As I’ve mentioned often in the past, one of my favorite things about summer is seeing hunks showing off their legs. Hot temps require shorts, and finally, after being hidden for months, big, beautiful thighs, and sculpted calves are set free. Someone recently referred to me as a “leg man,” which on the one hand, I don’t think I am, because I also crave big juicy pecs, peaked biceps, roped triceps, crystal cut abs, boulder-like deltoids. I love wide, bulging backs that taper in a V to a muscled ass with a shelf that you could set your martini glass on. Fuck, for that matter, I can get off on strong, sexy hands, beautiful feet, dimpled cheeks, a cleft chin, heavy-lidded bedroom eyes… the list goes on and on. But on the other hand, I have a special joy for summer exposure of powerful, thick, meaty thighs.
So today, I’m dedicating this post to a hold that invariably turns my crank and feeds my seasonal fetish for the particular allure of sexy legs. I once enjoyed the opportunity a favorite wrestler of mine offered me, to tell him what moves and holds I hoped to see most in his upcoming matches. I had an immediate answer for this stud in particular: standing headscissors. Like almost nothing else, there’s something so erotic about a dominant hunk with powerful thighs crushing an opponent’s head while just standing there. The inherent narrative is delicious. Standing headscissors require one battered stud to not only be kneeling or seated while his opponent punishes him, but the captured wrestler generally has to be pretty blown away already. They require that the pitcher bears down on the skull between his thighs, which, honestly, means he’s a little precariously positioned, not flat on his feet. The catcher could likely upend his tormentor with a little leverage and effort, so luxuriously long held standing headscissors are the stuff of total control. Like a cat playing with his fatally wounded prey, they signal the ascendency of the erect wrestler.
And speaking of erection, I’m always fantasizing about standing headscissors getting topped off with the controlling wrestler jerking off to the feel of completely owning his opponent. It’s a hands free hold, so sure, flex and preen, trash talk good and long. But what I’d love to see is that standing grappler pounding one out all over the back of the humiliated meatscicle on his knees. Fuck, that would be a skunk in my book, instantly counting for two falls in the column of the cocky thigh master.
In any case, let’s drink a toast to summer, and the hot, powerful, punishing legs that now come out to play.
I’m venturing into highly contested waters today, so put your life vests on and buckle in. Age. I’ve chatted with homoerotic wrestling fans who consider hunks old enough to legally drink alcohol as getting too old for their tastes. Mind you, the fans in question are more than twice that age, but for the time being, let me just focus on the wrestlers. By the same token, I’ve talked with homoerotic wrestling fans who are a tad creeped out by wrestlers that look too young. Hell, I had an extended exchange with a fan who was gagging for a silver fox bracket of homoerotic wrestling for mature muscle only. I’ve also heard rumor of homoerotic wrestling companies who turn away handsome, magnificently muscled, high quality man meat with impeccable wrestling credentials and a sensational sell because they only work with guys younger than 30 years old. Age is clearly something that factors into the homoerotic wrestling scene in complex ways.
You know me, of course. I can pump out a teary eyed infatuation for hunks across a wide range of demographics. I’ve been known to get off on one of those barely legal babyface kids who, although he’s old enough to vote, has the look of a high school sophomore. Now, I fully endorse limiting the subjects of erotic products to those of legal age to comptently give their consent. I don’t want to see (let me repeat for the morality police: I DON’T want to see) an actual 14 year old, no matter how sweet his ass, step into a wrestling ring to be an object of erotic lust for grown men, much less for him to be groped or ground by an amorous wrestling opponent. If a 21 year old could pass for a 14 year old, and he has that sweet ass I just mentioned, fuck yes, get his legal signature on a contract, throw him into a ring to get slammed, stripped, and sucked, and then pay him handsomely. My line isn’t whether the audience could imagine the hunks to be underage. It’s just a question of whether they are, in the eyes of the law, legally capable of consenting to adult decisions like starring in media targeted toward erotically interested consumers. There’s got to be a line with regard to age, maturity, and capacity to give consent, and I’m just fine with the legal standards that operate in the homoerotic wrestling industry.
So there’s that threshold of age on the bottom end of the scale. But what about the top end of the scale? Do (should) wrestlers age out of being suitable stars of homoerotic wrestling? Of course, I continue to advocate for legal capacity as a requirement. Guys with impaired capacity due to intellectual disabilities or mental health issues, no matter their age, no matter how rocking hot their six-pack abs and sculpted, tree trunk thighs are, shouldn’t be professional homoerotic wrestlers. But other than that small minority of adults, I see nothing wrong with, and in fact see many things very, very right with, wrestlers having no inherent expiration date for steaming up screens.
My thoughts are distinct from, but related to, the occasional wrestling narrative of a younger stud taunting his older opponent. I actually love seeing younger and older wrestlers go to town on each other, though I confess I typically ache to see the more mature guy own the young buck’s ass (and any other body part he wants). When Mitch Colby showed up for his debut match with BG East, wrestling against hottie Alexi Adamov, Alexi was already disparaging Mitch as ready to be put out to pasture. Mitch smirks in response to the “old man” banter, and then lets his gorgeous pecs and bulging biceps give the only answer necessary, laying Alexi the fuck OUT when all was said and done.
