Stay in Your Lane

Last week there was a reckoning in pro wrestling, as victims of sexual misconduct and sexual assault stepped forward on several platforms to name the crimes and creeps they have endured for years in the pro wrestling context. While I’ve generally ignored mainstream pro wrestling for a couple of decades, for a number of reasons, I follow a few wrestlers outside of the homoerotic wrestling context, and more than a few wrestlers that straddle both worlds. Based on what I’ve read, most of the recently disclosed creepiness was perpetrated by men against women, but I’ve seen more than a few indictments of same sex assault and harassment. I don’t believe that I’m qualified or informed sufficiently to comment directly, but it does draw my attention to my lane on the road, namely wrestling produced for gay eyes.

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As I’ve documented extensively on this blog, I found wrestling inherently erotic from pretty much the first time I can remember seeing it. Clearly, I’m not alone. Vintage gay beefcake pin-up boys were often portrayed grappling, perhaps as cover for the explicit tension of seeing two nearly naked men all over each other. But for me, it’s not just cover. I have access to a world of homoerotic porn today, but what seriously turns me on is homoerotic wrestling (thus, this blog). I understand that there may be companies producing content with an explicit understanding that the wrestling is pretense, that the audience is understood to primarily include gay guys who only feel comfortable getting caught with their jack-off inspiration under the bed/in their downloads if they can attempt to argue that they’re just good ole straight boys into good old straight wrestling and it has nothing to do with their dicks. I’ll come back to that in a moment, but for now, let me say that I’m most interested in self-consciously, undeniably homoerotic wrestling.

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I get off on wrestling. Early in my life, it was a secret that I felt ashamed of. Mostly through blogging about it over the past 10 years, I’ve “come out” about it here, and face-to-face with some of my close friends. I still watch “family friendly” pro wrestling sometimes for the nostalgia, for the implicit connection to my young, gay self staying up late on a Saturday night, turning the volume down way, way low, and pounding a few out over the course of watching the likes of Billy Jack Haynes, the Dynamite Kid, and Steve Doll work up a sweat and put their hot bodies to the test in the ring. I realize that the producers of independent pro wrestling probably didn’t envision a whole lot of their audience consuming the product quite the way I did (though I strongly suspect producers have always known and counted on our corner of the fan base). Most of what I enjoy for the carnal enjoyment of it these days is wrestling-for-gay eyes, though, because the erotic text isn’t just the one I bring to the viewing. And in explicitly homoerotic wrestling (explicit or not), the eroticism crosses some topical boundaries (like groping, mismatched erotic desire between the combatants, aggressive kisses, gear being forcibly ripped off of each other) that are, in many ways, the very content of damning stories raised by wrestlers in mainstream pro wrestling about sexual harassment and sexual assault. But in homoerotic wrestling, it’s happening for the homoerotically-oriented wrestling audience, and it’s built on a pretense of consent. The boundary crossing is an erotic fantasy, self-consciously enacted by consenting wrestlers willingly, sometimes eagerly, rather than real-life boundary crossing perpetrated as an unwanted violation of consent.

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I’ve never seen a wrestling contract from BG East or W4H or Can-Am or Naked Kombat. I’ve never sat in on labor negotiations or match planning. But as a consumer, I’m assuming a foundation of consent, that the fine, hot hunks that populate my screen have signed up for the sexy situations that they find themselves in. I’d feel like an accomplice to a crime if I actually thought that IRL Bryan Powers was put in restraints in the corner and forced to watch helplessly as his sexy little fuck buddy Liam Ryan was beaten senseless, groped relentlessly, and force-fed Shane McCall’s cock as Shane and BBW made out over top of him, turned on by their cruel domination. If all 4 of the wrestlers didn’t sign-up for, at the very least, the possibility of the erotic turns and double-teaming injustice that played out, then that match would be prosecutable. The pretense of being overpowered and forced into sexually compromised positions only works for my fantasy life if there was consent from the start.

