The Next Morning

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I cannot possibly pay more attention to Russell Tovey because I’ve been completely obsessed for years.

A friend re-posted this completely unnecessary BuzzFeed homage to convince us that we ought to be infatuated with Russell Tovey. That ship sailed years ago. He’s appeared in two homoerotic wrestling fantasy pieces of fiction of mine, and countless more in my imagination. He’s also looking buffer and buffer lately, as if he needed to increase his raw, dorky, intense sexiness.  I’d donate a kidney to wake up in the morning and see that sexiness staring back at me.  Which made me think, who else would I both want to wrestle, fuck, AND wake up in the morning next to?

Fortunately, the selfie craze provides a lot of material to try out. Here are few of my homoerotic wrestling fantasymen who have shared exactly what it would look like to roll over in the morning after a night of full throttle erotic wrestling and see what’s left in the dawn-kissed light of day.

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Possibly my pick for the sexiest man on the planet who I have not seen wrestle, Eliad Cohen looks like he’d be ready for the rematch the morning after.
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John Magnum made a HUGE impression on me by making a HUGE impression all over poor Philip Aubrey’s lean body in John’s one appearance on Naked Kombat. The boy can wrestle and fuck, and waking up next to that gorgeous ass would make all that punishment he dished out the night before totally worth it.
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Friend of neverland and former homoerotic wrestler of the month Aryx Quinn is already sexy as hell, but with a dog sleeping on his shoulder as the morning light filters through the window, Aryx is a vision.
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Regular readers know my theory about hot wrestlers and dogs, proven yet again by the view of former homoerotic wrestler of the month Austin Wolf rousing in bed next to you with the pup snuggled in between.
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Naked Kombatant Landon Conrad is devastatingly handsome and built like a comic book superhero, but waking up with the dog under one arm and his bedroom eyes for nobody but you is icing on the cake after that night of fuck-stakes wrestling.
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Yet another homoerotic wrestler of the month and comic book superhero porn star fighter, Marcu Ruhl’s massively muscled sexiness is insanely alluring relaxed in bed and looking over at you as you slowly rouse in the morning.
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Just picture waking up next to BG East rookie Logan Vaughn, still stripped naked like you left him after you conquered that hot ass the night before in the ring.

The point of the conversation

Austin Wolf generates so much heat!

I’m closing down the comments on my post last week concerning speculation regarding masculinity and femininity in homoerotic wrestling.  My sincere attempt to try to have a conversation about the role of masculinity in today’s homoerotic wrestling scene continued to veer into persistently vague yet increasingly personal attacks on last month’s homoerotic wrestler of the month, Austin Wolf.  A comment that came through for approval last night got catty with me, pointing out that I was missing the point of the conversation, since all I was talking about was Austin’s wrestling.  I was in the middle of composing a cuttingly clever and brutally insightful retort when it suddenly occurred to me that the commenter (who’s comment won’t be published because of the ensuing character attack on Austin as a person) was actually quite correct on his first point.  Sure, it was my conversation to start with, and it’s a conversation happening on my blog, but the conversation was decisively on a point that is implicitly and explicitly off topic around here.  I was missing “the point” that one or more commenters are uninterested in saying anything about Austin’s wrestling, but fixated on remarkably non-specific but vehement charges about his quality as a gay man and human being off camera.

… and as for his potential in homoerotic wrestling…

Yeah.  I don’t “get” that conversation at all, and more pertinently, that’s not a conversation for this blog. I’ve never talked with Austin, so I can’t verify whether he’s an upstanding sort of guy who’s just pissed somebody off, or if he’s a royal, screwed up dick.  But except for the generous gentlemen who have agreed to be interviewed for neverland, that’s pretty much the state of things with all the wrestlers I review and reflect on.  This conversation, the conversation that I’ll continue to initiate and be happy to respond to, is about homoerotic wrestling, the professional homoerotic wrestling industry, and what turns me on.  Austin’s wrestling turns me on, and I continue to think that he’s got a huge potential, proportional to his massive muscles, for more chart topping homoerotic wrestling.  The rest is for some other forum.

Austin takes the only beating that I care about: in a wrestling match.

