Beating the Odds

wrestlebard3 Comments
There are varying opinions about mismatched opponents in homoerotic wrestling.  I get the argument that the intoxicating heat of the competitive premise can suffer when there is, or appears to be, little chance of an outmatched wrestler holding his own, much less taking possession of his opponent’s.  Not infrequently, however, I have a sweet tooth for an apparent mismatch, for the tale of the tape that suggests there is no spread big enough to make this worth a bookie’s time.  Just that first glimpse of some plucky hunk staring down (more often up) extremely long odds can grab my attention with both hands.
Brian Baker stares down his nose at goldenboy Austin Cooper 

The long-odds wrestling match jumped front and center in my attention recently when I clicked through to the preview of my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month, 5’9″, 170 pound Austin Cooper, trying not to have to strain his neck to look up at the stunningly handsome face of his young rookie opponent, Brian Baker (different one), who towers over him at 6’4″ at weighing in at an athletically lean 205 pounds.  I’m downloading this promise at this very moment, inspired largely by the promise of seeing what Coop can do with the rook’s seriously lovely ass and long, tattooed torso.  The online match description telegraphs (or, rather, painstakingly details) that not only does Coop tame the towering stud, but he humiliates Brian in a two-fall squash despite the 7 inches of height and 35 pounds of weight advantage the rookie comes in with.  Please tell me Coop draws out the schooling just as long as his lovely pupil’s body is!

Drake Wild has his hands full taming massive muscle beast Tyler St. James

In the way the universe does sometimes, I was fresh off of getting all breathless over Coop and Brian Baker when I stumbled across more tantalizing preview pics of Can-Am’s first catch-weight version of a Pro Sex Fight.  Men.com reports that the sweet, hot punk Drake Wild is 5’5″ and 140 pounds, which explains why he looks absolutely dwarfed by Tyler St. James, who Men.com reports is 6’2″ and 240 pounds of insanely thick muscle.  That’s 7 inches and, I kid you not, a reported 100 pound difference, which is instantly translated into a sweaty brow and gasps of lust to see controlling the big man handily.   Fuck, that’s hot!

Gorgeous giant Paladin makes even notorious heel Jonny’s eyes grow wide.

Apparently there’s something in the water these days, because BG East’s latest catalog also boasts one of those inspiring apparent mismatches with the 5’5″ and 160 pound version of Jonny Firestorm, staring up at the chart topping beauty of 6’6″ and 210 pound Paladin in the 3 Stages of Jonny.  The online match description explains that Jonny’s been sent on a mission to cut the 6 and half foot giant down to size, but even Jonny and those magical forearms can’t prevent the man 50 pounds and over a foot taller from taking the first fall.  It’s never a good idea to count out Jonny, or his forearms, prematurely, and yet again another “little guy” beats the odds, and his massive opponent, to a pulp.

Every ounce of Cybertron’s 65 pound weight advantage threatens to break babyface Ronny Pearl in half

And then there’s the case of 5’8″, 185 pound Ronny Pearl, who I mentioned so adoringly yesterday, encountering 6’2″ and 250 pound wrecking ball Cybertron in Ringwars 21.  Compared to the previous 3 mismatches, Ronny’s “only” staring down a half a foot height difference (and, yeah, a 65 pound weight disadvantage).  Nevertheless, Cybertron demonstrates what “odds” are all about, capitalizing on every inch and ounce of superiority to crush the flowing-haired rookie with more brutality than I’ve seen in a match in a long time!

Big Sexy isn’t about to let even two opponent’s kick his fine, fine, FINE ass!

And if we’re counting numbers and assessing odds, Thunders Arena has posted a couple of new matches recently the devolve into 2-on-1 double-teams.  In Rough and Ready 33, peroxide punk Izzy was due to star in one of those totally outmatched features, though how much smaller he is than 6′, 205 pound Big Sexy is a mystery because he’s not listed yet in their roster (which seems ominous for his future).  Regardless, 5’8″, 156 pound Python apparently steps in to help little Izzy out, wrapping those superman arms around Big Sexy’s throat and turning the tide.  However, this is Big Sexy we’re talking about.  Worse for the double-team, it’s Big Sexy bigger, sweatier, and more beautiful than ever, demonstrating that it’ll take a lot more than 2-on-1 for the likes of these boys to ever best the likes of Big Sexy.

Butt-to-butt-to-butt, Tak and Coop work over Braden Charron’s luscious muscles.

On the flip side, you’ve got twink of my dreams, Tak, getting more than he bargained for when he tries to work his twink-dominator magic on the bulging muscles of body beautiful Braden Charron in Rough and Ready 34.  Braden is reportedly only 5’8″ and 155 pounds (really!? with that ass and those pecs, that astonishes me), whereas Tak is 5″10 and about the same weight, but even at the outset this looks like a mismatch for lean fratboy Tak.  When things go decidedly not his way, fellow goldenboy Frey (aka, homoerotic wrestler of the month Austin Cooper) steps in to go butt-to-butt with his buddy Tak in delivering a lick-lippingly sexy double-team dose of humiliation on the bubble-butted beauty Braden.  Braden stared down the odds stacked against him (and on top of him, and all around him) and learned the hard way that they’re “odds” for  a reason.

Coop’s got the towering rookie right where he wants him.

Mismatches, long odds, David and Goliath… sometimes the little guys surprise us.  Sometimes they don’t, and yet still delight us.  However the contrast, the conventional wisdom turned on its head, is very frequently a provocative element in homoerotic wrestling that sorts me out just right.

Honey-Dipped

wrestlebard3 Comments

BG East’s Ronny Pearl is a compelling character. I’m insanely in love with his look. He’s solid as granite, with classic proportions that bring to my mind images of Steve Reeves from his Hercules movies. But rather than a 1960’s vibe, Ronny exudes a very strong late 1980’s, very early 1990’s mainstream pro wrestling look, with the armbands tied around his bulging, vascular upper biceps, flashy and relatively demure pro trunks, and matching knee pads and boots. From behind he’s got a classic V-shaped back, pointing like an arrow at a mouthwatering, more-than-a-couple-handfuls of sculpted, muscled ass. Of course the hair is nothing if not transported directly off of an 80’s heavy metal guitarist. He’s already told a story that fascinates me before his opponent, fucking unbelievable freak of nature Cybertron, strolls up to the ring.

