Tag: Cameron Mathews

Testimonials

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Naked Kombat’s Phenix Saint explains his plans in his pre-match interview this week. “My strategy is to get him with the speed and the agility, and I have the experience. And I’m going to use everything against him, and let him think he’s in control. And just when he thinks so, I’m going to…” Phenix snaps his fingers, “…flip it on him. Bam-bam-bam!” he mimes spanking his opponent’s ass. “And bam-bam-bam!” he illustrates three quick punches.”

It’s the “bam-bam-bams” that spike my wrestling kink! Fight dialogue (before, during, after) exponentiates the erotic in homoerotic wrestling, for my tastes. You’ve heard this from me before, many times. Everything about homoerotic wrestling works on me, but what comes out of a wrestler’s mouth can be a turbo boost to the already fantastic formula of hot bodies, skimpy gear, sexy swagger and intimately dominating physical combat. The testimonial is a particularly entertaining vehicle for highly eroticized wrestling text. Naked Kombat plays this up in every match, requiring that wrestlers stand silently, with their backs to the camera, listening as their opponents trash talk and make their predictions about just how much humiliation that they’ve got in store for the poor loser behind them.

“Hi, I’m Rusty Stevens,” Rusty introduced himself before his oil match with Tommy Defendi. “Six foot. 190 pounds. I’m 3-and-0 here on Naked Kombat, soon to be 4-and-0. I’ve called that win out before each fight,” Rusty flexes his left tricep and examines it nonchalantly, “and I’m calling it again.” Rusty has got to be the premiere deliverer of the erotic delights of pre- and post-match trash talk. With his totally smokin’ body, he always bragged that he didn’t bother training for his matches because he knew that his opponent would be a piece of cake. “My strategy,” Rusty explained before his match with Tommy, “is to tire him out so bad that I throw him around like a little doll. When I beat my opponent, first I’ll ride him around like a pony, then I’m going to apply the usual fish hooks, but then I’ve got some new tricks that I’m going to try on him today,” Rusty rubs the palms of his hands together eagerly, “and he’s not going to like. That’s what the loser gets.”

The “here’s-what-I’m-going-to-do” chat feels a whole lot like foreplay between me and the wrestler giving me his blueprint for destroying his opponent. On Top Wrestling had that format, at least for the few OTW matches I saw (almost entirely to obsess over celestial, golden musclegod, Steve Shannon). Each wrestler would take turns with a close-up testimonial, explaining why it is he expected to come out on top. Steve Shannon, as I remember it, was always selling an “aw, shucks” banter that made me putty in his hands. With my eyes hungrily sucking up every twitch and tremor of his incredible body, Steve would point out that his opponent looks big and awfully impressive, but hopefully he’ll manage to out-hustle him into a submission or two. I always feel a little guilty when I find myself sucked into pining for a prettyboy, knight-in-white victory of the good guy.

Of course, I never feel that guilt when enjoying a Rusty Stevens match. And I’m equally as aroused by the “that’s-what-I-just-did”chat, when a sweat soaked victor, his chest still heaving as his lungs suck in recuperative oxygen, snidely delivers the blow-by-blow retrospective on his dominating ways. Unlike many/most Naked Kombat wrestlers, Rusty never breaks character even when all is said and done. “Tell me I didn’t call that one. Tell me I didn’t call that one!” Rusty challenges the off-camera interviewer for the post-mortem of his match with Tommy. “He put up a fight, I’ll give him that. Uh, I think he’s got a little ‘boo-boo’ on his forehead, or something. Pretty much everything I tried worked for me. The only thing I couldn’t do was the grapevine hold in the oil match, because as soon as I’d get him in the hold, he’d slip right out…. My first oil match. It was hot, though. Cause, like, I remember when my stomach was sliding across his, and I was hard and my dick was bent down, it felt like I was fucking, the whole, like 3-feet that I slid across him. It was like, ‘Oh yes, I’m already topping, I’m already topping.” In response to the question of when Rusty realized that he had the match in the bag, Rusty skips no more than half a beat. “When I got on the airplane to come here this morning. Or maybe it was the cinnamon roll, cause that was my carbs for the day.” Advice for your opponent, Rusty? “A word of advice? Uh, yeah, try training with your little sister, cause training by yourself sure as hell ain’t working. And maybe she could teach you something like the nails or the kick to the balls or something you might actually be able to use. Cause all that sliding around shit, what was the score? 50-something to 5? Yeah, this isn’t even sweat, this is still oil from the oil match!” Rusty didn’t need to keep humiliating Tommy. He’d had his way with him in every humiliating possibility for the prior 50 minutes, so this post-match testimonial didn’t amount to anything more. But Rusty reaches right in and grabs hold of my wrestling kink with his relentless, dominating, humiliating trash talk absolutely crushing Tommy Defendi’s ego into dust on that mat.