I’m composing my post appointing Austin’s successor as HWOTM.  He didn’t appear in a November homoerotic wrestling release, so Austin isn’t eligible for a back-to-back repeat.  So I’m guessing I’ll have less to say about him in the coming days, and I guarantee you won’t be seeing any further comments charging him with unspecified failures to gay humankind.  But comments about his work on the mat or his potential in the business going forward will continue to be welcomed, because that’s what we talk about around here.  And if Austin wants to join the ranks of the friends of neverland by giving me an interview (pass along the hint, people!), we’ll enjoy chatting with him about his initial forays into homoerotic wrestling. Period.  Until then, let’s move on and get back to “the” conversation.

I hope to see those tree trunks wrapped around many, many more heads!

Man Enough

Our Google overlords bless us with a fickle blogger interface that frequently leaves me cursing.  Typically, I think, the frustration is almost entirely on my side of the computer screen. Occasionally, however, it seems to impact neverland readers.  One reader has repeatedly pointed out that the automatic program for verifying that people who attempt to comment are, indeed, human beings, can sometimes present such blurry and obscure text to try to decipher that it’s nearly impossible.  Sorry for that. I wish I had some control over those things.  I also recently discovered that someone attempted twice to post a comment on a recent session of gushing of mine over reigning (for one more day) homoerotic wrestler of the month, Austin Wolf.

Austin Wolf not masculine?

I approved the comment, after some pause, however I don’t see it anywhere on the blog itself.  It’s in my “approved comments” list, but doesn’t show up in any post I can find.  The pause came because I’ve been rejecting comments lately that seem to me to be bitchy criticisms of wrestlers’ bodies or personalities.  Too fat.  Too skinny.  Not butch enough.  I know that a lot of the homoerotic wrestlers I write about also read this blog, and I don’t want them reading that crap.  But I went ahead and approved this comment that referred to Austin as “sexy enough, if only he weren’t so femme in person…. He is not nearly as masculine as the image he is trying to portray,” the commenter reported.  There’s just so much there to think about.  Setting aside my first question, “when have you seen him in person?” and my second question, “isn’t every expression of masculinity (or femininity) an image, a mere portrayal, or as Judith Butler has called it, a “performance?”  Whatever.  So Austin isn’t as masculine in person as he seems to appear on camera.  I guess my real question is, so what?

Rusty Stevens: masculine enough for you?

Now I’m not trying to take this commenter to task.  At all, really.  I approved the post because it provoked me to think deeper about masculinity in homoerotic wrestling.  I mean, sure, hypermasculinity is a pretty well-worn trope on our scene, so I would be entirely unsurprised to discover that any number of the meanest, baddest, most dominatingly butch heels in homoerotic wrestling history are, in their personal lives, light in the loafers and sassy as blown glass.  I don’t care what they may get up to on their own time, I might say.  Just tell me that powerful story of domination and submission, power and suffering, agony and arousal that I love so much, and what do I care how far from the mark that wrestling persona is to how they act when their sipping apple martinis at the piano bar?

Xavier: Does body hair make the man?  Big muscles?  Facial hair?

But even that isn’t really where I settled with this comment about the purported incongruity between Austin’s presentation of masculinity on and off camera.  No, I found myself challenged by the idea of masculinity itself.  We’re clearly not in a post-gender age, of course, but as for me (and I’ll speak solely for myself here), I’m not sure I’ve got the clearest hold on what comprises the polar opposites of masculinity and femininity as far as homoerotic wrestling goes.  I know of big, burly muscle bear-looking bruisers who snarl and spit and I think, hot damn, that’s one hot bit of masculine hunkiness!  But if the same burly bear wears a pink cardi and giggles like a girl when Glee comes on, I’m still fully prepared to objectify him as a no-holds-barred object of my lust.

Lon Dumont: Smooth as a baby’s bottom and over-the-top masculine in the ring.

And there are relatively petite, smooth, boyishly beautiful wrestlers who wink and grin, and when slam an opponent into the turnbuckle or bash him across his knee in an over the knee backbreaker, I think, hot damn, that’s one hot bit of masculine hunkiness!  Deep bass Boston voices.  High pitched Southern accents.   Pretty in pink.  Dangerous in black.  Go-go-boy.  Construction worker.  Limp wrist.  Football fan.  Facial hair.  Man-scaped.  Do they have a cock and tell me a hot, hot wrestling story?  I’m in.