Now I’m terrible at guessing ages. But I’m thinking Mitch couldn’t have been over 40 years old when he wrestled Alexi. Possibly early 40’s, but that absolutely requires that he have the genes of a comic book superhero. Look at that fucking rocking muscle bod!? So sure, he’s older than Alexi, and Alexi wants to unsettle this physical phenom of a newbie muscle stud, so the young Russian gets all snarky about the only thing he can imagine sensational Mitch could be, in any way, insecure about. About the time Alexi is doing the backstroke in a pool of their combined sweat, unable to pry is wasted, hot, gorgeous young body off the mat, the “old guy” drama comes to what I think of as a sensationally satisfying end.
Physical maturity, pitched well, makes me weak in the knees. Take Brooklyn Bodywrecker with salt-and-pepper goatee and chest hair bringing us as close as we’ve come to seeing Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) stripped naked and showing off the ballast he carries in his pouch. Joshua tries to get underneath the classic heel’s skin with the “o” word. Bodywrecker tags him, bags him, and takes out the prettiest trash on the planet. How old was BBW? I have no idea. I’m guessing over 40, but like I said, I suck at guessing ages. But one thing I do know for certain: he wasn’t “too old.”
Take Christopher Bruce’s big comeback a few years ago, returning in mindblowing condition after last appearing a decade earlier as a doe eyed, shapely, lean go-go boy, now older, marginally wiser, and stealing the spotlight from every frustrated opponent with that insanely sexy, infinitely fuckable, massively muscled bubble butt. Cole Cassidy, Jonny Firestorm, they keep calling Chris out as some sort of doddering elder statesman, but that’s just the narrative tension in the story. The obvious truth is that he’s a fucking muscle god who, as far as I’m concerned, is about 30 times overtly sexier than he was a decade ago. Proving that it isn’t just the story of the mature hunk schooling a cocky young upstart that gets me off, he’s still getting his ass handed to him most of the time, but the years are absolutely nothing but value added in my book.
So age, age differences, “oldness,” “youngness,” sure all of these things are moving parts, contested, manipulated, foregrounded strategically. But in and of itself, the actual notion that someone is too old, as a function of a particular number, just seems ludicrous to me. Sure, maybe over the course of his years a wrestler has fucked up his knees or lost his strength or gone on blood thinners, in which case high impact, highly entertaining homoerotic wrestling competition may not be for him anymore. But’s that’s about injury, disease, and fitness, not a number.
As with any professional athlete, I’m sure there’s a time when they may choose to do other things than exercise, diet, and train with the intensity it requires to be safe and healthy and successful in a pro wrestling ring. But I’m also sure there are plenty of hunks who are talented and enthusiastic enough to keep climbing through those ropes past their 30’s (for god’s sake), definitely past their 40’s, many, I’m sure past their 50’s and maybe even 60’s. While I know there are those fans who want nothing but barely legals, I’m in the camp (and I know there are many of us) who are happily entertained and fully aroused by homoerotic wrestling hunks of a variety of ages, in a broad array of scenarios, pitching, catching conquering and being conquered by peers and young punks alike. Bald spots and grey hair can grab me by the short hairs, when paired with a sexy body, an engaging attitude, and a skillful sell.
Before I finish what has turned into a very long post, let me just add a word of encouragement and another word of caution to those who are inspired to comment here. First, I always enjoy hearing from readers, comparing notes, seeing where our tastes overlap and where they diverge. Please do let me know what you think about homoerotic wrestler expiration dates. And, as has been my policy for quite a while, note that I won’t approve posts that attack particular wrestlers or that disparage anyone with the balls to climb into a ring and wrestle for a bunch of horny gay men. You don’t have to like the same wrestlers I do. You don’t have to agree with my opinions. But comments are welcome here that are respectful of me and the homoerotic wrestlers who populate the pages of this blog and who deserve courtesy, even if you or I aren’t fans.
Congratulations to all of the homoerotic wrestling fans who are gay married or have plans to be soon. I’ve got a tight leash on my cynicism so that everyone can get drunk and party without Debbie Downer here ruining it for everyone. However, this whole moment in history does remind me of my long standing infatuation with the notion of tag team partner lovers.
I’ve heard sad news that Christian Taylor and Skip Vance have split in real life, which is particularly tragic for fans like me who absolutely swooned over their 2-on-1 ring match in Tag Team Torture 16: Boyfriend Beatdown against Morgan Cruise not that long ago. I sincerely hope that both Skip and Christian are in a good emotional space, that they’ve stayed friends, and that they’ve moved on in a healthy way [pssst, Christian: call me].
But ever since I watched Tag Team Torture 2, in which bear daddy Brian Powers and his adorable cub Liam Ryan wrestle Brooklyn Bodywrecker and Shane McCall, I’ve been smitten with the concept of tag team lovers. Brian and Liam are into each other as they climb into the ring. They’re foolishly confident, stealing some intimate strokes and kisses when they should be paying attention to the sensational heels about to crush them. Big Brian is supposed to be the anchor of the loverboys, so BBW and Shane isolate him, incapacitate him, and tie him into the corner, forced to watch as his boyfriend is needlessly double-teamed, decimated, and forced to suck Shane’s cock in the middle of the ring while BBW and Shane make out, kneeling over top of him.
So, with marriage the law of the land, I’m left to fantasize about other devoted couples who, if the wrestle gods were just and true, would climb into a wrestling ring as a high stakes, homoerotic wrestling team. Here are the couples that I know of who should be competing.
