I’m a little surprised by just how much BG East rookie Fabrice turns me on. His build is severe. Not a lot of guys could wear 145 pounds on a 6’1″ frame and fail to look downright skinny to the point of starving. It takes me about 2 minutes into Gear Wars 5 to decide, but no doubt, Fabrice pulls it off for me.
He’s an anatomy chart at that BMI, of course. But once I get over my initial skepticism about how his super lean build might perform in a wrestling match, there’s an unbreakable vibe to him. I stop worrying about what isn’t there, and start to really appreciate this kid’s aesthetics.
Ben Monaco appreciates them as well. I knew he would, because Ben seems to never have met an opponent he wouldn’t want to fuck. The sexual tension always runs high in a Monaco match, and Gear Wars 5 is no exception. Delightfully, however, the homoerotic gaze first belongs to the lithe rookie. Fabrice arrives on the scene instantly infatuated with Ben’s muscles. He can’t keep his hands off of the veteran, stroking and palming the Canuck’s big biceps (fuck, Ben’s been working out!). For a few moments, I’m left wondering if Fabrice is done for before this even begins, because he looks like he’s gagging for it.
I need not have worried. Ben is every bit as turned on by the rookie. There’s precious little dialogue, too little for my tastes because the character motivation is borderline opaque. But looking back from the tail end of this confrontation, it was always about one thing: who’s going to be in the driver’s seat once the post-match sex breaks out.
Not that we see any post-match coitus. This isn’t an X-Fight. But the heavy doses of body worship injected throughout the match are sexy as fuck. The erotic attraction is so thick that the competition part of the narrative veers dangerously off course on several occasions. But then, repeatedly, it’s Fabrice that slaps it back on course, typically by snapping those incredibly long luscious legs around Ben and squeezing until the beefy bear whimpers.
This is a Gear Wars match, so be prepared for the initial gear, as sensationally sexy as it is, to get ripped off. In particular, the astonishingly tight tights on Fabrice are a marvel of modern technology, painted in place despite covering no more than 2/3rds of the beauty’s lovely ass cheeks while somehow managing to stay up. Ben’s red singlet is frankly utilitarian in comparison. But the playing field is evened out once they’re both stripped down to g-strings worthy of a Chippendale.
Fabrice’s balls never quite manage to fit inside his pouch, and for that, I salute him. That’s quite a problem to have to contend with, balls too big to squeeze into your gear. Ben somehow seems not to notice. He does, however, clearly notice the amazingly fuckable ass on the rookie, as evidenced by him digging his fingers in deep and often. In his more vulnerable moments, Fabrice is forced to flex. Ben domineers over him, demanding obedience, taunting and teasing.
But in the battle for the driver’s seat, Fabrice is more than capable of punching things into overdrive by grabbing the bull by the horns, or, in this case, the Ben by the balls. The match turns slowly throughout, momentum ebbing and flowing, both boys taking turns on top to feel out who really belongs there when all is said and done. Hardcore wresting fans may find the diversions into intoxicating muscle worship distracting. There are bearhugs and a beautiful camel clutch, and every stripe and variation of torturous scissors that 2 pairs of hot, punishing legs like these can manage. There’s wrestling enough to stoke my kink, but the drama is psychosexual more than anything. The decisive, final submission is all about that concession. The winner force feeds his opponent his bicep, hypnotizing him with every inch of his hot body stretched over top of the loser like a blanket.
Welcome to our world, Fabrice. You’re a fine, fine addition to the diversity of talents and bodies populating homoerotic wrestling fantasies these days. I get the impression English may be a second language for you, but what you do on the wrestling mat requires no translation. When you shove Ben’s head between your legs and make him cry in crotch-to-face headscissors, your talking my language!
