Wednesday’s Woes

I’m entirely on board with the erotic power of a tree of woe. The ToW is an example of how some homoerotic wrestling gems simply require a professional wrestling ring.  Hang a hammered hunk upside down in the corner, his knees draped over the top ropes and his feet locked in place beneath the cable connecting the turnbuckle to the post, and there’s all sorts of a hot wrestling gold that’s suddenly ripe for picking. It’s a maneuver that signals total control over a mastered man. The subject of woe is laid out so vulnerably, his body not just on display, but trussed up beautifully for easy access to innovative methods of torture.  There’s a little crossover here between bondage kink and wrestling kink, with enough of both to show due respect to all parties involved, as far as I’m concerned.  In honor of those of you who harbor a special place in your hearts and crotches for an agonizing, dominating, body manipulating tree of woe (and I hear from you often), this post is for you.  Here are 10 ideas for what to do with an opponent once you’ve trapped him in a tree of woe.

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Climb on top, knee crushing his balls, and celebrate like Brooklyn Bodywrecker.
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When finding yourself out-boxed, hang the fucker upside down and peel off his gloves to make this all about homoerotic wrestling, like Brodie Fisher.
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Grab a dumbbell and bash your opponent’s six-pack abs, like Eli Black.
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Duck outside the ring and wrench the trapped fucker’s head backward, like Cameron Matthews.
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Stop on his flowing locks and dare the muscleboy to squirm, like Ethan Andrews.
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Stand outside the ring and threaten to rip his arms out at the shoulder, like Alex Waters.
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Make sure his trunks are hooked on the turnbuckle and slipping off, then land a soaring drop kick to the helpless stud’s gut, like Jonny Firestorm.
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Sit on his face, like the Brooklyn Bodywrecker.
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Pause and appreciate the view – and feel – like Jarret Cole.
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That’s right, a Tree of Woe/Bearhug/Headscissors combination, nice and snug in the crushing embrace of Cole Cassidy!

Latin Hearthrobs

I’m instantly enthralled with a man with legs long enough to climb into the ring by stepping over the top rope. There’s just something intensely intimidating and profoundly sexy about that over the top ring mount! It takes a seriously long-legged hunk of man to pull that off, and the word “giant” instantly pops into my head whenever I see it. Pair that pair of incredibly long legs with a washboard stomach, luxuriously meaty pecs, the wingspan of an Boeing Dreamliner and a booming, baritone, evil laugh, and I’m at full attention for none other than BG East’s Diego Diaz.

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6’3″, 184 lbs., Diego Diaz

I’ve been buying anything and everything Diego has been selling since the moment he showed up at BG East. I have no idea how Diego fits into the pantheon of wrestling archetypes.  Although he’s taken some epic beatings, there’s no way in hell to mistake him for a jobber. He’s a stunningly gorgeous specimen of a man with a strong penchant for excusing his obliteration of lesser opponents as righteously justified by his superior skill and strength, but I think he just enjoys making another man suffer a little too much to call him a babyface.  But then again, I’m not sure he enjoys it nearly enough, nor is he quick enough on the draw for underhandedness, to qualify as an archetypal heel.  What is he?  He’s fucking-Diego-Diaz, kids, and you better put on your big boy undies because he cannot wait to separate the men from the boys!

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6′, 185 lbs., Rio Garza

And was there ever a more boyishly beautiful jobber on the planet than tasty morsel Rio Garza!? The genius of the Diaz v Garza pairing in Fantasymen 35 makes me gasp a little. The Brazilian skyscraper versus the Mexican fitness model champion!?  Latino hunk versus Latino hunk!? Playground bully versus the protypical muscleboy!?  Not an exaggeration: I was cruising at top speed less than 30 seconds into this match.

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Diego introduces Rio’s throat to the sole of his boot.

The string bikini trunks on Rio are mesmerizing. I could stare at beautiful Rio for days on end, mind you, but there’s an unmistakable value-added in his ring gear for Fantasymen 35. His mouthwatering ass quite possibly may have never looked as juicy, and there’s a perfect fit of tightness and room to swing in the pouch of those flaming hot red briefs. Cute as the proverbial button, flexing his award winning physique for the mirror, and making his pecs bounce, however, have never amounted to being an intimidating ring presence for Rio. Despite an initial flurry of offense that knocks the sneering Brazilian stud on his ass, it’s not long at all before Diego pins the Mexican coverboy by the throat into a corner by his mile-and-a-half long leg and size 17 and a half boot. “This is no place for a kid, you know what I’m saying!?” Diego growls like a tiger.

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Diego nearly rips the gorgeous head off of the Mexican coverboy.
Elbow drops, stomps, and long, lingering trampling drive Diego’s point home over and over in the opening minutes of this match: Rio is looking like he’s in way, way over his head against the giant.  I’m so completely aroused by the moment that Diego is so obviously tickled at the sight of the fitness star crawling on his hands and knees to get to the ropes to try to reach his feet again. Diego’s laugh is deep and full and so fucking sexy as he taunts the golden muscleman who’s already seeing stars about 3 minutes in.  When he mounts Rio’s back, sits on those insanely fuckable glutes that Rio has, and leans back in a camel clutch, Diego’s incredible reach is stunning. When he wraps his humungous hands around Rio’s throat to not only threaten to break the boy’s back but choke him along the way, the fitness model champ coughs out the first fall submission.  “What did I tell you, huh?” Diego asks rhetorically, standing up and kissing his own biceps victoriously.
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 Rio has been getting his fine, fine ass handed to him from coast to coast for several years now, so it should not come as too much of a surprise to see that the beautiful muscleboy has learned a few tricks along the way. Although he spends ages in transit sprinting back and forth helplessly pounded from corner to corner, he turns the tables by capturing his devastating opponent between his legs.  Personally, I’d hand the Brazilian my firstborn to trade places right there, and I assure you there’d be no way in hell my hand wouldn’t be sliding up those golden thighs and underneath those red bikini trunks to feel that taut muscle ass mid-flex. Rio’s aesthetically perfect proportions can disguise the fact that he sports fantastically meaty, thick thighs that can make a long, lean Brazilian wail like a wounded animal caught in a trap.  The look of concentration on Rio’s boyishly handsome face is breathtaking. His lovely pecs glisten with sweat. He bears down, and Diego’s knees buckle. Holy shit this is sexy!
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Rio’s got more offense to show for himself, mind you.  His full nelson on the towering Brazilian is astonishingly hot. The coverboy leans back, resting Diego’s ass against Rio’s crotch and making the shaggy-headed giant howl. Rio looks pissed. Seriously pissed. Like, pissed enough that I almost believe that his epic run as anyone and everyone’s jobber could be over because he’s had enough and he’s not going to fucking take it anymore.
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Perhaps Rio should have reached his boiling point against someone less devastating, less overpowering, and more impressed with his credentials as a fitness model superstar. As is so often the case, the achingly pretty muscleboy cannot close the deal, and instead finds himself nearly sliced in half between the internal-organ-rearranging scissors of the Brazilian hedge clipper.  Okay, I’m taking my firstborn back from Diego and handing him to Rio, because if I’m living the fantasy of trading places with someone here, it’s Diego’s sweaty thighs that I want to feel wrapped around me.  Holy fuck, he manhandles Rio like a freshman, flopping the muscle stud back and forth as Rio leaves pools of sweat (and tears) behind him on the mats.
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 So perhaps my earlier point about Diego not being sadistic and underhanded enough to clearly qualify as a heel needs reconsidering, because just as gorgeous Rio is wilting, Diego drags his golden muscles across the ring and proceeds to torture the Mexican muscleboy in the ropes. Choked in the ropes, spine rearranged in a series of neckbreakers, and a lusciously intimate sleeper tied up nice and tight inside the luxuriously long right leg of the Brazilian brute… Diego doesn’t need to do any of it. He’s just schooling the little kid in the dangers of playing with the big boys.
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 Rio’s recurring, real-life nightmare plays itself out once again as his mouthwatering, award winning physique is battered and brutalized, as all of his picture perfect muscles are broken and owned, and he experiences that all-too-familiar sensation of his dignity being stripped as another charging bull beats him into the dust. “You want pain?!” Diego asks rhetorically when Diego refuses to give up on command. “You’ll have the pain!”  What the hell is Rio thinking, showing up at BG East for his 16th match after being ground down, gorgeous muscle by gorgeous muscle, again and again?! What could motivate a goldenboy who apparently owns the competitive fitness model scene to tempt fate once more and place that beautiful body in the path of another raging wrestler?! I honestly can’t tell you… however… I swear to god there’s something new in this match that catches my eye, right around the time that Rio is helplessly suspended in Diego’s hangman, and that bouncing, quivering pouch of the Mexican muscleboy swells just a bit.
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“Look at you,” Diego’s rumbling laugh returns as he watches Rio try to peel his soaked torso off the mat and defend himself.  “So sad to see. Where’s that guy with all the poses?” Diego taunts.  “You’re just crawling back for more…”  This opening match on Fantasymen 35 just keeps coming back for more, more muscle, more beauty, more Latino swagger and ego, more agony, maybe just a little more ecstasy, and more fantastic physiques put to their most perfect use: hot, sweaty, homoerotic ring wrestling!