Thunder’s Arena taps into this banter-angle just a bit in their members-only section, with testimonial mash-ups with some of their headliners. Before his match with BamBam, Cameron Mathews lounges on the couch at Thunder’s Arena wearing only the scant evidence of brief red trunks. “Hey guys, how ya doing?” he asks the camera, all friendly-like. “I’m just relaxing, waiting for my ‘big’ match with BamBam.” Cameron sighs. “Probably the typical Thunder’s Arena jobber.” He flexes his left bicep and admires himself. “Not like me,” he explains, “the champ. Just loungin’ around. I skipped going to the gym today. Figured I didn’t need it. So we’ll see how it goes. Maybe… maybe I’ll let him get a couple of moves in… probably not. Maybe I’ll even let him win. Unlikely. But at least watch it so you get to see me,” Cameron flexes his right bicep, “and me,” he flexes his left, “doing what I do best.”

Rock Hard Wrestling has done just a little of the wrestler testimonial to help set the scene, but not much. BG East and Can-Am don’t seem to work this much at all, as far as I can think of, though I think it’s perfectly pitched for BG East’s pro-style ring matches. I’d love to see some old-school professional wrestling interviews pre- and post-match with the likes of Lon Dumont, Jonny Firestorm, Denny Cartier and Kid Karisma, in order to blow out the confines of the wrestling fantasy moment even more. A little “here’s-what-I’m-going-to-do” strutting from both hopefuls, and the “that’s-what-I-just-did” sweat-soaked gloating victor, would go a long way to cranking my homoerotic wrestling kink with both hands.

“This is Rusty Stevens, and I’m still 4-and-0 on Naked Kombat!”

Yes, Actually

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A few of you have told me that you don’t agree with me when it comes to my take on the gay panic story in homoerotic wrestling scenarios. Personally, I find it a turn off when a homoerotic wrestling story depends on gay panic to make sense of the combat. When one wrestler finds himself enraged by some overtly erotic moment in the match, causing him to tap into a seemingly desperate wave of vicious brutality, it all feels like so much internalized homophobia.

So when halfway through Thunder’s Arena’s No Holds Barred 7, when Cameron Matthews plants an aggressive, adamant kiss squarely across the lips of Ace Hanson, it’s no wonder that a red flag flew in the back of my mind to watch Ace’s reaction. Ace tosses Cameron all over the place like a rag doll, grabbing his fight gloves to signal that he’s all business now. “You done crossed the line with that one, buddy!” Ace snarls.

The spike in my anxiety that this truly delightful homoerotic wrestling match is turning homophobic slowly evaporates though. I was already fully on board with being turned on by the Ace v Cameron face-off. Both boys are total work horses for Thunder’s Arena, bringing their gorgeous bodies and their respective skill sets in high quality homoerotic wrestling entertainment.

There’s a lot of mutual admiration that happens early on, and I like that. Both boys do a little trash talking, but mixed with some grudging respect. Ace acknowledges that Cameron has been putting on a few pounds of muscle lately. When they initially lock up, Ace can’t help but admit that Cameron is impressively strong.

Thunder’s Arena is becoming the master of the double entendre, and Cameron and Ace are certainly two of the most accomplished practitioners of sexual innuendo out there. When Cameron slaps on a double arm bar, for example, displaying Ace’s beefy physique to perfection, Ace gasps in pain, startled at the decisiveness with which Cameron is dominating him. “Uh!” Ace grunts with a note of panic. “You got that one in pretty deep!”
“Oh, I can go deeper,” Cameron snarls behind him. A little later, when Cameron has Ace uncharacteristically on his back and suffering, Cameron congratulates himself. “Oh man, I love taking big men down.”
Both boys take turns cranking hard on face-to-crotch headscissors, with accompanying trash talk that completely works for me. When inevitably outmuscled, Cameron evens the playing field with some nasty-looking ball claws that I completely buy. The boys hold my attention and tell a very fulfilling story of a muscle-on-muscle battle for domination, with two big egos slapping down extremely attractive sharp wits.
But then there’s that moment when Ace seems to be tapping into his inner Dan White. All my built up excitement from the action thus far begins to waver. Are these guys just another couple of straight boys hating on the very audience that buys this shit in the first place?
Ace flings Cameron’s sweet body all over the place, as Cameron tries to de-escalate the big man’s ferocity. “I didn’t mean it!” Cameron gasps desperately. “You’re not even my type!”

