I’m calling it. Last week’s Friday Fashion poll appears to have tested loyalties. A couple of readers commented that they caught themselves by surprise with their votes. When it comes to those pink and lime green square cuts making their rounds of the locker room at Thunder’s Arena, the real competition turned out to be between Big Sexy and Vinny. But when push came to shove and you had to pick just one, 48.5% of you broke just one way.
Big Sexy wore it best.
Little wonder that Big Sexy is pulling down victories so long after formally leaving the homoerotic wrestling scene. He was, for quite a while, the premiere franchise player for Thunder’s Arena, combining devastating mat skills, a made-for-pro larger than life attitude, and a phenomenal rock-‘n’-roll body.
Although others subsequently donned these pink and lime green square cuts, it’s hard not to see what the plurality of Friday Fashion voters saw in declaring that he wore them best. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand ties, Big Sexy’s ass is one of the very best in wrestling anywhere, at anytime. The quarter panel alternating colors on these trunks look custom made for Big Sexy’s fabulous, massively muscled glutes, accentuating that size, shape, and mouthwatering aesthetics of his athletic ass cheeks. I’m sure many voters were appreciating other angles that convinced them that Big Sexy wore it best, but as for me, I can’t tear my eyes away from the absolute perfection of his ass.
In any case, congratulations, Big Sexy, wherever you are. You are missed, but almost 49% of us still agree that you wore it best!
I noticed a different pair of trunks stretched across the fine forms of three different wrestlers (that I could find, at least), to lift up for your consideration for today’s Friday Fashion poll. No guarantees that I’ll keep Friday Fashion resurrected long, but now that I’m back into it, let’s have some more fun.
BG east slid at least 3 lovely, lean wrestlers into a certain pair of red and black pro trunks. I believe it was Bobby Burns who may have worn them first, taking a beating from Caleb Brand in Ring Rookies 1. He sported them again in Ringwars 18.
Perry Pearson later fished these small, simple classic cuts out of the BG East closet for Matmen 20. He stands out in this field as the only wrestler to make them mat gear.
Much more recently, it’s been Stone Whitman’s ripped body working to make these curve accentuating trunks all his own, originally a while back in Knock Outs 1, and then again earlier this year in Submissions 10 getting worked over by Jonny.
All three hunks wore them. I think they each make them work in remarkably different ways. But in your opinion, who wore it best? Vote below.
I amuse myself. I also offend, bore, irritate, and disgust others at times. I know this because I get comments to that effect on a regular basis. The liberating part of blogging about my erotic tastes and opinions, however, is that whether or not any particular reader likes what I write about, it’s really all about me (sorry Ty). So you can disagree with me, complain even, and I’m still good. As long as you don’t make racist, agist, anti-Semitic, body shaming or otherwise personal attacks. I shut down that shit on the pages of my own blog in a heartbeat.
The flip side of that tension is that occasional experience when a reader tells me that something I’ve written turned them on, titillated, or tickled them. Like I said, it’s still all about me, but I’m happy when it turns out to be about you, as well. So it’s a nice surprise when a long-time friend of this blog reached out with a specific suggestion for resurrecting one of my favorite games here at neverland. I always suspect my polls and quizzes entertain me more than anyone else, so of course I’m thrilled to pull out a new installment of Friday Fashion, aka, Who Wore It Best.
Specifically, we’ve been asked to weigh in on a particular pair of lime green and pink square cut trunks. Thunder’s Arena fans recognize this gear in a heartbeat. I believe that it’s likely that Big Sexy wore them first. Considering they keep popping up cradling the bulges and baubles of new TA competitors, I’m guessing they’re a permanent part of the TA gear closet. If those trunks could talk, I’d buy them a cup of coffee to hear what they have to say about the sensational glutes that have stretched their seams over the years.