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The role of consent in my erotic fantasies has been explicitly on my mind for a long time. I remember rewriting, multiple times, one of my first homoerotic wrestling fiction stories, as I brought into focus the blurred lines of consent. The match was careening headlong into the winner fucking the unwilling loser.  But as the words hit the page, I actually felt pity for the loser. Even the imaginary violation of consent was such a buzz kill, and it sent me backward into the narrative, to figure out whether the hottest telling of my fantasy would be established on clarifying the mutually agreed upon stakes, or if the match needed to head a different direction all together.

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The idea of consent pops up in other ways in my blogging history. Along the way, I’ve requested, and received, permission from copyright owners to post images from homoerotic wrestling productions. Sometimes they have specific parameters within which they give me permission to post. One producer has specified that I not re-post their images that include nudity, for example. Also, in about 10 years of active blogging, there’s been about a dozen times when someone featured in an image I’ve posted has requested the image be removed. I always do, whether they are the copyright owners or not. I do my best to celebrate homoerotic wrestling and wrestlers, and the underlying consent of the hunks seems essential to demonstrating the relationship that I want to have with the genre, built on consent.

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I once pressed Muscle Master Kevin at MDW on the topic of the use of gay slurs. MDW isn’t the only company that’s invoked the themes of humiliating “the sissies,” of course. MMK seemed quite honestly surprised to hear me say that I felt resentment about it. He explained that it comes from his private fans and MDW fans who specifically call for it, who demand it as a crucial component of what gets them off.  I had to sit with that for a while, frankly. In the end, I decided that my job isn’t to police anyone else’s erotic fantasies. As long as everyone understands that it’s mutually negotiated, then what does it matter what my critique of internalized homophobia may be? Helpfully, MMK suggested they would do a better job of labeling their products, so that those willingly seeking out homoerotic material featuring anti-gay themes could find what they need, and the rest of us can steer clear. I’m not exactly thrilled that there’s a significant market for gay guys wanting to get off on being gay bashed (at least figuratively), but if everyone involved is consenting, what does it matter what I think?

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Maybe #speakout will trickle down to homoerotic wrestling, and we’ll learn that there’s not always fully informed consent operating on camera, or that there’s harassment or assault off camera. I’ve heard rumors, but no first-hand accounts. For the record, I’m only interested in celebrating homoerotic wrestling in which what shows up on camera reflects willing consent (and hopefully eager enthusiasm) of the wrestlers involved. If there are aggressive liplocks, ripped off gear, muscle groping, cock stroking, sexual domination, erotic humiliation, humping, frottage, or full on fucking, then it should be willingly consented to by all parties involved. If it isn’t, I don’t want to watch it or promote it. If there are any hot, naive young hunks who show up on camera not knowing that the whole purpose of the product is for gay guys to jerk off to them, they should be informed. I think there’s a problem with fully informed consent, otherwise, and I don’t want to be crushing on some hot young muscle hunk who’s desperately ashamed and feeling duped to be associated with homoeroticism.

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If I go to wrestling-for-gay-eyes sites and see guys feeling each other up, grabbing each other’s crotches, sucking on each other’s nipples, bumping and grinding, stripping naked, making out, getting hard, dick whipping, cock sucking, muscle worshiping, or, best of all, doing all of the above in a ring full of baby oil with a dozen other like minded, fully aroused beefcakes celebrating the homoeroticism of wrestling for kindred spirits to enjoy over and over again on an endless repeat recording, then I fully expect everyone to have willingly consented, and hopefully exuberantly endorsed the production of an erotic wrestling fantasy. If anyone in mainstream pro wrestling, underground wrestling, homoerotic wrestling, or anyone else, thinks that they’re entitled to coerce, manipulate, or physically force anyone else against their will to participate in your erotic fantasy, I think that’s creepy and should be shut down every time. If your fantasy includes coercion, enjoy the creative and inspired artists, athletes, and producers who can indulge that fantasy without anyone being harmed, dehumanized, or criminally assaulted. Otherwise, stay in your own lane, and keep the eroticism out of your wrestling lives.