First, let me briefly handicap Matt Bomer and his husband Simon Halls. For raw sex appeal, I give them an 8 out of 10. I’d donate a kidney to ride threesome with these two hot studs. Bomer loves his silver fox daddy passionately, holding the ropes for him when they climb into the ring, rubbing Halls’ shoulders, grabbing a gratuitous grope of his cock before the bell rings. When it comes to ring skills, I’d score them 7 out of 10, with Bomer being a high flyer, including his favorite finisher, a top turnbuckle drop kick that makes opponents’ hearts skip a beat. I picture Halls as more grounded, laser focused, no showboating, just long, punishing, mojo-sucking holds like headscissors and a knee-busting Indian death lock. He enjoys throttling opponent’s cocks for ages in lusciously long OTK backbreakers. For strength, I score them a 7 out of 10, with Halls’ maturity and Bomer’s dazzling beauty and athleticism making them a team to beat. If there’s a weakness, I’m picturing Bomer as impulsive, perhaps a little too distractible, possibly a bit too quick to want to do a victory stripper dance over top of a battered opponent.
Neil Patrick Harris and David Burtka are a pair of twink daddies who need a hardcore sex-tape leak. For sex appeal, I give them a 6 out of 10. Harris has that incredibly sexy humor paired with such pretty pecs, but Burtka needs a shot of charisma. Mind you, I’d blow a gasket to get lubed up from head to toe with the both of them. Ring skills: 9 out of 10. I see these twink daddies as one of those teams that tags out devastatingly fast and furious, leaving opponents bewildered and bashed. There’s tons of teamwork, like Harris Irish whipping Burtka across the ring to pummel the fuck out of a momentarily dazed opponent hanging in the corner. Burtka scoops up opponents as Harris drops to one knee, letting his hubby pound their prey viciously across Harris’ thigh in a power OTK backbreaker. For strength, the skinny boys are surprisingly power-packed, but still, they’re skinny, so I give them 5 out of 10. They’re a total twink heel team, double-teaming opponents in the corner, not waiting for tags, interfering whenever the partner in the ring is looking vulnerable. Burtka gets off on ball clawing, and Harris can’t keep his hands off his rod when he’s got a wasted opponent nice and snug in headscissors. For weaknesses, it’s got to be size. They’re dangerous as fuck, but susceptible to getting shoved around.
Jason Landau and Cheyenne Jackson make one dazzlingly beautiful pair, and would be one sensational homoerotic wrestling tag team. For sex appeal, I give the power couple a 9 out of 10. If Jackson wears a thong to the ring, I could easily be negotiated up to a 9.5. The two always look so fucking intensely into each other, which would instantly exponentiate the erotic factor in any match. They’d be sucking face and groping each other aggressively until the bell rings. For ring skills, I’m giving the them a 6 out of 10. I picture them coasting a bit on Jackson’s size and strength, with Jason mostly a support player who’s lucky to hold his own when his muscle hubby tags him in with momentum already on their side. As a team, I give them an 8 out 10 for strength, with Jackson carrying more than his fair share. Have you seen his thighs?! He would totally be the muscle brute who would rack his opponents across his huge shoulders and do squats in the middle of the ring to humiliate them. Fuck, I’m picturing beautiful Jason letting Cheyenne use his own lean bod for barbell curls, just because both of them get off on that sort of thing. They’re mostly a babyface team, with fucking on their minds more than winning (thus, the weak link). When they win, it’s because of Jackson’s dominating power. When they lose, it’s because they’re outwrestled and lost in lust for one another and/or their opponents.
Nate Berkus and his beefy hot husband Jeremiah Brent would make a way hot tag team. I find it hard to rank their team sex appeal because my assessment of Berkus varies so widely, day to day. One day, I’d totally tap that. The next, meh. I do think he’s significantly sexier with his man candy hubby on his arm, though, so let’s just score them a 6 out of 10 and move on. When it comes to ring skills, I’d give the duo a 6 out of 10. I picture Berkus as more of a poser, leaving Brent to do the heavy lifting. Brent would be all about leverage and joint manipulation in the ring, plenty of figure-4 leg locks, headlock suplexes, and hammerlocks. As for strength, the babyfaces are thickly muscled, so let’s score them an 8 out of 10. Berkus likes to flex his biceps in the faces of opponents being owned by Brent. They like to muscle smaller opponents around the ring when they can, lording it over them, trash talking about what weak pussies they are. They’re nominal heels, though it’s Berkus’ narcissism that mostly defines the character of this tag team. He takes all the credit, does less than half the work, and works up a load of celebration across the chests of the opponents that Brent puts out cold with figure-4 chokes. Biggest weakness has to be the potential for Brent to reach the end of his patience and go ape shit all over his own partner.
My final tag team lovers handicapping is for boybander Lance Bass and his hubby, crazy sexy Michael Turchin. For sex appeal, I’d score the an 8 out of 10, though there are some modeling shots of Turchin online that may merit the boys a higher score on any given day, depending on Turchin’s conditioning. For ring skills, I give them 7 out of 10, with evenly matched technical wrestling aptitude and speed. I picture them both as barefoot high flyers, with a flair for side-by-side mirrored standing drop kicks. Bass loves to schoolboy pin, trash talk in the face of a flat out opponent, dick whipping opponents’ faces with a laugh. Turchin loves to use the ropes, frequently trapping opponents arms there and exploiting their predicament to mix knees to the gut with lustful gropes of muscles and bulges. When it comes to strength, these two are solid, but not powerhouses. 7 out of 10 for strength, though again, if Turchin is in top condition, you can dial that up. I see this lover tag team as homoerotic specialists, which I think can look like heels anywhere else, but is just middle of the road sex-wrestling in homoerotic circles. They’re hot for one another, hot for sexy opponents, and hot for the feel of controlling and dominating opponents into total submission until they’ve lost their loads all over their losers’ faces.