I’d buy a Ronny Pearl Muscle Showcase DVD in a heartbeat (hey, why don’t we ever see those anymore?!). Fuck, if he was in the market, I’d pay to slather him in honey and lick every bit of it off his naked body. He’s got a face that balances equal parts “beautiful” and “handsome,” with lips that I can think of no other word to describe other than luscious. Honestly, I’d pop a load just watching Ronny pump up his muscles, stretch his stunning body, and run through some drills in the ring, which the camera watches him do lingeringly to start his debut match on Ringwars 21. He’s sold me within seconds.

Then the part-man, part-machine muscle beast lustful sadist Cyberton rings the bell, climbs into the ring, and beats the living shit out of him! Ronny toughs it out beautifully early going. He’s literally picked up off his feet and hurled like a sack of groceries across the ring, but the fierce young hero peels himself off the mat, pounds his gorgeous pecs to psych himself up, and charges back into the mountain of a man staring down at him. When he makes the superhuman villain come to a grunting halt with a gorgeous side headlock, there’s a little moment of pure heaven. The babyface squeezes with such earnestness, such delightful intensity, grinding the masked heel’s face into that pumped, puffed up pec. He even owns the giant for a while, dancing out of reach of several counters and deftly slapping that muscle-popping side headlock back on, jerking his head to the side to whisk the stray strands of his long, curly locks out of his face. The classic hero ventures a subtle, self-satisfied smile for beginning to tame the superhuman/inhuman beast.

The total quantity of offense Ronny puts on the board turns out to be relatively token in the grand scheme of things, because Cyberton is not about to be denied. To say that the masked villain’s offense is devastating would be the understatement of the year. He pounds and pummels, slams and slaps, wrenches and racks my honey-dipped babyface hero with a relentlessness that is awe-inspiring. Seriously, this match makes me cringe like few pro wrestling matches do for the sheer quantity of brutality. Cybertron laughs a lot, too. It’s a creepy, deep, bass laugh that comes from a comic book (and is sold beautifully). But it’s Ronny’s storytelling that keeps me gasping and fully aroused from start to finish. Ronny’s earnestness, his determinedness, his pec-pounding self-psyching-up roars start to cave under the onslaught. He grows quieter at first, bouncing off the mat with his face twisted in agony, sucking down the suffering in silence, struggling to steel himself against hopelessness. A little farther down his path of destruction, and he’s gasping loudly, the guttural sounds of shock and self-doubt popping out of his lungs almost involuntarily. But it’s when Ronny has stared too long into the face of despair that I absolutely go insane for him, when his grunts turn to pleas, and his pleas rise an octave, and his anguish turns to wails of desperation.

It’s hard to tell if the sounds coming out of his mouth are actually asking the question, “Why?!!!” but that question (with it’s many exclamation points) is delivered nonetheless with crystal clarity in the arch of his back as he twists his tormented spine off the canvas after still another airborne bodyslam. His gorgeous, full lips go thin as his jaw gapes open wide, his face twisted in sobbing terror and exquisite agony. If the man-machine gave him enough time to breathe between body-crushing, high impact, strength move after strength move, I’d be tempted to expect to hear Ronny submit about 50 times in this match. But he doesn’t, whether because his brutal opponent never grants him enough air in his lungs to form the words, or because this beautiful, babyface, rookie hunk is just that damn deep-down tough, I can’t say for sure.

His long locks pop loose from his hair tie and begin to plaster to his face and back with copious sweat born of terror. His wrestling mag coverboy good looks are pounded into one long series of ugly torments. By the time Cyberton is done with him, Ronny is a pile of wasted muscle and hair in the middle of the ring, motionless, crushed in body and soul, and escaping to the nightmares of his unconsciousness which could never be as terrifying as the waking nightmare of being “welcomed” to BG East by Cybertron. This valiant, sincere babyface rook was clearly a complete fool to have bothered showing up, and an even bigger fool to have resisted the temptation to sprint out of the ring at his first glimpse of Cybertron’s approach.

And I absolutely love him for it! I desperately hope we see him take another stab at ring glory, because he’s completely captured my imagination (particularly stretched out like a turkey dinner in a sickeningly sweet spine cracking over the knee backbreaker!). I have to guess this was not exactly what Ronny Pearl had in mind when he pictured his triumphant debut at BG East, but it’s an incredibly compelling passion play that elevates him to the standing of a doomed hero of a classic Greek tragedy. And I hear that a honey-dipped tongue bath from an amorous blogger does wonders for the aches and pains of an epic pro wrestling ring spanking….

A Man Named Suh [Guest Blogger: Alex]

wrestlebard1 Comment
Pro football players have become pro wrestlers many times. Brian Pillman, Goldberg, Mongo McMichael and Lex Luger were all pro players before there were wrestlers. I’m sure there are current examples, but I feel like it’s less likely to happen these days, especially with anyone prominent. And it probably shouldn’t happen, because there are too many talented wrestlers in the system. It wouldn’t be fair to them. Still, the second episode of a little cheesefest on ABC called Splash sure got me thinking about the potential of one: Ndamukong Suh.

For those who don’t follow the NFL, why Suh? He’s 6’4″/307-lbs with a beefy body. And he has a penchant for being a heel. In the past two Detroit Lions’Thanksgiving games, Suh has made news by stomping a player who was down (2011) and delivering a low blow to Houston QB Matt Schaub (2012).

So when I flipped by Splash and saw him come out of the back in his robe, strip it off and hand it to the lovely valet, my brain could only think “HEEL”. I could imagine that all playing out with him jogging to the ring, instead of the diving board.

 

 Cage behind, bloody nose … yeah, wrestler

Sweaty after a long match?

