Aw, Shucks

Thunder’s Arena’s Python (and his goofy grin)
On Friday I started off my review of the top biceps that turn me on in homoerotic wrestling by marveling at the fierce pythons on Thunder’s Arena’s new muscle boy, Python. I also mentioned in passing, among Python’s many notable features, he’s got a damn adorably goofy grin. I haven’t seen his debut against Angel yet, but his photo shoot pics are full shots of that toothy, awkward, cute-as-a-button overbite from the slammin’ gorgeous bodybuilder. The “aw shucks” homoerotic wrestler has a strong appeal for me. The “aw shucks” wrestler is that rookie who, whether he’s got the guns to blaze like Python or not, he sports an undisguisable self-consciousness about him.  He looks like he’s got an ocean of insecurity swirling just underneath the surface of a barely managed game face.  Without words, he communicates with perfect clarity, “aw shucks, I’m just lucky to be here.” He knows we’re looking at him, marveling, fantasizing, and he feels like he should probably do something, flex just so or say something witty, but all that he’s got at the moment is that “aw shucks” goofy grin.
Thunder’s Arena Dallas goes from  “aw shucks” to “oh, shit!”
Thunder’s Arena puts up more than their fair share of “aw shucks” wrestlers.  Before his recent match with Coupe, Dallas adamantly insisted that between the two of them (both with spotty win-loss records, to say the least), he was the bigger chump. Coupe couldn’t believe that Dallas could possibly be as much of a jobber as he is. But the look on Dallas’ face as they faced off in speedos is priceless. It morphed delightfully from “aw shucks” to “oh, shit!” Coupe is an extraordinary muscle freak, and Dallas, while delightful to look at it, is relatively soft and crunchable standing vulnerably in Coupe’s shadow. Self-conscious vulnerability, stage fright, a little bit of “what the fuck am I doing here?!”… it can be a nice element in the typically over the top battle of narcissists who more frequently populate the scene.
Big Sexy and PeeWee give the “aw shucks” wrestling motif 4 thumbs up.

Thunder’s took Aw Shucks to (and possibly over) the edge of credulity with the infinitely fuckable babyface who wrestles diminutively as PeeWee. PeeWee showed up to audition for Thunder’s knowing full well that he’d get his ass kicked. Big Sexy is more than happy to make PeeWee’s prophecy self-fulfilling, but PeeWee keeps the “aw shucks” attitude going from start to finish. He’s a hot little muscle stud with some unquestionably hot moves of his own, but even when he’s working some rare riding time on Sexy, PeeWee is profoundly insecure and self-deprecating. Even when he’s got Sexy so compromised that he could (if he chose) yank down Sexy’s trunks and fuck his ass, PeeWee is supremely self-critical and predicts his own demise. Bulging muscles, bulging pouch, bulging insecurity… this works for me in many (though definitely not all) cases.

Showing up for his BG East audition sexy Alexi Adamov
grins nervously for approval from Brad Rochelle.
Thunder’s, however, definitely doesn’t corner the market in “aw shucks” wrestlers. These days, tall, tasty Alexi Adamov is all about that deep bass rumble and a tenuous certainty that he can, on any given day, kick some ass.  But in his first BG East match, showing up for a faux “audition” after the stealth coup of the compound by heel-turned Brad Rochelle, Alexi is one great big, luscious, gorgeously smooth, ridiculously pretty slice of humble pie. Brad, getting his kicks off of fucking with the newbie’s mind, requires that the Russian babyface try on several possible gear choices, each one more made-to-order for a jobber beatdown than the last. Alexi poses for Brad, obeying the veteran’s instructions, proud of his beautiful body but seemingly easily unnerved by Brad’s strategic verbal jabs and slights. Alexi is just pleased as punch to get a shot at the world of BG East, and recently emerged heel Brad is like a hungry spider, slowly luring the fly into his web to slowly, mercilessly suck him dry.
Morgan Cruise – too smiley to heel?
Morgan Cruise is a quick study, learning nasty-ass lessons from the likes of pro veteran (and current contender to re-take the title as my favorite homoerotic wrestler – nonpornboy division) Lon Dumont on the nuts and bolts of constructing a BG East ring heel. Morgan’s most recent appearance was showing that he was taking notes from Lon by turning around and catching ripped rookie (and last month’s homoerotic wrestler of the month) Eli Black off guard and pounding the shit out of him forever. But if you missed Morgan’s first match, facing off against Lon with the explicit agenda of being BG East’s next great heel, then you missed Morgan’s “aw shucks” moment (which was, not coincidentally, the same moment that it was crystal clear that Lon was going to own his ass). Morgan flexes proudly. He bounces his pecs in Lon’s face. He says the right words about being confident in his own destiny as a big, burly muscle heel. But he’s got that unmistakable toothy, self-conconsious, I-can’t-quite-sell-myself grin on his face. Lon even notes that Morgan is a little too “smiley” for a heel-wannabe. Lon’s crushing of him seems to have squeezed the “aw shucks” right out of him, but no mistaking it, Morgan Cruise initially showed as an “aw shucks” rookie bear cub.

Rio Garza always looks like he can’t quite believe
his own luck.

And finally, when it comes to “aw shucks” wrestlers, Rio Garza’s tasty hot ass is seated squarely in line with the best of them. Can-Am has exploited what I’m guessing is Rio’s genuine state, that of the stunning muscle stud who’s a little awed to be asked back over and over to be ogled and admired by armies of gay wrestling fans. When he faced Aryx Quinn (pretty much the opposite of the “aw shucks” wrestler), like Alexi Adamov, Rio was easily manipulated by the mind games of a sadistic veteran. Rio was nothing short of humbled by the status as a brand new Can-Am “exclusive,” and with some strategically placed compliments from Aryx, the awkward, sort of embarrassed grin on his face grew. This all simply makes him oh-so-ripe for a humorless and merciless crushing from Aryx. The device works particularly well with Rio, I think, explaining why he showed up wanting Cameron Mathews and Paul Hudson to teach him how to be a pro wrestler. He knows he’s strong. He knows the fans like looking at him. But with a little nervous grin, he admits to the pros that he’s got something to learn about the business. Cameron and Paul, of course, oblige, and Rio’s “aw shucks” awkward grin gets twisted into beautiful agony soon enough.

All those muscles can’t quite disguise the self-conscious grin on Python’s face.

A little “aw shucks” goes a long way for what turns me on. Overplayed, and it comes across as amateurish and distinctly less than erotic. But sprinkled on top of a hot steaming helping of beautiful bodies, skimpy gear, and hard hammering wrestling, an adorably goofy smile and a self-conscious glance down at one’s own feet can make for a sweet set-up to an arousing match.