The Best: Heel

The Battle to Be the Best Heel could not have turned out more competitively and suspenseful! Brooklyn Bodywrecker and Kid Leopard traded the lead in voting at least a dozen times. Every time I checked the poll, momentum had swung a different direction. BBW opened up some distance relatively early on, and I thought KL was about to be buried under all that hairy, horny muscle like all of the rest. But holy fuck, do NOT count the Boss out prematurely! It’s been two days of heavy voting, though, and I’m calling it as of this moment. With not quite 51% of the vote, there’s just one vicious son of a bitch left standing. Check out David’s blow by blow in the comments, but in the end, his version of the match equivalent of voting did not end up the way the voting did. Because nobody, but NOBODY pulls off a gut check homoerotic badass heel beatdown like The Boss, Kid Leopard.

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Maybe someone can write a new blow by blow of the match equivalent of this balls out slug fest. As for me, I picture them 45-minutes into this non-stop battle, gear ripped to shreds and discarded. Both sadistic masters are soaked in sweat, exhausted, and fully erect. BBW has been exploiting his weight advantage, and he now has KL torture racked, doing laps in the ring as he wrings KL’s neck with one hand and crushes his balls with the other. KL’s big, beautiful cock is bobbing back and forth. As has happened so many times in this match, BBW locks down a finisher that’s turned every other opponent into a sniveling, begging, bitch boy ready to pledge allegiance to their new master, but KL refuses to submit, despite his dire straights. Minutes of ripping at him, slowly circling, BBW keeps growling and barking, demanding the submission, growing frustrated that his opponent just won’t acknowledge the truth that he’s helplessly conquered. BBW’s beefy legs quiver, and he suddenly stumbles over his own feet, abruptly dropping to his knees as KL rolls off of his back. BBW pounds the mat furiously, enraged, with growing self-doubt. KL writhes behind him, struggling to pull his gasping face off the mat. His gorgeous, smooth body is marked all over with angry bruises and rope burns. Just as he pulls himself up to his hands and knees, BBW is standing next to him, driving a vile place kick into his ribs that lifts KL off the mat and sends him sprawling to this back. BBW is snarling and spitting, promising to take the title, to take KL’s magnificent dancer’s ass, to take possession of his will, and to take over the homoerotic wrestling empire KL has built.

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It was that last bit the make’s KL’s eyes widen, his nostrils flare, and his arm jut out and sweep BBW’s leg out from underneath him just as he’s about to drive another place kick into his opponent’s ribs. Exhausted, BBW lands hard, flat on his back. Slowly, but faster than his opponent can counter, KL slides in between BBW’s spread-eagled hairy legs. Snapping his legs around one leg and prying BBW’s other leg open wide with this shoulder, KL spladles his rival violently. BBW reaches his hands down toward his quivering inner thighs with shock on his face. “No, no, no,” he begs, a moment before KL rabbit punches him in the balls. “Let’s see how those balls of steel hold up now,” KL snarls like the villain he is. Fists rain down. Elbow strikes dig deep into BBW’s swollen testicles. At first, there’s a masochistic grin stretched across his face as he savors the ball abuse, his jackhammer swelling that much harder, stretching magnificently over his hairy lower abdomen. But as the onslaught wears on, BBW’s grin is interrupted by twangs of suffering, as even his notoriously high pain threshold is approached and then exceeded. KL throttles his sac. He twists and pries it away from BBW’s body. He crushes it in one hand, and as BBW starts groaning in pain, KL begins sliding his other hand slowly up and down BBW’s throbbing shaft. BBW’ hips rise off the mat as he approaches orgasm. His eyes roll into the back of his head as his neck arches and his mouth gapes. KL’s hand slows precipitously, eliciting a gasp of desperation from his quarry. “Oh, fuck, no,” BBW mutters. KL cranks on his shaft harder and faster again, turning his opponent’s protests into purrs. A few second later, as BBW’s lower back is arched high, his cock pulsing in anticipation, KL lets go entirely and slaps the straining, captured cock dismissively. “Fuck,” BBW mewls, reaching down to put himself over. KL swats his hands away from his cock, refusing to permit him to satisfy himself. “Who’s your fucking daddy now,” KL asks, slowly wrapping the fingers of one hand around BBW’s cock again and flicking its head with his thumb. “Who’s your daddy, punk,” KL demands, his hand perfectly still but at the ready. “Please,” BBW mutters. “Please,” he whispers. “Who’s your daddy, punk,” KL barks at him, shaking his cock violently once.

