Pint-Sized

 

I went to college at a very, very small liberal arts school with a very, very unsuccessful Division III football team. They sucked. A lot. Literally, years went by without a single victory. Not that I was involved in the program, but it was no secret that recruiting for the football team was a major bitch. No scholarships. No pro career prospects. Very little hope of ever tasting victory before they graduated or, even more likely, they’d burn through eligibility while hanging on by the skin of their teeth to skimming by in their academics and finally just walking away to dig ditches. Our football team literally shrunk while I was enrolled in college, each year’s freshmen getting smaller, while bigger players went elsewhere. My junior year, the football team recruited a wide receiver who was, I kid you not, 5’2″ tall. Thing is, though, he was fucking fast, with big, powerful thighs, an exceptionally stellar muscled ass, and gorgeous, Tom Cruise-ish good looks. Despite their abysmal record, I suddenly took an interest in football that year.

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5’5″, 140 lbs Drake Wild bears down on 5’11”, 200 lbs Derek Fox in Pro Sex Fight 13

This pint-sized wide receiver with big league glutes and a baby face starred in many a homoerotic wrestling fantasy in my imagination. Just writing about him now is making me hard. There was just so much fabulous potential wrapped up in his tight, taut, petite jock body. In the never ending erotic wrestling tournament in my head, the little wide receiver inevitably got muscle bullied around the ring by bigger guys. I always pictured him getting picked up and thrown from corner to corner. Tall, ripped, cocky hunks (typically from our extremely successful and wildly popular basketball team) would, in the no holds barred wrestling matches in my collegiate imagination, deliver a barrage of high impact, high altitude power moves on him, gorilla presses, scoop slams, one-handed choke slams, spine-tingling suplexes that catapulted his magnificent, muscled ass from corner to corner.

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5’6″, 160 lbs Denny Cartier breaks big 6’2″, 240 lbs Joe Robbins down to size in Catch Weight 2

Rereading my interview with Charlie Evans and perusing several of the comments to that interview remind me of that hot, gorgeous little wide receiver firecraker with a supremely fuckable ass. As I’ve mentioned several times lately, the difference in size itself became erotically charged for me. But far beyond just visuals, I crushed hard on the little stud because of the drama of a vastly undersized hottie audaciously running out onto the field and climbing into the pro wrestling ring in my imagination (through the bottom two ropes, of course) and staring fearlessly up at the overwhelming odds towering above.

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5’7″, 150 lbs Bolt stares way up at 6’2″, 265 lbs Brute in Custom Series 33 from Thunder’s Arena

 

I was relatively agnostic about my all-time favorite wide receiver’s win-loss record in his homoerotic wrestling career in my mind. Like the very best babyfaces, he was always dangerous and perpetually vulnerable at the same time. I distinctly remember him getting his jock strap ripped to shreds and having his rock hard muscle cheeks plowed hard by a particular, hot, muscled black power forward. I also have clear memories of him turning the tide on a certain aloof, blond, aristocratic shooting guard who was schoolboy pinned and force fed the beer can cock of the smirking, flexing wide receiver. Win or lose, he was a favorite object of my homoerotic wrestling imagination not despite his stature, but because of it.  And not just because of his stature, but because of the inherent drama of an ambitious, earnest, hard working little stud throwing himself headlong at the big boys.

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5’9″, 165 lbs Cody  Cummings is jerked around by 6’4″, 220 lbs Zeke West in Mat Muscle Match 1

 

As I told Charlie, I continue to nurture a crush for David vs. Goliath homoerotic wrestling matches. I like big vs. little matches where the differential is massive, the odds are long, and the action is brutal. I love seeing audacious little studs hoisted over head and pounded into the mat. I love seeing them take every ounce as brutal an assault as any heavyweight and then keep peeling their battered, petite, bite-sized bodies off the mats and defying the big boys demanding that they submit in body and soul.

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Fearless 5’10”, 132 lbs Billy Lodi is just barely bested by 6’2″, 206 lbs Mitch Colby in Catch Weight 6

While I don’t care for many matches in which one competitor is just furniture, getting moved and manipulated and owned effortlessly, a match in which a seriously undersized wrestler is defiantly sucking down a mountain of abuse is in a squash-class of its own for me. If the little guy walks in with his head up, clenches his jaw in the face of fate, and demands respect by just surviving a magnificent beating, I will so get off on that just like I did when I staged wide receiver getting his sensational ass tagged in the middle of the ring by that power forward.