Surprisingly, though, Ace and Cameron never waver from a homoerotic true-line. It appears that the line that Cameron has crossed hasn’t tripped Ace’s inner-homophobe so much as Ace’s dominating muscle lust. “You wanna get freaky, huh!?” Ace barks at Cameron. Shoving Cameron’s face in his crotch in a tit-for-tat humiliating head scissor, Ace crows, “Is this what you like so much!? Here, let me show you a little closer.” Cameron taps Ace’s ass frantically in submission, but Ace refuses to let him up. He slides his hips backward, grinding his crotch into Cameron’s as he stretches his sweat-soaked, muscle torso overtop of his smart ass opponent, pinning him helplessly underneath his gorgeous bulk. “Stop squirming Cameron,” he mutters as he swivels his hips slowly. “You’re just like my little sweat towel,” he says almost lovingly as he wipes the sweat from his forehead onto Cameron’s face. Slapping a cheek-to-sweaty-cheek sleeper on, Ace moans passionately, “Come on… come on….”

Cameron groans, “I’m coming…” Ace returns the favor for all that ball torture Cameron treated him to earlier. Some truly gasp-worthy maneuvers include one of Ace’s hand clawing at Cameron’s testicles, the other wrapped around his throat, military pressing him overhead. Some incredibly high impact and all-in power squashing happens here that’s undeniably hot.

But what finally sells me is Ace. As he systematically crushes Cameron, ignoring submission after submission in order to beat his boy relentlessly, Ace starts to take full possession of his opponent. With Cameron trapped flat on his back underneath him, yet again, Ace strokes Cameron’s muscles and squeezes his left bicep, marveling that Cameron is hard and pumped from all his exertions. “Feel a little lower,” Cameron mutters, suggesting that it isn’t just his bicep that’s hard and pumped. The grin on Ace’s face grows bigger as he strokes and massages Cameron in hold after hold. He squeezes Cameron’s pecs and thighs. He comes back over and over to Cameron’s impressively big biceps that so many homoerotic wrestling commentators have been admiring lately.

Yet again, Ace has Cameron pinned on his back underneath him, crotch-to-crotch. Ace presses their torsos together and rests his face, cheek-to-cheek on top of Cameron, their lips a fraction of an inch apart. “Is that what you like?” he snarls down.

Cameron mutters, “Yes, actually.”

Ace groans again, “Just like my towel, look at you all wiped up with my sweat. Now you’ll smell like me. Maybe girls will talk to you.”

Without skipping at beat, Cameron groans, “Girls have cooties.”

So, this is quintessentially Thunder’s Arena. Cameron and Ace (mostly Cameron) have extremely entertainingly sharp wits, giving high powered moves and blows a playful, fun-n-games feel about them. But I offer an unqualified recommendation for No Holds Barred 7 mostly because, in a Thunder’s way, this is awesomely erotic. Neither of these gorgeous hunks flinch from the homoerotic sexual innuendo. While Ace appears to grow particularly concerned about Cameron’s indulgent, full-faced kiss, it seems to be only an invitation for Ace to up his game and take more and more delight in exploring and owning Cameron’s hot, hard body. This match is entirely about you and me, with a story told with a lot of humor, a lot of innuendo, a lot of hard, amazing muscle wrestling, and, perhaps surprisingly, a whole lot of respect for their audience.

Asses Named

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No one posted a perfect score for this week’s installment of Name That Ass. I’m still looking for teacher’s pet. Keep studying, gentlemen. Adoring homoerotic wrestling asses requires intense, exhaustive study. Don’t be discouraged if you didn’t do well. I grade on a curve, and preparing for the next quiz should be it’s own reward. In the meantime, here are the answers to the quiz:
Ass #1 belongs to:

 BG East’s Tyrell Tomsen.
Stunning size and gorgeous proportions, when Tyrell is naked and soaked in sweat in the wrestling ring, he can strike one of the most lustworthy still life’s on record. As pictured, Tyrell was playing dominating bully to opponent Braden Charron for Strip Stakes 1. It was Tyrell’s Summer Sizzler against Bobby Horton that convinced me that Bobby deserved the title of homoerotic wrestler of the month last summer.  Tyrell has definitely been out-wrestled in his brief tenure with BG East, but he’s never been out-muscled or out-classed when it comes to his picturesque physique.
Ass #2 belongs to:
BG East’s Kid Karisma.
Kid K has captured me in his gravitational pull lately, and I’ve found myself circling back to marvel at his performances over and over again. His ass, in particular, is simply astonishingly beautiful. This particular shot is from his face off with Rocco in Gear Wars 1. I’ll gush soon about his Wet ‘n Wild appearance with Christian Taylor, but in the mean time, marvel a little longer at those glutes…

Did ass #3 pose a challenge? It belongs to none other than…
Can-Am’s pornboy extraordinaire, Mark Wolff.
Blake Onassis would have also earned you full marks for this one, since he’s cross listed under both names. This particularly fun shot is of Mark getting his face smashed into the lockers by Billy Herrington (also AKA’s Billy Marcus) for Lords of the Lockerroom. He was always a pornboy musclegod, with an ass for days and nipples the size of half dollars. Frankly, it wasn’t really Mark’s wrestling that ever sold me, but I’d buy some full contact moving pictures of that body anyday.
I imagined ass #4 might have given some students trouble. It belongs to…
Naked Kombat’s John Magnum.