I have no way of predicting when I’m going to receive the proverbial brown paper package, sans return address, with a new batch of smuggled pics of the inner sanctum of BG East from the anonymous benefactor I’ve dubbed, simply, Our Man Inside (OMI). This latest batch was actually signed “OMI,” which makes me chuckle… and worry a bit that the fans’ spy may be getting cocky. Speaking of dangerously cocky, did I mention how fervently Drake Marcos denied being OMI when I visited him at BG East’s South Campus last fall? Regular readers may remember that Drake was one of the first to smuggle pics to me from behind the scenes at a BG East taping. However, he also got caught, and rumor is, got his ass handed to him long and hard for dabbling in corporate espionage. So Drake brought up the topic all on his own last fall, pointedly clarifying that he isn’t the one who has continued to sneak peeks to me from behind the curtain at BG East. There was a slight tone of desperateness about his unsolicited denials that makes me think whoever OMI is (and I’m not saying that it definitely ISN’T the Cheshire Cat), I hope he continues to fly under the radar, because it sure seemed to me like hottie Drake was reliving some personal terror as he adamantly denied continuing his smuggling operation.
Whoever OMI is, I’d make him my honorary favorite homoerotic wrestler insider, if I could post of picture of him and give credit where it’s due. Of course, that would defeat the purpose. And I don’t want that purpose defeated, or OMI found out, because once again he slipped out what appear to be some cutting room floor shots from behind the scenes of BG East homoerotic wrestling tapings. There’s a brand new mountain of blond muscle who looks like he belongs in some Beach Blanket Beefcake flick from the the 60’s. Most of these appear to be from recent releases, so hopefully we’ll see Blond Bombshell Biff in action soon. And thank heavens for more candid, between takes reveals of fantasy studs like Lon Dumont, Jake Jenkins, Kayden Keller, and Jonny Firestorm. Seeing these gorgeous wrestlers without their game faces on makes me that much more infatuated with watching them suit up, slip into the ring, and go to town.
I haven’t really paid attention to the Big Brother franchise in years, but seeing this slice of homoerotic fantasy gold plastered across the internet certainly caught my attention yesterday. I can report only what I read online, because I didn’t even know there was such a thing as “Big Brother Canada,” and now that I do, I find out that I can’t watch it online from my “location.” Bigots. However, if there’s more eye candy from furry gay male model Kenny Brain in loosey whities and olive oil, I predict he’s got a big, big future ahead of him on a screen in front of me.
If there’s a homoerotic wrestling god on Mt. Olympus, then somebody is already offering this slice of over-the-top sexiness a contract to seriously hit his stride as a homoerotic wrestler.
And based on my 3-way interview with Drake “all-talk-no-show” Marcos and his patent holder, Mason Brooks, I’d say Kenny’s very first opponent should be Mason. Mason mentioned that he has a tendency to get dazzled and distracted by a hot opponent’s “Canadian-ness,” and Kenny looks like he’s got gallons of Canadian-ness to shoot all over Mason’s sweet pecs.
Hell, I’m smelling a potential Southern Invasion force storming BG East if gorgeous Kenny joins the ranks of other known/rumored Canadians that have made incursions across the border. Keep your fingers crossed!
I’ve been slacking off on reading the other words of insight, wisdom and confession from the homoerotic wrestling blogosphere. I find this a dangerous state of affairs, as I can be lulled to complacency in my own echo chamber if I don’t partake of the vital conversations of others with their eyes, ears, and often their bodies on the scene. So here’s a quick round-up of what others are musing on when it comes the topic you and I enjoy most.
In the genre of wrestlers blogging…
CameronWrestler –Cameron Matthews posted yesterday a classified ad for a pair of Braden Charron’s posing trunks. Cameron has been booking custom videos and private matches for several hot wrestling hunks like Braden, and clearly he’s also happy to pass along the word that you can have the banana hammock that’s cradled the package where your face wants to be. Check out the pics and email Cameron if you want to put a bid in on, inch for inch, one of the most provocative pieces of cloth on the planet.
Jonny Firestorm – Don’t be deceived by the lack of updates on Jonny Firestorm’s splash page, because he updated his page this morning to tell you where he doesn’t care who else wins anything in BG East’s year end polls, because even if someone beats him in votes, he’ll simply “let him enjoy his 15 minutes of fame before I print out the results page, shove it down his throat and bash his balls until he cries out, ‘I’m Jonny’s bitch.” So in a hypothetical world in which Jonny isn’t in the running, he blogs about who he believes should have won each of the categories. He also has some sweet shots of him off hours hanging with other wrestling hunks.