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5’7″, 150 lb Bolt momentarily schools 6′, 255 lbs Brian Cage in Ring Wars 21

However, I think my hardest David vs. Goliath fantasies flip that script with a vengeance. When the audacious little underdog battles back against the barrage of muscle and mass, now that is fucking hot. When he starts accumulating riding time on a thoroughbred 50 pounds bigger, my adrenaline pumps into overdrive. And when I pictured my pretty little wide receiver slapping down a big, cocky all-American who’s never tasted defeat before, when he wears the big boy the fuck out, slapping that beer can in Goliath’s shocked, humiliated face, then little David is fucking king of my world.

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5’7″, 120 lbs Charlie Evans shoved into the ceiling by 5’8″, 175 lbs Morgan Cruise in Gorilla Press 1 by MDW

 

I hold heartedly agree with the implication of Charlie’s argument that every homoerotic wrestling roster needs the little guys. Ever roster needs the underwear models and the bodybuilders. Ever roster should have raw edged street punks and square jawed All-American heroes.  They should all have daddy’s little rich boys and ripped, raging, beautifully endowed sex brawlers. The industry should invest in recruiting hard edged pros and hot, inexperienced nerds. It should put up flat footed pornboys and fierce, lanky, long-distance runners. Personally I’m longing for a snarling radical fairy doing battle with a white collar stock broker on the homoerotic wresting down low.

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5’10”, 150 lbs Skrapper is crushed by 5’11”, 240 lbs Brook Stetson in Catch Weight 2

The homoerotic pro wrestling industry is as susceptible to the tyranny of the capitalist market place as anything else, of course, so I certainly understand when, occasionally, it seems like everyone climbing through those ropes looks and moves and suffers alike. But as someone who has watched a TON of homoerotic wrestling (not even counting that running channel in my imagination of round the clock homopro), I’m always longing for producers to fill those niches Charlie and I talked about. Tickle those erotic fantasies we didn’t even know we loved. Populate our screens and imaginations with the great diversity of dramas, bodies, races, ages, etc., that makes oppressively straight real life bearable.

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Little 5’8″, 140 lbs Richie Douglas makes all the little guys proud against 6’1″, 170 lbs Goren Ford in Sunshine Shooters 8

And most definitely, gives us pint-sized baby face heroes audacious enough to climb into the ring with beasts a foot taller and 80 pounds heavier, and to tell us a compelling, seat of our pants, crotch-tugging homoerotic wrestling drama that reflects real life writ larger, more erotic, and completely improbable, but yet, speaking to our real lives.

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5’10”, 156 lbs TAK is dwarfed by 6’3″, 240 lbs Freak in Mat Rats 63 by Thunder’s Arena

And now, excuse me. I need to go dig out an old college yearbook.

Face the Music

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Joshua Goodman up close and personal with Troy Baker’s bulges in Mat Hunks 4

Taking a brief break from the heavy diet of reviews I’ve been dishing out, today I’m lingering a bit on that supremely homoerotic wrestling hold, face-to-crotch headscissors.

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Chip Slater has a love/hate relationship with his face in Patrick Donovan’s crotch in Undagear 5

I’m sure I’ve mused about this hold before, but I’m too lazy to look it up.  So I’ll probably repeat myself when I say that my heart pumps harder in my chest when a straight forward pro wrestling story suddenly introduces face-to-crotch scissors. If you buy that all of pro wrestling can easily be read as an extended homoerotic innuendo, face-to-crotch sort of slaps down the implied erotic subtext and steps at least one toe over the line into straight up homoerotic text.

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Mitch Colby is about to pop with Cole Cassidy trapped between his thighs in Ringwars 15

How wrestlers carry it off, of course, can significantly add to eroticism. I suppose it’s possible to snap your thighs around another man’s head with that up close look at your balls in his face and it be solely about punishment and wrestling victory. But I love watching a wrestler snap shut that bear trap and then enjoy it, openly, luxuriantly, expansively. When someone on the delivery side of this hold pumps his glutes and shoves his hips forward with a little enthusiasm, when he milks the moment with pulsing flexed muscles beating out a morse code of agony from the gasping grunts of his opponent, when he stares down his own hot body and smiles at the sight of his opponent owned and getting primed for sucking cock, when he closes his eyes and leans his head way, way back and that look of an impending orgasm washes across his face, there’s nothing coded about this. This is hot, homoerotic wrestling gold.

