Tag: Denny Cartier

Diverse Tastes – Guest Contributor Cage Thunder

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While there are a lot of us armchair homoerotic wrestling bloggers, I’m the first to tip my hat to a blogger like Cage Thunder, who not only writes eloquently about his tastes and twists in wrestling kink, he’s also an all-in wrestler on camera for BG East. Through a series of correspondence between me and Cage Thunder, I will dare to reveal one thing that I’ve learned about the mysterious masked heel: he’s a class act. He has a delightful sense of humor that goes well beyond his gloating, clucking delight in humiliating one all-too-pretty pretty boy after another. He also has a remarkable depth to him that leads him to contemplate the alchemy of homoerotic wrestling kink with a fervor and meticulousness that very well may surpass even my own. So when Cage Thunder agreed to give me his take on the topic of “Diverse Tastes” as part of neverland’s summer series of guest contributors, I was deeply honored. So sit back and learn from a master who knows his wrestling kink from inside out and every angle a delightfully twisted wrestling mind and body can imagine.
The Turning Point
by Cage Thunder
BG East’s Cage Thunder

There is a certain moment in every pro wrestling match that, without fail, always grabs my attention. This moment never fails to get my attention and always make my dick stand up at attention.

I call this moment the turning point.

Bulldog Barzini savors the sight of Denny Cartier
reaching “the turning point” – BG East’s Fantasymen 28

A turning point is exactly what it sounds like—that definitive moment when you know that one of the wrestlers is finished— even if he isn’t being pinned or counted out or giving in a submission, and the match might go on for a while longer (and usually does). But that’s the moment when you know for certain who the stud is who’s going to have his arms raised in complete victory at the end of the match (or fall, if it’s a best-of situation).

I love that moment.

Muscle heel Kid Karisma drags muscle twink Christian Taylor
beyond the turning point – BG East’s Wet &  Wild 5

When I was growing up, professional wrestling was my porn. It still is, to a degree—only I rarely watch it on television, I satisfy my fetish with videos these days—but when I was a kid, it was a world I desperately wanted to be a part of. I greatly enjoyed the morality plays of pro wrestling matches, the struggle between good and evil, hero versus villain, rule-breaking versus following the rules. And like life, good didn’t always triumph over evil.

Cage Thunder soaks in the sight of his handiwork –
BG East’s Masked Mayhem 6

But professional wrestling was also one of the very few places on television in those days where you could see scantily dressed men sweating and heaving, clinching and coming apart, entwining their bodies in an almost erotic dance. And while I always wanted the nasty heels to be punished for their dastardly ways, I also loved watching the gorgeous ones suffer at their hands. With the advent of cable television and Ted Turner taking WTBS national into a self-styled Super Station, every Saturday afternoon from three to five p.m. Pacific times Georgia Championship Wrestling aired—and I fell in lust with a gorgeously built mullet-wearing muscle boy named Brad Armstrong.

The muscles and the mullet – Brad Armstrong
Oh, that ass. If I hadn’t already known I was gay, Brad Armstrong’s tight trunks clinging ever so tenaciously to those perfectly formed buttocks certainly would have done the trick.
Brad Armstrong’s inspiring ass in trouble
Brad was a good wrestler—a fan favorite, obviously, with his athletic ability, sexy body, and ‘aw shucks’ attitude. But he lost his matches more frequently than he won them—and week after week, I slowly came to realize that what was really turning my crank and getting my dick hard was watching some nasty ass heel put him through the wringer—watching him suffer on the mat, one foot bouncing up and down as his back arched and that ass, that oh-so-perfect ass, with his trunks creeping up bit by bit, up in the air.

Brad’s trunks creeping up his ass as he suffers humiliatingly in the ropes

And I also came to the conclusion that I preferred watching Brad suffer rather than being dominant in a match—which made me stop and think.

Brad Armstrong where he did his best work: on his back,
feet pointed at the ceiling, and his opponent copping a feel of that rocking ass!

And I realized the truth is I wanted to fuck him—in other words, I wanted to dominate him and make him submissive to me. I wanted to beat him down, make him call me sir, and when that hard muscle ass arched up in the air, I wanted to reach down and peel those green trunks off him, lube up my cock, and ride him while he bucked and writhed and moaned.

And called me “sir.”

I’m frequently accused of being a ‘body fascist,’ and nothing could be further from the truth. I actually like all kinds of men, in all shapes and sizes—what I am actually attracted to, more than anything else, is a particular attitude that a lot of wrestlers seem to have. (This is why I generally don’t give a shit about watching gay porn—very few gay porn stars have that ‘certain something special’ that gets my dick hard, and let’s face it—if you’ve seen one fuck scene, you’ve pretty much seen them all. Ty Lebeouf is a gay porn star who is one of the exceptions—and he is exceptional, although I’d much rather watch him climb in the ring.) A wrestler can have the most gorgeous body you’ve ever seen, and a huge bulge in the front of his trunks—but if the attitude I like isn’t there, he just leaves me cold. (I won’t give examples, out of respect.)