While we can’t ask the trunks which body they enjoyed lifting, separating, and supporting most, I can ask neverland readers who you think wore it best. The contenders are all big bruisers. Big Sexy slid his big sexy body into these storied pink and lime trunks in at least 5 matches (currently embargoed on TA’s public store, reportedly at Big Sexy’s request). NJustice dabbled in TA competition just a couple times, but it was his Brutal mauling at the hands of Brute in Mat Wars 69 that gave us a chance to see how the pink and lime square cuts perform on the receiving end of an indy pro grudge beat down. Then again, perhaps Brute just had his eyes on those trunks, because he subsequently packed his massively muscled ass into them in Custom 28, Ring Wars 17, Mat Wars 59, Custom 31, Rough & Ready 79, and Labor Day Special. And finally big, big muscleman Vinny bulged in the pink and lime in Custom 37. They all wore them. Who wore them best? Vote below.
Joe has already given the stamp of approval in his review of Thunders Arena’s “Bathroom Battle,” which Joe perhaps more evocatively dubs “Psycho Shower Scene.” But I wanted to add an, “Amen, brother,” and tell you a few things that Joe didn’t mention, but grabbed my… attention.
The whole scenario starts out shaky for me, because as soon as Big Sexy tries to bully Z-Man out of the bathroom mid-shave, Z-Man turns into the cat that ate the canary. You, me, Joe, everyone has pointed out how that how shit-eating grin on Z-Man’s handsome face is both crotch warming and tends suck the air out of any suspension of disbelief a homoerotic wrestling scene requires. But there it is, irrepressible and adorable, but aggravating (me) as hell. Happily, Big Sexy merely turns up the heat and puts the beautiful Playgirl model in such jeopardy that there’s little time for any more grinning, just gasping and pleading and sputtering, trying not to drown.
Have I ever disclosed around here that I was once president of my fraternity? It isn’t something that comes up in conversation often at this point in my life, but it’s true enough. Bathroom Battle, as contrived and “bizarro” as Joe rightly describes it to be, somehow manages to convey an ironic authenticity about it as I stroll down memory lane with each outlandish, over the top hijink these two get up to. I have cataloged in my mind, fondly, almost disturbingly similar scenes from my frat house days, as guys turned the bathroom (the chapter room, the hallways, the kitchen, whatever) into a pro-wrestling ring. And just like in my frat house days, the shit goes from clowning to oh-fuck-you-didn’t-just-do-that in the blink of an eye.
The genre is executed well. I’m caught by surprise by how fully the boys manage to sell combat in what has to be one of the most work-unfriendly places to stage a rip and strip NHB wrestling match. Seriously, if you work for OSHA, DO NOT go to ThunderTV and watch this, because I’m afraid, despite your obvious wrestling fetish, you will feel compelled to report this shit for about 50 workplace safety violations. There are several points at which I’m holding my breath waiting to see one or both of these gorgeous hunks go down hard and break something internal as they impact the wet tiles of the bathroom floor. Kudos to both of these high class veterans, however. No one appears to have any lasting damage by the end… at least not any accidentally inflicted damage.
The intentional damage these two pillars of the franchise inflict is oddly satisfying and deeply erotic to my eyes. They both can’t seem to get enough of clawing the living hell out of each other’s balls. Z-Man even goes for a two-handed ball claw near the end, presumably because 1) it applies twice the pressure, and 2) what Big Sexy has stuffed down his trunks is more than one handful. They quickly and unsolicitedly (is that a word?) peel each other out of their skin tight square cuts, and Z-Man’s undergear in particular is incredibly tiny. I mean, that orange thong gets rolled up into what is essentially just a g-string in seconds and stays that way through most of the scene, giving Z-Man fans and ass fans some of the finest, wettest, most compromised looks at his lovely booty. You won’t see the full monty, even though this is a bathroom battle, but there’s plenty of bare ass and glimpses of cocks and balls as their paper thin speedos stretch and strain at the edges.
I like the innovation here, including Z-Man’s use of Big Sexy’s luxuriously bearded face to scrub the scum off of the shower glass. Big Sexy hoisting the smaller hunk off his feet and onto the bathroom counter to finish the shave Z-Man was in the middle of at the beginning of the scene similarly warms my cockles for the commitment to tell a story, connect some dots, be present.
