to get in a few licks before the inevitable ending.
So, are there any really good heel jobbers right now?

It’s a real question. Maybe there are and I don’t know it. As I said, I don’t watch a ton of wrestling these days, so there could be. There are definitely heels who lose occasionally, especially against other heels, but I’m wondering about a strong guy who walks in wearing black, talking tough then gets beat down by the talented face. Are there any who lose with Darius-level consistency? Are there any who maintain, rather than suppress, their inherent heel-ness while losing? Is there a heel equivalent of Braden Charron?

What if Darius wore black instead of pastel blue?

What if Braden wrapped his muscles in leather instead of the flag?

These guys could still job, but they’d job with an attitude. They’d go down to the man in white and pink, still mouthing off until they lost consciousness. I have to say that I have seen this from Aryx Quinn, but not sure if there are others.

Does it happen? Is the idea even appealing? I’d love to hear thoughts.

TMI

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As a lover of expressive language, I tend to hold contempt for text-talk (smh), but this tidbit I recently ran across leaves me with nothing to say except for “TMI.”  It was the headline “MMA fighter sues sex shop over burnt penis” that sucked me in, along with an arousing photo of said MMA fighter, Michael Waylon Lowe.

Michael Waylon Lowe: 32 y/o, 5’7″, 145 lbs., 14-4
So the gist of this story as best I can tell from reading it multiple times on different sites (because it’s a little unbelievable and hilariously/tragically salacious) is that this hard-bodied fight machine was playing the part of the hard-bodied sex machine with his fiance’ (who has no penis, sadly), when during an intermission, his cock began to burn and swell up to alarming proportions.
Just let me be clear.  This sounds like serious shit.  There’s a bit of tongue in cheek to a lot of the online coverage of Lowe’s lawsuit (I mean, his cock swelled to alarming proportions during sex… please), but if even half of his injuries are real, he deserves a healthy dose of sympathy and some serious respect for publicizing these details in his bid for a monetary settlement for his pain and suffering.
But there’s just something too provocative about the alluring concoction of details that compose this story.  Juxtapose a ripped, handsome MMA fighter and the details of his application of sex gel and my one-track mind leaves behind the potential merits of Michael Waylon Lowe’s claims against Kama Sutra Pleasure Balm Prolonging Gel.  Instead, I’m helplessly left to imagine what a far, far better world it would be if MMA competition always involved “pleasure balm” (not the kind that leaves you permanently scarred and dysfunctional, though).
I like the intensity of MMA competition.  I don’t watch it often, but when I do, I’m stoked hard and breathless right quick.  There’s a powerful eroticism to the element of danger, of two ripped, conditioned, highly trained combatants using their bodies to hammer, choke, or rip each other apart.  It’s an element that I miss when homoerotic wrestling is too playful, silly, or slapstick.  I like stakes, tension, and competitive aggression.
Lorenzo Lowe (no known relation to Michael Waylon Lowe) gets tortured by MMA fighter Eli Black
Davie Lowe (no known relation to Michael Waylon Lowe or Lorenzo Lowe) suffers in oil beneath the muscles of Terry Reed.
I also like explicitly homoerotic content, with two wrestlers above-the-table turned on by one another.  I think the sweet spot for me typically resides when these two elements (competitive intensity and explicit homoeroticism) are perfectly balanced.  If the intensity and competitive spirit are lacking, the hottest bodies in the most explicitly erotic circumstances can sort me out, but they don’t hit me where I really live.  And as I said, I don’t often watch MMA for the same reason (along with frequent homophobic ventures of prominent MMA personalities).  All physical aggression and combat can sort me out, but I’m typically providing some erotic backstory in my own imagination to connect all the dots that truly entertain me.
Hope you’re back to full function soon, Mr. Lowe
Back to Mr. Lowe’s burnt and disfigured penis, though.  Fuck, that sucks.  If you’ve had similar results from using Kama Sutra Pleasure Balm Prolonging Gel, let us know.  Play safe, fight hard, and keep fucking!

Summer’s Back!

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I was pulling weeds in my front yard yesterday and caught my first sighting of the season of a truly stunning specimen of a hunk jogging in front of my house shirtless.  I mean, this boy was gasp-worthy. Amazingly broad shoulders, lightly hairy and powerful pecs, defined six-pack, lean & defined quads.  Handsome face with a square jaw, short-cropped near-buzz-cut.  But as he passed me and I stared openly, the view going was more incredible than the view coming.  Incredibly gorgeous, muscled back tapering down to a narrow waist, with those hot, thin nylon running shorts slit up the side encasing incredibly powerful glutes bulging so beautifully I could’ve set my Mai Tai on top of that shelf.  As I watched the specimen for two blocks before he turned up a street, I could help but smile to myself and mutter, “Summer’s back.”  Here are a few more backs that make me sit back, admire, and imagine….
One of the most gorgeous shots of my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler: Lon Dumont in Tag Team Torture 15.
Current top contender for the favorite title showing off his award winning backside: Kid Karisma in Matmen 23.
Alexi Adamov’s beautiful back muscles and bulging butt in Ring Revenge 1.
The stunningly pretty shelf of Pretty Pete Sharp from Gazebo Grapplers 14.
Paul Perris’ vintage backside beauty.
Multiple HWOTM winner Denny Cartier’s beautiful back in trouble in  Ring Revenge 1.
Chace LaChance’s stunningly built back displayed to perfection in Braden Charron’s bear hug in newly released bonus to Summer Sizzlers.
Tyrell Tomsen’s physical perfection from trapezius muscles to calves in Strip Stakes 1.
Another vintage babyface bodybuilder back belonging to Can-Am’s Jonny Olson
Cameron Matthew’s sweaty back glistens in new release Mat Hunks 9.
Brad Barnes bulges everywhere. Everywhere. As he surveys demolished Chace in Pec Bash 2. 
Incredibly broad wingspan on long, strong Paladin facing Stage 2 of Jonny.
Rio Garza showing off his Can-Am credentials along with his professional physique model body.