Porn star Ty Lebeouf: Ready to Wrestle?

The wrestlers I like—the ones that make me open my wallet and spend my hard-earned money buying their videos—have that attitude. It’s not something that’s quantifiable or definable; someone either has it or they don’t. And there really isn’t a rhyme or reason to my attraction to them. They can be a muscle twink, like Christian Taylor, or a hot little muscle heel like Kid Karisma, or a stocky brute like Bulldog Barzini, or a beautiful babyface who has crazy mad ring skills but always loses—like Alexi Adamov.

Cage Thunder revels in dragging babyface Alexi Adamov
well past “the turning point” – BG East’s Masked Mayhem 2

I like heels because the only way someone can ever fuck me is if they dominate me. And I do like being dominated. I like being forced to submit, I like being forced to scream out a submission or call my foe “sir”—and if he can beat me down that way, I’m his for the taking and he can do with me as he pleases. The thought of being worked over like that by a Bob Orton or a Stan Hansen or any number of studly heels who might not have the body beautiful you’d see on the cover of a gay porn magazine turns me on as much as the thought of beating down some beautiful babyface/jobber does.

A heel who could have made Cage Thunder cry, “Sir!”

For me, that’s the answer to why people enjoy seeing pretty muscle boys just get the shit kicked out of them. Because we want to dominate them, we want to fuck them, and the wrestling match we are watching is a kind of pornographic dance of domination and submission.

Cage Thunder has his way with a puddle-on-the-mat, Jobe Zander –
BG East’s Masked Mayhem 8

And I love, love, LOVE the turning point—when the heel begins to simply toy with his opponent for our viewing pleasure.

Cage Thunder conquers, strips, and toys with Lobolito –
BG East Masked Mayhem 3

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a DVD to watch.

——————
Now, aren’t we all dying to know what gorgeous-bodied and huge-bulged wrestlers leave Cage Thunder limp!? Like I said, however, he’s a class act who isn’t one to crush-and-tell. For this fantastic glimpse into precisely the moment, the attitude, and the acts of domination that make his dick stand up at attention, neverland is honored to have guest contributor Cage Thunder push the pause button and share his thoughts with us!

A Feast for the Senses

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I’m coated in sweat at this moment. Normally, that might be a signal of something hot and thrilling going on for me. But at this moment, it’s just a symptom of my low tolerance for heat and humidity. However, it brings me back to the topic that I’ve expounded on many times before: my love of sweat-lubricated homoerotic wrestling.
Landon Mycles v Michael Vineland – Can-Am’s Pro Sex Fight 1
Yes, please! There’s something that much more intimate about two hunks wrestling lathered in sweat. The lubrication is itself part of the association with value-added arousal, I’m sure. Less friction, harder and hotter action. Just an application of lubricant can bring me to full attention, so an entire body coated in lubricating sweat is profoundly arousing.
Sweat-Pig Extraordinaire Bud Orton v Kevin Shea –
BG East’s Wrestleshack 6

It’s not just the physiology of a penile reflex to lubrication, though. Just the sight of sweat dripping off a wrestler’s nose or chin makes me light headed. There’s a deep, homoerotic masculinity about a sweat-soaked body engaged in combat. When the hair is plastered to the scalp, wringing with sweat, when beads are dripping off the brow like a leaky faucet, the wrestler becomes even more an object of primal, sexualized strength and domination than he was before. The smell of fresh sweat, still clinging to the body, is like vintage wine, stimulating all the senses at once.

Rio Garza v sweat-soaked Chris Bruce – BG East’s Undagear 17

I’m a fan of sweat-soaked gear, as well. The gear that allows you to trace the path of moisture pouring from the pores is extra goodness. Peeling off sweaty gear is even more erotic. The hollow sound of heavy, soaked gear slapping against skin or smacking the mat is over the top arousing for me.

Lickable Denny Cartier v Mikey Vee – BG East’s Mat Hunks 8

And, as I’ve mentioned before, in addition to a visual, tactile, olfactory and auditory arousal associated with sweat, there are some prize homoerotic wrestlers bodies that, when coated in a sheen of sweat, I find myself desperately fantasizing about licking. I’d like to see more licking in my homoerotic wrestling. The primal sensuality of tasting your opponent’s body, the pairing of domination and caressing as your tongue slides across the salty surface of a hunk’s muscles, is powerfully thrilling.