Damien Rush was quoted recently as saying, “Let me smother you with all my masculine hair!”

So if Austin Wolf cracks an opponent’s spine over his knee, claws his crotch mercilessly, then schoolboy pins the punk with his big, gorgeous cock slapping the loser’s cheeks back and forth, and then gets up, showers off with 5 different skin care products and quotes Bette Davis movies over cosmos with all the rest of the girls… well, fuck.  It just occurred to me that I think that’s even HOTTER!

Tell me again how I’m not masculine enough for you, bitch!

Homoerotic wrestling likely reifies stereotypes of masculinity (and, by default, femininity) in many, many ways.  But I think, and I hope, that it blurs some of the old standby stereotypes as well.  I like the idea that the same mass of 6’4″ sculpted muscle can threaten to rip an opponent’s head off in a camel clutch and the next day sing along with show tunes in the car as he goes antiquing with his gurl-friends. I harbor a deep seated and not at all sublimated sexual fantasy of the rise of the muscle sculpted sissies who may be as pretty as a prima donna, but will fuck you up in a heartbeat in the ring.  Maybe I’m too old.  Or too young.  Or just don’t have the good taste to want to cling to the sharp, clean lines of gender stereotypes any longer.  But even if Austin Wolf were a flaming queen, he’d drain me dry time and time again as long as he racks another wasted loser across those mile wide shoulders of his.  Hell, I’d pay a premium, in fact!

Ask Hoop right about  now if Austin is masculine enough for him.

Destiny

Well, my review yesterday of Thunder’s Arena’s Halloween Havoc match between Brendan Cage and Braden Charron generated the thoughtful conversation and, perhaps, a little bit of controversy.  Controversy is probably much too strong a word for it, but it’s a word that sounds like something serious and important happened, so I’ll stick with it just for the gravitas.  However, no one seemed to be too negatively provoked by my marveling at Thunder’s Arena’s Austin Wolf doing Randy Blue a few days ago, so for the moment, I’ll go back to more unanimous territory there.

Austin Wolf wrestles himself

Yowza!  I still haven’t re-upped my “premium” membership in RB, but I just discovered that my lapsed pay membership from years ago reverted to a free “basic” membership that gives me free preview pics and videos.  Score.  So I’m able to get my hands all over portions of Austin’s delightful performances, including both his solo video and his (by all appearances) aggressively hard pounding sexual domination of Nicco Sky.

Nicco Sky isn’t sure what he signed up for when Austin shoves him to his back
The closest that Randy Blue appears to get to stroking my wrestling kink with Austin is that he seems to shove and bully Nicco a bit.  Hot? Yes.  Wrestling, not quite.  He pins Nicco’s wrists over his head and climbs on top, a little fear playing across Nicco’s face as the 6’4″ muscle monster mounts him without a smile.  Damn hot? Hell yes.  Wrestling?  Still not quite.
Does this shot come in a wall-size mural format?
I’ve only seen the preview (I’m still toying with where to squeeze money out of my porn budget), so I don’t know exactly how the boys choreograph the approach to this truly awesome work of art constituting a bearhug/cock-suck/rim-job combination with an added bonus of enjoying the sight of Nicco massaging Austin’s beautiful glutes in the palms of his hands.  Wildly erotic?  Oh, fuck yes!  Wrestling?  Well, I need more context, but bear with me here…  Paint out the living room, the sofa, the rug, the sketchy art, the lamp, the houseplant.  Now paint this scene inside a wrestling ring, Austin’s feet planted in damp sweat stains, Nicco’s wrestling trunks ripped to shreds near one corner, and Austin’s trunks carefully folded on a top turnbuckle.  With me?  Why has this beast not yet been seen climbing into a wrestling ring!?
“The Wolf” would make an epic fuck-stakes finisher!

This standing fuck similarly strokes me so close to my wrestling kink that I’m left a little breathless.  Do the same background readjust, and slap the title “Catchweight XXX-Fight” on it and tell me how I’d be able to do anything other than slap Skrapper’s ass into 2nd place and crown a new favorite wrestling pornboy!? Seriously, crowdsource this question for me: has there been a standing victory fuck like this celebrating an all-stakes homoerotic wrestling ring match?  Because if not, this finisher could easily be dubbed “The Wolf” for all eternity… if a producer with vision signs this stud and get’s those gorgeous glutes inside a pro wrestling ring!