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Rick the Prick looks like he’s struck gold with Joshua Goodman’s legendary bulge in his face in Ringwars 12

The catcher can certainly connect the dots as well. Regardless of who ends up on top after all is said and done, I love it when a captured hunk’s eyes roam hungrily up and down his captors body above him. He doesn’t need to, but if he stretches his hands up and strokes those crushing thighs, the rippling abs, stretching so far as to palm the bulging pecs of his tormentor, it conveys what I’m silently thinking deep inside at that moment. A smothered grappler doesn’t have to, but if he’s man enough to nuzzle the balls bearing down on his face, fuck, maybe even open wide and give the trickster’s treats a hearty lick, it just puts the exclamation point on what this hold conveys from the start: wrestling persistently implies homoerotic intimacy.

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Charlie Evans makes the most of the rare standing face-to-crotch headscissors at the mercy of Steel Muscle God in Oil Hunks 8 (MDW)

When the camera angles and storytelling are just right, face-to-crotch headscissors shine a spotlight on one man’s bulging package, bringing his entire, tasty physique into the mix, making even that swelling muscle of passion a part of the corporal domination of another man.  For me, it isn’t even so much about the oral sexual implications, as much as it signals that every magnificent inch of a wrestler’s hot body is engaged in dominating his opponent. Hell, when wrestling companies choose to transition from explicit wrestling to explicit sex, I typically push rewind. Because what’s getting me off is the homoeroticism of the wrestling, not the wrestling as foreplay for sex.

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Rio Garza cannot handle Aryx Quinn in BG’s Bad Boys

I suppose it isn’t such a far distance between why I’m such a fan of face-to-crotch headscissors as I am a fanatic for my favorite pro wrestling hold, the over-the-knee backbreaker. Both draw my eye to one wrestler’s bulging package. Both center the frame on the outline of a bulging cock and the ballast of balls. Both seem ripe with the erotic potential marrying gay sensibilities and a pro wrestling kink. Both make my pulse pound in anticipation of what happens next to, or with, or on behalf of one wrestler’s swollen pipe.

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So much erotic passion led up to this moment of Mitch Colby smothered by Brook Stetson’s sweaty pouch in Sunshine Shooters 4.

I sometimes find it ironic that this blog attracts so many visitors thanks to the still frames I include, because it’s the story in and around any one captured slice of time in a wrestling match that tantalizes and titillates me. It’s not any one frozen image that becomes the perfect muse to my erotic imagination, but the drama played out in motion, the slow contraction of muscles, the arching agony in a lower back, the quivering pouch, the writhing feet futilely kicking the mat. I’ve lately talked in terms of “the moneyshot,” meaning that moment in a match at which point I’m likely to climax, but that moment is about the 1,600 seconds before that led up to that moment, the deepening jeopardy of one man, the swelling confidence of another, the bodies growing wet with sweat over time, the veins swelling and pumping harder with blood from the effort and the adrenaline of competition. I get off plenty to face-to-crotch headscissors, but I’m never just getting off to face-to-crotch headscissors.

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Kid Brock’s face swallowed whole between Blazes gargantuan thighs in Rainbow Restlers 2

If there is one valuable analog of face-to-crotch headscissors,  I think its the comfort a wrestling company has with the homoerotic eye of their gay audience. In scanning for face-to-crotch headscissors images across several platforms for this post, I found them concentrated in just a couple producers’ catalogs. And I think they play a part in direct proportion to how explicitly companies market to those of us in the audience tuning in and ponying up because we are sexually turned on by wrestling. Of course, face-to-crotch headscissors aren’t the only way of crossing the line from homoerotic subtext to homoerotic text. Hell, they probably aren’t even the best way. But from a strictly correlational perspective, I think they show up in proportion to how much I (at least) perceive of a producer as appreciative of and comfortable with me, as a gay man, watching their wrestling products as a means of sexual gratification.