Real Friends

I’ve got deadlines coming out my ears, so things have been pretty quiet around here lately. That isn’t to suggest that I’m not thoroughly immersed in the world of homoerotic wrestling still. Somehow, there always seems to be time for that in my life, in one form or another.

BG East Boss, Kid Leopard, makes Sailor Rob his bitch
I was exchanging emails with a long-time online contact and writing collaborator a couple of days ago. We know each other primarily through the venue of homoerotic wrestling fiction.  I mentioned in my last email something about BG East. He replied that he’d never heard of them.
Kid Vicious meditates on the connection between pain and pleasure

Wha-ha-huh?! I studied his reply closer to figure out where I was misreading it. But no. Never heard of BG East. Was he joking? It doesn’t look like it. He apparently loves some hot, erotic, beautifully bodied wrestling but is unaware of BG East, which by their own account have been producing exactly that (hot, erotic, beautifully bodied wrestling) since 1980! I became aware of them about 14 or 15 years ago, and I’ve been pretty much obsessed ever since. So imagine my shock to learn that a fellow kinkster who totally gets off on the same sort of wrestling action that I do (as far as I can tell from comparing wrestling fiction notes), has absolutely no idea who BG East is.

Badboy Joe Mazetti folds hunky Brad Rochelle up like gift wrap
Simply amazing! This disclosure reveals a few things to me. For one, this online collaborator clearly does not frequently read this blog. It’s simply impossible that someone could even occasionally read neverland and come away having never heard of BG East (or any of the other companies I finance with my homoerotic wrestling purchases, but especially BG East). Most of the feedback and ongoing conversations I’m involved in start with something I’ve said on the blog, so it catches me off guard that someone who knows my wrestling kink rather well doesn’t linger much around these parts. No shame, mind you. I’m not suggesting there’s anything wrong with not reading my frequently convoluted, often self-contradictory musings about what turns me on about homoerotic wrestling. Just surprised that someone who’s read a lot of my writing doesn’t read it here much.
Jonny Firestorm is out to destroy prettyboy Alexi Adamov
More interestingly for me, this revelation surprises me because I figure everyone who’s into homoerotic wrestling fiction online is also part of the fan base of homoerotic wrestling videos. I wasn’t conscious of it, but I was assuming that the gay wrestling video tent entirely contained within it the gay wrestling fiction audience. Homoerotic wrestling videos came before wrestling writing for me, so I’ve been under the assumption that everyone who I interact with around homoerotic wrestling fiction has also come by the same path. Assumption checked.
Mr. Joshua shows Darius that he’s got the right tool for the job
That anyone with a love for homoerotic wrestling in any genre or format should just not recognize the name BG East, however, seems like a missed opportunity for some hot pounding wrestling delights. I’m fully transparent in admitting often that my own fiction is frequently drawn from the best and most inspiring of what turns me on in the videos I watch. I certainly seem to recognize many of the same angles, perspectives, body types and holds in gay wrestling graphics/visual art that are, at least, “in keeping” with some of the gorgeous wrestling that good folks like BG East produce so well.

Brooklyn Bodywrecker taunts us with Mr. Joshua’s naked ass

So anyone who happens to read this post, perhaps surfing through following a search link for wrestling fiction or some particular celebrity wrestling fetish that you and I share, if you’re gay and hot for wrestling and haven’t extensively explored the world of BG East, go there now. If the names Kid Leopard, Kid Vicious, Jonny Firestorm, Brad Rochelle, Alexi Adamov and Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!!!) don’t ring a bell, and if anything that rings my bell rings your bell, then you should avail yourself of some awesome wrestlers and action. And if you and I exchange emails and you report being completely unaware of BG East, or Can-Am, or Thunder’s Arena, or Rock Hard Wrestling, then don’t be surprised if, after I get over being gobsmacked, I immediately tell you to walk, not run, to any and all of these find purveyors of fine wrestling kink.

Jose and his jackhammer pound hunky Greg Leary into the mat

As far as I’m concerned, real friends don’t let friends remain unaware of hot, homoerotic wrestling action!

Year in Review – 3rd Favorite Moment of 2011

Every so often, I take heat for the opinions I express here at neverland. Most of you fine readers, even when you disagree with me, demonstrate class and grace in pointing out where you believe I’ve missed the mark in identifying the hottest trending homoerotic wrestling. Every so often, however, I’ve been accused of a variety of insidious, irrational vendettas against one wrestler or another, or one match or another, because I didn’t show it the proper respect in the pages of this blog. On just a few, rare occasions, the criticisms have veered toward personal attacks, questioning my integrity, sanity, or intelligence. In late spring of this year, I polled a few of my fellow homoerotic wrestling bloggers to discover that I’m not alone in this experience. So in response, I began collecting testimonials from bloggers and regular commenters, exploring what should be the most intriguing and delightful part of wrestling kink sensibilities: our diverse tastes.

JoFX is right up Joe’s alley

Posting the “Diverse Tastes” series this summer was most definitely one of the top highlights of my year. As I suspected would happen, posing the simple, straightforward question “what turns you on?” sparked a beautiful variety of responses from the assembled voices. Joe at Ringside at Skull Island kicked the series off with interests ranging from Mighty Mouse to Stoney Hooker to just about any tall, dark Italian with a pronounced adam’s apple, a slightly convex and strong belly, hairy chest, small ears and big nose.

Randy Orton makes SP feel randy.

Regular commenter and, since then, fellow homoerotic wrestling blogger Stay Puft followed up with an erotic taste range that still makes me gasp. Where Joe drilled right down to the prototypical object of his lusts (acknowledging that he’s fickle and refuses to be pinned down… unless you earn it), SP’s tastes stretch from TNA Wrestling’s Daffney to Jamie Scott of Grafitti6 to Kate Beckinsale to Big Rob Terry. What readers of SP’s blog, Inner Jobber, will quickly point out is that while variety is clearly the spice of SP’s life, he’s got a special place for a certain Randy wrestler fantasy man.

Pablo Martin has a big hunk of wood between his thighs!

Bruno of Beefcakes of Wrestling offered a contribution to the series that introduced me to instant infatuations in the form of Spanish language soap hunks William Levy and Pablo Martin. This is what I love about lots of eyes on the prize in homoerotic wrestling! Without the discussion, the mutual respect and the genuine interest, I might never have “come across” smoldering William and Pablo. On my to-do list for 2012 is to introduce these two hunks to the brutal world of the Producer’s Ring!

Dante Rosetti demonstrates exactly what AH likes to see.