The end of this match totally shocks me, and frankly, I’m not easily shocked. Z-Man does his best Dick Cheney impression on his opponent whose facial hair bears more than passing resemblance to that of an observant Muslim, and damn it all if I’m not slack jawed, offended, and wildly turned on all at the same time.
The water boarding is pure balls, as far as I’m concerned, and depending on your politics and proximity to military intelligence assets, you may either get way, way pissed off by how this all plays out, or like me, you may find enough time has passed to make water boarding available for eroticizing. Either way, I’m left feeling exhausted, de-hydrated, and in need of a long, hard shower. Who’s coming over to fight for the soap?
Oh, and there’s towel slapping. That probably sells the authentic frat house romp gone way too serious more than anything. Z-Man’s hot, juicy ass getting snapped with a wet towel. Oh, those were the days…
Braden Charron has been making some moves. He’s apparently now taking bookings via the hardest working hunk in homoerotic wrestling, Cameron Matthews. He’s also sported an insanely ripped version of his always gorgeous physique in many of his new releases recently. He’s available at Randy Blue, BG East, Thunder’s Arena, and apparently your home wrestling mat! One of his newest appearances is inThunder’s Arena’s recent Custom Video Series 10 release, doing battle with Mr. Franchise, Big Sexy.
This is, as far as I can tell, the first time the two of these hunks have wrestled on camera. However, the premise is that Big Sexy spikes Braden’s water bottle in order to get revenge. What’s the revenge for? Having meatier pecs than Big Sexy? Rivaling Big Sexy for most fuckable ass at Thunder’s? The narrative isn’t tight enough to make it clear, but the story charges ahead.
The drugged homoerotic wrestling scenario is an interesting phenomenon, I think. Custom 10 makes me think of dozens of old PWP stripperboy wrestling matches that hinge upon one mouthwatering hunk starting to get seriously outmatched, but then turning the tables by pulling out a cloth soaked in chloroform. Is that stuff really that readily available?! I’ve never seeen it at my corner drugstore (so, sure, yeah. I’ve looked.). But then again PWP is Canadian, and they get all the good healthcare up there. Anyhow, as in PWP chloroform matches, Thunder’s Custom 10 seems divided into almost equal halves. The first half features decently competitive muscleboy wrestling between two heavy hitting studs that, together, ooze gallons of sexiness.
Braden has not impressed me as ready for prime time when it comes to his wrestling skills. I did get a sweet rush of his potential in his BG East Wrestlefest 3offensive against Dick Rick. It’s short lived, but watching those moments when he cockily dominates the vicious pro heel as Braden’s fan club goes nuts seeing him flex over his bashed opponent gets my blood pumping. In Custom 10, he’s a little faster and considerably more aggressive than I’ve seen him before. Big Sexy, who possesses possibly the perfect wrestling arsenal combined with knee-quivering sexiness works over the muscleboy in the early moments, almost instantly peeling Braden’s tank top off (not a moment too soon). He lifts him, carries, him, and slams him to the mat. When Braden tries to counter with a full nelson, no shit, he physically cannot manage to wrap his musclebound arms around the mile-wide shoulders of Big Sexy. So much fucking muscle!
However, Braden delightfully, and convincingly, starts to make it a competition. In fact, Braden takes my breath away just a tad when he abruptly lifts the Sexy One up over one shoulder and rips Big Sexy’s baggy trunks off his legs in mid-air (not a moment too soon). Big Sexy being carried and stripped to his very brief trunks is a sight for sore eyes! I’ve gone on the record repeatedly as deeply infatuated with the extremely hot, hard glutes of Big Sexy. His ass is not the roundest, not the meatiest, but it is astonishingly gorgeous in it’s obvious utility. He’s crafted those glutes from absolute ages of training and wrestling, leaving him with a shelf that you could set your beer can on while you take a lap around his illustrated physique. Mere moments later, Big Sexy pulls off the same over-the-shoulder carry-and-strip maneuver on Braden (not a moment too soon), revealing what has got to be one of the roundest, meatiest, aesthetically mind-blowing asses on the planet! I know, because I’ve checked, that Braden has not always been in possession of glutes as insanely developed as these.