Stream-of-Consciousness

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Hot damn! BG East’s sudden Summer Sizzlers release yesterday has me powerfully provoked and bitterly impatient for the mailman. And speaking of my entirely socially constructed modern inability to delay gratification, I’m extremely pleased with the new BG East Arena update schedule. I must say, of my subscriptions, this propels the Arena into by far the best value. And just to be clear, I don’t get paid to say that. Just calling it like I see it.
And speaking of calling it like I see it (I suspect this will be one long stream of consciousness post today), I keep returning to the recent pics of “Mr. Brazil 2011” Lucas Malvacini that I’ve been seeing. Whatever is in the water in Brazil, I want it bottled and forced down the throats of the men in my neighborhood. Smoking hot male model after smoking hot male model from Brazil keeps showing up and making the case that the southern hemisphere is inherently sexy. But more than just another eye-wateringly hot naked body, Mr. Brazil made me do a double-take. Where have I seen that boyishly sincere smile before? Who does this side of beef remind me of with his “oh, you’re looking at lil’ ol’ me?” shy tilt of the head, making those infinitely squeezable pecs and sweetly bulging biceps that much more enticing?
Jaha! (as my Swedish friends would say). It’s yet another Denny Cartier free-association that my brain is making. While perhaps not Denny’s doppleganger, there’s a gestalt about him that makes me picture Lucas as Denny’s younger, taller brother… and tag team partner.

Don’t you see it? Well, perhaps it’s partly rooted in my well-documented obsession with Denny. It’s certainly true this wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve spotted some handsome hunk that I’m intuitively convinced comes from Denny’s corner of the gene pool. I’m not sure if this Rorschach test is tapping into my subconscious infatuation with seeing more Denny wrestling, or whether it’s my lust to get back to writing a new Secretarial Pool homoerotic wrestling match starring more hot male models.

And speaking of hot male models and my homoerotic wrestling imagination, did you see that Wendell Lissimore is in a fantastic visual menage a trois for Out Magazine? I’m pretty sure that he’s straight, so this scene of him as the lean meat in a white bread man-sandwich is just awesome fuel for my homoerotic wrestling fantasies in which Wendell has already made a few appearances.

In my imagination, every hard-bodied hunk with a six pack and rock hard pecs is a cock chaser. I think I’ve written no more than one woman into a storyline in my homoerotic wrestling fantasy universe (name that tune for a prize), and I don’t think that I’ve ever bothered with a truly straight male character, at least not one that couldn’t enjoy getting off to some man-on-man muscle domination from time to time. It’s not as if the cutthroat capitalism-gone-mad world of my homoerotic wrestling imagination is one in which I’d want to live full time. But I do enjoy being “special guest star” in my own serial fantasy where every question and conflict is settled with no-holds barred erotic wrestling, where brutal sexual domination is the bread-and-butter of corporate intrigue and international politics, and where homoerotic romance dots the landscape in an otherwise unforgiving egomaniacally-based economy where everything is commodified.
And speaking of me as special guest star in my own fantasy, did you catch the shot of shirtless Jason Bateman on EW (thank you, Towleroad)? Jason has long been my pick to play me in the made-for-television version of my life. I settled on him well before I ever saw a shirtless shot of him, so imagine my delight to discover that he’s quite a hot little number, in addition to being an excellent actor with a fun sense of humor.
I’m not sure where all this stream-of-consciousness was leading, but for those who traveled this intimate path through my synapses, welcome to my world! Happy weekend!

Games

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I have a friend who makes me play every kitschy pop culture game on the planet. For the record, in my life as a mini-series, I’d have Jason Bateman play me.

In my life as a motion picture, I’d have Jake Gyllenhaal play me.

Again, just for the record, I’d have to say that I’d fuck Joey…

…marry Chandler….

…and kill Ross (to stop the whining).

A more entertaining game, but not one my friend has the necessary expertise to play, would be to play with homoerotic wrestlers. Let me see. In my life as a mini-series, I’d have Cody Nelson play me.

In my life as a motion picture, I’d have Brad Rochelle play me.

And given the options that I’d need to squash, job, or competitively wrestle one each of the following, I’d choose to squash The Enforcer (that mask is coming off, baby, along with the trunks!)…

… job for Trent Diesel (I want to see that orgasm-twisted face of his staring down at me it victory)…

… and competitively wrestle with Denny Cartier (though he’ll just have to deal with the fact that I’m squeezing that beautiful round ass of his).

Instantly I want to change my answers… Now this fun!

Art Imitating Art Imitating Art

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Did you see that there’s a Denny Cartier sale going on until next Friday!? Run, don’t walk, I say! Someone on the news update list for BG East forwarded me their coverage of my coverage of Denny as homoerotic wrestler of the month. It’s all a delightful, vicious circle, now that I’m documenting their coverage of my coverage of their wrestler, all over again.