Sign this muscle hunk up yesterday!
So perhaps we don’t all agree on the line that wrestling for a gay audience shouldn’t cross when it comes to potentially sublimated wrestling kink.  But surely, in the name of all that’s good and beautiful, we can all agree that this gorgeous ass, in full contact, fuck stakes ring wrestling, would be a stroke of pure genius, can’t we? 

Austin surely knows the fickle tastes of gay fans.

Oh, who am I kidding?  There’s nothing that we can get 100% of gay men to agree on, even gay men who all have a particular hard spot for wrestling.  Austin Wolf is a slam dunk for me.  I’m tempted to just state imperially that he is, objectively, an essentially perfect specimen of a hunk who everyone in the universe MUST agree would make an earth-shattering, game changing character in the world of dicks-out homoerotic wrestling.  I will this to be true for you, dear reader!  I could be adamant, bordering on shrill, in pursuit of opening your eyes to the Platonic ideal embodied in every inch of Austin Wolf’s body and wrestling demeanor.

The homoerotic wrestler platonic ideal: Austin Wolf
Every so often I get a comment or an email essentially laying out precisely that argument for some hot stud I’ve horribly shortchanged in my reviews.  I’ve been called ignorant, tasteless, blind… any number of supposed deficiencies have been proposed to explain why my tastes are so impaired as not to recognize the perfection of the object of someone else’s raving fanaticism.  So I’ll try not to insist that you’re seriously damaged if you don’t jump on the bandwagon of pleading with the powers that be to transform this muscle god into the homoerotic wrestling god that he was meant to be from birth.  You don’t have to agree with me here.  I’ll be okay with it if you aren’t as much an Austin Wolf fanatic as I am.  But for those of you who are, and I know you’re out there, write your favorite producer of homoerotic wrestling products today (and tomorrow) and tell them to find this hunk of meat and get him in the ring.  He’s got a date with destiny, and I’m telling you, remember the title “Catchweight XXX-Fight!”

Dicks Out… Now!

Homotrophy is a regular read for me.  Like, daily.  Like, multiple times a day.  I don’t actually know whether neverland is a regular read for Homotrophy, but if it isn’t, then there must be a homoerotic wrestling god in heaven, because just yesterday Homotrophy featured a completely gratuitous and seemingly random full-frontal pictorial expose’ of none other than my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month: Austin Wolf.

Reigning Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month: Austin Wolf

I have been, in the past, a subscriber to Randy Blue, but my heart is really rooted in wrestling (or, rather, my hard-on is really rooted in homoerotic wrestling).  While Randy Blue has produced some very notable entries into the homoerotic wrestling sidedish menu, it wasn’t enough to keep me sated.  But having Homotrophy point out that my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month is a Randy Blue model strongly tempts me to re-up.

Now THAT’S what I’m talking about!!!

I noted in my essay crowning Austin as this month’s HWOTM that his unlikely defeat at the hands of rosy-cheeked cherub-bomb, Dominic, featured some impressive evidence that Austin is packing major league heat in the front of his trunks.  Now we’re unlikely to see exactly what’s filling Austin’s pouch so impressively at Thunder’s Arena because, so far, Thunder’s doesn’t do nudity.  However, this is clearly not Austin’s hang up, as evidenced by his proudly displaying his beautiful meat for Randy Blue as covered by Homotrophy. Seriously.  That’s fucking gorgeous!

More than two handfuls of fun

One thing that both Thunder’s and RB-via-Homotrophy both capture is the fact that my reigning HWOTM is just… damn…. HUGE!  Thunder’s clocks him in at 6’4″ and 235 pounds.  For Randy Blue, Austin has done a solo video, but the cover for his first hardcore action with RB is what grabs my attention with both hands.  The cover to the preview video features gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous Austin naked with his shoot-partner Nicco Sky in an inverted bear hug, Austin’s face in Nico’s ass and Nico’s lips wrapped hungrily over Austin’s big, beautiful rod while Nico simultaneously squeezes Austin’s luscious cheeks. Wait, how much is a Randy Blue membership again?