Braden applies all of that stunning muscle just right, absolutely crushing Big Sexy’s face against one of those mountainous slabs of granite he calls his pecs lately. The muscleboy nearly rips Sexy’s arm off at the shoulder in a hammerlock that makes Big Sexy’s voice lift 20 decibels and an octave and a half, giving away the first submission. That’s right. Braden gets the first submission on Big Sexy, and I’m buying every second.
To celebrate, Braden downs the last half of his spiked water bottle, and slowly, unfairly, underhandedly, it all goes south for the muscleboy. Big Sexy’s bearhug on the increasingly disoriented stud is just so fucking intimate and intense! Muscles locked against muscles. Braden is lifted off his feet, hanging there, his knees digging into Sexy’s hips as he groans and gasps, struggling to endure the agony. Moments later, growing more and more groggy, Braden finds his face trapped nice and tight high between Big Sexy’s thighs in still another intimate moment, this time a mouthwatering face-to-crotch headscissors. And here’s where Big Sexy really shines in my eyes. He looks over his shoulder at the camera, gauges the angle, and drags Braden’s muscled body, head trapped between Sexy’s thighs, across the mat to provide the perfect, unobstructed view of Braden’s nose shoved up underneath Big Sexy’s balls.
Suddenly, there are three of us in this mat room. Big Sexy. Braden. And the customizer who gave Thunder’s the concept for this video. Big Sexy returns every so often to gaze into the camera, wagging his eyebrows, wordlessly asking if he’s fucked up this muscleboy enough yet. He hoists the stud up in his arms, hanging helplessly across his chest, and bashes Braden’s back into the cinderblock wall repeatedly. Braden sells like Wall Street trader, both filled with rage at his humiliating domination, and shock to realize that all of those mountains of muscle just aren’t obeying his commands.
There’s no way to put it other than that Big Sexy has his way with Braden. He pries him apart, flings him to the mat, dragging him back up again and tosses the side of beef around some more. Braden is all-but-out, when the Sexy One ties his wrists together behind his back before rousing the stud, dragging him to his feet, and gut punching him some more. Braden can’t protest. So much power, so much beauty, and he’s turning to mush in Big Sexy’s machinations. There’s a sexy 3-count pin, but who’s counting? Braden is hoisted back up into a Big Sexy bearhug, where he passes out hanging in his opponent’s crushing arms. A nasty slam to the mat rouses the muscleboy, barely.
Big Sexy sleepers the beefcake back out old (it’s a short journey, drugged as he is). Braden finally goes slack in his arms. Big sexy poses over top of his hot body, with Braden flat on his stomach and those stunning globes of glutes lying there, slack, so vulnerably. I’m not sure why Big Sexy duct tapes his unconscious opponent’s wrists behind his back before he flexes his sweat-soaked body, making an “I’m here to please” look at the camera. He wipes the Big Sexy sweat off his face and flicks it onto Braden’s sleeping body with contempt.
Someone’s got a sick, sick imagination to have ordered up this muscle mugging of a match. And I, for one, take my hat off to them. Well played, sir. Well played.
Those who connected with me on FB are aware that I’ve been traveling “abroad” for the past couple of weeks, which accounts for my complete absence from posting new material here at neverland. My time away was excellent, full of both rest and rejuvenation, but I have to admit, I missed home. Good news is, however, that I’m back!
I have some match reviews to post in the next couple of weeks, along with a final installment of my virtual pilgrimage to BG East’s south campus, and there will be, as always, more random thoughts and musings that are the meat the potatoes of neverland.
Those into homoerotic wrestling fiction can also look forward to some more stories from Alex at our sidelineland site, as well as a new feature from me there that was a special request from a smokin’ hot wrestler and friend of this blog. So much wrestling eroticism to talk about, pick apart, put back together and, as always, being ecstatically inspired by!