Fantasymen 28

This suddenly all feels like much more of an ego trip for me than I ever realized. My infatuation with Denny triggers this domino effect that turns into a sale on Denny products? I don’t know if there really is a direct cause and effect relationship between my words and your homoerotic wrestling purchases, but in case anyone who wasn’t tuned into Denny’s delights before gives him a closer look, I think it’s excellent to have been part of the chain of events leading to Denny’s introduction to a wider audience. I think he represents something particularly important in the industry that transcends hard cocks and pornstar bodies (not that there’s anything wrong with them!). Denny’s a wrestler, and these days I just don’t think we can take that for granted.

from “Jonny Firestorm in Montreal”

It wasn’t long ago that I was calling out the BG East boys for grossly underreporting the impressive stature of one-hit-wonder Duncan Thomas. I was intentionally provocative, mind you. Frankly I was hoping to get a rise out of them. And my remedy, you may recall, for poking at the BG East boys with a stick, was that Denny Cartier should show up on my doorstep to teach me a lesson in manners. I’m sad to report that this has not happened. No Denny. No doorstep. No overnight bag.

Backyard Brawls 6

Despite Denny not making house calls, I still say he’s definitely worth a second look for those of you who like a strong dose of wrestling in your wrestling kink brew. And if nothing else, perhaps a little extra attention paid to Denny by you and me will pique the curiosity of other hunks in the BG East stable looking for whose face to step on next as they climb the ladder. I can think of no better star for a sequel to Alexi Adamov’s sweat-inducing outdoor wrestling clinic, Who’s Next, than Denny.

Backyard Brawls 7

So I suppose all there is for me to do is to keep being “prolific” in my writing and reviews (I’ll choose to interpret that as compliment). I could grow a little drunk on the ego stroke of inspiring a Denny Cartier sale, but my commitment will continue to be to call them like I see them. If, on occasion, I provoke or offend the fine workers of BG East by my prolific comments, I trust they will forgive me… or send Denny to set the record straight.

Bodies Over Time – Wrestler-of-the-Month Edition

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In addition to being my current homoerotic wrestler of the month, Denny Cartier is one stunning looking man. I know. I’ve said this before. But when you’re the homoerotic wrestler of the month, you get an extra helping of adoration. Honestly, it seems impossible that it was nearly 6 years ago that Denny first appeared wrestling for BG East, a bright eyed, curly haired, broad-smiled, dimpled chinned, earnest-as-shit pretty face dressed all in white (oh, rookie….). He had the misfortune of showing up to make his big splash on the scene by going up against the buzz saw that is Bulldog Barzini. But instantly, Denny was showing some cocky confidence, bouncing on the balls of his feet, and he had sweat pouring off of him in buckets by the time Bulldog was done with him. These are precisely the elements upon which a future homoerotic wrestler of the month can build.

It took Denny nearly two years to recover from his initiation at the hands of Bulldog before he showed up again in his “underground” mat match against Jonny Firestorm. Here’s where we were introduced to Denny in his natural habitat: the mats.  He was beefier, with a little bit of hair on his meaty chest, while the hair on his head was more tightly trimmed than before, giving him less of a little boy look and more of a Colt model look. Again, his hard work on the mats against Jonny left sweat streaming off his body, inspiring in me a fantasy shower scene with me holding the loofah. Denny was still awfully pretty against Jonny, but his presence was increasingly fierce and undeniably accomplished.

Another year and a half went by before we caught sight Denny again, this time sporting a buzz cut, bigger muscles, and the beginning of a growing work of art inked to his left upper arm and shoulder. All of this combined has become the foundation of Denny’s current presentation as a serious competitor, a hunk of both gorgeous meat and dangerous talent, and babyface coming of age. Going toe-to-toe against a behemoth about half a foot taller and 80 pounds heavier (holy crap!), Denny illustrated that he is one fearless piece of work. He continued to sport those fantastically hairy, thick thighs, but he was shaved and smooth otherwise. And that ass! Now those red trunks, I believe, bring Denny’s physique into clearest focus.

Happily, Denny’s been showing up more regularly recently. With his young turk takedown of the Mr. Bodies Over Time himself, Chris Bruce, Denny’s started picking up momentum, and, more importantly, a story. Those white trunks with blue piping are an extremely close second place for my favorite Denny gear. His crouching-tiger-poised-to-pounce attitude against Chris was seriously hot. Once again outweighed (only by about 15 pounds this time) Denny keeps chopping away at the BGE veteran until he’s proven the point he showed up to make: that he’s here not just to get tossed around, but to pound away at anybody in his way as he proves he’s dangerous, particularly on the mats, to anyone he sets his sights on.