So that’s my take on gay marriage. Only thing left is to wonder who beats who, how, and what holds and moves get me to rewind and replay over and over again? Any other tag team lovers you’d like to toss into competition, and who do you think would be reigning tag team lover champs?
I’m close to being able to die a happy man, because not only did Shane McCall drop me a note to thank me for my recent review of his Catch Weight 6 match, he went on to agree to grant me an interview. Talk about a bucket list item! Shane resides right around the foundation of my homoerotic wrestling fantasies as an object of lust from my very early days of discovering BG East. He’s one of my wrestling crushes who left me in awe that I had this thing in common with such a beautifully handsome, deeply masculine man with such a gorgeous body. His early career matches are bedrock to my prized homoerotic wrestling collection, and his return to the ring these 18 years after he first wrestled for BG East was simply epic. And then I found myself with Shane’s undivided attention, answering my questions, throwing them right back at me and igniting all new homoerotic wrestling fantasies. I hope you enjoy this chat with the legendary Shane McCall, but as you’ll see, it really doesn’t matter that much to me, because it was one of the most pleasurable experiences I’ve ever had in my five and a half years of blogging about homoerotic wrestling.
Bard: Thanks for connecting with me on Facebook, Shane. I needed to take a little time to work on some questions so I don’t sound too, too much like a fanboy dork.
Shane: Ha! Sounds good, boy. Is that your tight lean bod in that profile pic?
Bard: My abs aren’t quite that ripped anymore, but happily the bod is still tight and lean.
Shane: Works for me. I always enjoy working lean muscle.
Bard: Oh, damn. This is going to be quite an interview! I’m going to have to work hard to stay focused if you insist on speculating about working over my body! I am extremely thrilled and a bit intimidated to get this chance to talk with the famous Shane McCall. Can I just start by asking about your stunning return to the ring in BGE’s Catch Weight 6? How did it feel stepping through those ropes again?
Shane: I can smell your intimidation, and love the smell of it in the morning. That and a cup of coffee, and I am ready to start the day. Thanks, Bard. It felt great lacing up my wrestling shoes and pulling the straps up on my singlet. Some things your body never forgets. I knew I was ready to take on anyone. My head was in the game. Keeping my body healthy with good diet and working out paid off, too. Stepping up onto the ring and standing at the ropes felt as natural as it did when I was 32 as it does at 50. What I saw waiting for me inside the ring, well, was downright comical. Lady Gaga in wrestling gear.
Bard: It certainly looked to me like you didn’t skip a beat from the last time we saw you there. You completely owned it. And since you mention Lady Gaga in wrestling gear, what do you make of young Ty Alexander not knowing who you are? I mean, you’re basically royalty to anyone with even a passing familiarity with homoerotic wrestling. What the hell has the world come to when a wet-behind-the ears babyface trying to establish a career in this business doesn’t even know the hunks who helped build this industry?
Shane: Thanks again, Bard. Your kind words and praise are spot-on and appreciated. Ty-ersome knew exactly who I was. I think that was his lame attempt to get under my skin. I’ve grown a thick layer over the years, and that shit just rolls off my back. These little pretty things, it is more about cosplay and dressing up in shiny erotic gear and looking pretty for themselves in the mirror than it is the sport of domination. Even though I gave him an ass whooping he will not soon forget, I doubt he learned anything. He’s probably now scouring the web for his next pair of shiny pink nut smugglers. But back to your comment about me being a force that helped build the homoerotic wrestling industry. I’m humbled. I owe it all and learned from the best in the business with Kid Leopard and Kid Vicious’ ring training and Energy and Zen training with Sailor Rob.
Bard: Well, no one can say you didn’t deliver a first rate education to darling Ty, but I suppose you can only lead a horse to water. If I remember correctly, you were BGE’s first rookie of the year. What was your learning curve like? What were some of those lessons you learned from KL, KV and Sailor Rob?
Shane: You have a keen memory. Yes, I was the first recipient of Rookie of the Year. 1996? I remember that weekend well. It was a fun time meeting a lot of the other BG East wrestlers and tons of hot matches throughout that weekend. Flo and I connected right off, and I learned a lot from him. Wrestling, being a devastating heel, being an outstanding jobber and the art of selling both.
Shane: Oh, Flo is my nickname for Kid Leopard. Short for Florenz Ziegfeld. In return he calls me Shanney. I told him when I first arrived at BG East that I felt a little like the Fanny Brice of the BG East’s beautiful Schwanns. He laughed and said, “That’s ridiculous! You’re GORGEOUS. But I love it!” And so started the beautiful relationship of Flo and Shanney.
Bard: (laughing) That’s adorable!
Shane: During this past summer’s visit and taping, Flo was giving me a tour of his art collection. We both love art, especially wrestling art. The tour ended up in his office filled with photos of wrestlers of old and new and wrestling related artifacts. It truly is an amazing collection including DVDs, dolls and anything wrestling. Tucked on a shelf I saw the first photo I sent to Flo via the old Gillespie directory. I had sent it to Flo back in 1994. I had written a note on the back introducing myself and stating I hope to meet someday and would enjoy making a wrestling video for BG East. I was so deeply honored and touched that he kept that photo in a special place that he could see every day.
Bard: I’ve seen that art collection and it’s incredible! So much to look at everywhere. I’m not surprised KL keeps that photo nearby. Damn, now that’s what I call selling a resume!