Unrealistic that he’ll ever be a pro wrestler, much less a heel? Of course, but he’s still a beefy dude with an attitude and a fondness for stomping and low blows. Yeah, definitely sign him up.
What say you? Yay or nay?
–Alex

Get Well Soon

wrestlebard15 Comments

My reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler, Lon Dumont, has been guaranteed entertainment for me from the first moment I saw him strike a mouthwatering side chest pose in the BG East wrestling ring before setting the standard for forced-to-flex matches. When I scored neverland’s first wrestler interview with Lon 2 years ago, my infatuation with this polished pro wrestler-turned competitive bodybuilder-turned homoerotic wrestling star merely intensified. I discovered that Lon is an incredibly thoughtful, even philosophical man with strong opinions about masculinities, being an object of lust, and the timeless lessons of Rocky. When Lon also revealed his compassion and passion for rescuing/being rescued by shelter animals, I was pretty much done for. The only question left was whether this is the sexiest, or just one of the sexiest hunks haunting my wrestling fantasies. At the moment, this beautiful baritone body beautiful bad ass is firmly in the “sexiest” category.

Sadly, Lon recently had emergency minor surgery when his appendix flared up. Of course, even minor surgery feels major when it’s your rockhard abs that are getting sliced into. This unwelcome intrusion into his health equation comes at a particularly inopportune time, namely as he’s starting to zero in on some bodybuilding competitions this spring. Word is that Lon is on strict doctor’s orders to avoid strenuous exercise (particularly anything requiring he crunch his washboard abs) for another 3 weeks or so.

If it were me, I’d be kicking my feet up, sucking down comfort food, and happily leaving my abdominal muscles fallow, enjoying the excuse to skip a few weeks of tending to the more apparent health of my body while my insides heal. I’ve never been one to seriously enjoy working out. I do it, and I feel better physically and self-esteem-wise for it. However, it’s something that always requires being put on my to-do list, rather than something that I look forward to. I get the impression, however, that Lon is a different beast altogether. He seems to have his physical conditioning (all aspects, including working out, psyching up, and dieting down) down to a near-exact science. He whittles down every spare fat cell to oblivion through a systematic and, it appears to me at least, obsessive infatuation with carving up his body like a master builder. Handing over that masterpiece to a surgeon to, more literally, carve open and sew back up again, seems like quite the exercise in giving up control for a physique artist like lovely Lon.

Personally, I’d like to offer my help in nursing Lon back to health, including any assistance he might need in bathing, dressing, and undressing. I can’t imagine that his surgeon should have any objection to a full-body, well-oiled massage, as long as I steer clear of his lower abdomen. While I wait by the phone for his call to take me up on my offer, perhaps you’d like to pass along your get-well wishes (and any additional offers of home health aid). I know that he periodically checks in here at neverland to stay abreast of what his number one fan (that’s me, and don’t you forget it!) is musing about when it comes to Lon’s most natural habitat of all – the homoerotic wrestling ring. So if you aren’t already directly in contact with Lon (and I, for one, am always ready to be in direct contact with Lon… particularly in contact with is pecs), drop him a get-well note in the comments below.

Sincerely, get well soon, Lon. And let me know if I can be of any “assistance.”

So Close It Hurts

wrestlebardLeave a comment

I’ve complained before about the master cock tease, Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!).  By “complain,” of course, I mean that I bitch relentlessly about the aching frustration of having never seen Mr. J’s gargantuan crotch monster unleashed.   As BG East’s winner for Best Bulge, Joshua’s infamous oversized baggage is in a class of its own (though I’d give a kidney to see a side-by-side and crotch-to-face comparison of Mr. J and painfully pretty “don’t-call-me-pretty” Pete Sharp!).  I’ve spent a lot of time blogging about my unrequited love affair with Mr. J’s junk, and it surprises me not one iota that the longer he’s been in the business, the more Joshua’s most obviously eye-catching asset features prominently in the dramas in which he stars.

Joshua’s most recent release in Ringwars 21 battling against Brooklyn Bodywrecker’s punishment sponge fuck puppet, Ned Norris, is merely the most recent development in the ongoing saga of how Mr. J’s massive package can take center stage whenever he steps into the ring.  Early on in his career, his opponent’s just couldn’t take their eyes off his overstuffed trunks, typically not mentioning it explicitly, but who’s gonna miss it when during every single match he’s got to pause, shove his hand down the front of his trunks, and rearrange things that have shaken loose in the action!? More recently, opponents have begun to want to use Joshua’s pendulous testicles as a punching bag.  That notorious best bulge has been targeted in later catalogs for crotch claws.  BBW was the first and, to date, the only opponent to not only conquer the stunningly beautiful Mr. Joshua, but to then peel him out of his trunks, drape his naked body over one shoulder (displaying the most underrated ass in the business), and carry Mr. J out of the ring.  Before he left, BBW taunted us on this side of the camera.  He knows we want to see what he’s seen lurking underneath Joshua’s trunks, but in the most vicious heel move I’ve ever seen, BBW snarled with contempt at us and assured us that Mr. J is as big and stunning as we suspect… but BBW walks off with the most stunning trophy of all tucked up tightly against his chest, remaining unseen for public viewing.

I thought Ned Norris seemed like an unlikely challenger for Mr. Joshua when I first saw the matchup. He’s a lean 6 foot, with a hairy bod and a handsome face. He’d catch my eye in a crowd… at least a crowd that insanely gorgeous, smooth, sculpted Joshua isn’t in. But when Ned strides across the ring and crowds Mr. J from behind as the infamously dangerous narcissist lustfully studies his own peaked biceps, you’ve just got to admire the audacity. I wouldn’t mind standing that close to Joshua’s hot bod, but Mr. Muscles is a nasty, dangerous powerhouse. When Ned flexes his biceps directly behind Mr. J, the super-close-up comparison is not kind to Ned. He’s a hot, hairy hunk, but he’s clearly a mere mortal when so closely compared to the divine Mr. J. As Joshua fans will expect, he makes Ned pay for for the audacity. It takes him approximately a tenth of a second to drop Ned to his knees and begin a beautifully long session of using Ned’s suffering body as a prop to display the aesthetic perfection of Mr. J’s muscles put to the use that the gods intended when they sculpted him out of granite: dominating an overwhelmed stud in the wrestling ring. True to his most mouthwatering form, Mr. Joshua flexes and poses at every turn, turning every joint wrenching, breath-stealing, soul crushing hold into the stage upon which Joshua’s beautiful physique looks that much more stunning for the obvious utility of it.