Of course, that story is bound to draw attention from a veteran heel like Mikey Vee, and not the good sort of attention (at least not good for Denny). In his sequel to Backyard Brawls 6, Denny looks exactly the same for Mat Hunks 8 (appropriately enough, since this match picks up minutes after Denny’s match with Chris Bruce concluded). Bringing the action in doors against Mickey Vee, though, results in Denny at his very sexiest, working up a tsunami of sweat as he gives everything he’s got to keep up with the veteran, who’s playing with him like a cat with a ball of yarn. The victory is Mikey’s, but the story is Denny’s, as Denny proves that even when outmatched, he’ll keep coming back for more, 100% effort every step of the way, until he’s literally collapsed on the ground from total exhaustion. This seems to me to be the core of Denny’s wrestling: he relishes the physical competition and he’ll face down any challenge, regardless of the odds against him.

For Backyard Brawls 7, Denny arrives sporting more extensive ink on that powerful right upper arm of his. His curls are completely gone now, buzzed almost to the skin. He’s beefy, not nearly as “pretty,” but every bit as sexy as ever, if not more so. His dismantling of rookie Attila Dynasty is no squash. The rookie has arrived ready to scrap, with an arsenal of his own already in hand. And Denny gives the impression that he’d want it no other way. It’s not so much about being on top, as it is about the thrill of climbing on top, conquering inch by inch until the rookie is flat on his back, every salvo that he lobbed met, matched, and overcome by Denny’s relentless determination. I have no idea if Denny gets off on wrestling the same way I do, but he possesses an obvious lust for the sport and passion for the physicality of it all that translates nicely to a wrestling kinked audience.
I’d love to see Denny follow in the footsteps of Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!), and bring to the mat room one of the countless admirers that Denny must attract every day. I’m certain that I’m not the only one with a deep desire to lick the sweat off of every inch of Denny’s body and squeeze those gorgeous glutes of his. I think it’s time that Denny upped the stakes, bringing that sweat-lubricated lust to conquer, face-to-face with some hot, horny hunk’s conquering lust. 

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

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I’ve been so busy with the holidays that I’ve grown tardy with my pick for December’s homoerotic wrestler of the month. BGE came out with a boatload of catalog 85 new releases to vie for our affections, of which all three Matmen 21 matches (D’Amato v Reid, Colby v Riley, and Goodman v Stanton) have wrestlers with a shot at a favorite-of-the-month nod just about any day. Backyard Brawls 7 shines an adoring spotlight on Denny Cartier and newcomer lean-n-mean Attila Dynasty. Motel Madness UK: New Breed gets legitimate credibility for the -of-the-month club for my growing infatuation with furry Sasha and wrestling kink spokesman Ashley Ryder. And I have to mention that I love the look of both Joah Bindao and smoking new face, MJ Vergara from Ringwars 18. Thunder’s Arena definitely has boys in the running this month, including Zack, Uno, and Frank the Tank for their contributions in Battle of the Male Models (1 & 2), and the unique candidates for homoerotic wrestler of the month in Santa and his Evil Elf. Rock Hard Wrestling has four worthy contenders for the title, including Travis Storm, Max Powers, Cody Nelson and Chris Cox. I’m sure I’ve forgotten someone, and it seems a crying shame to have to pick only one out of this excellent field. But they don’t pay me for self-pity (okay, so no one pays me at all for any of this…), so I’m just going to call it like I see it:




I know, I know. You were totally expecting me to say Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!). I’ve gushed so much about Mr. Joshua’s fantastic story development in Matmen 21 that I just feel like someone else needs the light of day apart from Mr. J and his concession to be the object of body worship and to wrestle with his suitor to see if Randy Stanton has what it takes to tame and claim Mr. J’s package. Frankly, shockingly, the mind-blowing rock hard muscle ass of Santa from Thunder’s Arena nearly propelled the jolly saint into my -of-the-month title (who’d have thought!?). And Travis Storm from Rock Hard Wrestling is going to have to get some special title of his own for now two standout rookie performances that are raising the bar at RHW. But if I’m truthful with myself, and with you, it’s Denny’s turn for the title.



Watching Denny’s smooth moves in Backyard Brawls 7 against a serious rookie competitor triggered both crazy lust and profound respect from me. There aren’t many homoerotic wrestlers currently in circulation who possess the mat wrestling credibility that he has, as far as I’m concerned. When Atilla starts talking trash almost immediately in Backyard Brawls 7, Denny crouches low and hikes up his baggy shorts, bouncing from foot to foot and looking like someone’s just put dessert on the table. Everything about him delivers the singular message that Denny is a mat opponent to be taken very, very seriously.