Shane: I spent a lot of time working in the ring with Kid Vicious, too, who told me “the only way you’ll be a good heel is to be an outstanding jobber.” KV went above and beyond in showing me what a ruthless prick heel is like and how to totally dominate and even humiliate a jobber. Some sessions were so devastating that you had to peel me off the ring apron at the end. I would never know what the lesson plan would be for the day. He just instructed me to show up and find out. Today is gut punishment day, or pec torture day, or my personal favorite, bumps, slams and stomps day. KV’s Heel Philosophy is, if you are not enjoying every moment tearing a jobber apart piece by piece then your fans are not going to enjoy watching it. KV takes much pride in his work and a lot of joy too, I can certainly attest to that. Sailor Rob is my Energy and Zen coach and advisor. Staying focused and centered in key when working in the ring. Much of the work is done outside in nature. Becoming connected with the Earth is the best way to become grounded and centered, he tells me. I found it also helps keep the gardens beautiful and fruits and vegetables harvested.
Bard: I’m entranced by this body-mind meld approach to training with KV and Sailor Rob in tandem.
Shane: Mind, body and soul healing is applied to everyday life and not just working for BG East. A healthy life is all about the balance of life and energy.
Bard: I think BGE has long produced wrestling that goes a lot deeper than pretty boys with pink nut smugglers, and I suspect that multi-focused training you received speaks a lot to that special, hot recipe they cook up.
Bard: Do I remember correctly that you had a solid amateur wrestling background when you showed up? How do you think amateur wrestling skills contribute to the rough and rowdy world of BGE wrestling?
Shane: Yeah, I’ve been wrestling all my life. Tons of garage and basement battles growing up with buds in the neighborhood and school. My self-esteem was pretty low in high school and being teased everyday on the bus didn’t help with that. Like most young men being gay at that age and time was a rough period. I was also too nervous to try out for wrestling since it was a huge turn on for me. I mentioned the Gillespie Directory earlier. That was a hardcopy listing of wrestlers from all over the world. It cost like $20 a year, and the catalogue was delivered via US Postal with tons and tons of listings with photos of hot wrestlers around the world. That is the directory I met Kid Leopard and many other of my wrestling friends I keep in touch with today. The first guy I met in Philly was John, aka RomanGodPa, in the Gillespie directory. He was one of three men that started the Spartan Wrestling Club in Philadelphia, and I was the seventh member to join that club. John, Dennis and Andy Bailey were my first coaches to freestyle wrestling. I competed in the 1994 Gay Games in NYC and later become a coach of the Spartans. Andy Bailey brought me up to BG East training camp for my first of many trips.
Bard: So many connections to so many hunks!
Shane: Freestyle and the mat training that I learned from the Spartans was my strong suit, and I loved the contact and learned as much submission as I could privately with other sub wrestlers. I had mats in the small apartment in Philly and learned submission wrestling the hard way: trial and error. When visiting BG East and seeing the ring I knew that was something I really wanted to do. Shit, it was something I’d fantasized about since I was a kid. I asked and begged Kid Leopard to put me in the ring several times, and he said I was not ready. I can be persuasive, and he finally caved. Bryan Walsh was my first match. Squash. Clint Morgan. Total devastation. Chris Denver. Splat.
Bard: However even as you were getting squashed by Clint Morgan, you were also winning Rookie of the Year. We’ve both given Ty Alexander a hard time in this conversation, but clearly there’s a time-honored place in the hearts of fans for the beautiful hot stud who gets trampled and crushed brutally. As someone who appreciates the erotic allure of wrestling from the inside out, what do you think it is that arouses so many of us about witnessing a devastatingly handsome hottie brutalized and humiliated like you were at the hands of Bryan Walsh, for example? What does a bubble butted jobber rising like Ty need to do to engender not pity, but arousal in being crushed?
Shane: You have to be hard on guys like Ty, otherwise their heads get too big. I am just trying to keep Ty’s head in proportion with his ass – especially in those small shiny trunks. As many muscled wrestling stars and diverse fans that BG East has cultivated over the years, there are just as many wrestling erotic buttons to push and scenes to play out. The box is endless, and for me the turn-ons change with my age and physical stature. I’ve grown from young athletic stud to big muscle bear daddy. I’m still wrestling young muscle studs and men of my age and size and even smaller. It all depends on my challenger and my mood.
Bard: Tell me more about that.
Shane: Let’s take you for instance Bard. With those tight abs you’ve been showing off, you’re just the kind of guy I would love to whip into the turnbuckle and keep you there while I drive my fists, knees, shoulder and boots deep into your abs until you are slumped into the corner pleading for mercy. Then grab you by your hair and set you up in the corner and whip you to the opposite turnbuckle for another round of ab abuse. Does that arouse you? It does me. Why does that arouse me? It doesn’t only arouse me erotically, it goes deeper than that. Wrestling for me isn’t only about being competitive or dominating or being dominated. It becomes a bond, a deep visceral connection with another man. It is about playing out creative fantasies and making sure my challenger is also getting something out of it too. The bond is only as strong as the two men who play it out. Be creative and have fun or go home. That is what makes BG East the top of the erotic wrestling business. A hot stable of wrestlers with amazing talent and thoughtfully creative production crew who only expect the best from everyone. They deliver.
Bard: Um, excuse me while I adjust myself, because yes, yes indeed, that just aroused me profoundly. You’ll have trouble grabbing me by my hair, but my abs are open for business for Shane McCall’s attention!