There’s nothing that doesn’t stoke my engine with such gusto as Mr. Joshua on script and melding amorous self-worship with total, humiliating domination. But the eroticism spikes dramatically the moment that Mr. J has Ned’s head trapped between his gorgeous, smooth thighs, chin pointed at the ceiling. It’s a stunning visual, this standing headscissors. Ned’s neck looks like Mr. J could snap it with an ever-so-slight twist of his hips. I’d pay an extra month’s rent for Ned’s view at that moment, as Mr. J leans back against the ropes and pumps his guns again. Then out of nowhere, Ned reaches up tentatively, hooks the fingertips of both hands in the waist of the narcissists trunks, and starts to drag them downward. Holy hell, Ned instantly turned from lamb-to-the-slaughter jobberboy into my personal hero! He manages to drag the insanely tight fabric a nice distance, definitely exposing Joshua’s hip flexors. If Mr. J had roused even a half a second slower from his lusty self-adoration, he wouldn’t have managed to cup his hand across the top of the trunks just barely still covering his crotch and halt the downward progress of his gear. There’s a painfully quick struggle between the two, with every ounce of my attention pulling for Ned’s fingertips to win the tug of war. Alas, Mr. J eventually slaps Ned’s hands away and pulls his trunks back up. Fuck. So close.

Mr. Joshua doesn’t seem to hold a grudge about the near-strip. There’s no gay-panic defense necessary here. Mr. J knows what you and I and every sane opponent before and including Ned Norris is fixated on: the real star of the show, his monster package. I live with questions burning through my crotch, such as is that huge heft equally distributed between cock and balls, or is Mr. J primarily one or the other? Ned Norris nearly answered 99% of my aching questions about Mr. J in one fell swoop, and rather than resent him, Mr. Joshua seems merely inspired. He begins to delight in crotch-pinning Ned’s face to the mat over and over. He taunts him with instructions to open his mouth and take Mr. J’s balls whole as he flexes his biceps and grinds his crotch into Ned’s face in a schoolboy pin. Mr. J appears both unsurprised and, if anything, delighted to learn that Ned’s ulterior motive here is unleashing his beast. With the stakes a little clearer, the master narcissist and notorious cock tease does a truly professional job of bringing Ned’s prize so close… so, so close… but holding it just barely out of reach.

Astute fans will note that this is not in the Strip Stakes series, so adjust your expectations if I’ve led you to think that you’ll get the eyeful we’ve been aching for. Ned does not follow in his master’s footsteps, and I can only imagine (fondly) the discipline Ned faced when he got home, dutifully donned his leather collar, and had to relate to BBW how he fared. Mr. J uses his impeccably toned bod to quite literally pound Ned from every angle possible, rolling the hairy jobber across the mat and tenderizing his back with countless knee drops. Again, we know Ned can take (and let’s face it, relish) a brutal beating, but with Mr. J’s conditioning and strength paired with the tantalizing implicit disclosure that Ned’s got his sights set on Mr. J’s number one muscle, Ned’s buttons are both pushed and bashed in with a hammer until he’s a puddle of squashed dreams and quivering muscle. Ned’s fleeting moments of offense show off some sweet, sweet angles of Mr. J’s physique, but like a pebble tumbling down hill, setting off a landslide, Ned eventually gets buried deep beneath the crushing, overwhelming, gorgeous muscle stud on top of him.

The moment Mr. Joshua’s name appears on a BG East Strip Stakes DVD box, I will instantly lose a load. Next time, perhaps Ned Norris and Randy Stanton should coordinate their efforts. If it would help to take up a collection to incentivize Mr. J to battle on sans gear, count me in as a mega-bundler! In the mean time, Joshua has woven that intoxicating, crazy-making, frustrating, and powerfully entertaining web over me that he has so many times before. And I’ll say it again, whoever gives us the Mr. Joshua full-monty goes into a homoerotic wrestler hall of fame all his own!

The Lusts of My Life [Guest Blogger: Alex]

wrestlebard8 Comments

I’ve been struggling to get my work done, post some new homoerotic wrestling fiction, and keep neverland updated regularly with tasty treats for you. Prolific and extremely talented writer Alex asked if there was anything he could do to take something off my plate. Moments later, I’d wrangled him and his fantastically vivid mind for erotic wrestling to commit to making some guest contributions around here to keep things fresh while I’m pounding out some text in my homoerotic wrestling fiction groups. As Sidelineland readers know, Alex rocks. He’s got an incredibly hot literary eye for wrestling, and he’s one of the most talented writers I’ve read in the genre. We’re lucky to have him writing stories to share with us, and I’m incredibly pleased to have him step in as a very honored guest blogger here at neverland today (and hopefully in the future, as well!).  ~Bard

————————–

When Bard asked me if I wanted to write something for his blog, I went through three stages of hesitation. I started by thinking about the fact that blogs are personal, like an open journal. Neverland is home to his thoughts, not mine. Do my thoughts even belong here? Then I wondered if anyone would care what I had to say about anything. Why would they? Who the hell am I? And last, I worried I’d have nothing to say. I write wrestling stories, but those aren’t the same. My favorite bloggers seem rather profound, analyzing wrestling at a deep level. I tend to look at the surface from an instinctual POV. Then it sort of hit me … what’s wrong with instinct and being shallow?

So, here we are. While many people are searching for the love(s) of their life, I’m going to write about the lusts of my life. I’m talking about the guys you see that get into your system and you can’t shake them. Not the latest flavor of the month, but guys who years later, you’re still thinking about. It’s not like you want to marry the guy, it’s more like a craving. You can’t explain it, people might mock you for it, but there’s just something about him.

For me, these are often guys that I feel like only I see the potential in. Of course with the interwebs, I know it’s more than just me, but they’re still not the über-popular super-studs. They have often a fleeting presence in my life that I think adds to their appeal, as they stay the same forever. You don’t have time to notice the flaws, just the magic of first sight.

One of my big lusts in life is Bart Gunn. Yes, Bart Gunn.

Three-time WWF champion. Cowboy, tall, built and hot, mullet and all. Hey, I did say I couldn’t always explain it. I like guys in classic trunks, but Bart wore tight jeans and cowboy boots to the ring and I loved it. In spite of his physical attributes, Bart never really caught on, but I loved him.