Monaco Off the Mats – Ben Monaco last Sunday shared his new years resolutions (and a hot selfie showing off that always sexy bod and those growing more and more defined abs). These include more wrestling (and more savoring it it along the way in blog form). He also resolves to build more muscle, lose fat, and look good (resolution achieved on that third one already). Check out his invitation for you to help him on his third resolution.
In the genre of bloggers on the eroticism of wrestling…
Beefcakes of Wrestling – Bruno at Beefcakes is prolific in posting and has an incredible eye for pro wrestling beef. This week was no exception, posting on Sunday about the Lean Shah v Warren Brady match, Monday posting a collage of Beefcakes in action, Tuesday on Steven Walters, Wednesday including pics from Ring of Honor’s Final Battle 2013, and yesterday asking the rhetorical question that requires no answer: which would you rather look at, a wrestling hunk in shirts or down to his skin?
Inner Jobber – SP has his favorites, so no wonder he started the week with a Sunday/Monday double post study on Sean Stasiak. On Tuesday SP introduced us to every naked inch of a bodybuilder who’d have made a stunning wrestler, Craig Carpuso. On Wesdnesday, SP wrote an open letter to BG East, asking for a download over the opening credit music to their videos (I agree, I’ve been trained to get turned on by it), along with a special request. On Thursday he mused on the beauty that is Aaron Eckhart (yum!). Then on Friday he reported in pictures on the latest from WWE
Ringside at Skull Island – Joe consistently posts high quality and quantity commentary on the hottest wrestling action across multiple platforms. On Tuesday he posted a review of Eli Black’s magnificent work taking down a double team at UCW. On Wednesday he covered the coverage of a Japanese wrestling match introducing me to a new man of my dreams, Hiroshi Yamato (check out those pics! Tom Zenk’s Japanese twin!). Thursday, he reports on a straight up pro match from Terre Haute, and Friday muses on the man of my dreams I’ve known about a long time, ripped genetic freak, insanely sexy Scot Prince Devitt. Finally, this morning, Joe posts on a classic pro wrestling hunk from the 80s, Steve O. As always, Joe brings a beautiful mix of text and graphics to get the point across (the point being wrestling is sexy as hell, of course).
Wrestling Arsenal – WA is also extremely prolific, insightful, and just plain hilarious. On Sunday he posted his weekly Suffering Sunday montage. Monday was for pro wrestlers flexing their tongue muscles. Tuesday was all about Christ Dickinson (and his trunk strings). On Wednesday, he provided nearly minute by minute coverage of a match starring one of my Brit crushes, Terry Frazier. Thursday was all about Boston crabs through the ages, and Friday was a new installment on his series on Doughboys. Finally this morning he posted on a new-to-me masked wrestler who instantly turns me on, The Romantic Touch.
And just reporting on some blogs that haven’t been updated in a while, but I’m keeping my eye on…
Drake Marcos: The Cheshire Cat of Homoerotic Wrestling – Drake’s last post was a bid for votes late last month in the BG East poll. I was very glad to see his Custom Combat with Jonny come out on top as best squash of the year.
That Ginger Guy – Reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler around these parts hasn’t updated his blog since September 5, which is a shame, because I hang on his every word and the promise of more candid photos of his beauty.
Welcome to Thunderdome– Cage Thunder’s most recent post was from December 13, in which he lauds the arrival of BG East’s newest massive, vicious pro wrestling heel rising, Lane Hartley.
The year-end holiday greetings from my favorite homoerotic wrestlers and friends of neverland have been intense so far! So much attitude! Three epic heels and a studly jobber clearly trying to get his ass kicked… again… make today’s greeting card from a hunky babyface beauty seem like a breath of fresh air! Ben Monaco has been a longtime friend of neverland and living the dream of countless homoerotic wrestling fans everywhere, successfully making the pivot from fan to star. Ben (and his hairy pecs and hungry lips) is as sincere, earnest, and competitive a babyface as I’ve ever virtually met. So his year-end greeting is a whole lot less dark and ominous than my first four.