And yet again, regular reader and commenter AH contributed to the series from an entirely different angle. For AH, the question focused him on the particular hold that makes homoerotic wrestling the tastiest for him: the slow, withering sleeper. The drama of the sleeper touches the core of AH, as the crowd watches a muscled warrior get the consciousness squeezed out of him like juicing a lemon… the ref raises a hand that drops limply to the mat… the victim’s eyes flutter as he’s held upright entirely at the mercy of the man with the bicep pressed against his carotid.

Fashion models David Gandy and Noah Mills star
in Metellus’ and my homoerotic wrestling imaginations.

Co-author and commenter Metellus added to the series with some specific recommendations of wrestlers that he likes, with a common theme of nice bodies, nice faces, wearing trunks and jobbing. Metellus also raised the topic of media, noting the particular allure of homoerotic wrestling fiction in his repertoire of wrestling kink delivery for its capacity to incite his imagination to go where live action has yet to take him.

Cage Thunder relishes “the turning point.”

Wrestling stud, Cage Thunder who journals online about homoerotic wrestling, succeeded in yet again stroking my wrestling fantasies with his contribution to the series in which he focuses much less on the body or the hold, but the attitude and the moment in a match that send him over the edge. Cage Thunder keys in on the moment when the tide has once and for all turned, that point in the match when one wrestler has built up just too much momentum to be denied, when there’s more wrestling to happen, but it’s icing on the domination cake from that point forward.

Choices, choices, choices…

The final installment of the Diverse Tastes Guest Series came from the wicked sharp insight and creative mind of blogger Manof1000Holds, the author of Wrestling Arsenal. Having been at this homoerotic wrestling blogging longer than most (all?), Manof1000Holds knew exactly what I was talking about from around 5 seconds into my explanation of the concept of the Diverse Tastes series. And like a cruise missile, he zoomed in on the heart of the matter. Each of us, everyone one of us, has our triggers, our short hairs, the little moments and scenarios that set our hearts pumping the hardest. So he created a Cosmo-style quiz for readers to take to assess their own profile. Now, some could take the idea of the quiz too seriously and get bent out of shape about being pegged as one thing or another. But that’s the piece of this puzzle that I think all of my guest contributors get (and just a couple of readers haven’t quite cottoned onto yet): essential to fully appreciating our wrestling kink diversity is a healthy sense of humor. It’s all fun, or at least it all should be fun, as far as I’m concerned. It’s all about seeing reflected back from the wrestling drama in front of us something about our own fantasies, our own vulnerabilities, our own idiosyncratic longings that we have to hold gently, with some humility and a lot of kindness for our ourselves and others.

Regular star of my favorite wrestling fantasies: Lon Dumont

What all of my guest contributors this summer proved was that the homoerotic wrestling universe is beautifully varied and populated by fans and wrestlers that run the full gamut of bodies, holds, venues, gear, and scenarios that our powerful homoerotic wrestling imaginations can devise. I’m humbled by the wisdom and generosity of my fellow writers, and their contributions as a whole most definitely rank among my most favorite moments of this year!

Bard’s Pilgrim Way – Journey’s End (Part 2)

A prominent piece in the BG East collection of wrestling art and memorabilia.
My pilgrimage to the BG East compound was nothing if not a spiritual experience! Having toured the grounds and been awed at the sight of the outdoor settings in which some of my favorite homoerotic wrestling inspiration has been taped, the Boss led me back inside to continue the tour.
I was conscious of a sudden spike in my arousal. I’d never thought about it before, but there’s something about the interior BG East matches that stroke my wrestling kink more powerfully than just about anything else. Downstairs, we walked past the home gym that I’ve seen many times before in the prelude to so many BG East matches. No one was working out that day, but in that library of homoerotic wrestling I treasure in my mind’s eye, I could see golden boy Troy Baker at the pec deck, muscle bruiser Jed Jamison doing bicep curls, bilingual Chris Bruce pumping out incline presses.
Alexi Adamov talks trash as Christopher Bruce pumps iron in
BG East’s Mat Hunks 8
When Kid Leopard led me into the matroom, I experienced another spike in my homoerotic wrestling arousal. I’ve enjoyed watching so much powerfully sexy wrestling inside those 4 grey walls. It struck me that it’s a bigger space than it seems on camera. Even still, picturing two sweaty wrestlers throwing each other around with a cameraman trying to stay out of the way (while capturing the perfect angle on the action), made me appreciate both the artistry and mechanical expertise of the BG East mat matches that much more. It was just a few weeks ago I was renewing my arousing fascination with Skrapper, watching his rude awakening  at the hands (and legs and lips) of AJ Lyle for Undagear 17 on those very same black mats. I was fascinated staring at the wall just to the right of the door, where rookie Randy Stanton momentarily clawed Joshua Goodman’s pecs (that’s Mr. Joshua Goodman’s pecs to you!), until the pendulously hung muscle stud screamed.
Rookie Randy Stanton makes Mr. Joshua scream in the
mat room for BG East’s Matmen 21
It was the journey upstairs, however, that made my heart beat the fastest. Climbing the spiral staircase (you’ve seen it), we reached the door to what felt to me like the holy of holies: the BG East pro wrestling ring.

Rock hard Brad Rochelle uses every inch of the BG East ring
to humiliate jobber Patrick Donovan in BG East’s Wrestlefest 2
I was stunned by how familiar it was! The wrestling memorabilia all over the walls, the ringside mirror, the iconic wrestling ring tucked tightly into the corner. So much of my homoerotic wrestling inspiration set in this space made visions literally appear in front of my eyes… of sweat-soaked Brad Rochelle squeezing lean Patrick Donovan’s head between his rock hard thighs while the jobber suffered helplessly tied in the ropes… of towering Mitch Colby in a Mexican Ceiling Hold, suspended so gorgeously and vulnerably in the air by ripped heel Cole Cassidy… and merciless Kid Leopard himself, standing there right next to me, but simultaneously there inside the ring with his arm locked across Wade Cutler’s throat as the stripped muscle hunk obediently jerked off for KL’s pleasure.
“The Professor Winthrop Fitzgerald Arena
James McCartin, Builder 1993
Kid Leopard, Proprietor”
The Boss pointed out the plaque on the outside of the ring post facing the door. I’ve seen the ring a thousand times (at least), but never noticed the plaque before: The Professor Winthrop Fitzgerald Arena.  “Professor Winthrop Fitzgerald designed the ring. He also appeared…” I finished the sentence at the same time the Boss did, “… in Live at Campus!” The professor was Scott Rogers’ “manager and mentor,” appearing as his corner man in Roger’s unsuccessful title match against Kid Leopard himself. The Boss told me that the professor once hosted gatherings of wrestlers at his own Florida compound.