Built to Wrestle

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Morgan Cruise

Bard: Thanks for making time to chat with me today, Morgan.  You seem like a busy guy. I’m seeing you in a lot of wrestling products!

Morgan: Yeah, been a busy a few weeks orienting new talent filming seasons 5 and 6 at MDW, as well as work on a superhero season, and of course I have spent a fair amountof time down at BGE.

Bard: You all are already producing season 6!? Season 5 just came out! Damn, you are busy!  I’ve been seriously enjoying some of that new talent MDW has been getting their hands on lately. Tidus, Rodriguez, beefy boys in need of getting a beatdown. What do you do to “orient” fresh meat?

Morgan: Glad you like the new boys. These guys did not need much of a training session; they got in the ring ready to wrestle! Rodriguez in particular is going to be a damn fine talent. When a new guy comes in, though, the procedure is to have them spend time watching myself or Muscle Master Kevin wrestle a couple of matches so there are noquestions as to what is off limits. [laughing] All reservations quickly fly out the window using this method. Once they feel comfortable in that regard we set ’em loose.

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Morgan tenderized fresh beef back in MDW Season 2, breaking in Mateus Shogun in Meaty Muscle Massacre.

Bard: Voyeur first, then climb in and go at it?  I like it.  I like it a lot.  I want to ask you more about other wrestlers and about the companies you’ve wrestled for, but first let me ask more about Morgan the Mastodon Cruise. It seems to me like you’ve gone from a rookie to a seasoned heel in the blink of an eye. To what do you owe your success as a terrifying force ofdestruction in the homoerotic wrestling universe?

Morgan: I take full credit for in my in ring prowess! [laughing]  But in all seriousness, I have been a wrestling fan for as long as I can remember, and when I got to BG East for the first time it was like a dream. I learned a lot from my first match with Lon Dumont – it was kind of like, “Oh, this is what I am going to be doing? Hell, yeah!”

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Morgan learned the ropes at the mercy of indy pro veteran and competitive bodybuilder, Lon Dumont, in BG East’s Rookie Wreckers.

Bard: That was a monumental match with Lon. I’m a huge, huge, huge fan of his, and I go back to that match often. I had a strong feeling even then that with a little “orienting” from an indy pro veteran like Lon, you were going to be a force to be reckoned with. What would you say is the most devastating hold in your arsenal at this point in your career?

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Morgan bearhugs Lon Dumont in Rookie Wreckers.

Morgan: Interesting, well that match was all about the bearhug; I bearhugged Lon; he bearhugged me; and I definitely have to put that one high up on the list. But as far as my most devastating hold, the torture rack has to take the cake

Bard: Fuck. Yes. Hoist an opponent up across those big broad shoulders of yours and make them scream. I’ll be in the front row every time.  I know what a move like that does for me as I watch you completely dominate a sorry bastard totally off his feet and under your control.  What’s the experience like for you?

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Morgan racks the hell out of Christian Taylor, humiliating him in front of Christian’s lover, Skip Vance, in BG East’s Tag Team Torture 16.

Morgan: I am always surprised at how easy it is to throw an opponent up there and secure them by their neck and balls. Once they are on my shoulders and I am cranking down, they have no choice but to submit. It is the perfect chance to run my mouth, make them say whatever I want. It is complete control.

Bard: Complete control. That’s what it looks like on this end, too.  I hope you don’t mind if I ask about your body, because I’d swear it’s straight out of some of my fondest erotic fantasies from watching old school 1980’s pro wrestling on television. Big, solid muscles, unapologetically hairy, liberally dowsed in sweat, built for function. How would you describe your physique?

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Morgan’s opponents know what’s going down.

Morgan: I am THE hairy he-man. When my opponent comes to the ring and sees me standing across from them, they know what’s going down. My chest is the kryptonite of all men. When I wrestle, I sweat all over guys – always was a heavy perspirer. My bi’s are built tall and peaked; my back is the thickest out of any other wrestler; and I am secretly extremely athletic. Obviously you are not going to see me doing any dop-kicks or high flying moves, much too methodical for that, but letting everyone know now that I can bust any move out. I was built to wrestle.

Bard: Built to wrestle. Excellent summary, and I can’t agree more. So tell me some numbers, because I get off on numbers. What’s your height and weight right now?

Morgan: I’m 5’8, 175 pounds – had been dealing with a shoulder injury and was forced to lean out for quite some time, but now finally am back to my usual bulky self and packing on more muscle than ever.

Bard: How big are those mountainous peaks you call your upper arms?

Morgan: Last I measured, they were in the realm of 18.

Bard: Sweet. How far does the tape measure have to go to get around your pecs and that thickest-of-all-upper-backs?

Morgan: [Laughing] Have not taken that measurement, but let me just say I have ripped a few shirts on the way on and off.

Bard: Damn, you need to get Kevin to grab that measurement… and send me a photo of him doing it. Waist?

Morgan: [Laughing] Good luck getting that photo. The boss is a busy man.  My waist is 28 inches.

Bard: Thighs (including copious hair)?

Morgan: Measuring now…

Bard: Damn, I wish I were there to lend a hand with that….

Morgan: You are not the first.  26 inches.

Bard: But I promise, I’d be the best.  Fantastic. No wonder opponent’s are weeping when you get those tree trunks wrapped around them.  So in the “real” world, when guys are hittingon you, ’cause I know guys are hitting on you all the time, what’s the first compliment they’re giving you to start flirting?

 

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The gaze draws people in.

Morgan: They try and guess the color of my eyes – first they say grey, then green, sometimes blue, ultimately concluding they are hazel.  Either way it has always been my gaze that draws people in that is invariably where they start – then the bicep compliments start.