Keep us updated, Ben! Keep fighting the good fight, and if I may, let me request more lip lock finishers for you in the coming year.
It’s the day designated for expressing thanks. I certainly have a boatload of things, people, and moments to be thankful for. But as a departure from always talking about what I like, I think today I’ll just share some choice pics of homoerotic wrestlers who give every impression of being caught right at the moment of thanking their lucky stars. Happy day, y’all.
Neverland readers occasionally overestimate my integration within the formal hierarchy of homoerotic wrestling. They ask me to arrange for someone in particular to get an audition with a wrestling producer, or they request that I put in a good word for a particular combination of wrestling opponents to appear in a future match. The truth is, although I write and obsess a lot about homoerotic wrestling, my influence on its production is minimal-to-non-existent. I picture myself more as a part of the press corps, appreciated by a precious few who actually make the news, tolerated by most of the rest of the producers and wrestlers, and despised by a handful of the star players (sometimes for legitimate reasons, I’ll admit). Although I muse incessantly about my own lusts for particular motifs and tag team partners and opponents, I can think of only two instances when I’ve expressed a detailed wish for a future homoerotic wrestling production that actually ended up being produced.
The first homoerotic wrestling match that seemed to fall like mana from heaven a few months after I wrote about the need to see it produced was BG East’s Sexiest: Breaking Pointmat match. Rusty Stevens and Mitch Colby had traded my loyalties back and forth, each claiming and losing the title of my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler to each other repeatedly. Holy hell, the two of them wore me out for something like a year and a half, turning me on harder and harder with each new release they starred in seperately! What was needed, I mused here at neverland, was a direct, head-to-head confrontation in which the two premiere fantasymen appealing to my fondest homoerotic wrestling desires showed up in the same place to work their magic on each other, proving decisively and indisputably which one of them was the champ of grabbing my cock and milking me dry. This seemed an unlikely item for my wish list, since Rusty had never appeared in a homoerotic wrestling production east of the Mississippi. They were both Naked Kombat veterans, but I got the impression from somewhere that Mitch was not interested in going down that path again. So when BG East released in the summer of 2010 The Breaking Point, I felt faint at the sight of Rusty and Mitch in sweat-soaked jock straps barreling down on one another on the Florida mats (so okay, I had asked for a Boston ring match, but whadevah). Was I in any way responsible for this stroke of casting genius? I suspect not, and no one has ever suggested that was the case. But like a prayer to Poseidon, the expression of my heart’s desire was followed closely enough by its realization that I felt a little moment of self-efficacy over the homoerotic wrestling gods. Maybe, just maybe, I could feel like I had just a little to do with Rusty’s one and only venture (so far) into BG East territory.
The second instance of inspired booking that I probably don’t have absolutely any right to claim…but I’ll imply that I do… is the opening match in BG East’s new release, Wrestlefest 3, pitting my now-reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler, Lon Dumont, against his former protege, babyface bruiser and former HWOTM here, Cameron Matthews. In my interview with Lon early in 2011, he mentioned he was Cam’s “original pro wrestling trainer,” and that in their careers, they’d wrestled one another 3 or 4 dozen times. “Damn, that would be something I’d like to see!” I replied. “Perhaps we’ll see you two in action through BGE sometime.” Enigmatically, Lon responded, “Perhaps so.”
Merely 2 and a half years later, BG East released Wrestlefest 3, checking off another fondest wish on my list. This match sets off a non-stop fireworks-finale in my crotch for the duration of this intensely hot ring confrontation. The word apparently is that Lon’s return to wrestling competition hasn’t entirely been welcomed by his former mentee, particularly not when Lon was overheard boasting that he was “classing up” BG East since his arrival. As an unabashed Lon-fanatic, I see nothing at all wrong with crediting Lon with bringing a boatload of class, a simply massive ring repertoire, and a melts-in-my-mouth gorgeous physique that’s done nothing at all bad for the BGE universe. Impolitic? Perhaps. But wrong? I’m unapologetically on Lon’s side as this drama unfolds.