Thanks to YouTube, there are actually quite a few matches with him in them. Bart’s solo match with Ted Dibiase was the first match I ever saw of him. As a Smoking Gunn, he was usually the tag partner who took the abuse. After he went on his own, Bart was that jobber who came close to winning. His solo match with Mankind is a stand out for me.

20 years after his debut and Bart is still my guy.

Is this just me? Do you have a lust of your life? Share your opinion in the comments!

+Alex

Promises, Promises

wrestlebard2 Comments

The headline read, “Porn star rivals in pro wrestling grudge match until one of them is stripped and left crushed in the ring.” Okay, so the “headline” of Rock Hard Wrestling’s newest match between Josh Steel and Luke Harrison didn’t actually read that way. Pretty much all those words are in the online match description, however, so it should come as little surprise to anyone that I was instantly sucked in. RHW has excelled at extremely high production quality professional wrestling between hardbodied young hotties, which is admittedly an excellent foundation for a homoerotic wrestling audience. However, they’ve steered clear of too much overt acknowledgement of the homoerotic aspect of their appeal. They have definitely always described their wrestlers in lustful terms, and the matches hit some major marks for implicit erotic domination and submission themes. But to see them play up a “porn star rivals” storyline and title the production “Stripped” seems like a promising and provocative turn that most certainly grabbed my attention and wallet. I’m not expecting Naked Kombat, though I’d go ape shit for RHW to indulge in rip-n-strip wrestling between hard-in-all-the-right-places wrestlers with a loser-gets-humiliated-and-fucked final round of action. Honestly, though, I’m not expecting the RHW we’ve grown to know over the past few years to veer quite that explicit. But naming the boys as rival porn stars and promising one of them will get stripped is definitely a huge step in the right direction, I’m thinking.

This is Luke Harrison’s debut with RHW, and as far as I know, his debut in wrestling for pay (please someone, correct me if I’m wrong). He’s extremely lean, and yes, I’ll even say it, he’s downright skinny, particularly once seen side by side with the bulging pecs of muscleboy Josh Steel. Luke is, however, not without a strong appeal, not in small part from the fact that he’s a dead ringer for Topher Grace’s little brother (not that I know whether Topher has a little brother… but if he did, I’d bet money he looks just like young Luke). Put Topher Grace in a singlet, straps down around his waist, and toss his fine ass into a professional wrestling ring, and I’m feasting for days. Luke strokes some of the same notes that Topher does for me, and he tweaks a certain skinny-kid retribution fantasy in me (in which a handsome adolescent boy gets bullied in school and then opens up a can of whoop ass on his bully’s ass once they’re of the age of majority), so I’m quite pleased with the graceful, lean young stud. Supporting my skinny-nerd-retribution fantasy is the high-pitched, nasally Southern twang Luke communicates with. This porn star was called a sissy back in the day, I’d bet money. Yeah, I’d love to see Luke crush a big, bad bully’s balls and slap his porn star cock in the stunned stud’s face!

Josh Steel on the other hand is a freak of nature! Damn, damn, damn the boy’s got insane proportions. The long, stunningly lean torso tapered into a wasp-thin waist, sitting so, so pretty atop a meaty, muscle-bubble butt and powerful legs is along the realm of fantasy-man wrestling. But those g-g-g-gorgeous pecs of his are clearly ripped straight off of a comic book superhero! The incredibly hot, bold, beautiful indigo tat on his right upper arm is so entirely up my alley, and the fact that he’s wearing lickably snug trunks that match his tat make me deeply intrigued with the picture perfect aesthetics he presents. In still frame, I fucking love this kid! Then he opens his mouth, wipes the shaggy mop of bangs off his brow, and slaps down some Southern-twangy narcissistic high-school-bully-turned-internet-wrestling-bully baritone trash talk, and I fucking HATE this kid! I mean, he’s a fantastic package, made that much more fantastic by the fact that he instantly raises within me hardcore contempt. Josh is instantly a most excellent pro wrestling character, grabbing my cock at the same time he grabs my infatuation with a compelling story. And what’s the compelling story he ignites with me the instant he curls his lip and rolls his eyes at little Luke? Good God, I want Josh’s glorious ass beat, spanked, and let’s put that Naked Kombat sex round in the mix to show him ridden like a donkey and fucked 9 ways to Sunday!

Check the RHW web description of this match for more of the steamy banter that these two hormone buckets dish out, because I’m happy to see their match descriptions focusing extensively on the dialogue you know I love so much. There’s plenty of withering assessments of each other’s wrestling and bodies. “You call this a bow and arrow?” Josh snarls at one point as Luke does an admirable job of displaying the cocky muscleboy in precisely that hold. “Bitch and arrow!” Josh snarls in contempt of the minimal damage Luke inflicts. And true enough, despite Luke owning the momentum through the majority of the first fall, he’s clearly not doing much damage. Putting on a clinic of pro wrestling holds, Luke then suddenly finds the powerpacked musclebody he’s been pounding on turning to offense on a dime (okay, a little too quickly for the sake of suspending disbelief, which is a frequent criticism of RHW I have). “You think you’re a wrestler!?” Josh laughs in precisely the rumbling tone of voice of a high school bully. “That’s so fucking funny!” And just like the high school bully, Josh delights in locking on a shoulder-wrenching hammerlock and tossing his skinny opponent around, force-feeding Luke the mat (to be fair, Luke did this first on his mop-top opponent, setting up the moment of sweet revenge). But it’s Luke’s “skinny” legs that Josh targets with most of his fury, pounding, stomping, twisting, grinding them. He’s set up his “porn star rival” quite adeptly by the time he delicately laces his sculpted, muscular legs around Luke’s in a figure-4 leglock, so it’s no wonder that the skinny kid taps out quickly, clearly in a panic. Fuck. That fucking muscle stud bully won the first fall. I HATE that kid (in a good way)!