So much sexual gratification when Logan Vaughn milks Trey Dixon into whimpering obedience in Florida Fights 5

So probably a close second as my favorite wrestling hold is face-to-crotch headscissors, because when they’re done wrong, they can reveal a whole host of troubled self-hatred bubbling beneath a veneer of nohomo bravado, but when they’re done right, I feel respected as a gay wrestling fan, drawn into the intimacy of homoerotic combat, and turned on hard.

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Kid Vicious puts his swelling cock where Niku Samir’s face is in Motel Madness UK 5

Slaying the Red-Headed Beast

Further cementing my belief in homoerotic wrestling gods, YouTube decided to recommend I watch a video upload entitled Red Head Muscle Wrestler via BigBoy5604, via BG Enterprises, clipped from BG’s High Stakes Wrestling 4. Of course it’s no surprise that “red head muscle wrestler” is likely to be something I want to see, but what was a surprise was this red headed bodybuilder’s opponent: none other than recent neverland interviewee, Brook Stetson, aka, Brad Michaels from back in the day.

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Red-headed bodybuilder Rip Stone in pink vs. military superman erotic wrestler Brad Michaels (aka, Brook Stetson) in purple

I reached out to Brook to ask him about the match. He said this fabulous blast from the past pitted him against Rip Stone. He also reported that this was for fuck stakes, and that Rip’s asshole was as beautifully inspiring as everything else about him. He also had to laugh at how young he was.

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I love the feel of this “vintage” piece. There’s a hot authenticity about the mat scramble, the muscle testing, the grunting and vying for advantage. And, at the same time, how could these two gladiators not be fucking by the end of the match? You can spread the sexual tension with a butter knife.

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On the one hand, someone who just doesn’t know shit about Brook might guess that he’s an underdog in this match. Rip looks like a comic book superhero, with insane proportions and crazy, thick, luxurious muscle mass.

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Brook’s fans know he’s going to ride this for days on end!

On the other hand, this is fucking Brook Stetson! Sure, he wasn’t quite the phenomenally huge muscle master man of steel yet, but watch even this short 5 minute clip and you’ll see the same intensity, complete confidence, and tsunami will that has made him so amazing to watch all along.

 

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Watching Brook ride the red headed bodybuilder from behind, you can see where Brook gets his wrestling metaphors from. Even as he’s grinding his crotch into Rip’s sensationally fuckable, ripped muscle ass, Brook presses his lips into those mountainous trapezius muscles. He looks like he’s leaning in to smell a gourmet meal, moments before tucking in.

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Sizing up the cut of beef.

The way Brook’s hand lingers, palming his opponent’s lower abdomen, is fucking sexy as hell. His pinky rests right above Rip’s pink bulge. The position is far more possessive than punishing, communicating silently Brook’s roaring determination to earn this prize and then own it.

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I’m also entranced by the glimpses of Brook’s face in this match. When Rip manages to muscle him to his back momentarily, cranking on a headlock and pulling that mammoth, granite carved chin of Brook’s into Rip’s juicy right pec, there’s a fleeting moment where the camera captures Brook staring up at the bodybuilder bearing down from above. In a split second, you can see  both his sexual desire and raging competitiveness. You thought Michael Phelps eyes boring into the back of his rival’s head looked intense? Brook’s face shows that much will to win, with a heaping helping of carnal desire to fuck this muscle beast’s sensational ass as well.

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Eyes on the prize

 Can-Am has been selling the BG Enterprises catalog for several years now, but High Stakes Wrestling 4 appears to be one item from the catalog that they haven’t re-released yet, either in DVD or On Demand format (that I can find).  Thanks to BigBoy5604, we get a brief clip of this vintage slice of gold, but I’m hoping Can-Am shoves Brook/Brad and Rip to the top of the cue to make this available again. Because it looks sensational, and I’d pony up to watch Brook take that fantastic muscled ass.

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Unmatched Pairs

I like not only a wide variety of bodies and builds and characters and gear and ages and races and ethnicities and scenarios in homoerotic wrestling, but I also like the combination of contrasts.  Let me be clear, I have nothing against hunks squaring off against similarly fashioned hunks. But I’ve long experienced some special kink bonus about mismatches, or, more generically, unmatched pairs. For example, there’s something that turns me on exponentially about wrestlers in entirely different types of gear. One in street clothes, the other in pro trunks, for example, or one in an earnest amateur singlet and the other in a stripper thong. I’m not entirely sure why, but fuck, yes, that contrast cranks my cock with just that much more enthusiasm. It’s also relatively rare, I find. So much more often, opponents are not only dressed similarly, but even dressed in identical gear choices, just in different colors.