A recent addition to the extensive wrestling art collection in
the ring room and throughout the BG East compound
The Boss pointed some more choice, up close details of the ring room. The extensive collection of wrestling art throughout the entire BG East compound includes some wonderful works ringside. He pointed out the cabinet in the corner that we almost never see, with notebooks full of details on BG East wrestlers, including their signature moves and training goals. There was the clock on the wall, a piece of wrestling memorabilia itself, which didn’t actually work any longer, which resulted in many a wrestling session going longer than anticipated as everyone lost track of time.

Pro wrestling collectibles lining the walls of the BG East ring room
I was standing at the altar of my homoerotic wrestling kink, an awed pilgrim soaking it in. I associate the BG East wrestling ring with some of my most ecstatic, intimate, private moments, so to be standing there in the light of day next to Kid Leopard himself left me feeling almost raw.  I’d traveled a long way from home to find myself journeying deep within myself, treasuring that library of homoerotic wrestling inspiration that emerged from this very spot.

Bard’s Pilgrim Way – Journey’s End (Part 1)

As many of you anticipated, my pilgrimage to all things BG East in Boston would not have been complete without a visit to the temple mount itself, the center of my homoerotic wrestling universe, the BG East compound outside of Boston. When I made inquiries about the possibility of paying a visit to BG East, the response was generous and welcoming. I was invited to come by and meet “the boys” and see where the genius of BG East is conjured.


Stained glass homage to wrestling over the desk of BG East Boss, Kid Leopard

Pulling into the driveway of BG East central, I was bewildered a bit by the sense that I was seeing it, simultaneously, through two different lenses. I’d never been there before. If I hadn’t known better, I’d never have picked the compound out as anything unusual in the tidy lakeside neighborhood. But at the same time, it was as if I’d been here a thousand times before. Hell, just a couple months ago I was watching muscle punk Kieran Dunne drive up this very same driveway, park his car not 10 feet from where I parked mine, and strut with his characteristic overconfidence inside to face devastatingly pretty Chace LaChance in Jobberpalooza 11. It felt a little like a homecoming to a place I’d never been before.


Keiran Dunne flexes while Chace LaChance is all business in
BG East’s Jobberpalooza 11
Greeting me at the door was the Boss himself, extending a hearty handshake and a welcoming smile as he invited me inside. Again, the experience of double-vision was disorienting. Although I’ve exchanged emails with Kid Leopard, we’d never met in person. But he was so familiar! I knew his tone of voice, his wry sense of humor, and his commanding presence. Just a couple of days earlier, I was enjoying myself watching this man shock hunky Wade Cutler, beating the living shit out of muscle jobber Wade and leaving him soaked in cum in the middle of the ring in Hunkbash 2. And then there he stood, shaking my hand and welcoming me to BG East.

Kid Leopard before his Hunkbash 2 match against Wade Cutler
“So do you want to see the place?” he asked, as if reading my mind. Having come so far, I was desperate to soak in the site of so much homoerotic wrestling inspiration. He took me through to the back of the compound, overlooking the lake… you know, that lake. The lake that Brad Rochelle sunbathed next to after his epic heel turn in Contract 6. That lake in which Troy Baker viciously attacked his big brother, Brian, in search of vengeance for Brian’s betrayal at the end of their humiliating defeat in Tag Team Torture 3.

Troy Baker gets worked over by big brother Brian in BG East Grudge Match 2.
“Over here is the gazebo,” the Boss directed my attention to a shady spot in the woods. It was empty, seeming like a random, anonymous bit of architecture set beneath the towering trees surrounding it. But I couldn’t help but picture the sweat-soaked bodies of so many Gazebo Grapplers struggling underneath that roof: perennial favorite Mitch crushing babyface beauty Alexi, relentless Jonny wringing handsome Sandro’s sweetly suffering body between the railings, the whole bevy of testosterone-fueled hunks wrestling in a ferocious round-robin in Gazebo Grapplers 4.

Kid Leopard showing me the site of Gazebo Grappling fame
And then there was the backyard, lush and green beneath the trees. Yep, that backyard. There were no wrestling mats on the lawn that day, but I swear I could see wrestle stud Denny Cartier locked across ripped rookie Attila Dynasty’s back, applying that nasty abdominal stretch and pounding the ripped muscle stud’s vulnerable core in Backyard Brawls 7. The same backyard where fearless Alexi took on lottery winners TJ Tanner, Christian Taylor, and bubble-butted Sandro back-to-back in Who’s Next?!

Sweat-soaked Alexi in complete control of the backyard in
BG East’s Who’s Next!?
And down a path through the woods, the Boss pointed out the Wrestle Shack. “It’s full of yard equipment at the moment,” he explained, but he’s planning on having the boys clean it out to tape some new matches soon. Images flashed across my vision, of Gil Barrios dragging outmuscled Jerry Connors into the Wrestle Shack to strip naked and finish off the rookie humiliation, and of Lance Jeffers’ mammoth cock bludgeoning Shon Tracey’s awestruck face.

Gil Barrios uses the Wrestle Shack rafters for leverage in punishing rookie
Jerry Connors in Backyard Brawls 7
I’m sure I said it about 3 dozen times that day, but I stumbled over my own words, thanking the Boss profusely for his hospitality. I’d thought about this pilgrimage for weeks, what I’d say, what I’d ask. I’d spent a lot of time preparing. I’d hoped to present myself as cool and savvy, worthy of initiation into the behind the scenes mysteries of an average day at BG East. But my mind was blank except for my lame, awestruck words of gratitude. The Boss briefly indulged my babbling good-naturedly, but when he suggested we continue the tour, I fell silent, and followed him back inside….

Diverse Tastes – Guest Contributor Cage Thunder

While there are a lot of us armchair homoerotic wrestling bloggers, I’m the first to tip my hat to a blogger like Cage Thunder, who not only writes eloquently about his tastes and twists in wrestling kink, he’s also an all-in wrestler on camera for BG East. Through a series of correspondence between me and Cage Thunder, I will dare to reveal one thing that I’ve learned about the mysterious masked heel: he’s a class act. He has a delightful sense of humor that goes well beyond his gloating, clucking delight in humiliating one all-too-pretty pretty boy after another. He also has a remarkable depth to him that leads him to contemplate the alchemy of homoerotic wrestling kink with a fervor and meticulousness that very well may surpass even my own. So when Cage Thunder agreed to give me his take on the topic of “Diverse Tastes” as part of neverland’s summer series of guest contributors, I was deeply honored. So sit back and learn from a master who knows his wrestling kink from inside out and every angle a delightfully twisted wrestling mind and body can imagine.
The Turning Point
by Cage Thunder
BG East’s Cage Thunder

There is a certain moment in every pro wrestling match that, without fail, always grabs my attention. This moment never fails to get my attention and always make my dick stand up at attention.