Watching Josh’s smooth bulges turn red with effort and grow slick with sweat is undeniably arousing. I can forget for a while how much I have an instant lustful desire to watch his beautiful body get fucked up, because watching that body flex and stretch as he grunts and groans in the driver’s seat is just plain hot. “Like that!?” he laughs, grinding Luke’s skull between his sculpted arm and ribcage in a humiliating headlock. “Gonna walk with me like my dog!? Gonna heel?!” When he wraps his legs around Topher’s little brother’s midsection and starts pounding the crap out of the kid’s lean chest, I have to admit that I’m suddenly forgetting about my bully-revenge fantasy for a moment and wondering how I can sign up for that ride snuggled up so nice and tight against Josh’s crotch. “You can’t move that!” Josh crows as Luke tries to pry his legs off of him. “You can’t move steel!” So sure, I had an instant lustful fantasy to see narcissist muscleboy Josh get a dose of humbling domination from Luke, but despite myself, I’m getting totally turned on watching him own his rival, particularly as his mop-top grows heavier with sweat. “Come on, cry for me. Scream!” he says, and then laughs when he makes the skinny kid do just that.

But then when Luke rallies to scoop the flat-footed muscle boy up and parade him around the ring helplessly again, my bully-revenge fantasy kicks into overdrive once more. Luke’s a little raw, not able to finish executing a Boston crab attempt, looking a little at a loss for offense. I feel for the kid. A big, muscled beauty momentarily at your mercy… where to start!? Tenderizing all that beef with repeated stomps is a good place. Grinding Josh’s face into the mat with fistfuls of his shaggy, dishwater blond hair is an excellent development as well. “Did you ever wrestle?” high-pitched Southern skinny boy Luke asks, owning his bulging opponent. “Yeah,” smart ass Josh replies, “I wrestled your mom last night!” Note to self: don’t insult Luke Harrison’s mom. The kid goes ape shit all over Josh’s body until pretty much every one of his aesthetically perfected muscles is quivering and helpless. Then when he pounds the sculpted muscleboy’s lower back down across his knee in an OTK backbreaker, with Josh’s blue bulge quivering, his soaked mop top shaking, his carved pecs now bright red from the fists pounding into them, my bully-slayer gets the equalizer submission and drops the mountain of meat to the mat in disgust. “Are you okay?” Luke feigns concern. “Is you’re back okay?” he asks, a half a second before stomping his boot into the muscleboy’s lower back again. Hell. Yes.

The final fall (or “round” in RHW terms) has a bit of sweet drama about it. “I must’ve underestimated you,” Josh grudgingly admits as they start the final and decisive fall. When he gets the upperhand and unleashes a flurry of boot strikes on an already down Luke, the skinny kid sneers up at him having already achieved a minor victory. “Somebody’s mad!” he chuckles, celebrating on behalf of all of us who’ve been bullied by bigger, meaner, stronger, supremely condescending bad asses who would hate to admit that their prey managed to get under their skin. When he’s worked up a head of steam, Josh’s mouthwatering pecs heave and swell hypnotically. His body, particularly his back, shines with sweat. He watches Luke grovel, struggling to peel his face off the mat where he’s been slammed brutally. “I like it when you wheeze when you hit the mat!” Josh laughs like the fantastically gorgeous sadistic bastard he is. The final fall teeters back and forth as the young ‘uns do their best to sell us on classic pro wrestling suspense. My muscle-bully-retribution fantasy evaporates when Luke finally can’t peel himself back up off the mat. He’s crushed, wasted. He’s rung some satisfying concessions out of steel-cored Josh, but between Josh’s deeper reservoir of ring experience and his significant advantage in size and strength, Luke cannot pull it off. Far from some behind the dumpsters in the back of the high school squash, though, he’s done my bully-bashing fantasy proud. He’s not just earned respect, he’s rung it with both hands out of the tantalizingly tasty fantasy body of his rival. Josh “wins,” but the skinny, Southern sissy boy forced a different story out of him than the old throw-the-helpless-skinny-nerd-in-the-dumpster nightmare.

I have to quibble about a few things, as is my self-appointed prerogative as consumer and critic. First of all, and most obviously, if you’re planning on purchasing this in order to see either “porn star” wrestler stripped naked, stop right there. The stripping that happens is when exhausted Luke gets his singlet (and according to Josh, his “dignity”) stripped off of his legs, leaving Luke sprawled out in the middle of the ring IN HIS CALVIN KLEIN BRIEFS. Now, the act of stripping is, itself, hot, even when not down to bare skin, but I would caution anyone who buys what I think is arguably an oversell that by the end of this match you’ll see a porn star naked in the ring. Doesn’t happen, and I feel just a little toyed with, I have to say.

My second knock against this match is the wrestling itself. The trade off for an RHW match between painfully young pretty boys can often be some woodenness, telegraphed action, weak sell, and lack of wrestling creativity. In this case, in particular I find fault with the pacing (both boys sell suffering nicely, but then instantly stand up straight when it’s their “turn” on offense and suddenly are fresh as daisies), and with several moments of Luke’s newbie paralysis. Played a little differently, his blown Boston crab and anxious struggle to figure out what to do next when he’s got Josh on his heels could be a sweet little point in the drama. But it comes across here as mostly a rook who forgets his lines. My most vehement criticism is the fact that despite schoolboy pinning his comic book character opponent and owning him for considerable riding time, not once does he sink his claws into those bouncing baby pecs of Josh. Not once does he trap the sculpted stud in the ropes and wail on all those muscles. Finally, while I love the tempting tidbit that these guys could be porn star rivals, other than an initial “don’t I know you” banter when Josh first arrives at ringside, there’s nothing in the drama itself to play up the erotic content that these two do porn. Josh pulls a “I had your momma” insult, but if RHW is interested in talking directly to their homoerotic wrestling fans, let’s see the porn stars acknowledge “You didn’t squirm this much when my monster cock was up that bubble butt last month!”

Just increasing the erotic content of the drama would make me feel a little less used as a result of my knee jerk reaction to seeing the phrase “porn star rivals” in the match description. Of course, if RHW ever decides to tape an actual strip stakes match, if they ever present us with a naked pony ride around the RHW ring and one porn star force fed the jack hammer of the stud who bested him, then I’m buying a lifetime subscription!

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

wrestlebard2 Comments

Walks in the park were laying on on too thick, huh? True enough, yesterday’s post swearing off the core direction of this blog for topics unrelated to homoerotic wrestling was, indeed, an April Fool prank. For the record, I’m not in therapy and have found 3 out of 4 therapists in the past to be undertrained, unqualified, and generally unhelpful, so the idea of taking a therapist’s advice and turning my back on what gets my blood pumping is never going to happen. And while it’s true that I do actually get a kick out of long walks and flowers from my lover, they do not make me hard. What does turn me on, of course, is some hot, sweaty, full contact, no shame, muscle on muscle wrestling, so let’s put the foolishness behind us and get down to business, namely, naming the new homoerotic wrestler of the month around these parts.