I’m positive that I’ve seen Magnum wrestling somewhere else, but for the life of me, I can’t remember where. He blew my socks off (pants, too!), when I saw him in his one and only (to date) appearance at Naked Kombat in a nail-biter against Phillip Aubrey. Phillip nearly took the big muscle brute in this match. If there was ever a tie, in the gestalt sense, these two boys were perfectly, evenly matched, despite having distinctly different styles and builds. John’s personality, though, is absolutely kink-stastic. He’s 110% present. He delights in every second of domination, and he struggles to free himself from absolutely ever nano-second under Phillip’s control. He’s a beautiful man, and although I haven’t had an opportunity to enjoy much more wrestling from him, I get a little contact high off of his tweets now and then.

I didn’t hear from any advanced players who correctly identified the monster muscle glutes of ass #5 as belonging to…
Thunder’s Arena’s Coupe.

I’ve marveled before that Coupe is a muscle freak. That does not always equate to homoerotic gold, but just like his trunks in his poolside back-and-forth with Cameron Mathews, Coupe is indeed homoerotic wrestling kink gold in my book. If ever there was a body that absolutely required comment, even awe from his opponents, it’s Coupe’s. But that’s not really what Thunder’s does, sadly. It’s much more frat house romp than full on homoerotic body worship. I haven’t seen him at Thunder’s in a while, but I’ll just put it out there here and now, if ever Coupe is looking for some homo muscle worship to make up for all the neglect the boys at Thunder’s have made him suffer, I’m first in line with the baby oil.

So how did you do? I put more weight in progress over time than any individual quiz grade, so I hope that you’re finding that you’re performance is improving as you take more Name That Ass quizzes. Don’t be discouraged if you didn’t do as well as you’d hoped. We both know that you love the subject matter, so devoting yourself with renewed enthusiasm to your studies should be no burden at all.

It’s Who You Know

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While I have no regrets in having just handed the title belt of homoerotic wrestler of the month to Ace Hanson, it has to be said that in February 2011, Cameron Mathews was everywhere. Starting with making a surprise appearance as a reference in my interview with my favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy, Lon Dumont, every time I turn around I’m seeing images of Cameron.
Cameron Mathews v Rio Garza – Can-Am’s Pro Bashed Triple Threat
Truth be told, that typically causes a drop in a homoerotic wrestler’s stock as far as I’m concerned. I’ve gone on the record several times calling to task producers who are overexposing the fine, beautiful talent that we pay to enjoy. Give me steady diet of champagne and caviar and I’ll be sick of it soon enough (sooner, really). But hearing from Lon that he and Cameron go way back, and in fact Lon trained Cameron in pro wrestling, softens me up a bit as I consider the omnipresence of Cameron. His ever beefier bod with tracks of sweat pouring down his gorgeous pecs as he applies a boston crab to Rio Garza for Can-Am’s Pro Bashed Triple Threat, on the other hand, makes any hint of softness in me evaporate and a decided hardness come over me, instead.
Cameron Mathews v Donnie Drake – Can-Am’s Pro Bashed Triple Threat

Cameron has got to be one of the hardest working hunks to climb into ring after ring after ring. He’s got 20 times the energy level of almost any opponent I’ve seen him face. He’s a “performer” in the very best and most respectful sense of the word. He’s working his craft, toning his body, and selling story after story of a fierce, babyface gladiator with a razor wit and genetic lottery-winner of an ass going toe-to-toe to prove that he’s not only the strongest, not only the most skilled, but he’s also the most clever.

Cameron Mathews v Rio Garza – Can-Am’s Pro Bashed Triple Threat

Can-Am tends to sell Cameron’s cred as an indy pro veteran. Not only did he appear in Can-Am’s “gay themed” release of Pro Bashed Triple Threat in February, he also showed up in their straight-up version of indy wrestling, Cyberfights, in Tag Team Battle 3. And true enough, Cameron clearly knows his way around a wrestling ring. He has an awesome understanding of his own body as well as the way to work over, immobilize, and inflict pain on the bodies of others. He sells every moment I’ve seen him on camera.

Cameron Mathews v Rocky Brick – Thunder’s Arena’s Mat Wars 25

And did I mention his ass? Yes? Well let me just repeat myself. Cameron’s got the bubblest butt I’ve ever seen. I can marvel at the sight of his glutes for a long, long time without losing interest.