I call this moment the turning point.

Bulldog Barzini savors the sight of Denny Cartier
reaching “the turning point” – BG East’s Fantasymen 28

A turning point is exactly what it sounds like—that definitive moment when you know that one of the wrestlers is finished— even if he isn’t being pinned or counted out or giving in a submission, and the match might go on for a while longer (and usually does). But that’s the moment when you know for certain who the stud is who’s going to have his arms raised in complete victory at the end of the match (or fall, if it’s a best-of situation).

I love that moment.

Muscle heel Kid Karisma drags muscle twink Christian Taylor
beyond the turning point – BG East’s Wet &  Wild 5

When I was growing up, professional wrestling was my porn. It still is, to a degree—only I rarely watch it on television, I satisfy my fetish with videos these days—but when I was a kid, it was a world I desperately wanted to be a part of. I greatly enjoyed the morality plays of pro wrestling matches, the struggle between good and evil, hero versus villain, rule-breaking versus following the rules. And like life, good didn’t always triumph over evil.

Cage Thunder soaks in the sight of his handiwork –
BG East’s Masked Mayhem 6

But professional wrestling was also one of the very few places on television in those days where you could see scantily dressed men sweating and heaving, clinching and coming apart, entwining their bodies in an almost erotic dance. And while I always wanted the nasty heels to be punished for their dastardly ways, I also loved watching the gorgeous ones suffer at their hands. With the advent of cable television and Ted Turner taking WTBS national into a self-styled Super Station, every Saturday afternoon from three to five p.m. Pacific times Georgia Championship Wrestling aired—and I fell in lust with a gorgeously built mullet-wearing muscle boy named Brad Armstrong.

The muscles and the mullet – Brad Armstrong
Oh, that ass. If I hadn’t already known I was gay, Brad Armstrong’s tight trunks clinging ever so tenaciously to those perfectly formed buttocks certainly would have done the trick.
Brad Armstrong’s inspiring ass in trouble
Brad was a good wrestler—a fan favorite, obviously, with his athletic ability, sexy body, and ‘aw shucks’ attitude. But he lost his matches more frequently than he won them—and week after week, I slowly came to realize that what was really turning my crank and getting my dick hard was watching some nasty ass heel put him through the wringer—watching him suffer on the mat, one foot bouncing up and down as his back arched and that ass, that oh-so-perfect ass, with his trunks creeping up bit by bit, up in the air.

Brad’s trunks creeping up his ass as he suffers humiliatingly in the ropes

And I also came to the conclusion that I preferred watching Brad suffer rather than being dominant in a match—which made me stop and think.

Brad Armstrong where he did his best work: on his back,
feet pointed at the ceiling, and his opponent copping a feel of that rocking ass!

And I realized the truth is I wanted to fuck him—in other words, I wanted to dominate him and make him submissive to me. I wanted to beat him down, make him call me sir, and when that hard muscle ass arched up in the air, I wanted to reach down and peel those green trunks off him, lube up my cock, and ride him while he bucked and writhed and moaned.

And called me “sir.”

I’m frequently accused of being a ‘body fascist,’ and nothing could be further from the truth. I actually like all kinds of men, in all shapes and sizes—what I am actually attracted to, more than anything else, is a particular attitude that a lot of wrestlers seem to have. (This is why I generally don’t give a shit about watching gay porn—very few gay porn stars have that ‘certain something special’ that gets my dick hard, and let’s face it—if you’ve seen one fuck scene, you’ve pretty much seen them all. Ty Lebeouf is a gay porn star who is one of the exceptions—and he is exceptional, although I’d much rather watch him climb in the ring.) A wrestler can have the most gorgeous body you’ve ever seen, and a huge bulge in the front of his trunks—but if the attitude I like isn’t there, he just leaves me cold. (I won’t give examples, out of respect.)

Porn star Ty Lebeouf: Ready to Wrestle?

The wrestlers I like—the ones that make me open my wallet and spend my hard-earned money buying their videos—have that attitude. It’s not something that’s quantifiable or definable; someone either has it or they don’t. And there really isn’t a rhyme or reason to my attraction to them. They can be a muscle twink, like Christian Taylor, or a hot little muscle heel like Kid Karisma, or a stocky brute like Bulldog Barzini, or a beautiful babyface who has crazy mad ring skills but always loses—like Alexi Adamov.

Cage Thunder revels in dragging babyface Alexi Adamov
well past “the turning point” – BG East’s Masked Mayhem 2

I like heels because the only way someone can ever fuck me is if they dominate me. And I do like being dominated. I like being forced to submit, I like being forced to scream out a submission or call my foe “sir”—and if he can beat me down that way, I’m his for the taking and he can do with me as he pleases. The thought of being worked over like that by a Bob Orton or a Stan Hansen or any number of studly heels who might not have the body beautiful you’d see on the cover of a gay porn magazine turns me on as much as the thought of beating down some beautiful babyface/jobber does.

A heel who could have made Cage Thunder cry, “Sir!”

For me, that’s the answer to why people enjoy seeing pretty muscle boys just get the shit kicked out of them. Because we want to dominate them, we want to fuck them, and the wrestling match we are watching is a kind of pornographic dance of domination and submission.

Cage Thunder has his way with a puddle-on-the-mat, Jobe Zander –
BG East’s Masked Mayhem 8

And I love, love, LOVE the turning point—when the heel begins to simply toy with his opponent for our viewing pleasure.

Cage Thunder conquers, strips, and toys with Lobolito –
BG East Masked Mayhem 3

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a DVD to watch.

——————
Now, aren’t we all dying to know what gorgeous-bodied and huge-bulged wrestlers leave Cage Thunder limp!? Like I said, however, he’s a class act who isn’t one to crush-and-tell. For this fantastic glimpse into precisely the moment, the attitude, and the acts of domination that make his dick stand up at attention, neverland is honored to have guest contributor Cage Thunder push the pause button and share his thoughts with us!

A Fan Favorite

Yesterday I celebrated Brook Stetson, co-owner of my homoerotic wrestler of the month title. Today, at the risk of repeating myself, I turn to Brook’s partner in crime, the other co-owner of my homoerotic wrestler of the month title, Mitch Colby.

Mitch was a running feature obsession in this blog almost from the beginning. When he debuted for BG East in Alexi Adamov’s Wrestler Spotlight tape, I was instantly a fanatic. Drop dead gorgeous, strong as an ox, and glistening with sweat, there’s nothing that I don’t like about Mitch’s physique. But it was always something more, something unexpected that Mitch brought to the table that has made me never be able to take my eyes off of him when he wrestles.