Shane: Bald, huh? That’s ok. I’ll just pull you up like I do with Scott Williams, by your ears or hooking your nostrils with two fingers.
Bard: As I sit here with this rising pressure in my pants, two questions come to mind. 1) How are your knees these days, because I’d pop my cork to see how long my core holds out in your over-the-knee backbreaker, and 2) with the scorching hot heat that wrestlers like you generate, wrestlers who wrestle from inside the homoerotic wrestling community, how is it we don’t see more erections? I’m being completely serious here when I ask how the inherent intimacy and erotic imagination of two hot, wrestling kinked hunks doesn’t generate more raging hard-ons in the matches we see on camera. Does the camera itself have cold shower effect? Does the sexual tension… protrude more prominently in truly private matches? Are there industry regulations governing the full throttle phallus from appearing more often than it does in even such an overtly erotic context?
Shane: How are my knees? Ask Ty. He received a few devastating knee drops in our match. I love delivering over the knee backbreakers multiple times with authority. A nicely executed over the knee backbreaker shows off the recipients beautiful abdominals, which are then open and ready for more abuse. The knee driven deep softens and weakens the lower lumbar getting the jobber ready for my rib and spine crushing bear hug. So, you’re popping some wood, huh? Good. I thought the smell of intimidation dissipated and another scent filled the air. That will make my bear hug on you that much more , well, stimulating. Having it trapped between your tight abs and my big solid belly, well, something has to blow, either your lower lumbar vertebrae or the other.
Bard: Holy shit, this interview is going places I hadn’t planned on! See, just talking about this is busting my zipper!
Shane: Mat wrestling is more conducive to hot steamy matches with full on raging erections since the action is mostly on the ground. The space is smaller, more intimate if you will, and the wrestling holds are more about full-on body contact. Sweaty muscle on sweaty muscle really gets the blood and juices flowing. I’ve seen and been in plenty of those matches in the BG East mat room and hotel matches too. With ring and arena matches, there is more muscle exertion and large muscle work, too. Back muscles, quads, glutes and hamstrings are on full throttle when working a hard match in the ring. Blood flow of the body goes to them before going elsewhere. Not having a full on erection does not mean I’m not turned on. Erotic and sensual energy is flowing full on when I am wrestling a guy I am into. Seeing a hot jobber sell a body slam or tied up in the ropes is very sexy to me. As the match goes on and the sweat pours down a deflated, hardbody muscle jobber, and the breathing is heavier and deeper, getting closer to a pin or tap-out… that’s sexy shit.
Bard: I just have to repeat the truest words ever spoken: that’s sexy shit! I’ve been working hard to keep my inner fanboy in check this whole time, but picturing me being cracked across your knee with my abs tested just busted down that door. And mentioning the likes of Bryan and Clint Morgan and Scott-man-of-my-dreams Williams is leaving me helpless to control myself. Get ready for some star-struck fan worship now, and just remember you brought this on yourself! To start, I’m dying to say that the sexiest tag team match in history has got to be you and BBW laying waste to adorable Liam Ryan and his doomed bear daddy Brian Powers. There are several moments in that match that intrude into my thoughts on a regular basis and make me weak in the knees. The overt sexual engagement of both teams for their teammates and for devouring your opponents remains pretty much the ideal form of a homoerotic wrestling match to me. Can I just thank you right now for being part of the genius and provocation of that match? I mean, there’s probably a question I could ask, but I really just desperately want to say, good god man that was unbelievably hot and has never been bested in my extensive watching of tag team wrestling ever since!
Shane: Wow, Bard, you did pop a cork with that one! You fan-gushed all over my face and pecs with that (laughing)! Thank you for your praise and the enthusiasm in which it was delivered. Now, may I have towel please?
Bard: Don’t towel off too soon, because I’m notoriously fast at recovery!
Shane: That tag team match with BBW, Brian Powers and Liam Ryan was an epic match and one of my personal favorites, too. The chemistry and the action was spot on, and as much as the fans enjoyed viewing it we had a blast making it… and, oh, did you really say “Scott man-of-my-dreams Williams?” I just threw up in my mouth.
Bard: Well, yes, I did, acid-reflux aside. I just don’t have words to say how formative and liberating it was for me to discover fantasy men like you (and Scott) taking it to each other in those truly classic BG East wrestling releases from almost 2 decades ago. Your hairy pecs and gorgeous face opened up doors for plenty of us to tap into some deep reservoirs of pleasure inside of us.
Shane: I really am humbled when I hear from fans, and they thank me for the work, or ask about a BG East match. Sometimes I just get flustered and not really know how to respond to a fan who extends compliments. I do appreciate the kind words nonetheless. I have really enjoyed hearing the favorable response from BG East fans regarding my match with Ty. That makes me feel really good and I am truly touched that fans are happy to see me back.
Bard: Okay, I’m beating back my inner fanboy to ask a more critical question now. I’m fascinated about your comments about mind, body and soul healing being woven into your life and wrestling. The explicit text of a pro wrestling match is pretty damn violent. How do you see that balance of Zen and energy mindfulness with the thump and grind text of a homoerotic wrestling match?
Shane: Energy work and healing happen in all forms. Pro wrestling is an art form, whether it’s the homoerotic industry, small indies, or the big time pro wrestling circuit. It is all based on taking the viewers on a journey outside of their everyday humdrum lives. That is what the viewers expect and look forward too. BG East takes their viewers on a journey that Dorothy and her friends of Oz could only dream. My training at BG East included body, mind and soul development, and can be explained like this. Kid Vicious’ training is Klingon training: brutal and only one winner (me). Sailor Rob’s energy and meditation is basically Jedi training: opening my mind and seeing my optimal potential and reaching it. Kid Leopard (aka Flo), well, we already know he is the Florenz Ziegfeld of the pro wrestling world. Make it and make it BIG and do everything you can to be sure it sells. Eye on the target and BAM!