Bard: I could totally see that, though if you had your shirt unbuttoned, I’d have to make a comment about those hot hairy pecs. Coincidentally, I put “hazel” as my eye color on my driver’s license, just because no one can tell me a better description for my eye color, either.  So back to wrestling, I’m of the opinion that you’ve moved the bar wherever you’ve wrestled. For example, at BG East, you’ve done some amazing work blending old school pro wrestling style with incredibly sexy, trunks off eroticism. And at Muscle Domination Wrestling, it seems to me you’ve been on the envelope pushing the explicit, full-frontal homoerotic combat angle. Do you think of yourself as a trailblazer?

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Morgan wrestle raw against Tony Law.

Morgan: I ama stickler for wrestling logic.  That is where the old school style comes in. If a move in a sequence is out of place it really bothers me. I religiously watch back all my matches to fill in the gaps, always thinking about what I could have done here or there. I own a very raw wrestling style which goes hand in hand with baring skin. My main objective at MDW was to incorporate skillful wrestling within the sub-dom framework. Originally Muscle Domination Wrestling utilized wrestling as a medium to explore different facets of domination. My job is bringing the product to a level where wrestling assumes its natural artful position while MDW expands its vision for alpha male conquest. Season 5 marks the first huge strides towards this goal.

Bard: I’m thrilled to hear about that continuing evolution at MDW.  And I like the word “raw” for your wrestling style. It’s raw, hardcore, in your face wrestling without losing an ounce of respect for the art and science of it.  And I’m here to confess that watching you pound the shit out of some pretty, pretty boy turns me on… a lot.  Is wrestling a turn on for you?

Morgan: Turn on, fulfillment, gratification… all those words are appropriate.

Bard: Nice to know that it works that way on your end. Speaking of you pounding the shit out of pretty boys, name some names for me. Do you have a favorite match so far in your career?

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Morgan and Diego Diaz had chemistry in Morgan’s Wrestler Spotlight.

Morgan: Ah, always a tough question, picking my favorite, but to name a couple… One from BGE, one from MDW.  I loved wrestling Diego Diaz.  He was a really naturally talented guy.  We had a great back and forth before I crushed my way to victory. Chemistry is just one of those things – until you are in the ring working off one another you just never know how a match will turn out, but right when we started and he responded to my shit-talk I knew we would have a good scrap.  As for MDW, it has given me many chances to wrestle Tony Law.  My first filmed match with him was also at BGE, but since then we have faced each other more times than I can count, so we work very well together – no punches pulled, just intense grit. The most recent match we had was a celebration of our “rivalry,” the culmination of our many bouts – Tony’s final chance to get one over on a 60 minute straight-through Iron Man match. We filmed it all in one shot, non-stop action, and boy did it get sweaty – my favorite match from the new season 5 for sure.

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Morgan digs deep into Tony’s pumped pecs in Morgan’s Spotlight Wrestler match.

Bard:  Again, I’m a big fan of big, big, big Diego Diaz, and that chemistry you describe definitely comes through when watching that match. And I’m not surprised to hear Tony Law’s name pop up.  By the law of averages, since you’ve beaten him so many times, it makes sense one of those times might be on your favorites list.  I’ve seen your match with Tony over at BG East, and again, the word “raw” comes to mind. The match description for this Iron Man match for MDW’s season 5 makes it sound as if Tony may have finally turned the tables on you this time around, which I for one find hard to believe. Anything more you can say about Iron Man and how you left Tony’s meaty ass when the 60 minutes were up?

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Morgan leans into his longstanding rivalry with beefy farmboy, Tony Law

Morgan: Well, the Iron Man contest allows for multiple pins and submissions (not that any heel is going to stop at the first tap out anyway), so I will say that Tony had a lot of chance to make up for lost time. The man that walks away with the most victories at the hour’s end is declared the ultimate winner of the contest, so either we exchanged a few wins in a closely contested bout, or I kicked his ass for an hour straight, but you will have to watch it to find out.

Bard: Nicely teased.  Damien Rush is another hot stud you’ve brutalized over and over from MDW to BG East and back again. The level of brutality and humiliation you’ve dragged him through is an astonishing body of work all on it’s own. I’ve got to hand it to the handsome hunk that he’s got some serious nerve climbing back into the ring again and again with you. You look like you could just about eat him for lunch, but I wonder if, at the end of the day, you walk away with respect for even the mewling, weeping opponents you leave crushed in the ring behind you, like hot hunk Damien.

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Damien works up a sweat all over trashed boy toy, Damien Rush again and again.

Morgan: Damien is a hot-headed talent, and I do respect him, but at the end of the day I have job to do and that is putting everyone in their proper place beneath me the one true wrestling god.  Now, if Mr. Rush wanted to admit that I am and always will be better than him in every way and wanted to form a tag team with me then I could really respect him.

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… and again, and again the Mastodon works to teach Damien some respect.

Bard:  Message sounds loud and clear to me. By the way, if you find yourself ripping Mr. Rush’s sweat-soaked trunks off his hot bod again, keep me in mind. I’ve got a trophy case with a spot reserved. Your most recent release for BG East featured you taking on both Christian Taylor and his notorious jobber boyfriend, Skip Vance at the same time in Tag Team Torture 16. I’ve only seen previews of the match so far, but it looks like you fucking own the both of them in body and soul. A boyfriend tag team beatdown is a long-standing pet erotic fantasy of mine. What was it like for you to not just work over another pretty boy like Christian, but to crush him in front of his anguished lover and then humiliate the both of them at the same time?

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Morgan works his way underneath Skip’s skin by humiliating Skip’s lover inside the ring.

Morgan: Let me first say if you want Damien’s trunks you will have to peel them off his throat, but it is fine by me.  Someone needs to do him the favor after my many mean encounters with him. Boyfriend Beatdown was exhilarating.  While I owned Christian in the ring, Skip cheers on moral support from the much safer exterior of the ring. For the first time I was able to bash one hunk while taunting another. My game plan was of course to get both in the ring at once because obviously alone they are both squash material. Skip and I went back and forth for a good while before I got underneath his skin playing with his boyfriend in whichever way I wanted. Christian was no match for me and failed to save any face even with his boyfriend there cheering him on. I felt badly for him so it was only natural to provoke skip so his boyfriend could see that no one stands a chance against the Mastodon. Squashing both together was like playing god I was the ruler of their relationship; I was the master of all things private to them, it was Morgan Cruise who determined when and where they kissed along with other things.

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Morgan has both Skip Vance and his lover Christian Taylor right where he wants them.

Bard: Holy shit, that’s hot.  That match is officially next on my BG East order form.  So here are a few stream of consciousness questions for you. Don’t think too long… just answer what comes first into your head.  Okay?

Morgan: Sure.

Bard: Steak or seafood?

Morgan: Seafood.

Bard: Boxers or briefs?

Morgan: Neither.

Bard: [Laughing]  Perfect. Legs or chest?

Morgan: Chest.

Bard: Scissor or bearhug?

Morgan: Bearhug.

Bard: Top or bottom?

Morgan: Top.

Bard: Of course.  Country or rock?

Morgan: Metal.

Bard: Nice.  So you’ve got a lot of fans, I’m sure you know. Watching you in the ring, however, you seem completely focused, like you don’t give a shit about anyone else, what anyone else thinks or wants. What do you make of the legions of Mastodon fans out there who can’t get enough of the magic that you make in the wrestling ring?