Cameron Mathews v Rocky Brick – Thunder’s Arena’s Mat Wars 25

He’s got a clever-clown persona, particularly in his work with Thunder’s Arena, such as their late February release of Mat Wars 25, that bridges the gap for me between an impressive wrestler and a hot wrestler. Delight is included in Cameron’s range, along with ferocious and agonized and fearful and vicious. Too many hot homoerotic wrestlers skimp on the expression of delight, I think. Without some moments of expressed delight, the rest of a wrestling performance can come across a little more like constipation than competition. Cameron does not appear constipated. Like Lon, Cameron can chuckle at the sight of his opponent humbled. He can thrill to dominate and mug for the camera. It looks like he’s not just punching the clock, but that in moments (perhaps not so much when he’s getting his ass kicked and selling his agony), he’s having fun.

Cameron Mathews v Billy Lodi – BGE Mat Brats 2

So for all he brings, and particularly for getting a nod of respect from my favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy, Cameron gets a pass on my typical bitching about a wrestler showing up in too many places at one time.

Pretty Prolific

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Have I mentioned Cameron Matthews’ ass lately? There are a lot of fantastic asses out there that I wouldn’t describe as “pretty,” but Cameron’s is one that simply is pretty, I think. It’s a massive, round, genetic gift of grace that makes those of us who have to work (hard) for what we’ve got a little jealous.

Is there any corner of the internet where we can’t find Cameron? He’s jobbed so delightfully and prolifically at BG East. In his most recent ring release with BGE, Babyface Brawl 1, Cameron appears to get spanked over the knee of Russian powerhouse prettyboy, Alexi Adamov. I think it’s his appearance in Mat Brats 2 that illustrates the perfect wardrobe choice for Cameron. It just doesn’t get much better than Cameron in a jock strap.

It looks to me like Cameron has replaced Zack Vazquez as the face of the franchise at Thunder’s Arena. I think Cameron’s sharp wit and readiness to ham it up are perfectly suited to the tongue-in-cheek stylings at Thunders. Interestingly, Cameron and Zack have never faced off, as far as I can tell, which seems a shame. Cameron typically spends his time jobbing for bigger muscle studs, making the big boys look good. Knowing that Cameron has high quality wrestling credibility of his own (well beyond just getting his balls crushed against a post), I’d enjoy seeing him take the Z-Man to school. I think Cameron is the perfect performer to rub the sneer off of Zack’s face and crush that poser like a grape.

Cameron’s also been roosting at Can-Am recently, as well (damn, I wonder if he’d donate some frequent flyer miles to me!?). Speaking of schooling, I enjoyed his double-team tutorial with his old tag partner, Paul Hudson, “introducing” Rio Garza to the intricacies of pro-wrestling holds. Personally, I think Cameron never shines brighter than when he’s in the ring, selling combat, slicing together fast paced high flying action with high impact combinations (watch for Can-Am’s release of Pro-Bashed Triple Threat, pics already starting to post in Can-Am Max).

I’d love to see less of Cameron for a few months. I don’t mean any disrespect. But I’ve long ago taken him for granted, his work is so prolific. He’s a utility player these days, but he’s got the makings of a headliner if only he weren’t quite so overexposed. It’s like being force-fed dessert… sure, the first few bites make you question how this could ever be a bad thing, but too much, too fast will make you gag.

He’s big (and getting bigger by the minute!), he’s beautiful (especially from behind), and he’s wildly talented in nearly everything that this blog is about. This is no Keystone 12-pack. Quality goods like this should be sipped leisurely, savored slowly, swished around in the mouth to tantalize all the taste buds, and swallowed lovingly. I hope he keeps up the prolific, good work, and I hope he’s paid every penny he’s worth, and then I hope his producers let us build a little eager anticipation in between his appearances across the homoerotic wrestling universe.

Between Takes

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I love it that you’re reading a homoerotic wrestling kink blog on Christmas! You are such the hardcore, ironman wrestling kinkster! Or, you’re reading a back edition… or this isn’t even your holiday… but in any case, I’m taking it easy today. I’m trying not to sweat the obligatory family drama. I’m trying not to resent the cacophony of carols that have nearly bored a hold straight through my head by now. I’m trying to relax and let it all wash over me.

This time last year, I posted some of the behind-the-scenes shots from BG East, capturing the boys between slams and submissions, relaxed, smiling, and clearly just savoring a happy moment. I thought I’d reprise the theme again for another Christmas day, because these unguarded smiles on these hardworking hunks just lighten my mood.