I think it’s been a while since I mused over my infatuation with tattooed wrestlers. It’s true that my own ink likely biases me toward my appreciation of illustrated hunks, but then again, my appreciation of illustrated hunks definitely influenced my own body art choices. Not everyone looks good inked. Definitely not all ink looks good, as far as I’m concerned. But there are many tattooed wrestlers who instantly own my allegiance when the step onto the mat or into the ring, in large part because they’ve got incredibly sexy ink that I crave to see wrapped up all over their suffering opponent.
Here’s some of my choice pics from the recent crops of new release homoerotic wrestling products, featuring ink that grabs my attention and makes me pull for one hardbodied hottie over the other based in large part on the artistry they embody even before they sculpt their bodies into that most provocative aesthetic form: homoerotic wrestling.
Okay, I love me some Cameron Matthews. His attitude, his wit, his relatively recently redefined incredibly conditioned physique, that ASS(!!!)… it’s hard not to find myself wanting to identify with the babyface brawler turned muscle daddy for a heel bid. But fuck! Eli Black works his magic in my shorts once again in Mat Hunks 9, solidly holding my gaze and making me acknowledge he’s my boy in this match, and I have to think it’s his ever growing collection of tattoos.
A relatively recent release in what I think is Can-Am’s best genre contribution to homoerotic wrestling pits epically long-time favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy of mine, Rusty Stevens, against almost painfully beautiful pretty boy, Kevin Crowes in Pro Sex Fight 4. I have a documented record years-long that proves that there’s almost nobody to compete with Rusty Stevens in delighting, entrancing and infatuating me, starting well before he lays a finger on an opponent. And Rusty’s got some sweet ink, albeit he could use some touch ups, if you ask me. But Kevin Crowes’ combination of imminently fuckable classically proportioned beauty along with his bold, massive, gorgeous ink does what perhaps only one man before has been able to do: hold my attention and settle my ass securely and convincingly in the opposite corner from Rusty Stevens.
Paul Hudson’s tatted bicep makes Lon Dumont just a little less pretty.
Lon Dumont’s skin is smooth, clear and entirely absent of foreign pigment. It’s not the art tatted onto Lon’s body that has propelled him into the top echelons of my favorite homoerotic wrestlers, but the incredible beauty of his competition physique paired with a smart, vicious persona and high quality pro wrestling execution. What could make me root against my reigning favorite!? I think it’s two things, really. One, there’s something deeply stirring watching a whittled to an anatomy chart physique star go slack over and over in a knock outs match, and (more to the point of this post), his opponent Paul Hudson surprises me by smacking me firmly into the Hudson camp with his bulging trunks and upper arm ink. Lon’s face slack and smashed into the black band inked across Paul’s right bicep is simply gorgeous.
Illustrated MJ rides Attila’s ass
The 3rd match in Mat Hunks 9 catches me by surprise by how compelled I am by it. Attila Dynasty (and in particular, his ass) has long been an infatuation of mine. But MJ Vergara is visually astonishing the moment he walks into the BG East mat room and shoves Attila stumbling ahead of him. The mohawked muscle man is amazingly built, veins popping, muscles bulging, 25 inch waist (my guess, I haven’t measure him myself… but I’d be very happy to). His bold, beautiful tattoo stretched across the whole of his left pec and massive deltoid and trapezius muscles is simply beautiful! Attila is such a smart ass, such a cocky, swaggering, proven-dangerous son of a bitch, of course, and there are plenty of matches in which that character is exactly the one I can’t wait to watch work up a head of sadistic steam all over his crushed opponent’s body. Not this time, however. Fuck, I’m all on board with compact muscle stud MJ going ape shit all over Attila’s fine, fine ass, and I’m thinking that he’s got me sucked in to identifying with his plans for bully revenge thanks in large part to that gorgeous ink that absolutely swallows up Attila whole.
Beauty and power you just have to touch.