…never works his abs, my ass…

Austin is another example of a gorgeous hunk clearly open to exposing all of the fantastic assets that genetics and hard work have given him (I don’t believe for a second the Randy Blue bio that claims Austin never works his abs… I call bullshit… and I’ll say it to his face… preferably with his thighs wrapped around my head and my mouth shoved hard into his balls).  And Austin is even, obviously, equipped and willing to perform the beautiful dance of gay sex on camera.  And yet his appearance in the homoerotic wrestling universe has thus far been G-rated (well, counting the massive excitement of Hooper when he faced Austin, let’s say rated-PG).

Someone NEEDS to wrestle this monster to the mat!

Get this man and his full monty on camera in full-fledged, unabashed, every inch homoerotic wrestling action, people!!!  Now Thunder’s Arena and I have come to terms with the scope of Thunder’s work.  I know that they consider their specialty being in the “implicit” realm of homoerotic wrestling, and they recognize that I always, always, always long to see some of their brightest and best talents more explicitly erotic (though Brendan Cage is stroking a sweet spot that I’ll talk about more in the next couple of days).  I realize that Thunder’s wrestlers aren’t all porn stars, and they aren’t all interested in appearing on a website that’s more explicitly homoerotic.  Gray area huge, let’s just admit it.  However, when you’ve got someone with the obvious… talents… of Austin Wolf, there’s a moral imperative to set this massive muscle beast free on the dicks-out universe of homoerotic wrestling fanatics!

This man was born to cock wrestle!

I want to proudly point out that I was totally turned on and fully a fanatical admirer of Austin Wolf’s before I ever saw his incredibly beautiful cock unencumbered.  That deep, rumbling bass voice of his can make me hard with my eyes closed.  The tummy tat alone makes me involuntarily stick out my tongue.  His beautiful nipples, big, bulging pecs, astonishingly hot, athletic legs, and the veins on the backs of his hands and hairy forearms all drive me crazy, and that’s with his trunks on.  Put this boy on a mat (or better, for my tastes, in a ring) and don’t stop taping until he’s de-trunked, fully aroused, and replaying that inverted bear hug/standing 69 on a totally wasted, dominated, conquered and humiliated opponent, and this power hitter will be a master of the universe!  At least the universe of homoerotic wrestling fanatics.  All hail my homoerotic wrestler of the month, and sign this gorgeous beast to a strip stakes x-fight… yesterday!!!

Enough About Me… What Do You Think of Me?

Yesterday neverland saw one of the busiest (if not the busiest) days of traffic.  More than 3,500 hits from around 1,800 unique visitors! A sudden surge like that typically means just one thing: some major router of gay internet content gave us a shout out.  This time, it was the high honor of being an Editor’s Pick for the GayDemon gay porn blog.

I’m much more accustomed to being the reviewer than the reviewee, so it was a fascinating exercise to see what GayDemon’s take on neverland is. He refers to my little corner of the internet as “a personal blog with words and images, written by a guy who shares his fascination with homoerotic wrestling.” Yep. That’s me in a nutshell. Some aspects of neverland seem to leave GayDemon a little confused. For example, my distinction between my “Pornboy Division” and “Non-Pornboy Division” leaves the gay porn connoisseur GayDemon scratching his head. For any newbies around these parts, I make a (probably arbitrary) distinction between homoerotic wrestling starring hunks who (at least) jack-off on camera (“pornboys”) and homoerotic wrestling hunks who may or may not wrestle naked, but as far as I know, they don’t cum on camera (“non-pornboys”). Since Naked Kombat went dormant (yes, I know they’ve reincarnated themselves, but they’re a shell of their former selves), the pornboy division has been pretty damn quiet. So when GayDemon says that it all looks the same to him, I can understand his confusion. It’s just one of those little things that means a lot to me, avoiding trying to compare pornboys and non-pornboys in homoerotic wrestling as essentially comparing apples to oranges (or bananas, really).

My commitment to the companies that give me permission to post their pics is to always cite/link them appropriately, which admittedly amounts to a form of advertisement.

GayDemon references “adverts” on neverland, which makes me cringe just a little. About once a year I teeter back and forth between giving in to pressure and allowing paid advertisements to be posted on neverland. So far, I’ve resisted the pressure, however, and I feel an admittedly self-righteous pride in saying that any link you find on this site is placed there voluntarily by me as a personal endorsement and not a paid advertisement. I possess a (probably illusory) sense of independent license to present my unvarnished opinions of homoerotic wrestling products, relatively unsullied by conflicting financial interests (for the most part). So, sure, technically the links to sites in the margins of neverland are literally advertisements, but they are not paid advertisements. They’re just there for your illumination, not my renumeration.