“You are, you are,” BBW whispers, self-loathing in his face. “Say it for all the boys to know, once and for all,” KL barks, slowly starting to massage his cock again. “Who is it? Who’s your daddy, punk?” BBW swallows hard, his eyes closed, his glutes flexed and his lower back arching off the mat. “It’s Kid Leopard,” BBW gasps, his voice spiking an octave. “Kid Leopard is my daddy!

… or at least that’s how I see it. Congratulations to BBW on an incredible run, but all hail the king, the heel in charge, The Boss himself, Kid Leopard. The Best Heel.

The Battle to Be the Best: Heel

Woah. I haven’t seen Cage Thunder manhandled so completely since Mitch Colby stripped him naked and smothered him in his massive pecs. Brooklyn Bodywrecker rolled right over him, and I think David sums up the defeat perfectly with his description of Cage Thunder battered unconscious, hung in a tree of woe, and taken advantage of in his helplessness.

Again, I ask, is there anyone who can knock BBW’s muscle ass off the throne? There are plenty more heels in the business, but we’ve nearly cleared that top shelf of sadistic masters who I think could pose a serious challenge. The only heel left who I can think of who is vile enough to put BBW in his place is heel daddy himself, the magnificent hunk who basically invented the homoerotic heel, Kid Leopard.

On the left, sitting pretty and smirking, muscle heel daddy Brooklyn Bodywrecker (5’9″, 190 lbs) vs. on the right, the prototype, the Boss himself, Kid Leopard (5’8″, 160 lbs).

This is an epic showdown, so consider carefully. Vote wisely, and comment below how you see this clash of legends coming to it’s historic climax.

The Battle to Be the Best: Heel

I thought Kid Vicious was going to dethrone Brooklyn Bodywrecker, when he jumped out to an early lead in the voting. But BBW started to slowly pull away, and KV just wasn’t able to reel him back in. I don’t weigh in so forcefully most days, but I have to say that I voted full heartedly for KV, and I have a searing image of him pounding the fuck out of BBW’s back in an OTK, and working his cock and balls with both hands and his mouth until he’s drained him dry. Since submission by emission isn’t spelled out in the rules, however, I suppose I can forgive KV for prematurely celebrating the victory, dumping BBW off his knee and backing into a corner to demand BBW service his monster cock in return. BBW plays along with the misunderstanding, climbing out to stand on the ring apron and wrap his arms around KV from behind, violently throttling his Louisville slugger, before he suddenly snaps on a sleeper and rag dolls KV until he’s knocked out cold.

The ranks of heels who could seriously challenge Brooklyn Bodywrecker are shrinking. One challenge he hasn’t faced yet is the diabolical mystery of a notoriously nasty heel in a mask. I’m pulling out the signed photo of Cage Thunder I possess and kissing his crotch for good luck as he climbs into the ring and lowers the boom on the reigning champ.

On the left, muscle bear daddy Brooklyn Bodywrecker (5″11, 190 lbs) vs. the masked terrorizer Cage Thunder (5’11”, 180 lbs).

Which sadistic legend wrings out the other? Vote here, and comment below to describe how you see this breaking one way or the other.

The Battle to Be the Best: Heel

The face off between Brooklyn Bodywrecker and Guido Genatto was not a typical match for either dominant bear daddy. There was some tough back and forth early on in voting, but after some serious social media campaigning, BBW started to roll all over the Dirty Daddy. Read David’s blow by blow description of how he sees this match playing out, including some sweet, hard lessons learned by Guido for some of his well known indiscretions regarding letting his homophobia show (I’m sure he’s not the only one familiar with anti-gay slurs, but he did have the bad taste to pull them out in OUR ring). So there’s some kick-ass karma at play in picturing full throttle sex gladiator BBW beating him bad. The choicest part of David’s match description is when BBW scoops Guido’s worn out, naked body up, cradled across his chest, and then pounds him down into an OTK to wear out his cock and balls. David pictures Guido passing out in the end, but personally, I see Guido weeping and begging for mercy from his heel daddy, submitting everything, flat on his belly, locked up in a full nelson with BBW’s hungry cock knocking on the door.