I’m not the only one on Lon’s side, but it’s close. Fulfilling another of my oft-mentioned longings, BG East filmed this match in front of a live audience comprised of BG East wrestlers. Everyone of them is instantly pulling for red-white-and-blue bedecked Cameron, except for the lusty cheers that Blaine Janus has for my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler, Lon. The rest of the boys at ringside are fucking relentlessly taunting and insulting Lon, but Blaine is channeling my deepest longing by cheering Mr. Dumont on and making at least a couple undisguised passes at the bodybuilder beauty. Note to self: I need to interview Blaine Janus, because that boy has stunningly awesome taste!
This match is phenomenal! There’s always a danger of the real thing not living up to the hype and anticipation, but Lon and Cameron bring precisely what I would hope to this match: intensely high quality pro wrestling action, stunningly hot bodies squeezed and pried apart from every angle, and about 3 quarts of sweat (mostly produced by Cameron, I think, but liberally lubricating both of these specimens of gorgeous muscle!). The back and forth is fantastically intense, and early going Lon is simply outmuscled and dominated by his bigger, younger, chip-on-his-shoulder opponent. Watching Lon’s hot bod get manhandled ranks as one of the top 10 wonders of the homoerotic wrestling world, as far as I’m concerned.
Full-contact audience participation is achingly sweet, and the Cam-fans at ringside are simply giddy when they exploit every opportunity they can to get their hands on Lon. I understand the impulse. The cocky veteran appears to have a blind spot for an audience inexplicably aching to watch him get crushed, and Skip Vance and Ben Monaco in particular successfully get underneath Lon’s flawless skin and do what audiences do best, assault the oversized egos in the ring and serve as the third man, distracting cocky heels from their appointed rounds.
I don’t think I’ve seen Lon take quite the abuse that his junior colleague dishes out in Wrestlefest 3. Sure, he got pounded into dust by giant Joe Robbins in Gut Bash 8, but Cameron’s measured delivery of precise quantities of trash talk, blinding speed, acrobatic athletics, and ring savvy moves absolutely stymie my top wrestler-crush throughout a good portion of this match in ways I’ve just not witnessed. Cam catches Lon’s fantasy physique in such compromising positions that this match quite literally requires about 3 times longer than the running time for me to get through the whole thing in one sitting.
If there’s one thing that can raise my temperature hotter than watching Lon’s muscles dominated, it’s watching him muscle his way back into contention and start to apply the pedal to the metal in overcoming a young stud opponent. Just watching Lon’s chiseled abs pump and flex as he bears down on this babyface beauty in an abdominal stretch is mesmerizing! And don’t think for a minute Lon isn’t a crowd pleaser (despite the complaints of everyone at ringside other than Blaine), because he yanks on those adorably heroic American flag trunks of Cameron’s to show us Cam’s real moneymaker, that mindblowing ass!
The competition is way too close for Lon to own the momentum for long at any one time, and even with seconds left in the contest the victory remains in question. These two are master storytellers, so the tension is stroked hotter and harder with such expertise, such passion, such a generous spirit for the viewing audience. The former student’s confident call-out of his former mentor teeters back and forth between folly and fate, and every second Cameron gets to feel Lon’s muscle body constricting around him is another moment I’m insanely jealous.
Praise be to the homoerotic wrestling gods that heard my prayers and made this match happen, because watching these to men who know each other so well, with such a history of mutual admiration as well as a burning grudge, is epic. BG East is a better place for having both of these highest class of athletes on board. And if you’re wondering whether Cameron knocks his bodybuilder mentor down a few pegs, I’ll just say that I (and Blaine) were intensely pleased to watch the climax of this barely controlled chaos of a pro wrestling match for gay eyes. So much muscle. So much sweat. Such beautiful wrestling.