Are you hitting on me?

There’s something charming about GayDemon’s summary of what he sees when he visits neverland. “All in all this is a neat pace to get a general picture of what the wresting and eroticism combo is all about, or to find some in-depth thoughts and writing on the fetish, genre, subject. Which is another way of saying that you can click there for a sexy look around as well as an intellectual one.” Neat. In-depth. Sexy and intellectual!? Is GayDemon making a pass at me? And if so, is he prepared to trade bodyscissors until one of us cries uncle?

Enough Said.

One of the things about GayDemon’s review of neverland is the obvious way my text-intensive nature strikes him. Now clearly I love images of the beautiful men of homoerotic wrestling! The pages of this blog are littered with laboriously chosen pics intended to be the perfect complement and exemplars of my opinions and thoughts on the subject at hand. But from the beginning, and I expect until my dying day, I’m a man with a passionate fetish for words. The right words, the precise turn of phrase, the strategic deployment of metaphor, the particular poetic provocation of alliteration… these things dial up for me the intoxicating allure of what turns me on: homoerotic wrestling. Writing about it… writing it in the form of fiction and reviews … what I’ve been broadcasting for three and a half years has been not only the subject of homoerotic wrestling, but the subjective experience of appreciating homoerotic wrestling as conveyed through my perpetual self-narrative. I have zero doubt that there are some, quite possibly a majority, of regular visitors to this site who never, ever finish reading my epistles, drawn instead to click-through or settle in with a particular visual for a chart-topping release. Not everyone gives a flying fuck about what GayDemon identifies as an “intellectual” element to the pages of the blog (you FLIRT, GayDemon!).

Denny Cartier makes it to the sweet, sweet end of his match with Alexi Adamov

However, I know for a fact that at least some of the time that there are tenacious readers who make it all the way to the end of even a pretty long swath of text like today’s, because thoughtful readers leave comments (hint). I also know some certain someones in particular read me, because as happened last Friday, I’m occasionally extensively quoted by the likes of the brilliant boys at BG East who sometimes appreciate a particular turn of phrase I offer in praise of one of their gems.

I could still write a novel about what Alexi does to me in Leopard’s Lair 4!

Some back office boy there sent out a promo referring to my detailed admiration of the striking appearance of Alexi Adamov in Leopard’s Lair 4 as me “gushing” about the Russian bodybeautiful superstar. Gushing? Okay, okay. Sure. I gush. Take a look at Alexi’s sweat soaked muscles and just try not to.

I’m gushing at this very moment!

See? Words. Images. More words. It’s a style that I’m sure I’ve plagiarized from plenty of other places, but somehow it’s just how I start to think as I open up Blogger, curse our Google overlords for the pain in the ass interface, and then start to compose a new post. It’s a strange thing to look out into the virtual world and see yourself reflected in the mirror of another’s eyes (I told you I’ve got a thing for metaphors). While occasional commentators has assigned me much less flattering labels than “neat,” “sexy,” and “intellectual,” I’m pretty okay with how my work around here seems to be received, perceived, and reflected back.

Reflecting on reflections.
And being referenced as both sexy and intellectual will feed my often wavering ego strength for weeks to come!  Thanks, GayDemon.