Rock Hard Wrestling puts up a couple of sugary sweet treats: beautifully tattooed muscle twink Josh Steel and newcomer reported pornboy Luke Harrison pounding on each other until one of them is “Stripped.” RHW also puts up nominees fratboy Alex Waters and baby bodybuilder Brodie Fisher for Rookie Rising. Thunder’s Arena has been busy with several new releases debuting new wrestlers, of which I’m giving nominations to HUGE bodybuilder and deadringer for a comic book supervillain, Vinny “Too Good” who has suddenly appeared in 3 releases, but I’m particularly pleased with his twink punishment on lovely, lithe Mogly in Mat Rats 37. Though not to overlook the biggest news story in homoerotic wrestling over the past couple of weeks, Vinny most recently showed up on the Thunder’s mats against a Thunder’s debut of fitness model goldenboy Frey, who everyone but EVERYONE already knows exceedingly well as none other than Rock Hard Wrestling’s and BG East’s Austin Cooper. Frey/Coop also gets my loving for getting Python’s insanely peaked python wrapped around his throat in Rough and Ready 31. Glory be, Can-Am has released something new with perennial workhorse Jobe Zander grabbing a nomination and the nuts of Joey Boots who has got a look that instantly sparks my imagination. Can-Am has also released a superhero porn wrestling piece in their Hard Heroes genre giving us another gander at Joey Boots as well as fellow nominee and a Naked Kombat alum who was always a favorite of mine, long, strong, insanely flexible Phillip Aubrey. And just under the wire, BG East released catalog 98 (that’s 2 catalog’s away from a century!). I nearly didn’t have time to give the catalog 98 releases a serious look, making me nearly postpone their consideration for next month. But some exhausting dehydration sessions over the past couple of days have given me the opportunity to consider them in their time. As a result, I’m putting in nominations for muscleman Chace LaChance and blindingly pretty powerhouse Brad Barnes for Pec Bash 2; former HWOTM leading man Christian Taylor and lusty stud Tino Valencia for Sunshine Shooters 6; two former HWOTM, sweaty muscle stud Jake Jenkins and sexy never-say-die Skrapper for their appearance also on Sunshine Shooters 6; a truly breathtaking and compelling debut by Ronny “the instant classic” Pearl and the human buzz saw, Cybertron 2.0 in Ringwars 21; perennial goldenboy Austin Cooper’s deeply satisfying heel turn in Demolition 16; former HWOTM forearms-of-steel Jonny Firestorm cubed for the fantastic concept piece of The 3 Stages of Jonny; and finally, sultry Lorenzo Lowe and magical Gabriel Ross for pounding it all out in Wrestle Shack 16.

I love the mix of former HWOTM, other frequent nominees, and brand new additions to the ranks this month. This was a fantastically deep field this time around, and I loved exploring every inch of it. I much prefer a month like this, where I waver back and forth between several nominees, torn and tormented by the task of selecting just one to hail for their hot new appearance on the scene. So much to say about so many of these profoundly delightful wrestling performances, but if you batter me defenseless and tie me in the ropes (please!) to demand I make a choice, I’ve got one juice-draining hunk in mind, and I’m not looking back. The new reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month is…

… Austin Cooper.

Appearing in 2 matches at Thunder’s Arena (as Frey), and 2 matches in his self-subtitled Demolition 16 BG East release, if this were a random draw, he’d have the best odds of winning the title anyway. However, it’s far from blind chance that I specifically call out his main course feast for the senses in Demolition 16, telling one of my very favorite wrestling stories in any genre, the goldenboy heel turn. God, I love a heel turn. The journey from Coop’s catalog 96 appearance in American flag briefs climbing into the ring as one half of the gorgeously cocky muscle-beautiful pretty boy team alongside of former HWOTM Jake Jenkins to his showing up in Demolition 16 in a black lace corset, villainous facial hair, and a penchant for trampling a totally outmatched opponent brings a tear of absolute erotic joy to my eye!

Coop, drenched in sweat, hard as granite, and pounding the living shit out of stellar jobber extraordinaire, Rio Garza, is absolutely a thing of beauty. There are Rio fans already hating on me for not choosing him again this month, but this isn’t about their favorite wrestler-of-the-month, it’s about mine, and as blindingly beautiful as is Rio’s admittedly growing capacity to job, I cannot take my eyes off of Coop’s soaked, heaving chest. Out-prettying Rio Garza is a mind blowing feat, but damn it all but if ripped Coop does just that for me. But interestingly for me, it’s his less ripped, less pristine look in the second match of Demolition 16, against beautiful lamb-to-the-slaughter, masked Mister E, that sets off the biggest fireworks in my head and crotch.

When Coop first hit the scene arm in arm with Jake Jenkins, showing up simultaneously at Rock Hard Wrestling and then making the leap to BG East as a matched pair of beauties, I went on record early that ridiculously beautiful Coop took a back seat for my affections behind Jake. From the start, if you put the two of them side by side and slathered in baby oil (not because that’s relevant, but just because I’d like to seem them in baby oil), my hands would, of their own accord, stretch involuntarily toward Jake, without a doubt. It’s no wonder Jake was a HWOTM long before now, because he always plays my lusts like a concert pianist. But even with Jake in the mix this month in a fantastically hot and bothered mat match against Skrapper, Coop doesn’t just turn heel, he turns me into a believer.

Like I said, goldenboy fitness model turned sadistic ring heel is pretty much guaranteed to rock my world as far as wrestling stories go, and you know I’m always a sucker for a well-told story with ample, bouncing, pendulous character development. In less generous moments in the past, I would have probably ungraciously thrown words like “vanilla” and “pedestrian” around in musing on the erotic spells that Austin Cooper can weave over me. That is, most definitely, no longer the case, and for climbing into the ring in a lace up corset and convincing me beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’s got a ravenous blood lust for chugging down the wailing suffering of a crushed opponent, I’m entirely on board. Among a very competitive and pleasing crowd, Austin Cooper rises to the top as both a gloriously delightful heel and my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month!