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The Bigger They Are… stars 6’3″ Niko Knight towering a half foot taller than 5’9″ Cody Cummings

A more common unmatched pairing, which often lends itself to a mismatched pair as well, is the big vs. little throwdown. There are, of course, many ways to measure size, but on my mind today is the tall/short dichotomy. Watching a pair of hotties face off, when one opponent’s nose basically comes up to his opponent’s sternum, turn me on like nobody’s business.

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Cody makes the big man his bitch!

And I’m not just talking about squashes, where big guys manhandle and abuse guys 3 weight classes below them from start to finish. I only occassionally tuck in to a big bully squash like that, but a particularly fine vintage for me is the big vs. little pairing that turns out delightfully competitive, or perhaps even tilted toward a particularly skilled little guy cutting a big man down to size.

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5’5″ Jonny Firestorm stares up the half foot in height separating him from 5’11” Brook Stetson in Catch Weight 4

Perhaps it has to do with blurring the lines, this extra excitement I have for the unmatched pairs. In straight-up competitive sports, there are weight classes that control the narrative, that offer the illusion that the ultimate outcome is indicative of the better man, the skilled or more determined (or luckier) combatant. An unmatched pair of contrasting sizes may acknowledge that the tale of the tape in homoerotic pro wrestling is almost never about fair play and the raw measure of strength and skill.

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In Catch Weight 5, 6’2″ Joe Robbins nearly has more than he can handle in dangerous pro Paul Hudson, standing 7 inches shorter at 5’7″

There’s attitude and lust, sadistic impulse and desire to dominate. I may still expect the smaller man to get outmuscled and manhandled, but pro wrestling has always relied on a suspension of disbelief, and when, through cunning or skill or an equalizing shot to the balls, the little guy puts a convincing hurt on his goliath, I don’t just go with it, I scream full steam ahead!

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In Rough & Ready 69, Z-Man (reported elsewhere to be 5’10”) needs climbing gear just to look 6’7″ MXD in the eye. That’s a difference of 9 inches! 

Particularly when it’s competitive, I definitely don’t mind it when a hot bundle of compact muscle gets a beating from his taller opponent, either. I’ve mentioned in the past how, every so often, a squash turns sour for me if it comes across as just bullying. But if the scenario sells legitimate suspense about the ultimate outcome of the match, I’ve certainly found myself getting off to a big man putting a hurt on a pint size muscleman probably as frequently as vice versa.

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Z-Man may get altitude sickness hanging out in that suspended choke!

I’m not sure if I’ve come to any more clarity about my delight in a mismatched tall vs. short homoerotic wrestling match. But I know what I like, and things pump harder and hotter for me when a big guy and a little guy lock up, thrown down, and, especially, when they the winner (whichever part he played) sexually lords it over his vanquished foe.

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5’11” Derek Fox thinks he’s got petite 5’5″ Drake Wild in hand in Pro Sex Fight 13.
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Turns out, it’s the other way around!

 

 

Stay Hard, Ready and Real

A very special bonus to prattling on and on about homoerotic wrestling the way I do is that occasionally, like a gift from the homoerotic wrestling gods, some magnificent hunk who has inspired my wrestling musings contacts me. Truth be told, it happens more than you know, because about 50% of the time those wrestlers decline my invitation to say something on the record, in their own words. But the other half of such cases are open to letting me toss some questions their way and to share their answers with the readers of this blog.  Happily for you and me, bruising beefcake heel daddy Brook Stetson is in that second half.

Brook stumbled across neverland and found my adoring mentions of him, including when I named him one of my homoerotic wrestlers of the month five years ago for his work working over my long-time wrestling crush, Mitch Colby. We chatted a bit before we went “on the record” for the following interview. Amid so many pretty boys and twinks that get acknowledged on these pages, Brook wasn’t sure he was likely to rank high for neverland readers. Honestly, I found this completely confounding, because… well, fuck, LOOK at him!!?! And if you’ve ever seen Brook wrestle, you know that his brand of raw, rough, powerful, dominating, lustful grappling is precisely what this blog is all about. In any case, what follows is the delightful conversation that unfolded.