When he stretches out the rookie and strums Attila’s six pack like an acoustic guitar, Denny begins to add “homoerotic” to that awesome wrestling credibility of his. Peeling down to their briefs, the rookie reveals brief, flashy, lime green low-risers with a shiny fashion plate. All-business-Denny, on the other hand, sports relatively demure mid-rise undergear grays, and there’s just something about them that are about 3.5 times sexier than the rookie’s flash. His thick hairy legs and gorgeous round ass probably contribute to the math, but it’s also the cocky, self-assured lack of a need for any additional sparkle that makes Denny absolutely shine in my book.



I was so pleased to see Cage Thunder call out Denny as his current wrestler-infatuation in his interview with Joe at Ringside at Skull Island. Now that would be a match of the decade! But I adamantly insist that either Cage Thunder’s mask or Denny’s trunks would absolutely have to be removed for that set-up to be believed (preferably both). That would simply be non-negotiable.



Denny has been in search of his wrestling persona since he arrived at BGE five and a half years ago. His been the devastating tactician. He’s been the young pup needing to get schooled by a savvy veteran. But I think Denny’s potential lies in the formula of Backyard Brawls 7. He dishes out the high impact moves just as hard as he takes them. He’s inexplicably underestimated from start to finish. He may not be as “pretty” or as shredded or as big as some of the boys he faces. But every angle of his body, every lightening fast move and counter, every grunting, resentful submission and every crowing, gloating victory says that this boy not only can wrestle, he loves to wrestle. He relishes it, and the stiffer the competition, the more he enjoys the fight to outmaneuver, overpower, and humiliatingly dominate the young buck wannabes knocking at the door of BGE for a bite.

Texas Beef

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I’m not the sort of histrionic character that runs around pointing fingers and calling people liars. But I’ve got my finger pointed decisively at the boys at BG East at this very moment, and I’m calling them liars, because there’s just no way in God’s green earth that Duncan Thomas from Boston to Austin 2 measured in at 5’8″ and 162 pounds. They’ve listed his opponent, Jay Grady, at a much more likely 5’10” and 180 pounds, and seeing these two boys face-off illustrates the undeniable fact that Thomas was notably taller (not by a little) and almost certainly heavier (100% of it hard, striated, sliced to shreds muscle).



I remember seeing this match hit the website as a new release 9 years ago. Picking up my recent theme of the relative allure of “pretty,” I readily admit that it was Duncan’s tanned, toned classically gorgeous body and pretty-boy handsome face that caught my eye. Anachronistically, I’d say he’s got a distinctly Henry Cavill look about him. I don’t remember, however, why I didn’t snap up Boston to Austin 2 that very moment. Perhaps I was paralyzed by the devastating beauty in Fantasymen 22, which was released at the same time (damn, that is one stunning collection of muscle men!). In any case, Duncan Thomas made a big impression, but I didn’t actually see him in action…



…until BGE posted his match as a video-on-demand in the Arena last week. I was like a cat watching a piece of string being dangled before my eyes. I was mesmerized, helpless to stop myself. I clicked “buy,” and then hunkered down to compare what I imagined this match to be with the reality.

I was delighted to discover that Duncan is no delicate pretty boy poser. He’s pretty, sure. But somehow, I couldn’t imagine calling him “pretty” to his face. As soon as he opens his mouth and that deep base voice with a rope-’em ‘n tag-’em Texas twang comes snarling out, “pretty” just falls off the table. He’s a cocky, supremely confident, strutting son-of-a-bitch from the Lone Star state with the swagger to suggest that all those eye-catching muscles serve some purpose other than being adored. When Jay walks in and Duncan flips into a rock solid handstand Capoeira-style strike pose, the message is crystal clear: this is not some go-go boy just yanked off the dance floor.



Duncan physically dominates in a way that drives home my point that someone’s measuring tape and scale were badly mis-calibrated when they sized him up at 5’8″ and 160 pounds. No doubt about it, Jay is a hot little scrapper who seems to genuinely delight in the prospect of turning this into a hunk bash. But Duncan throws his weight around and muscles the high-n-tight brawler into one compromised position after another. Nine times out ten, Duncan simply snaps his massive arms around Jay’s head and parades him around the mat, threatening to snap body parts off at will. In fact, for his flashy start, I’m a little disappointed to see no more creative fare from the tanned adonis. I get the impression of a martial artist just barely restraining himself from landing a roundhouse kick to his opponent’s face, so perhaps it’s the format of the mat battle that makes Duncan appear a little less than innovative throughout most of the match.




But the final fall in the best of 5 finally shows what all those highly coordinated, heavily trained muscles can offer. Systematically picking apart his opponent, Duncan unleashes slams, scissors and a final, decisive choke that reminds me, once again, that I wouldn’t dare call this hunk “pretty” to his face.