Morgan: The truth is that my namesake the Mastodon went extinct, but I am the perfect breed – an ever-evolving specimen, and that means listening to feedback and taking direction and criticism. I keep in close contact with my die hard fans, and they tell me what they like and what they do not. Luckily there is very little to not like. When I am in the ring I tap into the primal force that is the Mastodon, and everything else dissolves.  My focus becomes how I want to break my opponent down and how to do it with precise logic and incomparable style.

Bard: Good to hear. You are a crowd pleaser, it’s impossible to deny. What’s something that Mastodon fans don’t know about you that they should?

Morgan: I am very quiet outside the ring. [Laughing] I hardly speak. I meticulously dissect the way in which others communicate so that I never misunderstand anyone. Everyone has a different method or nuance to the way in whcih they articulate the idea they want to get across, so attention to detail is key.  As a result, I do not own a cell phone.  I heavily prefer direct contact

Bard: Fascinating… and suddenly I’m second guessing what I’ve said this whole interview.  Just a couple more questions for you. Is there any particular wrestler currently competing that you haven’t wrestled yet that needs to trampled by the Mastodon?

Morgan: Kid Karisma.

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Morgan has his eye on none other than BG East’s Kid Karisma.

Bard: Holy hell, yes!  I’d pay for a front row seat for that one!  Hell, the image of all of those muscles locked with muscles is making me a little dizzy right now.  Speaking of muscles, if you found yourself climbing into the ring again with Lon Dumont, with considerably more experience and practice under your belt now than when you first wrestled, do you think things would turn out differently this time around?

Morgan: I have been waiting for that question.  He can come to MDW, or we can meet back up in the BG East ring any time, any place.  I am there.  This time around, you can bet your “firstborn,” The Mastodon is walking away victorious.

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A rematch with Lon Dumont: Would this happen again!?

Bard: Sweet. I’m hoping to sit down for face-to-face interview with Mr. Muscles in the not-too-distant future, so I’ll be sure to let him know.  You’ve been a delight to chat with, Morgan, and for someone who typically hardly speaks outside the ring, you’ve been an awesome conversationalist.  Is there any last word you’d like to pass along to Mastodon fans out there before I let you go?

Morgan: The Mastodon is watching over the works at MDW, and would like to encourage my fans to check Muscle Domination Wrestling out as I am making sure my in-ring work extends beyond my own matches.  The landscape has changed, and the wrestling has come to the forefront. And thank you for the interview it was a pleasure to have this experience.  I have learned a good few things from your blog.  And do be sure to let good old Lonny Dumont that he can come to me, or I am coming for him [laughing].

Bard:  You are a one of a kind, hot, sweaty, raw, old school mass of muscle wrestler, and I cannot wait to catch up on your newest releases now, and to check out the evolving landscape at MDW. I hope we can chat again sometime, perhaps after I can get Lon back on the record.  Thanks again, Morgan. You’re awesome!

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A Case for a Face

Red-white-and-blue junior Captain Americas as pretty, pumped, and competitive as babyfaces can be: Jake Jenkins and Austin Cooper
All in the same day a couple of days ago, SP at Inner Jobber posted a by-the-numbers “how to be a fantasy wrestling jobber (like Curtis Thompson)” post, and Joe at Ringside at Skull Island posted a “you might be a heel if…” list of distinguishing characteristics of the heel set, and I briefly mentioned my guilty pleasure of watching a babyface hero defeat an evil doer in the ring.  I think there’s less said than should be about professional wrestlers who fall neither into the doomed to be exploited category or the devious exploiters category.  Since SP and Joe did such thoughtful treatments of jobbers and heels, I decided to try to do a little more justice on behalf of that oft-maligned class of homoerotic wrestlers: the face.
I’ve got a longstanding crush on handsome hero Mitch Colby.

I say oft-maligned because I think to be compelled to pull for the handsome hero is frequently portrayed as gullible.  To boost for the “good guy,” the hard worker, the play-by-the rules, sincere competitor is frequently equated with naiveté.  Guys into the conquering and suffering of a pretty boy may ache for their jobbers, and guys into domination and humiliation dished out by a villain will pull for their heels.  I have a long, long record of working up a head of steam for plenty of jobbers and plenty of heels.  But call me gullible and naive, because (not always, but definitely sometimes) nothing will crank on my chain as convincingly as an all-in babyface (or just “face”) beauty using brains and brawn to overcome treachery and deceit.

Gorgeous face Denny Cartier is all skill, stamina, and strength on the mat.

I venture into this territory with eyes open.  I’ve seen the equivalent of doctoral dissertations written on parsing out opinions about what and who qualifies to be classified as a babyface wrestler.  I’d bet money someone will let me know where I got it wrong by the time I finish this post.  And I love that about us.  We’re the aroused, gorgeous gay nerds of professional wrestling.  We care way too much, leading us to quibble and at times even squabble about what is, let’s face it, minutiae and trivia.  We openly defy orthodoxies on one hand (e.g., celebrating the fierce, butch, dangerously strong and masculine gay man), while on the other hand bitterly defend other orthodoxies (e.g., heaping contempt on the commenter who describes your favorite jobber as a face, or vice versa).  Despite the apparent perception of others that I consider myself an expert, I offer this as nothing more than my personal system for classifying that distinctive breed of wrestler-for-pay who is not the villain, and he’s not the wrestler who seems eternally destined to lose beautifully.  But rather, he’s the heroic athlete determined to defeat his opponents with skill, stamina, and strength, and sometimes, he even succeeds.

Fiercely pretty babyface tagteam Zack Coleman and Brian Barnes.
Like babies themselves, I can’t think of anyone ugly who I’d classify as a babyface wrestler.  Granted, “ugly” is entirely subjective, but inclusion criteria for babyface wrestlers (as far as I’m concerned), include a strong, chiseled chin, gorgeous, piercing (often blue) eyes, and a gym-toned body with beautiful skin.  The parameters are flexible to accommodate an assortment of tastes (eye of the beholder and all), but something obviously beautiful seems a prerequisite.  A babyface seems to, by definition, be attractive in a conventional sense.  It’s not like particularly homoerotic wrestling is well-populated with men who fail to meet basic standards of physical attractiveness, but those especially handsome Clark Kent-esque boys tend to get checks in my personal tally of elements that add up to the essential ingredients of a compelling face.  Necessary but not sufficient criteria to be a babyface, it seems to me, is eye-catching beauty.  
Alexi Adamov strives valiantly to honestly overcome notorious Aryx Quinn’s dirty tricks.
Further inclusion criteria for me include that babyface wrestlers tend to stick to the straight and narrow when faced with (as they frequently are) an underhanded, dirty, no-good heel.  Here’s where it comes in handy to have powerful muscles and innate athleticism (again, necessary but not sufficient characteristics of faces – plenty of heels and jobbers have beautiful muscles and obvious athleticism).  When faced with cheating and trickery, the Pearl Harbor before the bell rings, the hair pull, the crotch blow, the foreign object, the refusal to break a hold when the action hits the ropes, the babyface hero grimaces, shakes his head (“kids these days”) and reinvests his faith in his thousands of hours of gym time and, hopefully, substantive experience and wrestling skills.  An occasional venture into a retributive low blow not-withstanding (particularly in homoerotic wrestling), the face places his confidence in the superiority of his physique, his mental preparation, his wrestling prowess, and the sincerity of his heart.  In a post-modern world, faces can get away with a lot more rule bending and still be objects of heroic adoration, of course.  They can most definitely lose their temper, open a can of unnecessarily rough whoop-ass, ravage an opponent momentarily in a rage.  But in the morality tales of homoerotic wrestling, if I see a handsome stud tend toward the exercise of self-restraint and appear to intentionally decline to take shortcuts, I check off another box in the face checklist.