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Brook Stetson (aka Brad Michaels, Vinny Reno, Clark Kent, Blockhead, The Tick, & American Dad)

Bard: Brook, thanks so much for agreeing to take some questions! I think you have one of the most distinctive looks in all of homoerotic wrestling. Sort of classic cowboy meets comic book superhero (or villain). What heritage produces that phenomenal physique and hypermasculine jawline?

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The chin that hits back

Brook: I’m a full on mutt, I have a little bit of everything in the family tree if you shake it out hard enough. I guess on the plus side there is the old adage amongst breeders that mutts are stronger than pure breeds. I used to be teased in the military, being called Clark Kent, when I wore standard issue glasses. I was Blockhead in high school, university, and the Tick and American Dad, since. 

Bard: I could see all of those. I was guessing a mix. Maybe a bit of Greek god, Roman god, Norse god, something like that. You’ve definitely got a face for stopping traffic.

Brook: Well, it is a very hard chin. It has been known to hurt those who land a punch on it.

Bard: I bet! So when you contacted me, you shared what I think may be the best compliment ever. After reading some of my blog you said that I “get it” when it comes to writing about your kink. Can you talk more about what “it” is?

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Bull in a China Shop

Brook: That my wrestling, even when just “straight” wrestling, has a combat subtext of primal control, domination, and assertion of sexual superiority. I get off on the emotional, intellectual, and physical struggle of it all. I’m one twisted fuck [laughing].

Bard: Call me “Pretzel,” then, because that makes two of us twisted fucks. I’ve seen a lot of your matches, and I’ve often found myself thinking of you like a force of nature, like the pounding tide or a gale force wind: irresistible and irrepressible. How would you describe your wrestling style?

Brook: Equal parts bull in a china shop, technician, and amateur sadist.

Bard: I can see all of those ingredients. I’ve seen you wrestle big, bruising opponents like Mitch Colby as well as guys much smaller than you, like Skrapper. Is the experience any different for you in a catch weight contest?

Brook: Absolutely, I have a tendency to break my toys so I need to employ more finesse and skill with a catch weight than I do a similar sized victim. Both are a lot of fun but in different ways.

Bard: Are there any matches that stand out for you? Opponents that uniquely tested you, took you by surprise or particularly turned you on? 

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Brook vs. Chance Caldwell in Fantasy Fight 11

Brook: Chance Caldwell for BG Enterprise, he had been an Olympic contender in Greco Roman for Czechoslovakia. He really made me use my amateur skills. Mike Adams for NHB Battle and I started to battle often off camera and was some of the most rough fun I have had with a straight boy. Skrapper was a blast because he took a lot of punishment and kept coming back for more; he is lucky I didn’t rape the fuck out of him. Tony Vencini and I had some good combat foreplay that needed more exploring and then one of my favorite jobber toys was Mitch Colby. Let’s just say that what’s played on camera doesn’t scratch the surface of what’s off camera.

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Just scratching the surface

Bard: I haven’t seen the Chance Caldwell match but I love him! I have to look that one up. I greatly enjoyed your matches with Skrapper, Tony and your Mitch match was award winning on my blog. How does your wrestling in private compare with what we see that gets published?

Brook: It’s more primal privately. For the camera you have to leave space and time for the camera to follow and capture the shots. I rarely allow that much airspace privately [laughing]. Shooting a match for video is difficult for me because I tend to let my instinct take over and can forget to stay on script. I’m not naturally submissive or tame so I have to really try to capture those traits when needed.

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Suffering for long is not something that comes naturally to Brook

Bard: How much direction do you get when you’re taping a match for public consumption?

Brook: Surprisingly, not a lot. I’m pretty lucky in that most of the companies recognize a certain level of skill and chemistry I have with my opponents and let it play out mostly. Usually the direction is slow it down or cheat the shot more towards the camera. I just completed a couple for Naked Kombat where they literally said, you guys just go for it and we’ll try to keep up. Now that was fun!

Bard: You wrestled for NK? Damn, now I’ll definitely have to resubscribe. As an avid consumer, the experience for me is intensely intimate, just me watching anonymously as you and your lucky opponent tear into each other in the illusion of privacy. But it’s obviously not that private on your side of the camera. Is the crew behind the scenes distracting?