Bard: Jedi Klingon theatre impresario?! No wonder there’s such an awesome complexity to BGE that speaks to me. Not to mention how a Star Wars-Star Trek-Broadway mash-up completely engages my sexy nerd side (which, trust me, is way sexy). And I’m loving the notion of wholeheartedly selling the fantasies that move you from the inside out. Go big and own it or go home. My final question I want to ask is about that body component of the mind-body-soul connection. I periodically get assailed by wrestling fans complaining that some featured wrestler that turns me on hard is “too old” or too beefy or what-the-fuck-ever. This tires me the hell out, frankly, because like you’ve said, there’s this deep bench and awesome diversity of hot bodies and personalities that makes wrestling so engaging for so many people. But as someone who owns your age and sexy bear daddy belly and brought that all explicitly into the ring to crush young Ty with, what would you like to say (or do) to those fans that seem to only be able to bear seeing 20 year old underwear models in their wrestling fare?
Shane: I don’t think I would have much to say to them. If that is what they like, they should enjoy it. If they are throwing negative comments to you and your selection of hot picks or wrestlers you interview, tell them to write their own fucking blog. They continue to give you any more shit, send them my way. I’ll straighten them the fuck out. You can watch too if you like.
Bard: You don’t need to ask if I’d enjoy a front row seat to that!
Shane: I get it though. I’ve popped in a few BG East DVDs and sat back on the couch and cranked a few out watching two little hot muscle boys going at it. Kid Karisma and Christian Taylor are hot examples. Christian is just so beautiful and I love to see him get worked over and punished. Karisma is a looker too, and not half bad as a wrestler. He could use some Shane training though. He’s taken on some season wrestlers too like Red Baron and Cage Thunder. Those two men are beefy and muscled and that was a hot three-way match. I am guessing Cage and Baron have some grey hairs and crow’s feet under those masks. Only one way to find out, of course, and unmask those men in the ring.
Bard: Again, I call dibs on front row seats to your training session with Kid Karisma and to the clash of the titans that would be you setting out to unmask Cage Thunder and Red Baron!
Shane: And Catchweight 6 also features Mitch Colby and young Billy Lodi, which is another hot seasoned daddy vs rookie-boy match. Looks like Mitch had his hands full with that little scrapper. I love that too though, seeing a boy get some licks on the bigger, older daddy…Boing! And the match with Eli and Rio looks smoking hot too. I do find it stimulating seeing a big sexy muscle stud like Rio getting worked over by the smaller, but much more skilled Eli.
Bard: Yes, yes, yes. All of that again for me, too! Well, I fully expected this to be a pleasure, but I can’t tell you how unexpectedly provocative this has been for a barely-contained fanboy like me to get to talk with you, Shane.
Shane: Bard, I’d like to take this time and say I have really enjoyed our exchange during this interview and delighted our paths have crossed. It is nice to hear from a fan and how my matches and work with BG East have made an impact on you and many other fans. Enjoying a fetish like wrestling in a healthy and safe outlet is extremely important to living a healthy life, physically, mentally and emotionally. I really think if you hold fantasies and fetishes inside and not play them out you are not only cheating yourself, but it will probably play out in an unhealthy way. That can result in harming yourself or others. Playing out your fantasy by wrestling, writing, painting or any other expressive ways can be a wonderful thing. Just remember to play safe, smart and respect yourself and your challengers.
Bard: Sage words to celebrate wrestling by. Anything else you’d like to say before I let you go?
Shane: Keep on writing these juicy wrestling blogs and fun interviews, Bard. You are doing an outstanding job and your writing talent and passion for erotic wrestling will keep your fan base returning and strong. Hopefully one day our paths will cross and we can meet face to face and pec to pec. Until then keep those ripped abs tight and solid so I can enjoy pounding on them with your back over my knee.
Bard: And with that, my fanboy cork is officially re-popped! The pleasure has been all mine, Shane, and I look forward to taking that ride across your knee someday!
I’m sure I was probably too harsh a couple of days ago when I took poor twink Hunter James to task for not enjoying his muscle worship session with Braden Charron nearly enough in Muscle Domination Wrestling’s Oil Hunks 2. Muscle Master Kevin himself had to comment that I probably got the wrong end of the stick, mistaking Hunter’s deer-in-the-headlights-nervousness with a lack of enthusiasm. Fair enough. It got me thinking about point-of-view. POV in a well-told story typically takes the reader into the scenario in some relatable way. The character from who’s POV the story unfolds is identifiable and comprehensible to the reader. We may not exactly embrace them, but sometimes the truly masterful story is the one that sucks us into the POV of someone we might otherwise think is incomprehensibly other to us (hello, Dexter). Like Hunter James in OH2, there’s a play on POV in many homoerotic wrestling products that pit a man of pure fantasy, ripped from the cover of a physique mag, unattainable like a star in the heavens, and pits him against an opponent who is relatable to the average Joe wrestling fan. The drama unfolds with the majority of viewers squarely in the back pocket of the average Joe, the Everyman. He may win or lose, compete or cave, but the story unfolds with us securely experiencing the scene from the POV of the boy who’s got to be thanking his lucky stars to get thrown into the deep end of the pool to swim with the gods for a brief moment in time.