Who’s got whom? Babyface hearthrob Brad Rochelle battles babyface heartthrob Jeff Phoenix

That’s not to say a babyface can only be seen in matches against heels, of course.  He can most definitely wrestle another babyface or a jobber, by all means.  Sometimes, he may be less easily identified in those settings, but nevertheless he perseveres in the certainty that he is the “better man” which will lead to his victory (as opposed to the heel who sees his victory, by whatever means, as the evidence that he’s the better man).  A babyface v babyface battle can be a particularly compelling thing of beauty.  Two hard, hardworking studs who’ve been convinced by accolades and past victories that they are destined to succeed can generate intensely satisfying and homoerotically charged wrestling entertainment.  The allure of the thrill of competition (which I argue is an essential element of what turns me on about the drama of homoerotic wrestling) can be most poignant and compelling for me when it’s face v face, beauty v beauty, power v power.  These are matches in which tit-for-tat wrestling often makes me smile, as athletes play a game of HORSE, showing off their skills and strength in a one-upsmanship format.  Like knights in armor of old, they charge upright into one another with a typically unspoken assumption that purity of heart will add weight to the scales of justice, and the outcome is less about the delectable doings inside the ropes as it is about who wanted it more as demonstrated by preparation, training, and hard work before they entered the ring.

Classic babyface Christopher Bruce shocks and awes perennially supine Rio Garza

I also like the drama of a babyface v jobber match, though again, I think this can confuse folks who equate a serious mauling as the exclusive domain of a heel.  By my way of thinking, a babyface is generally convinced in the superiority of his training, conditioning, and strength, so there’s most definitely still a story to tell when he encounters a pretty slice of heaven with a track record for getting crushed and humiliated.  He wrestles because he has faith in the premise that if he is the better man, he will win.  Dangling a jobber in front of his face, particularly a tasty, pretty, unknowingly vulnerable jobber, merely offers him the opportunity to collect evidence to confirm what he already knew: all of his hard work destines him to conquer an unworthy opponent.  A jobber’s job is that much more crucial in a babyface v jobber match, because his suffering must rise from being outmatched and outwitted above board.  There’s not likely a low blow or a nipple-twist to explain what threw the jobber off his game, so the two must dance the intricate dance of decisive, convincing combat.  A jobber must beat like a wave upon the sand against the superior strength of body and spirit, only slowly to ebb in will and perseverance in the face of the innate dominance of the finely tuned babyface offense.  Not an ounce less agony, not a smidge less suffering is required than if the jobber took a fist to the scrotum and had his face forced into a heel’s swelling crotch.  This tale is just a tad more subtle but no less tantalizing and tempting for my tastes, for the drama of a jobber slowly crumbling beneath a face.

Heel rising Morgan Cruise drops gorgeous giant Diego Diaz with a shocking low blow

Finally, I’d like to make a case for holding these archetypes in pro wrestling lightly when it comes to homoerotic fare.  While I’m sure I’ll get crap for getting it wrong (won’t be the first time… to get crap or to get it wrong), I’ll also suggest that so far, there isn’t a homoerotic wrestling company producing a through-story with quite the consistency of a weekly mainstream pro wrestling serial in which these archetypes were birthed in live wrestling and televised wrestling entertainment decades ago (probably centuries, really).  Character development takes time and consistency that I think is particularly challenging in the catch-as-catch-can world of the homoerotic wrestling industry.  While there are notable exceptions, such as the highly entertaining through-story that Alex recently posted about regarding the crushing humiliation of fan-favorite face Brad Rochelle until Brad pulled off a sweetly satisfying heel turn in the middle of the Contract series, a chaptered story building motivation and a story arc is a rare element in homoerotic wrestling.  And therefore a face, jobber, or heel may be built or broken within the confines of a given match.  I find this type of story telling more intense, though inherently more difficult to latch onto favorite characters over time (because characters may play multiple roles in seemingly out-of-order sequences).  In other words, my favorite industry highlights that a face (or a jobber or a heel) is not who a wrestler is, but what a wrestler does.  The sum total of a storied career in pro wrestling for gay eyes likely demonstrates that “one man in his time plays many parts.”

Gorgeous babyface Justin Pierce puts the hurt on gorgeous babyface Tommy Tara

In his last post, Alex proposed a new Contract (or Contract-like-series) to chart another rare chaptered story of homoerotic wrestling drama.  I love that idea.  I’d also add my dream of an honest-to-god serial homoerotic pro wrestling story, released as a “season,” witnessing the rise and fall of wrestling hopefuls, the tensions and betrayals, the shocking humiliations and victories-against-the-well-established-odds… alliances made, loyalties tested, egos crushed, losers showing up again owned and operated by the man who bested them… roaring testimonials, sweat-soaked post-match interviews, an explicitly named grudge, a quest for vengeance.  There are some nice tropes and devices of classic mainstream pro wrestling that I think have yet to be fully translated into an explicitly homoerotic context.  I’m sure it would require an entirely different production, likely including prohibitive amounts of scheduling, investment, and choreography.  But seriously, I’d pay a premium for that, particularly with an explicitly homoerotic angle.  Some more suspense, a story arc, a chance to tune in repeatedly to be compelled by a favorite face, heel or jobber… surely there’s a significant market for that.

Babyface beauty Cameron Matthews heeled by Kid Vicious
So I started by making a case for a face, which I still stand by enthusiastically.  Heroes battling for good, winning valiantly, losing in soul-crushing, despair-inducing humiliation… fuck, I love that guy.  But I’d love him even more in a context in which I could watch his character grow and change, in which his motivation is more explicit, contrasts drawn more starkly, perhaps his heel turn that much more shocking because he’d convinced me of his utter trust that right will ultimately overcome might.  I’m sure it’s a pipe dream, but it’s still a dream that makes my blood pulse harder.

Love Putting on a Show!

First 3-time winner of my homoerotic wrestler of the month title: Eli Black

There’s at least one person who was entirely unsurprised by my choice of Eli Black as the first 3-peat homoerotic wrestler of the month here at neverland: Eli Black.  In response to my post announcing his ascendancy to the HWOTM title for the record third time, I received this private message from him:

“And your… three time… HWOTM… Eli Black!!!!!!!!!!! All I can say is it’s about damn time, and trust me, I’m damn sure there is a lot more to come. I’m going to be the unbreakable record holder of championships!!!!! Because this is my world, and it’s what I do. Yins lucky to live in it and witness my glory!”

“… witness my glory!”

Eli’s supreme self-confidence doesn’t stoke everyone’s fire the way it does mine, but I’m completely sold on his laser-beam focused intensity and ferocity.  Oh, and his ass is astonishingly hot.  And his abs are fucking granite.  I replied to Eli:

“You’ve clearly convinced me (and Diego Diaz!)! Not like I need to tell you this, but the praise for your work is very well deserved. You are definitely the stud to beat!”

Eli convinces big Diego Diaz that he’s more than man enough for a “big man’s fight”

While you may not care for Eli’s style, you shouldn’t mistake his absolute certainty in his destiny as contempt.  He’s devastatingly brutal on the mat, in the ring, and in the cage, true.  He sports the conditioning of a stark raving, possibly diagnosable physique fanatic, sure.  But he also loves the drama, the suspense, and the spectacle.  He replied back to me:

“Thanks man. Love putting on a show!”

