Tag: Bud Orton

Can You Lend a Hand?

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My post yesterday omitted what is for many, perhaps, the most important sexual behavior of all: masturbating. I’ve heard rumor that there are guys out there that don’t even participate in this mode of orgasm, but no one has actually ever admitted it to me. When it comes to porn in general and in particular homoerotic wrestling kink (whether we want to characterize our favorite matches as “porn” is still entirely another conversation), I suppose the most common mode of consumption is isolated self-stimulating with just the recorded images, the viewer, and his imagination (and, of course, his hand). There’s an element of voyeuristic kink here. To watch, not to directly participate, as an end in and of itself, clearly relieves tension for (nearly?) all of us, and for some of us, it’s the exclusive means of carnal delights.

I’m a big fan of taking care of my own business on a routine basis. And 19 times out of 20, homoerotic wrestling is precisely the means for that private end. To watch two beautiful men wrestle hard is entirely arousing to me, even when I’m watching it remotely. I know my own body better than any one else does, so a private session with just me and a DVD can be profoundly satisfying. I know the right pace and pressure, the right amount of friction, to make the pleasure profoundly satisfying. I can anticipate the images, the sounds, the scenarios that will put me over the top, and with that knowledge I can stretch the duration of play much longer than any other partner has ever managed. 

Perhaps it’s the act of solitary masturbating, focused on images of male bodies, that is the quintessential “behavior” of gay sex, ironically. But I have to commend diversifying the portfolio for those of you who find yourself sticking to this formula exclusively. First, finding a partner who can enjoy the kink of watching homoerotic wrestling with you is such an intensely erotic joy. So many of us have spent so much time nurturing our kink with the curtains drawn, at least half-ashamed, drawn within ourselves. But clearly there are plenty of others out there, and sharing the joy of watching what gets you off with someone else who gets off that way too is powerful. Some of my most enthusiastic moments with a partner have a grunting, groaning, trash talking BGE soundtrack playing in the background, multiplying what’s going right for me in that moment many times over. Getting inspired by the action on screen can also segue into a fantastic translation in real time. Sliding a lover between your legs and squeezing him in a gasp-inspiring body scissors at the same time that your homoerotic wrestling hero does the same thing up on the wall is just all sorts of right. The intimacy is simply unmatched when you’ve got a partner to share everything that turns you both on.

Even if other items on the menu don’t seal the deal for you, I think there’s something more fulfilling and lasting about jerking off with (or in the hands of) a partner than by yourself. There’s just something centering and grounding in our own humanity about an orgasm witnessed and an orgasm shared. Now, you know what a major fan I am of the erotic imagination, but I’m a little skeptical of the completely inwardly drawn imagination that can end up entirely isolating us as sexual performers. I simply love that physical presence, the adoring stroke, that wonderful moment that never loses its novelty for me when I find myself feeling incredibly awed to be naked and vulnerable and powerful and intimately present with another man. And there’s just nothing as intimately personal as seeing another man’s cum-face.

So these last two posts make me feel a little like I’m playing Dr. Ruth. It’s not my intention to sound like the sexpert or to cast another marginalizing net around what should be considered “normal.” I’m all for your sexual satisfaction, at least as far as it comes from an act of mutual, consenting pleasures. I just think it’s worth saying that what defines the crowd that tends to read this blog shouldn’t be something that removes us from pleasures shared. We don’t all have to live up to the physical standards or peak performances of our homoerotic wrestling heroes, by any means. But we can take a cue from them that there’s a whole world of erotic pleasures and beautiful men to share them with.

There is No Debate

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It’s the time of year in America when state and local elections hit the fan. Depending on where you live, you may be seeing a lot of homophobic, hateful campaigning (like I am) around polarizing candidates or statewide initiatives. It seems like pretty much every year, lately, the gays go up for a vote. And every year, we get sucked into believing that our liberation, our dignity, our very identities are at stake as our neighbors go and vote based on how bigoted or “tolerant” they are. If you’re like me, you can’t help but get swept up in it, to get anxious, to fear what happens if the votes go the “wrong way” or the hateful candidates (perhaps once again) win the day.