A New Direction

wrestlebard5 Comments

Several regular readers have noticed that I’ve been conspicuously less frequent in my postings over the past several weeks. While the ebb and flow of life has often generated this pattern in the past, I need to announce some major changes here at neverland based on a good deal of introspection, soul-searching, and, frankly, intensive psychotherapy.

First, I’m not discontinuing neverland, in case that’s what anyone is thinking. I’ll continue to post here about the infinite trivialities running through my head as has been, in general, my style for the past nearly 4 years.

However, I’ve been led through extensive meditation and life-review that my infatuation with homoerotic wrestling has become too limited and limiting. I’ve somehow made a ridiculous amount of hay for nearly 4 years out of a singular fixation on the eroticism of wrestling. What about the romantic allure of gentle tenderness and kindness? What about the erotic delights of a spiritual connection with another human being? My tunnel-visioned focus on grunting, sweating, aggressive, trash-talking, body pounding, joint wrenching, humiliating domination through the performance art of professional wrestling for gay eyes is surely not all that there is to a satisfying, robust, well-rounded libido.

Therefore, based on my introspection and some advice from my therapist, starting today, I’m going to begin blogging about a more thoughtful and comprehensive view of what can turn me on, including things like flowers, walks in the park, cuddling by the fire, and sensual, loving erotic massage. While wrestling topics may pop up now and then, I will begin exploring a more diverse and expansive understanding of the erotic. I hope that you will respect this course correction and new focus, and chime in with your own thoughts on what, other than wrestling, turns you on.

Sincerely,
Bard

Picking Up the Remote

wrestlebard6 Comments
Within the context of the news that one of my favorite newsboys, Chris Cuomo, has been successfully wooed away from ABC by CNN to headline his own morning news program, ABC quietly brought on board a new correspondent a couple of months ago.
Luscious Latino stud Gio Benitez looks hungry for success.
Gio Benitez joins the Good Morning America crew after his recent migration north from Miami.  My instant reaction to young Gio was, “hola!”  The Latino stud is handsome as hell.  He’s got a mouthful of teeth, sporting a smile bigger than most (not hating here, mind you… not at all).  Gio has a strong wiff of fratboy hottiness about him, mixed in with an unmistakable “aw shucks” quality that shines through the impeccably tailored suit he wears to increase his network news cred, unmistakably revealing he’s just fucking thrilled to have landed this shot at the big leagues.  I liked him instantly.  I thought immediately that he well could earn an appearance in a homoerotic wrestling fantasy, perhaps teaming up with fellow GMA correspondent and frequent object of my lust, Matt Gutman.  It’s hard to judge, when I only get to see a stud from the waist up as Gio typically reports sitting at the GMA desk or, when in the field in a head-and-shoulders framed shot, but sure, I’d almost definitely like to see someone like Gutman jump this rookie from behind and rip off the suit and tie to reveal what the fresh meat carries underneath.

There’s no mistaking it: Gio’s bulging!
Then a couple of weeks ago, something caught my eye when I was lustfully fantasizing in the middle of one of Gio’s morning reports.  Damn, that suit is tailored all to hell, and fuck me if those aren’t some serious pythons coiled up inside those sleeves!  Of course, you know me.  I can let my imagination run a little wild at times (aka, always).  I can picture a stone-carved hunk of mouthwatering meat with just a single button undone to reveal the barest glimpse of pec cleavage.  But there was something about the way Gio sat at the GMA desk, something about those obviously packed shirt sleeves and an unmistakable bulge at the shoulders.  Is this yet another example of my imagination running away with me, or is Gio Benitez an undercover muscleman!?  A little internet digging and bingo!
This shot alone makes me ready to move to Miami!
Holy shit.  I mean, holy… fucking… shit.  This kid is a side of beef!  I get absolutely nothing in my treasure hunt for a shirtless shot ($10 to anyone who’s got nip sightings on lovely Gio).  But some sleeveless t-shirt shots show seriously nice, thick biceps and big, round shoulders of a pump-junkie gym bunny!
Gio’s prominent nips are begging to debut!
Already there’s online speculation about Gio’s sexual orientation, because yeah, that’s what we do.  Personally, I’m holding out hope that Matt Gutman’s recent assignments reporting from Miami led to a torrid love affair with a certain Cuban powerbottom and subsequently the inside track on a major league job promotion.  True story or not, I’m helpless to stop the barrage of images stroking my imagination featuring Gio’s powerfully sculpted pecs bouncing as he climbs through the ropes alongside his new newsboy tag team partner, Mattie too-hot-to-handle Gutman.  Talk about a power couple!  The old guard on the newsboy beat better get their tired asses to the gym, because there are a couple of new kids on the newsboy block that I absolutely cannot take my eyes off of!
That physique is made to deliver a newsboy beatdown!
Speaking of which, this countermove by ABC to position an insanely sexy rookie newsboy with biceps way thicker than George Stephanopoulos’ neck into my morning routine moments before Chris Cuomo goes live on CNN with his own morning show is undeniable genius.  I’m almost paralyzed by the win-win choice of GMA vs. yet-to-be-named Cuomo morning vehicle.  A no-holds-barred pro wrestling match between Gio and Chris would certainly settle things for me (and don’t think that isn’t playing itself out in my imagination soon!).  However, short of that ideal scenario, let me just clarify for the powers that be that the owner of my loyalties will almost certainly be the network that manages to contrive the more creative ways to maneuver their meat in front of the camera wearing as little as possible.  
Beat it goofy!  That upper body is mine to fondle!
I haven’t been this turned on over my morning cup of tea in far too long. Summer’s coming soon.  I think it’s about time for a GMA correspondent swim suit fashion show!  Sincerely, welcome to my homoerotic wrestling fantasies, Gio Benitez!
Wanna wrestle, Gio?  Call me!

And word to the wise, Mr. Cuomo: this rook looks like he could very well have pecs to rival even your mouthwatering mounds of muscle.  Knock out another set at the bench press and start practicing your pec claws, because this beautiful specimen could very well be more than you can handle!
Call up that personal trainer again, Chris, and look over your shoulder, ’cause Gio’s making his move!