Hunter James being dominated and “forced” to oil up and admire a naked Braden Charron is a case in point. Hunter is not a physique star. I’m not saying he’s not a handsome little piece of meat, but the contrast between his lean, undefined, attainable body and the bulging, tanned, impeccably groomed beauty of Braden is a contrast that seems to almost inevitably shove most of us into the POV of Hunter. That’s probably why I’m so harsh on him. I think of myself, briefly, vicariously, as him. I’d dig my fingers deep into those glutes when Braden demands that I spread baby oil across his ass, so when Hunter demurely paints on a paper thin coat by barely making contact with that ass, I want to slap the twink around. That’s NOT my POV, damn it. Enjoy it! Play with it. Thank your lucky stars and then dive in with both feet and celebrate the phenomenal physique standing there naked in front of you demanding your adoration.
I’m overemphasizing the attainability aspect of the Everyman, I’m sure. I’m not saying that a wrestler can’t look hot and still carry off the role of selling the average Joe thanking his lucky stars. Take Randy Dowell, for example, who in Wrestle Worship 2 had the stunning good luck to not only worship both Mark Merino and Stan Greer, but to watch, in awe, as Mark and Stan battled with one another over who’s hunky body Randy should worship last. The plain, cold truth is that Randy Dowell is a hot, handsome hunk in his own right. He’s not nearly as massive as Mark or Stan, but he’s fit, hard, and handsome as hell. But its context and sell that make him work as our eyes and ears (and mouth and nose and especially hands) in the ring, with the DVD promo letting us know that Randy is a fanboy who pelted BG East with a flood of pleas to get to meet gorgeous Mark in person. And Randy is thanking his lucky stars over and over, enthralled, enraptured, turned on like a light switch and hitting every mark that a muscle fan would insist on hitting when faced with the smorgasbord of beef set in front him.
Another Randy, Randy Stanton, similarly is in possession of a hot, fit, lean bod all his own, but the handsome hunk is absolutely salivating when he strolls into the BG East mat room behind none other than Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!). Again, context builds this narrative every bit as effectively as Randy’s awestruck and truly awesome sell. The match description explains that Mr. J is playing with fire, letting himself get picked up by star-struck Randy and offering up full possession of Mr. J’s phenomenal physique should Randy have what it takes to own it. Holy hell, what a concept! What a cocky sell both of Mr. J’s gargantuan, mammoth, oversized, mouthwatering massive ego (you thought I was going to say something else), as well as transforming hottie Randy S. into, well, you and me, another guy dizzied by Mr. J’s gorgeousness and slack jawed at the wide open opportunity to get his adoring hands all over that body, heart pumping with the possibility of tagging Mr. J’s ass and, more importantly, unleashing the beast that Mr. J infamously smuggles down the front of his drawers.
Can-Am pulled off a similar motif in their recent release of Pro Sex Fight 10. In this case, it’s much less about the context and the narrative off camera, and built almost entirely on the stunning, striking contrast between the two sex fighters, Drake Wild and Tyler St. James. Tyler is a fantasyman like few others. Tanned, impeccably toned, beautifully blue-eyed Tyler is posted at 6’2″ and around 247 pounds, while lithe, lean, pale Drake is reported to be somewhere in the vicinity of 5’4″ and a buck and a quarter or so. That alone sucks me into that ring irresistibly entranced by the David v Goliath implications, but even more so by the fantasyman v lean, brooding mini-twink. Visually, I’ve seen Drake’s sort out at the bars on plenty of occasions, including the attitude and the Napolean-complex-will-fuck-you-up-for-real stance. I can’t say I’ve ever seen a heavenly vision quite like Tyler in real life, much less had the opportunity to climb into the ring, call him on his shit, and both figuratively and quite literally fuck him up.
My final example of a thank-your-lucky-stars boy who pulls this motif off persuasively is Mark Nelson’s fanboy meets his worst nightmare/fondest fantasy Brooklyn Bodywrecker in Demolition 3. Another fanboy granted his fondest fantasy, Mark is sucking down the humiliation and punishment of BBW like a parched bedouin in the desert. The tension of physical domination, of terror, of the battle of bodies and wills is no less present, and Mark is another hunky hottie, but the sell is all about the point of view of the average Joe who comes face to face with a real, life, towering homoerotic wrestling god.
Who’s your favorite Everyman wrestler and in what match?
I keep thinking that I’ve run out of sexy Trees of Woe to feature for my alliterative Wednesday post, but alas and again, another assortment to amuse the aficionado of the application of this hot hold.
I’m entirely on board with the erotic power of a tree of woe. The ToW is an example of how some homoerotic wrestling gems simply require a professional wrestling ring. Hang a hammered hunk upside down in the corner, his knees draped over the top ropes and his feet locked in place beneath the cable connecting the turnbuckle to the post, and there’s all sorts of a hot wrestling gold that’s suddenly ripe for picking. It’s a maneuver that signals total control over a mastered man. The subject of woe is laid out so vulnerably, his body not just on display, but trussed up beautifully for easy access to innovative methods of torture. There’s a little crossover here between bondage kink and wrestling kink, with enough of both to show due respect to all parties involved, as far as I’m concerned. In honor of those of you who harbor a special place in your hearts and crotches for an agonizing, dominating, body manipulating tree of woe (and I hear from you often), this post is for you. Here are 10 ideas for what to do with an opponent once you’ve trapped him in a tree of woe.