With three victories under his belt, is BBW unstoppable? He’s wrecked the bodies of a variety of vicious heel opponents, but there’s a deep, deep bench of heels who almost certainly want their crack at him. But I think we’re going to have to pull from the top shelf of homoerotic legends to give BBW a serious challenge. And I can’t think of anyone more serious, more sadistic, more of a dominant sexual gladiator, more… vicious, than Kid Vicious.

On the left, muscle bear daddy Brooklyn Bodywrecker (5’11, 190 pounds) vs. the viper Kid Vicious (6’1″, 170 pounds).

I have no idea who may win in the vote (vote below), but I’m sure a match between these two would be violently explosive. Share your thoughts about how the victor seals the deal in the comments below.

The Battle to Be the Best: Heel

Some of the notoriously fierce Jonny Firestorm fans couldn’t help themselves but register their votes for Brooklyn Bodywrecker. That’s serious endorsement for BBW to keep rolling through the BBB heel competition! Check out David’s full force fuck stakes heel bash match description in the comments. I picture this as BBW in control the first and last thirds of the match, with Jonny working some of his pro heel magic there in the middle. But in the end, torture racked and cock throttled, sweat and tears pouring off him, Jonny cries and begs until BBW has added him to his stable of daddy’s boys. BBW collars him with a leash and makes him crawl on his hands and knees behind him as they leave the ring room.

While BBW has had his way with a couple of vicious heel cubs, how does he do against another undefeated, massively muscled notorious bear daddy? And who fits that bill better than Dirty Daddy himself, Guido Genatto? You have to ask yourself what the chemical composition would be when high impact indy pro power squares off against a legendary master of sadistic homoerotic domination. What do you answer?

On the left, defending the title for the third time, muscle bear daddy Brooklyn Bodywrecker (5’11”, 190 pounds) vs., on the right, Guido “Dirty Daddy” Genatto (5’10”, 235 pounds).

Not that it needs to be repeated, but their are no rules, no ref, and knowing these two guys, no common decency. Just a ring, and the open question of who secures a submission or knock out to advance his claim to be the best heel of them all? Vote here, and comment below how you see this daddy-down playing out.

The Battle to Be the Best: Heel

Brooklyn Bodywrecker did not take kindly to Kayden Keller’s expressed intention to unseat him as the hottest erotic heel in BG East history. BBW took the victory in the voting by 2-to-1. I never find Kayden sexier than when he has to dig his way out of a deficit, but he just couldn’t stand the onslaught of BBW’s sadistic erotic offense. Read David’s blow by blow of the action in the comments, because it’s dizzyingly hot. I picture the climax of this face-off including Kayden choke slammed repeatedly, and then spreadeagled across the ropes, hanging in a corner. BBW milks Kayden’s battered cock, and then force feeds him his own. I think he could knock Kayden out at will, but BBW wouldn’t be satisfied until Kayden has submitted, body and soul, pledging to obey his new daddy until the day he dares make another run to beat him in the ring. BBW hoists his new boy over a shoulder, spanking his naked ass as he leaves the ring room with a new acolyte.

On the one hand, who in the fuck can unseat BBW? On the other hand, have you seen the deep bench of nasty ass heels in the homoerotic wrestling business?! For the next match-up, I’m picturing a stark contrast of size, strength, and style to see if a super-popular pro-heel turned homoerotic legend can get under BBW’s skin. Kayden pulled off an upset in taking the BG East title as Best Heel from multi-winner Jonny Firestorm, so let’s see if Jonny can get double redemption here today.

On the left, defending his claim on the title, muscle bear daddy Brooklyn Bodywrecker  (5’11”, 190 pounds) vs. on the right, Jonny “the Ballbasher” Firestorm (5’5″, 145 pounds).

The first to wring out a submission or knockout in the ring advances, but the real fun is in how it goes down. So vote here, and share your ideas about what turns the tables one way or the other.