It’s his maturity, by which I do not mean some asinine euphemism for his age. True, he showed up on the scene a decade or two later than some of the youngest bucks that vie for our attention in the homoerotic wrestling world, but frankly that’s neither here nor there for me. Mitch possesses a chilled calmness, an unflappability, a stone cold centeredness that reflects a mature soul. I mean, let’s face it, it’s hard to out-pretty Alexi Adamov. But Mitch is every ounce as gorgeous, as far as I’m concerned, and he’s a good bit sexier because he seems to understand exactly who he is at every moment, no matter what the trash talk and mind games his opponents toss his way. The way Mitch puts Alexi in his place and leaves him flat on his back in the gazebo is all sorts of pleasing.

I won’t try to give a comprehensive blow by blow of Mitch’s career because, let’s face it, that’s been an ongoing labor of love throughout the nearly two years of this blog. Rather, let me note the highlights that taught me something new about the big, beautiful Mitch. For example, after a hard, sweaty gazebo battle with pretty boy Alexi, things turned down right nasty for him when he climbed into the wrestling ring against one of BG East’s resident bad boys, ripped stud Cole Cassidy, in Ringwars 15. Sadly, this is Mitch’s only appearance to-date in the ring. Perhaps the seriously vicious beating he took at Cole’s expert hands (and particularly the torture Mitch’s pecs took in Cole’s claws) left Mitch with PTSD for ring action. Mitch works some nice offense in on the little powerhouse, but when it comes to decimating and displaying a big, hard hunk, there’s arguably no one better than Cole. Happily, Mitch proves that he can suffer and take a beating like that hard, ripped body of his would imply.

Mitch’s first motel match was notable for me, particularly, because he squared off with Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) in Motel Madness 7. Yes, the reigning top contender for my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy went toe-to-toe with the reigning top contender for my favorite homoerotic wrestler – nonpornboy division. Mitch’s physique is simply perfect in this match, and I don’t blame him a bit for allowing Mr. J to maneuver him into position to shove that massively packed crotch of his into Mitch’s face.

My next stop on Mitch’s memory lane is another motel match, in which Mitch showed what he would do if BG East dangled a little bit of fluff in his face, by which I mean twink delight, Jeremy Burk, in Motel Madness 8. This is classic big v little wrestling, and I’m on the record repeatedly as partial to that scenario. What makes this match hit my list of must mentions about Mitch are two things, really. 1) This is a fantastically erotic match that’s expertly paced. Some squashes are downright boring, but there’s nothing at all boring about Mitch’s systematic pummeling of Jeremy. It gets hotter, more painful, more humiliating, and sexier with every passing moment. And 2) this was my first peek at Mitch naked. After crushing Jeremy, Mitch takes his little piece of fluff to the bathroom where they peel out of their gear and explore one another’s bodies in and out of the shower. My fetishistic lust to scrub Mitch down from head to toe with a thick, slick coat of lathered soap probably belongs on a different fetish blog, but suffice it to say, I’m bitterly envious of Jeremy.

Back to the Florida sunroom, and my next notable highlight of Mitch in action is his sweat-fest with Skrapper in Catchweight 3. Seems that Mitch has a taste for the lightweights, and despite putting up some serious offense, Skrapper was always destined to be schoolboy pinned with Mitch’s sweaty crotch shoved in his face. What stands out from this match, however, is the post-match pool play. Mitch fireman-carries his twink out of the sunroom (with Skrapper slyly copping a feel of Mitch’s glutes along the way… I tell you, that Skrapper impresses me!), and then tosses the spent punk into the pool. One last bearhug in the middle of the pool turns from a device for inflicting pain into a passionate embrace, as they make out enthusiastically. Many, many more homoerotic wrestling matches should end this way.

The same Florida sunroom is the setting for a true epiphany in Mitch’s resume. He takes matters firmly in hand against Derek da Silva in Crotch Crushers 1, tapping into his sadist side to beat, pound, claw and, indeed, crush Derek’s testicles. In addition to being the first time I saw Mitch really grab hold of his opponent’s manhood, it’s also memorable because it was right around this release that Derek stole the title as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy from Mitch for a brief time. The contrast of short, pale and hairy muscleboy v tall, tanned, and smooth muscleboy is aesthetically stunning.

It was the release of Mitch’s Wrestler Spotlight tape that helped Mitch rip his inaugural title belt away from Derek and slap the hairy Italian into second place. Most specifically, it was Mitch’s matroom sweat fest with Patrick Donovan that turned my affections decisively back to Mitch. This match is profoundly arousing from start to finish, but it’s the bearhug competition right in the middle that makes my heart pump hardest. Patrick and Mitch are in the same league when it comes to almost everything… height, weight, good looks, fit physiques, wrestling skill, and maturity. So it’s that much more climactic when Mitch once and for all puts the veteran down, climbs on top, and locks lips with the loser.

A few months after Mitch regained his title as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, he lost it in stunningly fast fashion against the wickedly nasty stylings of Rusty Stevens. From the realm of Naked Kombat and Can-Am, Rusty managed to grab my attention and hold on with both hands. Mitch slid into the top contender spot behind Rusty’s razor sharp trash talking and primal determination to dominate his opponents. So when BG East, just a few months later, released the Breaking Point: Sexiest, in which Rusty and Mitch have it out in the Florida sunroom, I was in awe. This was my fantasy come to life. I mean, most homoerotic wrestling is in one way or another my fantasies played out for me, but this was quite specifically and particularly my fantasy of pornboy v pornboy wrestling. While Mitch came out on top (at the same moment Rusty was cumming from the underneath), I had to say decisively that it was Rusty who aroused me most in this match, primarily on what is undeniably his #1 strength: his witty trash talk and delight in dishing out humiliation. It was a battle for the ages, but Mitch was relegated to stick it out in second place in my rankings.

And then last month, BG East released Mitch’s most recent match for Sunshine Shooters 4, which earned him the homoerotic wrestler of the month co-title. Mitch is also currently in possession of the top contender spot for my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy yet again, chomping at Trent Diesel’s gorgeous ass to take the title for the third time. Regardless, however, Mitch will always be a favorite, and wherever he is at any particular moment in the rankings of my favorites, I will always be a Mitch fanatic.

The State of War

So clearly, Joe at Ringside at Skull Island is determined to keep poking me with a stick. I can be magnanimous and say, “We may have differing opinions.” I can be conciliatory and say “Maybe one day, we’ll see eye to eye.” I rise above the fray and simply encourage readers to judge for themselves. But then today, Joe comes back at it like a dog with a bone, insisting that the was right all along, and that BG East’s Ringwars 19 is the superior new release, over and above what Sunshine Shooters 4 offers.