So today’s post is both for you and for me: Breathe. Calm down. Turn off the television and the radio and stop reading the op-eds. Remind yourself that there is no vote that will determine whether you are acceptable or respectable. No hateful candidate will ever be able to legislate away the beautiful, passionate, precious person that you are. Your dignity is not in the hands of any citizens initiative. The haters can hate and the tolerant can tolerate, but that has nothing to do with the fucking fabulous human being you are, and they will never be able to do anything about your capacity to love and be loved.

So the next time you think they’re voting about you, or legislating about you, or judging about you, flip them the bird and consider these two gems:

1) First, if you haven’t seen it, you must check out this amazing commentary from the man who was robbed (ROBBED I say!) of the opportunity to run for the presidency (only) on the South Carolina ballot last year. This offers a nice, fresh perspective from my favorite “conservative” pundit:

The Colbert Report Mon – Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
The Word – Don’t Ask Don’t Tell
www.colbertnation.com
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor Religion


2) And second, just consider all the things that they cannot take away from us, no how, no way: Like Greek gods barely squeezed into black leather pants.
And amazing, shiny bodies that will be worshipped, whether they want it or not (and they do).
And massive pecs crying out for someone to thoroughly lick them.
And stunning bodies telling the timeless tale of domination and submission, cocky control and sublime suffering, power and surrender, mastery and compliance.
Who we are, the dignity with which we live, and the passion that makes our hearts pump faster is not up for debate.

The Substance of Wrestling

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Someone who recently signed up to read my gay wrestling fiction commented that, after reading this blog, he thinks that he’s just as much a fan of sweaty, naked men as I am. There was something sort of competitive about the comment, which, frankly, seems entirely in keeping with the spirit of what turns me on. So in honor of those who get an extra thrill from slippery, sweaty muscle-bods, here are a few of my favorite things: sweaty, naked grappling.

Some guys are just gifted in breaking out into sexy, soaking sweat. Sweat becomes a major (hot) feature of Casey Cutler’s mat action against Bud Orton in the BG East classic X-Fights 20. Orton looks like he stepped out of the shower about two minutes into the tussle, causing Casey to comment that he’s just too damn slippery to keep hold of! A breather between falls features mutual toweling off that turns into some sensual displays of muscle and power. Both hardbodies are naked and sliding across each other and the mat before the tale is told. While it falls just shy of full on body worship, I love this match for the humor, the explicit sensuality, and, most of all, the slippery, sweat soaked muscles! But what happened to the Wade Cutler/Doug Warren match from this set (or anything having to do with Doug Warren)!? I’m so glad I got my copy before it was dropped. While not nearly as sweaty, it could never be a bad thing to see Wade Cutler drop his delicious bubble butt across anyone’s face.
I’ve mentioned it before, and I’ll likely wax adoringly about it again, but Mitch Colby and Derek DaSilva are both champion sweat-studs. In their recent head-to-head in Crotch Crushers, they’re both soaked within minutes, making a freshly tanned Mitch absolutely glow. While Mitch stays in his trunks (I cry foul!!!), Derek is stripped and hard as a board halfway through the match. While ball torture isn’t really my idea of fun, I confess to being completely awestruck by the sight of a soaking wet Derek pleading for Mitch to pound his balls more as he’s heading to his climax.
I recently re-watched old-school workhorses Rob Cryston and Eduardo in Rip ‘n’ Strip Wrestling for Close-Up Entertainment (found on Can-Am’s site). Like Derek DaSilva, these muscle warriors quickly find their hairy bodies soaked in sweat. Despite some very up close and personal ball licking, Cryston and Eduardo don’t quite convince me that they’re actually enjoying the battle. The lack of chemistry is off-set, though, by Eduardo’s fantastically hairy pecs shimmering with a sheen of sweat.

I’m always on the look out for some genuinely sexy, sweaty action, so let me know if you have some favorites I haven’t mentioned. Sweat brings all the senses into focus in a homoerotic wrestling match, I think. The tactile joy of bodies slipping and sliding… what must be the fantastic musk of man scent… the sound of wet bodies slapping together… the salty taste of the evidence of sincerely hardworking men grinding and pounding. Needless to say, the sight of sweaty, naked bodies on the mats or in the ring is a thing of beauty, if you ask me.