But what makes this match completely worth being the impulse purchase it was, is Duncan’s smart-ass mouth. I’m not a fan of overly misogynistic themes in my wrestling, but there’s something deeply arousing when Duncan looks like he’s about to rip Jay’s head off, and he snarls, “I can break your neck, or you can slap out like the little girl you are.” In that deep-chested Texas drawl, Duncan’s threat is completely believable, as illustrated by the fact that Jay almost instantly gasps out a desperate submission, proving Duncan’s point. With some hot verbal taunting that brings to my mind the opening salvo by Rusty Stevens upon facing off with Mitch Colby, Duncan paces around Jay after the submission, explaining, “I’ll give you some time for some beauty sleep. You need it.” If that line came from some muscle jobber, it would be such an eye-rolling cliche’. From this aggressive, confident Southern stud, though, it’s fantastic psychological domination. He can kick Jay’s military ass, humiliate him by questioning his masculinity, and then remind him that Duncan is heads and tails more beautiful to look at, to boot. Holy hell!



Best line of the match, hands down, has to be when they’re about to lock up after another submission, and Duncan spits out, “You wrestle like my sister…. that bitch!” Again, you have to superimpose a deep Texas drawl on this text, and then sit back and delight in the take-no-prisoners, smarter than your average bear banter that rolls off of Duncan’s tongue like a seasoned pro. In the end, Duncan kicks Jay when he’s down, and then tops him off with an inverted reverse bearhug into a skull rattling piledriver, delivering a COMPLETELY gratuitous splash while Jay is still clutching his throbbing skull defenselessly.



And see, I’ve made it to the end of this post without even mentioning his stunningly sculpted legs, fantastically asymmetrical pec development (an archer?), and his gorgeously shapely athletic ass and slice of Texas beef hanging from his crotch filling those unbelievably tight trunks to capacity! That’s got to prove it: this Texas one-hit-wonder is absolutely not just about “the pretty.”



P.S. If one of the BG East boys gets sent to my house to beat my ass for calling them liars, can I put in a request for it to be Denny Cartier? In his white trunks with blue piping? With his overnight bag?

Authenticity

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Recently, I’ve been feeding my growing infatuation with BG East wrestler Denny Cartier. I just saw Denny’s Mat Hunks 8 match against classic, classic (way classic) BG East veteran Mikey Vee from last spring. Because I love a through-story, I was delighted to discover that this match picks up immediately following Denny’s highly entertaining tussle of age/experience vs. youth/beauty, when he lowered the hammer on another very classic veteran, Chris Bruce in Backyard Brawls 6. 


Denny’s match with Mikey is absolutely awesome. No hedging on my part here. It was completely wrestling-kink satisfying. And no hedging on Denny or Mikey’s part, either. This is the highest quality of wrestling I’ve seen from two opponents in the same match for a long time. Somehow I don’t remember Mikey being quite the shoot expert that he clearly is in his schooling of Denny. They both work up a quick, hot sweat. Like two chess masters, they bring much more than just brawn to the mats (though I’m a major fan of all the brawn on display here).

Mikey is bound and determined to smack the young pup down in retribution for his humiliation of Mikey’s peer, Chris. With sweat pouring off of him in streams, Denny looks astonishingly sexy as Mikey puts him out cold on his feet. This is fantastic, hard, hot, technical, powerful wrestling that builds into commanding domination and humiliation: lesson learned.

And now I’m watching over and over Denny’s newest release taming the rookie Attila Dynasty (have I mentioned how much I love that name?). Attila looks like a gymnast who’s recently tackled combat sport. He has astonishing balance and body awareness, and he’s got the build of a muscle twink pornstar. This match isn’t as technical or ferocious as Denny’s fight with Mikey Vee, but Atilla has a surprisingly deep arsenal for a rosie cheeked rookie. Personally, I think he’s got the asset portfolio to be successful with BGE, perhaps as a pretty boy sadist (maybe it’s the name).

But it’s Denny who particularly gets me all hot and bothered in this match. When the board shorts are still on (should be a law against that), the thought occurs to me that next time I’m in an actual fight, I want Denny at my back. He’s awesomely intense and powerful, and he fights both hard and smart. Every angle, every shift in his center of gravity is calculated to be ready to spring. And when the board shorts come off, Denny in relatively demure mid-rise briefs just screams SEX at me. His pale, hairy legs wrapped around Atilla, making the rookie squirm, have an authenticity that I know I’ve mentioned before.  Not only would I want him at my back in a fight, I could imagine him as one of my (above average, devastatingly handsome, cool as ice) hunky friends ready to watch my back. He’s somehow knowable, relatable, in a way that most of my homoerotic wrestling fantasymen obsessions are just pure fantasy.