It’s not that I think anything that Joe says, precisely, is wrong. I just quibble with the calculus that adds up, at the end of the day, with Ringwars on top and Sunshine Shooters an honorable mention. As Joe mentions, like he, I was given the generous opportunity to see for myself what Ringwars 19 has to slap down on the table. It’s awfully meaty and good. Awfully good, damn it. And I’m on the record many times over for having a special kink-reflex in favor of ring action.

The match that Joe commends most for Ringwars 19 is Trent Blayze’s face off with Jayden Mayne. Like Joe, I’m slightly distracted by the extraneous “y’s” flying across this marquee, but aside from that, there’s a ton to commend this match. First of all, I had to watch this match twice, once to soak in the overall action, and once again just to delight in tracking Trent’s sweat stain as it slowly grows across his pink trunks. It starts early, stretching out from his ass crack, and progressively and entertainingly soaks him front and back. Trent’s ink is also astonishingly gorgeous, and he has a highly erotic way of talking out of the side of his mouth (literally) that’s a major turn on. He also manages a very enjoyable reversal partway through this match, after suffering meaningfully between Jayden’s whipcord thighs in an agonizing body scissor. Still trapped between Jayden’s knees, Trent crawls to his knees with Jayden still attached to his mid-section, then his feet, and with impressive strength and balance slaps on a bearhug that leaves the long-n-lean one limp in his arms and screaming.

It may just be because I’m feeling contrary. And I’m the first to admit that I’ve been accused of possessing an oppositional-defiant personality disorder, at least periodically. But I have to say that the boy in the ring here that turns me on the most is actually Jayden. He’s not as beefy as Trent, by any means. The two of them give me the feel of boys just out of college, Trent having been a frat boy and football player, and Jayden having been a frat boy (different frat) and soccer player (explaining the lack of love lost between them). I know that some snarky bastard is going to point out that Jayden is the more classically “pretty” face of the two, as if I should somehow be ashamed of that. But Jayden’s doing it for me in this match more so than the pink-trunked bully. I think Jayden should intern and eventually tag-team with Jonny Firestorm, because he has the potential to be another spitfire, wiry, dangerous, pit bull of a ring wrestler. He tells a hot story, too, going for Trent’s relatively soft core with satisfying boot strikes and an internal-organ-rearranging leg scissor. I’m not typically a blood fetish guy at all, but I have to say that Jayden earns himself a cut elbow that drips blood down his thigh in this bout, and I’m simply, instinctively aroused by it.

Match two for Ringwars 19 has Caleb Brand beating the crap out of Shannon Embry. Caleb has an impressively packed pouch, displayed awfully sweetly as he bridges high in the center of the ring more than once in this tussle. But it just has to be said that it’s Caleb’s ass that steals the show. He sports what looks like a painful wedgie from start to finish, which defies even his occasional attempt to pick it out. Hot, tanned, smooth, spankable glutes are surely value-added to any wrestling match, and Caleb is sporting just that. The action showcases sweet pro skills, telling a compelling story of advantage and reversal teetering on a knife’s edge for the first half of the bout between these two high class professionals. There’s fun pacing, a mix of holds, blows, and joint torture. But the best part, other than Caleb’s already mentioned ass, is Caleb’s use of the ring to heap on insult to injury. He tortures Shannon’s knee, arm and back in the ropes. He leaves his pale opponent hanging vulnerably over the edge of the ring to deliver a nasty looking assault on Shannon’s back, and he further sticks to the back abuse mercilessly working Shannon over in the corner (now that’s what a wrestling ring is for, damn it!). Caleb has hot pro strikes, boots and knees flying and plowing into Shannon at every angle as the catcher suffers admirably.

Match 3 is another highly entertaining piece of wrestling art. Whereas watching the sweat stain growing on Trent Blayze’s trunks was worth a second viewing of match #1, watching the sheen of sweat grow in the valley between Alexi Adamov’s fit young pecs is worth an entire viewing or two (with many pushes of the pause button) over and above the ring action itself in match #3. The ride Alexi gives Nick Naughton as the sexy-one hangs from the rafters would be a sell-out at a homoerotic wrestling kink theme park. I’d wait for hours for a front seat! Nick also spends a whole lot of time camped out on the mat with his head stuck high and tight between Alexi’s long, hard thighs, which would surely also be a feature ride at the homoerotic wrestling kink theme park (if anyone ever opens one, I want creative credit). Alexi packs a pair of square cut trunks awfully nicely, particularly from behind. Nick’s smuggling citrus fruit in the front of his tight, tight blue trunks. They bring some very sexy, intense, acrobatic action. These are two rookies, however (early in Alexi’s career with BG East), and it shows. There are a few odd cuts. There’s a bell off camera to give the action some needed borders (which makes me again long for some homoerotic wrestling with a ref and an audience). Nick forgets to use his finisher, and has to come back from the showers well after Alexi is beaten and done with to tie up his rookie-loose-ends.

So, Joe is so right that Ringwars 19 is extremely high quality homoerotic wrestling action. But I still say Joe goes one step too far when he concludes that this collection puts a schoolboy pin overtop of the action in Sunshine Shooters 4. Like Joe, I don’t think that the Z-Man/Patrick Donovan match is really the goods that shine the most for Sunshine Shooters 4, despite the likely strong appeal for many fans of seeing the Z-Man get the BG East treatment. But the intensity of all three Sunshine matches, including Z-Man’s pecs and abs turning fluorescent red from the pounding that Patrick gives him, the incredibly slippery and non-stop shoot between Cole and Tony, and particularly the exhausting, ferocious face-off and strip down between Mitch Colby (back to #1 contender for my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy) and Brook Stetson, still makes this decisively the one purchase to prioritize. Ringwars 19 puts up some awfully nice looking boys in impressive ring action. But if you’re in the mood for big, powerful, relentless men in action (well, apart from Z-Man… he’s still got a boyband feel about him), you’re going to turn to Sunshine Shooters 4 every time.