Chace LaChance and Braden Charron in BG East’s Summer Sizzler’s bonus are both in the best shape I’ve ever seen either of them, and sporting more ink than I think we’ve ever seen on either phenomenal muscle men. All of that inked muscle wrapped around each other, squeezing, stretching, and flexing is breathtaking. Who to root for when both stunning physique stars are in the best condition and most extensive ink ever? It’s a toss up for me, but I’m not complaining. There’s no way this can miss!
Big Sexy’s big, sexy ink on display.
Less surprising is Thunder’s Arena’s Big Sexy owning my lustful allegiance in Battle Space 45. If there’s a “total package” in homoerotic wrestling these days (by the way I estimate packages, at least), Big Sexy probably has the best claim. He’s smart and funny, highly skilled on the mats, handsome as hell, beautifully built, one of the most fuckable asses on the planet, and all of that beautiful artwork! Both an artist and a work of art, I’m entirely a Big Sexy fanatic when he steps onto the mats with the entirely tattooless muscles of a muscle star, Muscles.
Oiled ink on ridiculously hot Landon Conrad.
Naked Kombat’s newest release makes me gasp. Even if Landon Conrad didn’t have a few, modest tats on that insanely hot muscle bod, he’d definitely be my man in his match against amazingly hot, yet somehow unavoidably diminished in comparison, Alex Law. However, ridiculously handsome muscle hunk Landon does, indeed, have tats that drive home the point that this porn gladiator is suddenly my #1 Naked Kombat kombatant in any match for the foreseeable future.
Specimen illustrates total domination.
Thunder’s Arena has long been the place for the battles of the big men, and Battle Space 46 is a prime example. Looking for everything like Superman’s alternate universe arch enemy Bizzaro, bad boy and mighty meat head Vinny was never going to be my man after the tiff he dusted up around his “gay taunt” earlier in his Thunder’s career. But then again, with beautiful, branded beef like Specimen is serving up, it wasn’t like Vinny had a chance anyway. Beat his ass, make him cry, and give him an up-close examination of every tat, Specimen!
My final tat shout out is for another a BG East newcomer, bad ass Vic Madone. Vic is a perfect example of the difference between still frame homoerotic wrestling images and homoerotic wrestling in action. In still frame, this gorgeous stud is GORGEOUS! I mean, crystal blue eyes to swim in. A face that should be hocking ultra-expensive men’s cologne. A lickable body that appears to be the perfect intersection of form and function. Even with all of those very, very nice tats, I could picture still-frame Vic easily donning a tuxedo and walking a red carpet (and then climbing into a wrestling ring for a rip-n-strip extravaganza). But when I watched his debut match on Mat Hunks 9, there was nothing “pretty” about Vic. He mumbles non-stop, and I’d pay money for a translator, because I’m sure that incessant trash talk is sexy as shit. But Vic is an object of my lust like Michael Imperioli is in the Sopranos. He’s rough, mean as hell, machismo oozing out of his pours, and absolutely BRUTAL! Personally, I’m likely to root for anyone going up against Ray Naylor simply because I’m dying to see someone seriously ride that epic ass of his. But Vic is honestly phenomenal in this match, slowly warming me up from an initial tingling in my crotch to a full-on raging fever over the course of the first 5 minutes. I pity anyone who faces this hot, inked hunk, but I fully expect that if anyone does, you can count on me standing right behind Vic in anticipation of him doing serious damage.
So ink seems to be adding up to my allegiance lately. Of course, just because I’m rooting for one wrestler to win doesn’t mean I don’t thoroughly enjoy being surprised, having my boy bested, watching the power I’m invested and identified with tamed and conquered. But tattooed muscles wrapping up and locking down an outmatched opponent is a particular brand of hot for me.
Another fine year has passed for me, and a new one is beginning today. Birthday’s rock. Love them, and not just because of the corporal punishment aspect of getting a swat on the ass for each year. I’m treating myself to a day of doing absolutely nothing, so I’ll make this post brief. Thanks for the well-wishes and offers to slap down a spank or two (or 42) or even the occasional offer of some birthday headscissors or an OTK backbreaker. You all are damn sweet, and I wouldn’t trade you for anything… except possibly one of these guys below wailing away at my ass.