We all take ourselves too seriously. I do it. You do it (don’t contradict me!). Hell knows, the politicians and pundits and preachers do it, particularly this time of year. So a glimpse of an almost shy smile on a granite-chiseled, merciless ring heel is a sweet reminder, I think, to just cool my jets. Whatever it is that gets me hot and bothered (in a bad way), if I just  just take a step back and remove my ego from the situation, 9 times out of ten it’s all just silliness not to be taken seriously.



There’s seriously messed up shit going on in the world right at this very moment, of course. That’s no laughing matter, but that said, in light of the serious shit, my shit honestly is laughable. So I had to wait in an insanely long line to get that last Christmas present that I put off until way, way too late. So the roads are filled with crazies. So another season of Dexter came and went and I still haven’t seen Michael C. Hall’s world class ass. None of it should be such a burden that I can’t set it down today, let the tension that I’m carrying in my body slip away, and just smile.


Okay, so I’m having trouble letting go of my bitterness about Michael C. Hall’s ass. I’ll keep working on it in between Scrabble games and slices of turkey and endless accounts of the inanity of my sibling’s miserable children (tension rising again… breathe……. okay, I’m back).


Whatever rituals you do or don’t engage in today, whatever your religious or familial proclivities, whatever the burdens you carry, my hope for you is a deep breath, a sly smile, a moment of innocent humor, and all the hot, sweaty, muscle thumping, crotch bumping, ass humping sexual pleasure your heart desires.

Tag-Team Torture

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I’ve been getting more requests lately to collaborate on new wrestling fiction. Teaming up is one of my favorite genres in homoerotic wrestling, so this just seems to have all sorts of great potential.
I’ve been told by someone who should know that tag-team wrestling in the homoerotic genre is pretty difficult to manage. I don’t know if it’s coordinating schedules, having enough time to generate some entertaining chemistry, managing four bodies flying through the ring without any permanent damage… I could imagine any and all of these things could be obstacles to more tag-team homoerotic wrestling products.

And I suppose that some of the same potential pitfalls and obstacles to getting 4 hunks in the ring to tell one story may also have parallels in the work of co-authoring original fiction. Schedules, working chemistry, making sure no one gets a permanently injured ego… the give and take and intrinsic balance required to collaborate and co-author requires finesse. I firmly believe that not everyone can partner up with just anyone. And even when words get on the page, there’s that hard to define element of chemistry that just has to be there or else it isn’t…  All the moving parts might work, but if partners just aren’t in sync, it may just fall flat.

But when it works, teaming up can open up a lot of possibilities that are closed to me when I’m devoted to my singles career (so to speak). Teaming up to take on a big, big project that would probably defeat either one of us alone is a good example. Wrapping our minds and creative juices around a complex, yet hot property to double-team it into groaning submission can be a sweet, sweet victory. Of course the opposite is true as well. When you partner up to tackle the behemoth project and find that both your asses are handed to you in defeat, it can be just that much more humiliating.

Fortunately, my experiences with tag-teaming on writing projects has been pretty fun and, I think, successful. I like to think that I carry my end of the work load and that I’m pretty easy to work with. And so far, the partners I’ve stepped into the imagined ring with have been delightful to team with. When a new collaborator pushes me in a new direction, introduces me to new characters, and brings their own arsenal of innovation and creativity to a project, well frankly, that’s hot. Watch for some of these projects to get polished off with a double-teaming three-count and published to the Sidelineland wrestling fiction site in the coming weeks.

Rookie Delight

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I’ve been harping on the notion that homoerotic wrestling may be going to the same well too many times, putting it in danger of growing stale and uninteresting. I can be such a nagging bitch sometimes, can’t I? Just one more blogger who’s ass is firmly planted in the back seat and still trying to drive. Someone needs to give me a knee to the gut, then a headscissors until I just about pass out, followed by a commanding, hard drop across the knee into a prolonged over-the-knee backbreaker (can I suggest Rafe Sanchez would make a good disciplinarian for me?). Sitting here, all smug and certain of myself, it dawns on me that there are actually a lot of new faces showing up in homoerotic wrestling in the past few weeks. I’m not above retracing my steps and giving credit where credit is due. So today, I just want to celebrate a whole lot of new faces that are instantly making my blood pump faster. 

First, and possibly most promising in my book, is Angelo Blanco from BG East’s just released Masked Mayhem 7. So perhaps we can’t call him a new “face,” since he’s masked, but I swear I’ve never seen that long, lithe, sweet and sweaty body before… and I’d remember it. Masks are inherently erotic to me, so Angelo Blanco’s debut in a mask would already be a sweet centering of homoeroticism even if his nicely packed crotch didn’t keep getting in the way in his hard, nasty mat tussle with Skull. His cock seems to be nearly as distracting (and impressive) to him as Joshua Goodman’s is to Mr. Joshua. Angelo Blanco is not exactly a muscleboy, but he’s fantastically fit, oozing sex, clearly turned on by the match, and I’d beg on my knees for the opportunity to get squeezed between those legs and run my hands across that sweaty chest.