Contending with Joe

Joe at Ringside at Skull Island is very, very keen on BG East’s new release, Ringwars 19. Since I possess a preferential regard for both ring wrestling and Joe’s opinions, Ringwars 19 is instantly on my to-own list. Joe’s description of an early-career Alexi Adamov hanging from a rafter with his long, gorgeous thighs clamped around the head of Naughty Nick Naughton is sufficient to convince me that Ringwars is my kind of wrestling kink.
But now that the new releases are available for the masses to order, I’m feeling the need to contradict Joe. Perhaps less a contradiction than a contention, I’m feeling that if you own no other new release to emerge in 2011, you’ll want it to be Sunshine Shooters 4. Joe argues that all-time need-to-own would be Ringwars 19. It’s not that I doubt Joe’s tastes in the least. But I jumped on the Sunshine Shooters 4 wagon at the earliest possible moment, and was blown away. This release includes three matches that hold my attention and turn me on, non-stop. Most newsworthy for most, though, will be the fact that cover boy, Playboy model, and internet softcore it-boy, Z-Man Zack Vasquez, has dipped his foot in the deep end of the pool that is BG East wrestling.
I’ve had a love/hate (or at least a lust/antipathy) relationship with Z-Man for some time. Ever since I first saw him ham it up against Alexander years ago for Thunder’s Arena, I was both captivated by the Z-Man’s incredible physique and aggravated by his salesmanship. Following his progress with Thunder’s and in the early crop of matches with Rock Hard Wrestling, I’ve been adamantly proscribing a stern, merciless lesson in being introduced to actual pain in order wipe that irrepressible, smarmy, “this-is-all-play-acting” smirk off his truly beautiful face. I’ll marvel more about the details in a future post, but for now, let me just bow down to the perfectly tuned stylings of veteran Patrick Donovan who delivers exactly what the doctor ordered. 
Frankly, I suspected that bringing along the Z-Man could be a bit of a gamble for BG East. In my estimation, BG East’s strength is in their high quality, all-in wrestling, so a half-assed, smirking performance by even a Playboy model could be an embarrassing ding on BG East’s fine reputation. But the Boss rolled the dice and damn, did it pay off! The pacing and action here make me gasp. The wrestling is completely engaging and astonishingly hot. Patrick seriously beats on Z-Man with his fists in a way that totally satisfies me. The audible thumps followed quickly by Z-Man’s reflexive grunts are just about as stellar as the sight of the Z-Man’s gorgeous pecs and eight-pack abs turning bright red from the relentless assault. Z-Man (and Patrick, for that matter) has never looked more tasty, more toned, or in skimpier wrestling gear. Z-Man-addicts, and I know there are many of you, will find this bout simply fantastic. 
Next up, there’s Cole Cassidy and Tony Vencini working up a sheen of sweat that continually makes me press “pause.” Cole never disappoints me. This is my first Tony match, and he’s one big, solid brute of a battler. Their grappling is astonishingly high quality, with incredibly intense and relentless pacing that tires me out just watching it (for many reasons). But again, just like my assessment of Patrick and the Z-Man, I have to say that having adored Cole’s body many, many times before, he’s simply never looked more stunning, shiny, hard, and ripped to shreds, working incredibly hard against an accomplished and bigger boy. Another truly entertaining match.
Seriously, I’d pay money (but probably couldn’t afford) for Cole to slide my head between his devastating thighs and squeeze, and I’d tip him a whole lot extra to let me me reach up and squeeze those meaty pecs of his at the same time.
But as I mentioned a couple of days ago, I’m totally smitten with the amazing match-up of beefy bruiser Brook Stetson going muscle to muscle against my inaugural favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy and regular fixture in my fondest wrestling fantasies, Mitch Colby. Like all the shoots in this collection, these boys (okay, I like the term boys, but in this case, I simply have to call these studs men), these men are working their asses off. Just as importantly, they work their singlets off and are both quickly coated in each other’s sweat. Something happens inside me though, when Brook hog ties Mitch’s wrists behind his back using Mitch’s own jock strap as bindings. Mitch’s beautiful ass is wedgied high and hard, and for the first time in this entire match, Mitch’s endless tenacity simply can’t keep him fighting against the overpowering behemoth. Brook is understated, but unmistakably pleased with his handiwork as he slides Mitch face-first high between his oak-tree thighs for an astonishing face-to-crotch, hands literally tied behind Mitch’s back, head scissor submission. Holy fuck.
That “something” that happens to me, by the way, is the completely out-of-the-blue return of Mitch to the top rankings of my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboys. It was a brief tenure that DJ enjoyed as the top contender for the title, and I wouldn’t count DJ out of the running for long with the way he’s been tearing through the competition at Naked Kombat as of late, but Sunshine Shooters 4 unquestionably bears witness to a shocking assault from behind, in which Mitch manages to gorilla press DJ’s lightweight, ripped to shreds body over head, leave him hanging and gasping in shock and terror for an eternity, before tossing DJ right out of the ring, leaving Mitch the undisputed top contender staring down my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, Trent Diesel.
Perhaps I might think differently once I get a chance to enjoy Ringwars 19. Perhaps you might think differently with both products in hand and well-scrutinized. But I’ve just got to say, I suspect for many of us, if there’s no other new release we buy in 2011, we’d simply have to own Sunshine Shooters 4.

Between Takes

I love it that you’re reading a homoerotic wrestling kink blog on Christmas! You are such the hardcore, ironman wrestling kinkster! Or, you’re reading a back edition… or this isn’t even your holiday… but in any case, I’m taking it easy today. I’m trying not to sweat the obligatory family drama. I’m trying not to resent the cacophony of carols that have nearly bored a hold straight through my head by now. I’m trying to relax and let it all wash over me.

This time last year, I posted some of the behind-the-scenes shots from BG East, capturing the boys between slams and submissions, relaxed, smiling, and clearly just savoring a happy moment. I thought I’d reprise the theme again for another Christmas day, because these unguarded smiles on these hardworking hunks just lighten my mood.


We all take ourselves too seriously. I do it. You do it (don’t contradict me!). Hell knows, the politicians and pundits and preachers do it, particularly this time of year. So a glimpse of an almost shy smile on a granite-chiseled, merciless ring heel is a sweet reminder, I think, to just cool my jets. Whatever it is that gets me hot and bothered (in a bad way), if I just  just take a step back and remove my ego from the situation, 9 times out of ten it’s all just silliness not to be taken seriously.



There’s seriously messed up shit going on in the world right at this very moment, of course. That’s no laughing matter, but that said, in light of the serious shit, my shit honestly is laughable. So I had to wait in an insanely long line to get that last Christmas present that I put off until way, way too late. So the roads are filled with crazies. So another season of Dexter came and went and I still haven’t seen Michael C. Hall’s world class ass. None of it should be such a burden that I can’t set it down today, let the tension that I’m carrying in my body slip away, and just smile.


Okay, so I’m having trouble letting go of my bitterness about Michael C. Hall’s ass. I’ll keep working on it in between Scrabble games and slices of turkey and endless accounts of the inanity of my sibling’s miserable children (tension rising again… breathe……. okay, I’m back).


Whatever rituals you do or don’t engage in today, whatever your religious or familial proclivities, whatever the burdens you carry, my hope for you is a deep breath, a sly smile, a moment of innocent humor, and all the hot, sweaty, muscle thumping, crotch bumping, ass humping sexual pleasure your heart desires.