And perhaps that, more than anything, is what earned Eli his record 3 HWOTM titles (all in less than 12 months time, no less!).  He’s a showman as much as he’s an athlete, as much as he’s a badass, as much as he’s a fighter.  And he loves it.  And on the scene just over a year, he’s been a great addition and a high impact player in the world of homoerotic wrestling.

Keep ’em coming, Eli!  I’ve learned not to bet on the other guy!

“Love putting on a show!”

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

February has arrived, and with it a horrendously difficult decision on my part when it comes to anointing a new homoerotic wrestler of the month.  BG East alone pumped out an incredibly deep bench to draw from.  Just sticking to the very, very top of the line wrestling that grabbed me hardest, I’m seriously drawn to finally put Kid Vicious where he belongs on the throne for his mouthwatering destruction of Len Harder in Ball Bash 3.  Former HWOTM and current top contender for the title of my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler, Lon Dumont, worked nothing short of magic in his hilarious and incredibly sexy Hair Stakes match with frequent nominee for HWOTM, Ethan Andrews.  Eli Black stuffs the ballot box with two hard hitting Gut Bash 10 matches, the most eye-catching for me pitting him against insanely sexy (and shoe-in for a starring role in Hair Stakes 2) Diego Diaz.  Former HWOTM Aryx Quinn and Alexi Adamov put up an automatically iconic muscle on muscle ring battle in Ring Revenge, and in separate matches, former HWOTMs Denny Cartier and Jonny Firestorm are instant contenders for the title on that release as well (it would be a 3-peat for Denny!).  I’ve already swooned publicly over two rookies who made my eyes pop out in their go-go boy beatdown in Motel Madness 12: Serbian sex god Arn Nedic and insanely beautiful babyface Brit Connor Cross.  And speaking of big, big rookie splashes, the tidal wave set off from massively hairy beast Alain Leclair getting the hands-on welcome that only a devotee of homoerotic wrestling line Ben Monaco can give in Mat Scraps 2 tweaks my impulse to tap a rook.  At Thunder’s Arena, a leaner vision of Z-Man is back against a thonged, bootilicous muscle boy by the name of Specimen in Mat Wars 37.  Rock Hard Wrestling put out a lip-licking babyface muscle battle between Brodie Fisher (who needs to compete in a most luscious nipples contest with Mason Brooks) and Jason Kane in Strength and Struggle. RHW also celebrated the new year with a Brutally Bashed tag team match (always a score for me) that makes me award a second nomination for Ethan Andrews as well as Brit pugilist Will Stanley (I’m a sucker for an accent… and a lower abdominal tat… and muscles….).   Muscle Domination Wrestling has been demanding some of my time recently with matches like mouthwatering daddy’s boy Damien Rush Piledriving the hell out of Tony Law, and an entrancing, nay, hypnotically wonderful performance piece starring Mr. Franchise Master Kevin as the Immortal Vampire to Damien Rush’s Renfield as a members-only release.  Did I miss anyone?  Probably. Sorry boys.  My mind is already spinning out control with so much high class hotness to choose from.  It’s not like any of the above fail to deliver exhaustingly satisfying homoerotic wrestling performances.  But push, shove, and I’m forced to pick as the one homoerotic wrestler of the month…
5’6″, 135 pounds: Eli Black
the first 3-peat winner of the Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month title, Eli Black.
Eli isn’t even at the same altitude as Latino giant Diego!
There’s more than a hint of a David v Goliath element about the confrontation between 5’6″ and 135 pounds of painfully lean fighting machine Eli Black and the 6’3″ and 184 pounds of long, luxurious, sculpted Latino lover Diego Diaz.  Diego’s laughter rumbles from deep in his chest when Eli finally convinces him that he’s Diego’s opponent.  The lightly hairy chested tallboy sucker punches the MMA fighter, lifts him off the top turnbuckle where Eli is perched, and quite literally flings Eli more than halfway across the ring.  Holy fuck, the difference in size between these two wrestlers is astonishing!
Gorgeous Diego glistens as he owns Eli early on!

Early going, and this is all about Diego.  He’s overwhelming.  He bullies and outmuscles Eli like he’s pummeling a 3rd grader for his lunch money.  The condensation drips slow and sticky off of Diego’s pouty lower lip as he scoffs at the gross ignorance of whoever thought to send this little kid into the fray against a hairy chested skyscraper of a hunk like him.  He peels Eli up off the mat like snatching a lucky penny off the sidewalk.  He flings him into the corner and completely overwhelms typically fiercely offensive (in many ways) Eli Black, leaving the anatomy chart of a battler wilting into the ropes.  Eli’s chiseled abs are bright red within a couple of minutes of Diego’s massive mitts pounding them like a tough cut of beef.  What the fuck were they thinking, indeed!?

Diego totally dominates and looks like a god as he does it!

The story they tell is more complex than this, but let me just cut to the point at which Eli persistently grabs me by the chin and yells in my face that he’s the only possible candidate for HWOTM.  Diego is completely brutalizing “the kid.”  It’s ugly, I tell you (in an awesome way).  He’s twist-tied Eli into the ropes to stretch out those gorgeous abs and leave him wide open for the Latino heartthrob’s gargantuan fists to punch unobstructed. He’s picked the 135 pounder up and slammed him down to the mat over and over and over again.  Then he drags Eli, nearly limp and mostly unable to defend himself, off the mat, wraps his huge hands around his throat, and then hoists Eli up in a pristine, jaw dropping overhead choke.  A lesser man might have straight-armed Eli directly upward (it takes less strength), but fuck that.  Diego holds Eli by nothing but his throat out in front of him a tad so he can watch the kid’s porcelain white face instantly flush dark red.  Diego’s body, posed in this moment of total, unquestionable domination, is simply perfect.  His gorgeous two handfuls of strong, round glutes; his tantalizing mouthful of a package; the sweat making his pecs glisten underneath his light coat of fur; his long, brown locks sticking damply to his temples; his gorgeous biceps bulging with the 135 pound deadweight hanging at his mercy in his fingers… this story is ALL about Diego.  But then, beet red and eyes popping out of their sockets, Eli seems to snap.  He shoves the palms of his hands against the Latino giant’s bulging shoulders, pushing their bodies apart just a few more inches.  Diego still looks on, snarling insults, admiring the total control he has Eli under… until gracefully, Eli pries his right knee against Diego’s upper abs, swings his left foot backward, and finally drives his left knee sharply into the Latino’s long, long, long and lovely abdomen.

Eli snaps!

Words don’t do it justice, so let me just say that this incredible counter made me go back and watch it again and again, my heart racing harder every time.  The athleticism throughout this match is mind boggling, and this particular moment is simply an astounding feat of strength, balance and coordination.  The air comes rushing out of Diego’s lungs and, shocked, he drops Eli to the mat.  Gulping on air, he tries to grab hold of the offense, and the story, again, but no doing.  Hurricane Eli hits, and long, tall Diego’s got nowhere to go but down.  He’s cornered, trapped, and pummeled.

Diego’s long legs miss their mark, but Eli’s don’t!