I’ve already composed a gushing ode to the new face at Rock Hard Wrestling, Travis Storm, so I won’t belabor the point too much here. In this batch of rookies, Travis runs a close second in my hopes to see him in many, many more matches. He’s a good ol’ Southern boy with great timing, sweet salesmanship on both ends of the stick, and an ass in need of a lingering spanking (and I have two hands free as soon as I finish this post).

I’ve only recently been taking a fresh look at Thunders Arena, so I’m not always clear who are the new faces and who are the faces who are just unfamiliar because I haven’t been keeping track. But I think #3 on my list of new faces I’m lusting after in the current homoerotic wrestling line up is Thunder’s muscleboy, Edge. Cam Mathews is once again the high class hottie pushing another hunky rookie into muscle dominating stardom. I’ve just watched a preview, but his bull dog on Cam, smacking the top of the jobber’s head hard onto the mat, makes my head hurt a little and my crotch tingle a lot. If this battle took place in the ring, I’d pop a blood vessel.
Again, in order of who I’m hoping to see more of or fantasize about facing off with myself is BG East’s Gino Gotti in Gazebo Grapplers 11. It seems a little dangerous to beat the crap out of someone named Gotti, but I’m with Kieran Dunne here when it comes to a focus on  laying this hot Italian stud out and making him cry out in pain. It sounds like Kieran is way to up is own ass to be bothered noticing the astonishing rookie specimen that he’s picking to pieces, which is a crying shame. I’m rooting for someone with better taste to make their introductions to Gotti next.

Again, you’ll forgive me if I’ve got the wrong end on this, but I believe Thunders Arena’s gargantuan muscleboy, STL, is another rookie bringing something new to homoerotic wrestling. There’s something both stunningly handsome and fresh-out-of-diapers about STL’s face that makes its placement on top of that thick, astonishingly powerful body deceptive. I’m captured by the image of me in an STL bearhug, squinting through my tearing eyes directly into his kid-next-door face, and being crushed between his hydraulic arms and those hot, sweaty, beefy pecs.

The last in this current line up of rookies who deserve credit (and their producers who deserve my apologies for overgeneralizing about the unimaginative state of the industry) is the enigmatically named D Fuller, appearing in BG East’s just released Big and Beefy 6. At six feet tall and listed at 215 pounds, this is another massively packed babyface. I’m not sure which gods D should be cursing for being fated to make his ring debut (hooray for fresh ring meat!) again Bulldog Barzini. Even a rookie the size of D would have to be the underdog against the beatdown alpha dog, Barzini. The preview pics of this match ignite a recurring fantasy in my mind of me at ringside, watching the big boy rookie beatdown in person, and at the moment that D is battered, subdued, and and stretched vulnerably and helplessly in Barzini’s clutches, the Bulldog gives me a nod and invites me into the ring for a closer look. D is bitter at the added humiliation, but he’s defenseless as Barzini immobilizes him as I appreciately kick the tires, stroke the upholstery, and take a long, deep whiff of that new rookie smell.

So I’m duly corrected by the evidence at hand. There are some delightful, inspiring, sexy new faces keeping me aroused and my imagination fully engaged in the current options in homoerotic wrestling. Full disclosure, I’ve only seen Angelo Blanco’s match and Travis Storm’s match in its entirety of the rookies mentioned above (which probably accounts for why I rank them #1 and #2 in my lusts and fantasies… I recommend them both). But if the rest of these new boys stick around long enough for my wallet to catch up to them, I’ll be happy to tell you more about what I find.

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Here we go again. A month and a half after BGE releases a Donnie Drake 1 on 2 squash, Can-Am is pre releasing pics from a Donnie Drake 1 on 2 bout.  I think there could be a place for this type of copycat production (see Rio v Jobe and Rio v Aryx for more examples), really I do. I think that Can-Am’s specialty in pornboy porn wrestling could make a hot Rio v Jobe ring battle resurrect into a very nice trunks off, hands on mat tussle that I’d pay double for. Other than the translation to mats, that’s not the formula that Can-Am appears to be applying to their second place finishes.

Still, I am liking the hint that I’m getting from the Can-Am boss’s Twitter pics, though. Donnie’s 1 on 2 battle for Can-Am is a scrap with Chris Bruce and Rio. While true, this is yet another reunion of BG East boys, Sexton has a provocative pic of Donnie double teamed with his face in Chris’ crotch while Rio applies a boston crab to the bad boy. I’m not going to hold my breath to finally, finally, finally see Chris (or either of the others) really sex it up, but I am a fan of some of these straight up homoerotic wrestling boys working a little more of the homoerotic side of the coin with faces to crotch. I still think that a loser-cums scenario (one way or another) would make this seem less like a BGE re-run and more like something I’ve come to appreciate Can-Am for.