The Battle to Be the Best: Heel

Voting was very heavy in yesterday’s Battle to Be the Best Heel. With a fierce social media campaign, Kayden Keller made certain it wasn’t even close. It’s the equivalent of wrestling match with some legitimate back and forth offense, but soon enough, it was all going Kayden’s way. David wrote the entire match description in the comments, featuring a ton of low blows and dirty moves, apropos of a heel on heel battle. Personally, I picture this face off featuring a ton of Morgan monologuing, lording it over Kayden when he’s on top, dropping his endless, snarling references to being the “alpha dog” and the “real man.” So once Kayden has clawed his way back into the driver’s seat (which is the sexiest part of Kayden’s matches for me), he has to gag Morgan with his own trunks to shut him up. I picture Kayden sitting on the top turnbuckle with Morgan hanging, feet off the ground, from a suspended sleeper until he’s out cold. And then, on behalf of all of us who want someone to shut Morgan up, Kayden rouses him back to consciousness with his cock shoved down the Morgan’s throat. A naked pony ride (Mastodon ride?) around the ring with big Kayden’s cock pressed between Morgan’s hairy, muscled ass cheeks would leave that lasting impression that Morgan would need to never call himself “alpha dog” ever again.

In Kayden’s social media campaign to get out the vote, he mentioned his intention to officially take the title of the best erotic heel in BG East history from Brooklyn Bodywrecker.  So, who better to climb into the ring next to put The Controller to the test? Ignore chronology. BBW at his peak versus Kayden at his best. Who wins? And how?

On the left, out for his second victory of this competition, Kayden “The Controller” Keller (6’2″, 175 pounds) versus on the right, the prototype of muscle bear daddies, Brooklyn Bodywrecker (5’11”, 190 pounds).

In the ring. No rules. Victory by submission or knockout. Knowing the work of both of these hunks, I guarantee you the trunks are coming off. Vote below for who you think is the last heel standing, and share how you picture this being decided in the comments below.

Stand and Deliver

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.

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Kid Karisma’s massive rugby thighs know what I’m talking about in Gazebo Grapplers 17.

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.

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Brooklyn Bodywrecker was the master of the standing headscissors.

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.

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Marco looks ready to get off on crushing TAK between his massively muscled thighs.

In any case, let’s drink a toast to summer, and the hot, powerful, punishing legs that now come out to play.

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Wade Cutler feels the squeeze in Hard Pros 6.
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Standing headscissors look so fine with the sun glistening off of oiled bodies.
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Kickboxer Brigham Bell keeps babyface Tommy Tara in place between his crushing legs with an assist from the ropes.
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Someone is almost as excited to lock on this hold as I am to watch him do it!
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Jeremy Burk grabs hold of Bulldog Barzini’s gargantuan thighs and holds on for dear life.
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Possibly the thickest thighs in the business put to their best use, whenever Mike Columbo did this.
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Look at me when I’m talking to you, boy!
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You’ve got hands, you gorgeous hunk. Use them!
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One last shot of my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler demonstrating he knows what drives me crazy.

Expiration Dates

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.

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Billy Lodi looks like a high school sophomore and wrestles like a wildcat.

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.

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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.

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Mitch Colby started homoerotic wrestling only after his phenomenal physique was aged to perfection.

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.

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Go on, Alexi. Take a look at the “old man” who just put you down.

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.

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Bear daddy Brooklyn Bodywrecker takes full possession of every naked inch of Joshua Goodman (though we only see his gorgeous backside).

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.”

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Christopher Bruce was a luscious babyface during his first stint with BG East well over a decade ago.

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.

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Take a good look at an “old man” of the ring, Jonny!

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.

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Dirk Caber is reported to have only started muscling up and settling into porn at age 30. With a handsome, grey beard and insanely hot, mature beef, he is a raging bull when he wrestles and fucks for Naked Kombat.

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.

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Shane McCall returned to BG East competition this past year as a more mature, salt-n-pepper bearded bear daddy with a crazy sexy belly and a fierce readiness to teach twink Ty a thing or two (or twenty) in Catchweight 6.

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.