The story was Diego’s overpowering size and strength.  The story becomes Eli’s lightning quick, laser beam focused kicks.  Our 135 pound MMA champ has had enough of this shit.  He got completely humiliated by Morgan Cruise his first time out of the gate.  His second gut bash outing (the B-side to this DVD) demonstrated Eli’s complete technical superiority in every detail over mohawked muscle stud Joah Bindao, and still it’s Eli’s sweet ass choked out cold on the mat as Joah snarls and mutters incoherently in victory as he strides out of the ring.  Third time isn’t just a charm for Eli, it’s his last straw as he opens up a can of full contact whoop ass on Diego that the Latino stud and everyone else in the world won’t soon forget.

Eli bruises the big man from the inside out!

I’m pretty sure that gorgeous Diego doesn’t take a full breath for the last 15 or so minutes of this match, because there isn’t more than a split second here or there that he doesn’t have one body part or another of Eli’s jabbed into his diaphragm.  Turns out, all those overwhelming muscles don’t work so well when they’re deprived of oxygen!  Eli is an absolute machine, and by machine I’m thinking of the homicidal computer Hal 9000 from 2001: A Space Odyssey.  He’s focused.  He’s relentless.  His kicks are a blur. His punches sink in deep.  And when Diego is flat on his back, gasping for air and bruised everywhere between his chin and his crotch, 135 pounds of Eli Black trampling his midsection is just big enough to make a big man wail.

Aren’t so big now, are you, Diego?

Yep.  This is Eli Black’s story to tell, mother fuckers!  Keeping the Latino sex kitten flat on his back leaves 5’6″ Eli towering over him, bashing and pummeling.  Knees crash over and over into Diego’s gut.  Eli nearly rips the long stud’s head off at the neck, wrenching Diego’s back apart vertebrae by vertebrae.  Hurricane Eli just stops right over top of his opponent and blasts the Latin American landscape with blow after blow, leaving Diego with nothing to do but hunker down and pray he’s still alive once the storm finally passes.

Eli’s ass wants a recount for Best Butt of 2012!

Now I’d love to get my hands all over Diego’s body, but the meaner Eli gets and the harder his supernaturally lean body works, the more I can’t take my eyes off of him.  That ass!  His zero-bodyfat muscle glutes stretching well beyond the bottom of his baby blue trunks as he squeezes the steel cables of his legs in a nearly successful attempt to snap Diego in half are epic.  I know some fans like their wrestlers bigger, heftier, whatever… and hell if I’m not right with you in crazy lust for the feel of Diego’s mountainous pecs in my hands, for example… but when Eli does what Eli does best, the eroticism of intensely aggressive ring wrestling sprinkled liberally with MMA strikes is homoerotic gold for me.  His maniacally conditioned body is insanely fucking hot!

Eli’s rage has taken him over the edge

Eli breaks the once invincible big man down piece by piece in this relentless and increasingly vicious assault.  Fuck it if anyone at BG East thinks Eli can’t handle himself in a Gut Bash.  The man won Best Abs of 2012, for god’s sake!  Perhaps it’s PTSD flashbacks to the Mastodon dripping sweat onto Eli’s quivering bod.  Or maybe it’s the shame of having roused from his choke out humiliation at the hands of Joah.  Whatever it is that motivates the depths he goes to against Diego (about 5 minutes past the point that he could have secured a half a dozen submissions if he’d bothered), Eli has snapped.  Diego is a limp mess in one of the prettiest trees of woe I’ve seen.  He’s got nothing to defend himself against Eli’s stomps and punches and knees.  He’s done.  Stick a fork in him.  It’s over.  And suddenly Eli dives out of the ring and sprints off camera, returning 10 seconds later with a medicine ball to pound into his opponent’s wide open abs for still further unnecessary brutality.  No amount of destruction seems good enough. No humiliation, no act of glazed-eyed viciousness is sufficient.

This is Eli Black’s world!

Diego’s pleas for mercy fade as it’s obvious Eli can’t hear him through the ringing of rage filling his ears.  Eli dives out of the ring and returns with a dumbbell from the weight rack.  He drags Diego’s gorgeous ass to the middle of the ring and pounds the Latino’s quivering abs with it.  Holy fuck, is Diego getting out of this alive!?!

Turns out, “little” Eli Black is just the right size to make Diego Diaz cry!

Diego’s fans need not worry too much, because he’s still breathing by the time Eli storms out of the ring having pounded away the memories of Gut Bashes past.  Whether or not Diego has the guts, so to speak, to show his face in the BG East ring again, however, I can’t attest.  I hope so.  In my personal dictionary, his picture appears next to the entry, “eye candy.”  But he was no match for a “little kid” 50 pounds lighter, who, once provoked, unleashed a Gut Bash like I’ve never seen before.  I started out thinking that this was Diego’s story to tell, but I was wrong.  It was Eli’s turn to strike back, and for the athleticism, the power, the intensity, and the physical perfection of a body whittled down to knowing but it’s singular purpose (ass-kicking), Eli Black is, yet again, my homoerotic wrestler of the month.

3-time homoerotic wrestler of the month: Eli Black

Still-Frame Fantasies

I remember the first time I came across (so to speak) sites like Can-Am and BG East online.  My heart pounded in my chest.  This is exactly my thing, I thought!  Holy fuck on a cracker, the images of hot athletes in minuscule gear captured in still-frame in provocative, evocative moments in wrestling sent off explosions in my head (and pants, sure).  I emotionally wrestled for a while with my own closet before I ordered my first homoerotic wrestling videos.  But that period after I first glimpsed homoerotic wrestling in still-frame online and before I had a video popped in the VCR to watch the action in motion was, in and of itself, a pristinely beautiful thing.  The fantasies that those pics inspired could have fueled a small city with the combustion that they set off inside of me.  Everything that came before and everything that came after the shutter going click to capture a given still-frame was alive with possibility that my virile imagination was thrilled to muse over.  One homoerotic wrestling producer (not KL) once chided me gently for my infatuation with photos, since homoerotic wrestling is, by definition, a kinetic thing best (essentially?) defined in motion.  But my homoerotic wrestling kink has always included a deep passion for the fantasies that a particular wrestling still-frame can ignite within me that, occasionally, exceeds the reality once I get my eyes on the video.  With that in mind, I have a whole new batch of still frame fantasies ignited in response to the preview pics of BG East’s latest catalog release, Catalog 97.  So many fantasies, so much erotic energy generated!  And I’m a major fan of BG East’s commitment to document their products with both a videographer and photographer present.  The boys with their eyes in the viewfinders of the cameras deserve major credit in my book, because these images are stunningly gorgeous!

I’ve been waiting to see this hairy beast that friend of this blog, Ben Monaco, discovered on camera, and Mat Scraps 2 finally introduces the world to pouty-lipped muscle beast, Alain LeClair.  He’s 6 foot tall, 187 pounds, and with those telephone poles wrapped around Ben’s abdomen, he’s blowing my mind!  There are more climax-worthy still frames in Ben and Alain’s match, including what looks like intense forced muscle worship, but this pic in particular, with Alain grinning as he watches Ben’s face twisted in agony, is incredibly hot!

The coverboy for Catlog 97 is the stud on the right in this shot, Arn Nedic, who goes gorgeous-muscle-to-gorgeous-muscle with insanely baby face muscleboy, Connor Cross in Motel Madness 12.  I’m imagining that there will be an instant fan base lining up right behind Connor’s incredible muscle ass wrapped so unbelievably tightly in those baby blue trunks.  However, there’s something dizzying about the shots of Arn that are already haunting my dreams (waking and sleeping).  Holy fuck, look at those shoulders!  His pecs alone are sending my erotic fantasies into overdrive.  I don’t think I’ve ever harbored an intense erotic fascination for a Serbian go-go boy before, but I’ve got one now. Bad.