Brook: Those two matches were done with the minimum crew to get a great shot, but they had a lot more than I’ve had in the past to allow the match to really proceed as naturally as possible, the only reason I agreed. That and the fact that they offered me some choice beef and I was a hungry mutt [laughing].

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Brook loved a heaping serving of Tony Vencini in Mat Brats 2

Bard: Sounds fantastic! I can’t wait. When you have your pick of choice cuts, what sort of beef do you like sinking your teeth into?

Brook: I’m pretty omnivorous. It’s just got to have a lot of fight in it or I sate to fast and lose interest.

Bard: Clearly you like to play with your food. Fuck, I’m getting hungry. I’ve always wanted to tell you that I think your ink is sensational. The color is stunning and the artwork looks amazing. And I love where it travels around your gorgeous body. Is there any special story about it?

Brook: I knew I wanted it and the placement to be where I could show it or hide it depending on the shorts I chose, etc. I found an amazing artist in NYC shortly after the ban on tattoo parlors had been lifted, since WWII. He had a place in the Hotel Chelsea, I used to go there and hang out and soak up the local color and history of it and we met. He was able realize in ink what I had in my head and 49 hours later (after several sittings), voila.

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Voila!

Bard: It’s incredible. The way it curls around your thigh and up your back brings wrestling to my mind.

Brook: Thank you, that’s very kind.

Bard: So you possess such a distinctive look- do you ever get stopped by guys who recognize you from your wrestling?

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Outstandingly good, but  not too good to be true

Brook: I haven’t ever be recognized on the street. I have been recognized on some of the wrestling match up sites. It usually works against me though and it’s assumed I am a fake profile. So it works against me more than for me, lol.

Bard: I could understand guys thinking you have to be too good to be true. But oh, the cruel irony if they pass you up! Have you ever done any pro style ring wrestling?

Brook: I have, I really enjoy it. It’s fun bouncing boys and myself off the ropes.

Bard: I could easily see you in the ring! There’s something about a pro ring that makes everything larger than life. I hope we see you in the ring for public consumption sometime. So what’s a typical gym workout for you?

1402_lgBrook: I try to do a split work out, four days on, one day off. I’ve really been concentrating on my cardio lately so it’s five days a week. Now cardio can of course be various things from running to throwing down on the mat, I try to keep it creative.

Bard: Yeah, I can think of a lot of fans, including me, who’d love to be part of that cardio! What does a typical date with Brook Stetson look like?

Brook: Old School. Something where we can actually speak and get to know one another. A meal is good, walk on the beach, a fun activity like go-carting, hiking. Never shy away from some sort of physical activity. I want to get to know the person, test chemistry, and compatibility. A kiss or several is a must, everything is built from there. If it’s sub par, it’s never going to happen. It’s something that is ingrained and instinctual, it cannot be taught.

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Kissing featured in Brook’s early career Sex Wrestling 3 match for Zeus with Dane Tarson.

Bard: Even though it can’t be taught, I feel like taking notes and studying diligently. I definitely feel like the kiss is make or break. And guys not into kissing need not apply. Have you ever dated someone you’ve wrestled?

Brook: Yes, both on camera matches and off.

Bard: That sounds like a ton of sensational chemistry, if things are firing on the mats and on one of those dates you described! Are there any wrestlers you haven’t had a crack at that you’d like to meet on the mats?

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Mason Brooks makes the short list

Brook: Gareth Thomas, Kayden Keller, Mason Brooks, Kid Karisma, Matt Thrasher, Chance LaChance, Blue Rage, Cal Bennett, Ace Hanson, Van Skyler, Vasily Volkov……. It’s starting to become a long list, and don’t even start me on past roster wrestlers. WOOF!

Bard: Woof, WOOF! That’s a damn fine list! A little something for everyone. I’ve had a hard spot lately for some heel on heel match ups, so so many of those would scratch that itch so good! And don’t even get me started on how hot I’m getting thinking about you digging in deep on some of those pretty boys. Yum! I’d pay double for pretty much everyone of those match ups. In addition to the upcoming NK shoots, are we going to see you hit the mats on camera more in the future?

Brook: If the right cuts of meat are dangled and I’m hungry, yes!!!

Bard: Well, I just happen to have a couple hunks from your top pick list on speed dial, so I’ll be letting them know immediately that they are on the menu! For all of us twisted fucks with a Clark Kent erotic wrestling fantasy who have keyed into your brand of brutal physical domination, anything else you’d like to say to your avid fans?