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

I think it’s entirely possible that we’re living in a new Golden Age of homoerotic wrestling.  Just saying that will likely fan flames, but hear me out.  The crop of last month’s new releases to pick nominees for homoerotic wrestler of the month is exhaustingly extensive, AND BG East did not release a new catalog.  I’m sure wrestling producers might have a different impression of what it means for us to have so many exciting options (over-saturated market?  I hope not).  But for fans, I have to think we’ll look back on seasons like this and marvel at the scope and depth of homoerotic wrestling being produced right now.  For example, take a gander at new face and gorgeously hairy legged Geo, always erotically supercharged Brendan Cage, and ripped to shreds Bradon Charron putting their muscles on the mats for Thunder’s Arena’s 2012 edition of Halloween Havoc.  Consider Thunder’s fratboy-gone-wild Dominic and muscle giant Austin Wolf making muscles quiver in Mat Rats 25.  Pendulously power-packed Hooper is eye-catching as ever in both Mat Rats 26 and 27.  I’m just now introducing myself to new kids on the block, Muscle DominationWrestling, but already they grabbed my attention with a wildly sexy three-way battle between big, hunky farmboy Tony Law, increasingly ripped trust fund baby, Damien Rush, and nasty new handsome heel Henry Sandow for Superhero Contest Interrupted.  Eastern European niche fantasyman, Steel Muscle God, turned the lights out for The Wimpy Boy (who is, frankly, a guilty pleasure of mine) for their bearhugs and headscissors features.  Over at Can-Am, always dangerous Jobe Zander digs deep to punish achingly fresh Bobby Blake in Decrotchery 4.  Tyler St. James and Travis Wild are nothing but a brilliantly cast catch-weight pairing for Pro Sex Fight 10 (I’m thinking more catch-weight fuck-stakes could scratch a major itch for me).  Despite going heavy on the sex and light on the combat, I have to acknowledge JetSet Men’s “parody” of The Ultimate Fighter that they call The Ultimate Top, including two nominees for HWOTM: a potential nominee for sexiest legs on the planet, Logan Vaughn, and ass-pounding heel Tristan Baldwin aka Aryx Quinn. And finally Rock Hard Wrestling has a crop of nominees that rock me, including goldenboy turning nasty, Austin Cooper, barely legal mouthful of beef Brodie Fisher, British muscle beauty Will Stanley and teen heart throb Jason Kane for Tag Team Torture, as well as Brit pounder Will Stanley yet again getting Brutalized by both expert tormentor Ethan Andrews and his heel apprentice Aaron Travers.

What a field!  The breadth and depth here is stunning.  From hard hitting, hardcore porn to the homage to muscle worship fratboy fun and games, there’s a custom gem to suit so many varied kinks!  Picking just one homoerotic wrestler of the month from this crop is essentially comparing apples to oranges to dildos.  On the dildo side of things, let me just say that someone needs to sequester Logan Vaughn in a wrestling ring with a serious pro coach and turn those wad-blowing quads into the lethal weapons they’re meant to be.  But the pitifully shortchanged combat in Ultimate Top just can’t make even a Greek God like Logan actually come out on top as HWOTM.  After painstakingly eliminating one worthy nominee after another, I’m left with a fantasy beast who’s been a recurring superstar in my erotic wrestling dreams over the past couple of months…

… Thunder’s Arena’s Austin Wolf.
“They’re up here, man!”

Speaking of itch-scratching, I honestly didn’t even know I had an empty space inside just waiting to be filled by a gorgeously muscled, 6’4″ 235 pounder with an aversion to a razor. An in case that metaphor was too subtle, let me just reiterate that Austin Wolf is welcome to fill one specific empty space inside of me any day!  In his pre-match confessional for Mat Rats 25, Austin says that he’s a football jock who decided to moonlight for Thunder’s sort of as a lark, coming down to Florida “to kick a little ass.”  When rosy-cheeked fratboy Dominic tries to demonstrate the muscle mass that he predicts will make big, big, big Austin suffer, Austin lifts his arm, flexes his bicep, and points out where the quality beef is hanging: “They’re up here, man,” he taunts “little” D.

Let me repeat, big, big, BIG Austin Wolf!

In my blow by blow review of Austin’s first match, I spent a lot of time marveling at the “unexpected guest” that showed up in a big way in Hooper’s trunks.  And who could blame the kid!? My pants grow uncomfortably tight just thinking about getting my back cracked across massive Austin’s thigh, looking up at that incredibly handsome, rugged face and knowing that I am entirely at this muscle god’s mercy. However, as if to point out that it’s not just his lucky, lucky opponents who are swinging pipe, there’s delightful movement in big Austin’s trunks, particularly evident when Scrappy-Doo locks on an improbable rear bearhug and lifts the powerhouse off his feet.  Those trunks did not start out that full, my friends!

Wake up and smell the muscle!