Just saying “Alexi Adamov versus Aryx Quinn” is enough to get me hard, but damn!  The preview pics of this clash of titans in Ring Revenge 1 are wildly sexy.  Is it possible that Alexi is still growing taller?  Because he seems to dwarf his opponents more and more, despite facing the hot, smooth muscle bod belonging to someone like Aryx.  Alexi captured, strapped to a ring post, and about to get those picture PERFECT abs pounded is like an image out of Greek mythology, and, of course, my erotic fantasies.

Drake Marcos has been incredibly delightful to get to know since his debut just a couple of months ago.   He has the looks and the personality that instantly attract me.  That Cheshire Cat smile and obvious enthusiasm for high stakes, profuse sweat, unrefereed erotic wrestling are profoundly compelling.  But I have to admit, I sort of overlooked Ray Naylor when he debuted earlier in the autumn, my attention drawn more to the magic of his first opponent, Cameron Mathews.  But this particular preview pic from Drake and Ray’s match in Mat Scraps 2 keeps me coming back to admire Ray’s beautifully sweaty back and that incredibly hot ass, positioned so perfectly with Drake’s face trapped in that luscious figure-4 headlock.  Talk about cheek-to-cheek!  What an image!

Again, there are a dozen evocative images from Eli Black and Diego Diaz’ ab-destroying ring match in Gut Bash 10: Eli Strikes Back.  The size differential between these two men is amazing, and the side-by-sides that illustrate Diego’s beautifully musclebody towering over painfully lean “little” Eli tell an incredibly hot story.  But there’s something about this pic of Diego’s gorgeous, hairy pecs stretched out, his glute flexed, his massive white boots on those incredibly long legs tucked up underneath Eli’s chin, and the pain contorting Diego’s handsome face into a mask of agony that’s got me hooked.

Again, there are a dozen pics of Denny Cartier’s Ring Revenge 1 match with beach buddy rookie Kai Sotelo, but I’m so enthralled with 2-time homoerotic wrestler of the month Denny Cartier that I can’t take my eyes off of this solo image of him.  There are arguably “prettier” wrestlers.  There are unarguably bigger wrestlers.  But there’s just something about Denny that continues to stroke me hard.  The fuck-me brown eyes in this shot are daring me to dive into the ring with him, I swear.  And that dimpled chin of his was obviously stolen straight off of a 1950’s big screen leading man.  I long to see Denny take a major league heel turn, but then again I also long to see someone not only best Denny, but give him a severe tongue lashing in defeat (with some lingering sucking saved for that chin and those nipples).  So far, this is not the direction Denny’s wrestling has taken him with BG East, but pics like these have me helplessly writing that plot in my own mind.

Speaking of helpless!  This image from Kid Vicious taking ownership of Len Harder in Ball Bash 3 is sculpture that deserves to be in an art museum.  Every inch of this, every angle, everything is so fucking gorgeous!!!  From the self-satisfied sneer on KV’s handsome face to the exquisite, gasping agony on Len, there’s a whole story (or 30) summed up in this one shot.  The total mastery, Len’s semi-erect cock dangling vulnerably, the defensive-yet-amorous way the Len clutches KV’s neck with his right hand… I’m as captured by this photo as Len is completely captured by KV!

Lon Dumont’s physique is always profoundly pleasing to me, of course, but the shots of him from his Hair Stakes 1 (of many more, please!?)  match with Ethan Andrews are pure fantasy gold.  I remember in Lon’s Gut Bash battle against massively bigger Joe Robbins that Lon was not about to concede that big Joe’s body was better conditioned than petite Lon’s bodybuilder bod… except for the legs.  Lon apparently has some insecurities about his legs, and side by side with the sequoias that Joe calls his thighs, Lon was giving all the credit to the big man beneath the belt.  That was last bodybuilding season.  A year or so later, Lon’s back and putting his hair on the line against recent addition to the BG East fold, Ethan, and clearly, Lon’s been blasting his legs like a madman.  Hair pulling is, in and of itself, a major turn on for me (when done right), so this match is automatically high on my list.  But this pic in particular, with Lon hanging so vulnerably in a tree of woe as Ethan steps on his long locks, sends me right over the edge.  The drama, the beauty, and those pink trunks squeezed onto Lon’s smooth, lickable body is picture perfect!

Tyrell Tomsen and Jonny Firestorm have both, independently grabbed my attention often, including on the pages of this blog.  Jonny’s photo expose on his stunning forearms was one my favorite Christmas gifts this year, and Tyrell has been a vision of physical perfection in the ring making me swoon.  The pairing of these two is an intoxicating idea for Ring Revenge 1, and this image of Jonny hanging, body tensed and suffering as sweat drips off him, in Tyrell’s lovely bearhug is fantastic.  This is another example of the visually stunning proportions of two bodies sized entirely differently. Jonny’s track record as a serious badass award winning heel, paired with the screaming agony on his face as he suffers helplessly in Tyrell’s arms, sends my homoerotic wrestling fantasies into overdrive!

Ty Garrison has been making me cum for years now, appearing in BG East UK releases for a long time.  Like Denny Cartier, Ty gives me such a powerful hit of a “real” bloke, a guy who quickly rips to shreds any awkward pretense of a wrestling scenario on camera to get down to a seriously competitive and fiercely focused wrestler.  This Motel Madness 12 pic of Ty’s face smothered against the crotch of a another “Denny,” that is, this stunningly pretty refugee from some French boyband, Deni Dupuis, does all sorts of things to my wrestling kink.  Tighty whities, Brit footie fan vs. French beauty, lovely rookie vs. thoroughbred veteran… this works me into a lather in an instant.

My final still frame fantasy from BG East’s new release of Catalog 97 is this incredible shot of hairy heel Morgan Cruise flexing in victory with muscle hunk Marc Merino’s head locked up tight between Morgan thighs as the big, gorgeous, naked jobber tops himself off in obedient submission.  Again, the contrasting bodies, the stark naked beauty, the narrative written across Morgan’s gloating face and the completely dominated position of Marc… damn, this is a stunningly hot image.  I know that Muscle Destruction 1 is a 1:1 battle, but this shot inflames my desperate imagination longing for a full contact tag team story.  Just picture this view as belonging to Marc’s tag team partner, watching from the corner helplessly as his big, powerful muscle stud of a partner is so completely humiliated and destroyed.  Or, better yet, picture this perspective as belonging to Morgan’s tag team partner, having subdued whoever Marc’s chump of a tag partner is, and leaving Morgan’s wingman to slowly stroll up, kneel down between Marc’s gorgeous thighs, and force those bronze knees apart.

There are more beautiful, tempting sensations to be sampled in Catalog 97, but these particular images captured my imagination hard, igniting countless fantasies of what could lay behind and ahead of these moments in time.  I’m looking forward to getting my eyes on the matches themselves, no doubt.  I’m a wide-eyed fanatic for trash talk, and did I mention that Lon Dumont and Ethan Andrews face one another in the ring in Hair Stakes!?  But for the moment, the particular titillation of these still-frame fantasies take me back to those first moments of discovering the online world of homoerotic wrestling and knowing that whatever the reality of the matches themselves, these images are beautiful proof that this kink I love is something I share with a whole lot of others.