Brook: On the mats, in the ring, or in life. Stay hard, ready, and real. And don’t forget…..I’m also just a guy, standing in front of a man, asking him to wrestle him [laughing].

Bard: [Laughing] I can guarantee that as long as you keep wrestling like you do, there are a whole lot of us who will stay incredibly hard. And if you keep paraphrasing Knotting Hill to such perfection, you’ve got a lock on another Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month title as far as I’m concerned. Thanks for being open to doing an interview!

Brook: I still think you are overestimating my appeal, but you’ve been incredibly kind and flattering. It’s been a lot of fun and very thought provoking. Thanks a lot, Stud.

Bard: My pleasure!

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Stay hard, stay ready, stay real.

 

Giving It a Shot

I haven’t talked about it much, but it’s not exactly a secret that I’ve occasionally been invited to write text for new releases on the BG East website.  I’ve felt incredibly privileged to be given the opportunity to contribute a small piece to the industry that has inspired, provoked, and aroused me for so long.  I had to think about it carefully the first time I was asked, though. My primary relationship to homoerotic wrestling is as a consumer and fan. I have incredible respect for the hard working hunks in front of and behind the camera making this business fly, but I’m very conscious of the fact that my investment in each new release is very different from those who climb into the ring, slam one another down to the mat, or busily work the booking, payroll, production and delivery of the wrestling entertainment that shows up like magic in my mailbox. I wrestled (metaphorically) with feelings of insecurity, concerned that my text might not do justice to the intimate athleticism, artistry, and livelihoods wrapped up in each match. In the end, I conceded to “give it a shot,” seeing whether I could bridge the distance between my wrestling fantasy consumption and my relatively mechanical skills in stringing together words and metaphors (you know how I love my metaphors), and manage to contribute materially to the production of homoerotic wrestling. 

Giving it “a shot” has continued with some frequency since that first match I wrote. With each new copy I generate, I feel a profound humility. I’m not just being modest. While I’ve received affirmation of my writing skills from many different corners of my life, I grapple with deep down feelings of inadequacy each and every time I write marketing materials. Happily, BG East edits my text to smooth out the rough edges, accentuate the particular appeal of each match, and correct my grammar and spelling. Despite my moments of anxiety, I’ve never had text returned to me as unworthy. When it’s polished and published, I inevitably assess the final product better than I thought it was when it was fresh on the page. As of very recently, I’ve continued to be invited to participate in generating copy for BG East new releases. And  each time, I think carefully, gauging the distance between my investment as a homoerotic wrestling consumer and the blood, sweat and tears (I like the tears… more tears in homoerotic wrestling, please!) that go into the painstaking work of producing hot, hard, high quality wrestling.

Aside from what it is I’ve been able to contribute to the homoerotic wrestling industry, writing copy for the BG East website has also had an impact on me. I sweat out every dot and tittle, so whenever I’m handed a new release to write, everything else (blog posts, my original homoerotic wrestling fiction, my “real life” work) gets sidelined for a while. However, it’s also afforded me the opportunity to review some truly awesome wrestling matches before almost anyone else has, and it’s introduced me to some incredibly skilled and arousing wrestlers who might not have otherwise caught my eye and commanded my attention. It’s also sensitized me (even more than I was already) to the hot copy that other authors write for homoerotic wrestling marketing materials, and I’m certain that it’s made me a better writer (every time I share text under any circumstances, I learn more about the art). I’ve been delighted to virtually meet a few of the creative minds behind the scenes, who, I am delighted to report, have been remarkably gracious and generous to work with.
I consider myself as someone still trying this gig out. I continue to think carefully about what I’m able to contribute and how writing marketing copy impacts my enjoyment of my homoerotic wrestling fantasies.  Perhaps the time will come when the invitations to write stop coming my way. Maybe I’ll hit the wall someday, and decide that I just don’t have it in me to write marketing text any longer. But for now, when the invitations come my way, I still experience a thrill that I may have something worthwhile to offer, that my words might be of value to the industry from which I receive so much pleasure. I suspect that the next time I’m asked, I’ll probably feel that familiar wave of excitement laced with pangs of insecurity, and I’ll say once again, “Sure, I’ll give it a shot.”

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.