Austin is perfect pitch in Mat Rats 25 for where my mind wanders the moment I see him on camera.  His voice is about an octave and a half deeper than his fratboy stud opponent.  I’d love to offer my services to manscape every inch of Austin’s fanstasyman body, but there’s no way that I could do better than the clearly loving hand keeping this lightly hairy muscle monster so perfectly trim and coiffed.  And if anyone has a moral imperative to flex and pose his crazy-intimidating giant muscle physique as a devastating offensive tool to strike terror into the heart of an opponent, it’s Austin Wolf.  In my currently running fondest dream, I’m waking up, drowsy and a little woozy, from being sleepered to the edged of consciousness, only to find myself locked in a crotch-to-face headscissors looking up at the massive mountain in Austin’s trunks in the foreground, his fur-coated six-pack and pecs a little farther away, and the huge peaks of his biceps on the horizon, looming over me like a terrible, thrilling, unstoppable disciplining god.

Austin muscles Dominic into position.

Spoiler alert for those who care, Austin gives up multiple, wailing submissions to a half a dozen different holds that the acne-faced D-bomb applies to his long, powerful body before all is said and done.  That deep, bass rumble jumping up an octave in panicked submission is, undeniably, highly erotic for my tastes.  The fact that a physical specimen like Austin can sell anguish and fear does nothing but make me that much more infatuated.  However, I have to say it’s Austin on top that transports me, and it’s Austin on top that cinched his scissorhold on the title this month.  In particular, Austin is unflinching in riding D’s barely clad bubble butt like a capital “P” Porn Star.  The stills that I include in this post likely oversell the eroticism, but not by too terribly much.  It doesn’t take me a lot of imaginative license at all to picture Austin’s muscled ass flexing rhythmically as he fills a particular empty space that Dominic opens up for him deep inside those sweet, pale cheeks of his.

Austin could rip D’s head off without even trying!

Somebody thought that it would be a good idea to have ruddy-cheeked Dominic teach big, bruiser Austin “a lesson,” and I’m sure that there’s a big audience for that angle.  As for me, even with Austin selling like a high-class pro, there’s a suspension of disbelief that’s a fraction too fantastical for me to entirely buy, because any moment at which Austin seriously puts his hands on this kid, it’s clear he could rip his head off without breaking a sweat.  The initial collar-and-elbow, for example, doesn’t cut it, because D just doesn’t pull off the appearance that he isn’t utterly outmatched, even though Austin refrains from tossing the kid through the wall.  But when Austin’s on top, with his meat pressing down into Dominic’s ample ass crack, with Austin’s tree trunks planted firmly around the kid’s hips and D’s face almost disappearing underneath just one of the giant’s HUGE hands threatening to rip his skull off his neck, Austin owns me as completely as he does little D.

Dominic’s vulnerable back needs a fresh, damp, sticky coat of Wolf juice!

I’ve harassed Thunder in the past for sticking so fervently to the rowdy frathouse schtick that they leave behind a gay wrestling kinkster like me in service to, I presume, a more closeted gay wrestling kinkster who’d be too freaked out by something more explicitly erotic.  Thunder’s knows my thoughts on the matter, and Mr. Mike knows that there’s a level of appreciation I can’t reach for quite a bit of their catalog that appears pointed at an audience other than me.  But Austin Wolf growling, sweating, and flexing his bazookas as he stares down at little D’s back with his powertool poised in the fuck-the-loser position is a beautiful example of homoerotic wrestling that does not require (or even warrant) a literal fuck-finisher to communicate something intoxicating to me.  Some chaw spitting closet-case probably looks at Mat Rats 25, curls his upper lip, and through his rotting teeth spits out the words, “Aw, fuck, that’s so gay.”  And in this rarest of cases, I completely and enthusiastically agree with the inbred self-hater.

Crane your neck upward and gaze at towering HWOTM, Austin Wolf!

That’s not to say, however, that I wouldn’t blow a gasket to see smokin’ hot Austin Wolf’s exquisite proportions in a wrestling ring.  I’d give my firstborn to see him tied in the ropes, his trunks peeled off his mile-long body, and his raw meat punished viciously in the hands of the sort of competition that he’s almost certainly not going to face at Thunder’s Arena.  But this brown-eyed powerhouse ripped from Greek mythology stares unflinchingly at me and my unapologetically gay wrestling fetish, pumps his fantasy physique, and demonstrates that even with just 2 matches under his belt, he’s ready to be a crowd pleaser.  Step back, all you other contenders, because a man this big needs room to strut to the front of the line and take a seat on the throne as my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month!