Another sneak peak pic from Sexton shows what appears to be a tag team line up for an in-the-ring match starring still another combination of BG East alums, Aryx & Donnie teaming up against Rio and Cameron Matthews. I tend to prefer ring matches. I like tag teams. Frankly, I’m still taking cold showers waiting for a another seriously hot lovers on lovers tag team match. Something tells me the Aryx/Donnie Rio/Cameron combinations won’t be sparing me another cold shower, though. But otherwise, this is pretty solidly in my wrestling kink niche, and I’m anxious to see it.

I’m going to hammer on my old saw, now, though (note that despite the mixed metaphor, everything stays in the tool shed). You simply can’t tell me that there are only a dozen or so quality performers out there who can sell homoerotic wrestling. I don’t believe it for a second. Now, I don’t begrudge the boys themselves their dues. Someone offering a paycheck isn’t to be taken for granted, particular in the present economic environment. Wrestle for whomever treats you right and gives you checks that clear. But higher up the food chain, I just want to say again, don’t phone it in. Spot the smokin’ hot new talent and blow me away with something I’ve never seen before. Or even take the tried and true golden boys and make them tell me an entirely new story. Keep the homo and the erotic up front, even though I understand that you’re often going to work with straight boys. But one way or another, keep it fresh, make my blood pump faster, and introduce me to a new obsession, a new story, a new spark to make me believe that there’s something more out there to be had that I haven’t already bought and paid for.

The Main Course

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JoshH has been intentionally provocative in a series of comments on my post about Rio Garza’s journey through the world of wrestling. In short, the question comes down to who brings what to the table in comparing the products of competing homoerotic wrestling companies. While I don’t really think of NHB has particularly homoerotic, it has to be said that homoerotic wrestling kinksters (present company included), must comprise most of their business. The bouts are generally sincere little mat scraps with an air of a frat house throw down. Clearly, NHB is playing to our tastes, though, as evidenced by the very, very brief trunks that typically have a hard time covering the young athletes’ sweet asses.

What makes me think of NHB with respect to my conversation with JoshH, is that Denny Webb (aka Cameron Matthews) is in their recent release of Battling Bodies 54. Danny/Cameron has shown up a lot for BGE work in the past couple of years, in both their homoerotic and straight products. He’s also prolific as an indy pro, and he just did a new product getting pummeled by a massive bodybuilder for Thunder’s Arena.
With each incarnation, Denny/Cameron brings a different performance. I think that’s impressive, in and of itself. The indy pro work of his that I’ve seen has him as an adolescent never-say-die scrapper who’s often outweighed and outmuscled, but who nevertheless gets his licks in. For BGE, he’s the babyface who sells suffering like the pro he is, showing off that astonishingly round ass as he’s pummeled convincingly. I confess that when I saw Cameron wrestle in a jock strap for the first time, I actually swooned for just a moment! For NHB, though, Denny/Cameron sticks to the goods that make all his performances work: his strength, speed, and impressive skills. It also doesn’t hurt that his speedo just can’t resist climbing up his crack.
On the same recent release that Denny stars in, I can’t help but take a second look at the other bout starring gorgeous, tall hardbody Connor Flynn and the ass-tastic sensuality of Chuck Rowen. Chuck’s ultra skimpy speedo never stood a chance of covering the muscled expanse of his glutes (thank God!).
It seems like I’ve been jonesin’ for shorter-than-average swimmer bodies lately, so it should be no wonder that Chuck is giving me whiplash. Squeezed and tossed by his much bigger opponent, Chuck is a delight to watch. Mounted on top of Connor with his thick legs and round ass on display, Chuck connects all the dots between frat house romp and homoerotic wrestling kink.
Back to my conversation with JoshH, I’d say that NHB is on the opposite end of the homoerotic wrestling kink spectrum from Can-Am. There really isn’t much fantasy at all in NHB, just hard, sweaty boys, silently battling it out with nothing but their barely clad bodies. Can-Am, on the other hand, invests in sets, scripts, costumes, and the thoughtful display of pornboys telling a crowd pleasing story. BGE seems to me to be somewhere in the middle, with a little fantasy and lovely body worship counterbalanced with a general emphasis on athleticism and an indy pro feel. I think that JoshH and I are in agreement about the scope of the playing field. Our sparring appears to break along the lines of where some talents may be wasted by one company versus another.
As JoshH and I battle it out over relatively fine distinctions of homoerotic wrestling kinks, I just want to clarify for all that I’m a supporter of the industry and all its contributors, particularly those who generously show off their gorgeously round glutes (I’m looking at you, Cameron!).