Denny’s rookie-taming of Attila speaks particularly to the wrestling kinked among us, not just those in search of hot bods in underwear. There is that, too, of course, but if you’re into the erotic pleasure of witnessing wrestling skill, fierce determination and stamina, culminating in one man undeniably bested by another, this (and all of Denny’s matches) is a cut above your average homoerotic wrestling fare.


At this rate, I could imagine Denny mounting a surprise attack on Lon Dumont to climb upward in my favorite non-pornboy homoerotic wrestling ranks. Now THAT’S a match that I’d have to take time off of work for.

Folks’ Strokes

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The first preview pics from BG East’s Arena a couple of weeks ago drew a tepid response from a handful of commentators over at BG East’s yahoo discussion group. It’s good for me to see differing opinions, because otherwise I’d blithely dance along assuming everyone was as giddy with excitement and anticipation as I am. I catch myself assuming that what yanks my crank must be a universal attraction (just like occasionally I forget that not everyone is gay). Not true, of course, except in my flights of fancy.

Still, I have to scratch my head in wonder that a wrestling kinked gay man could be uninspired with some of the new releases. In particular, Matmen 21 is already making me wipe the drool from the corners of my mouth. Angelo Demato’s ass in shrink-wrapped shorts alone is enough to make me light-headed. I’ll wax adoringly about that release more in a couple of days. But for now, let me point out a few other highlights that make me astonished to realize that someone else can be disappointed with BGE’s holiday-time releases.


In no particular order, I’ll start with Denny Cartier facing off with gorgeous rookie, Attila Dynasty (awesome name, BTW). Denny with a shaved head and gray, very brief briefs is pushing him farther and farther up the ranks of my favorites. In what looks like a legitimate scrap with a skilled and stunning newcomer, Denny instantly grabs my attention. In a homoerotic wrestling world with a lot of pretty boys playing paddy-cake, Denny is one of the stars keeping the hot wrestling in my homoerotic wrestling. And his round ass, meaty pecs, strong, hairy legs, and cleft chin leave me unable to imagine him disappointing me in any scenario.

The first glimpse I ever got of Eddy Rey was in Lon Dumont’s debut match. That was a little unfair to Eddy, as I can’t take my eyes off of Lon. I haven’t seen much of Lon lately, which seriously damages his strength in the standings of my favorites, but seeing more of Eddy is making me take note of the fine, fine specimen that he is. First of all, he’s a huge beast of a man. I know that in BGE-land, 6’1″ and 210 pounds isn’t necessarily monstrous, but there’s just something about Eddy’s look that seems ponderously massive beyond his stats. He also appears to continue to be ripped to shreds and incredibly arousing when doused in dripping sweat, which is most of the time. In his new match against omnipresent Donnie Drake in Hunkbash 11, Eddy’s trunks accentuate the lead pipe he’s smuggling. None of this, so far, leaves me uninspired.

I realize stills can be deceiving (another recent topic in the discussion group), but the pics for the new Motel Madness UK 7 are taking my breath away with excitement. First of all, six new faces in one release is pure gold, as far as I’m concerned. I won’t get on my soapbox again here about the problem with recycling that’s plaguing so many new releases across wrestling companies (Donnie Drake, I’ve got one eyebrow raised in your direction right now). But I will heap praises on BG East’s talent recruitment skills in hopping the pond and signing up fresh meat that I’ve never seen anywhere else. From the description, apparently Ashley Ryder (another excellent name) is a staple at a London gay wrestling event at a Soho bar. First of all, why the hell don’t I live somewhere with a regular wrestling event at a gay bar!? Second, the mop of hair on Ashley’s head, the devilish grin, the tight bod, and his opponent’s hand across his adorable ass are all sorts of things, I think… none of which are disappointing or uninspiring.

And my last marvel for the moment is at the first match from Motel Madness UK 7, pitting smooth, tight white bread named Darren Madison against the “gypsy hunk” Sasha. Sasha, Sasha, Sasha…. wow. I didn’t even know I was missing this piece of gorgeousness in shiny orange trunks until I saw these pics. I’m pretty versatile on many counts, including my tastes in body hair. But I must say that the fantastic coat of fur on Sasha’s muscled body is as arousing as it is unusual in the biz these days. If I had the dough, I’d offer to buy this piece of hairy gold a ticket to Boston in order for us to get to see him climb into a ring with the likes of, let’s say, Denny. Since I’m so inspired to buy more of these delightful new releases these days, however, I don’t have the dough…. just the dream. I know that there are different strokes for different folks. BGE’s new releases are offering me plenty of strokes.