As I mentioned, on my last pilgrimage to BG East North this summer I was given the thrilling opportunity to sit down, face to face, and interview several BG East wrestlers in those moments between them taping matches. Ty Alexander seemed particularly keen to cozy up to my mic, and it is no surprise to me in the least that my interview with the Trophy Boy was long, intense, and peppered with several unexpected twists and turns. If you listen to our interview below, you’ll hear what I mean when I say that Ty is the master of the inside joke. I’ll do my best to let you in on the jokes, but honestly, with Ty, I always feel like there’s another layer of meaning I have yet to discover. It may help (or not) for you to know ahead of time that Ty has repeatedly called me out to kick my ass, and the more muscular he gets, the more actively I’ve tried to steer clear of a Trophy Boy ass kicking (judge me if you will). It also may, or may not, provide helpful context to know that a little while ago, Ty gifted me with the pair of Calvin Kleins that he and Drake fought so bitterly over in Babyface Brawl X. As with my interview with Kayden, Ty’s tightly toned body was distracting, and I don’t believe that’s by accident. Ty wore the least amount of clothing of any of my interviewees, and he drew attention to his tanned muscles repeatedly. On the one hand, if you know Ty, you know it’s always about Ty. On the other hand, I strongly suspect that there was considerable method to the Trophy Boy’s madness in showing up to his interview in his green Nike compression briefs and pretty much nothing else.
In this first portion of the interview, we learn about the ongoing evolution of Ty, both physically and his prospects to dig himself out of the deep jobber hole he’s been in. Ty discusses what fans really long to see, and what the chances may be of there ever being a Ty heel-turn. Learn about Ty’s big weakness, and his impression of how BG East is living into the age of social media.
Ty Alexander Interview – Part 1:
In the next portion of our interview, talks about his favorite classic BGE wrestlers, and exactly what it’s like to meet your gay wrestling hero in person (and get your ass kicked by him). He explores some of the differences between Ty the wrestler and Ty in the rest of his life. Hear Ty’s response to my direct question of whether he is Our Man Inside. We bond over the prototype of the wrestling nerd hunk. And as further evidence that he is the master of the inside joke, delve into the mystery of who Ty may, or may not, be roommates with.
Ty Alexander Interview – Part 2:
In the final portion of the interview, learn about the likelihood of seeing Ty naked in a future match (hint: it’s really, really high). Discover how this post got its title, and how that relates to a description of Ty covered in cum strolling around BG East after a particularly explosive match. I give a shout out to Kid Leopard for my next invitation to visit BGE (Ty is involved). Ty answers the question of which BGE wrestlers are hooking up with each other (“who isn’t!?”). And finally, listen to how this particular interview ended with Ty’s hands down my pants. No kidding.
This summer I received the golden ticket I’ve been dreaming of for pretty much my entire adult life. BG East Boss Kid Leopard extended the invitation for me to be on site during a week of recording new matches. I was able to take a day for this latest pilgrimage to the BG East compound outside of Boston, and it was everything I’d hoped for and significantly more. Gorgeous, hot hunks were arriving throughout the day. The Boss was there (of course). Pretty much every formal member of Bard’s homoerotic wrestling boyband was on hand, as well as several honorary inductees. In other words, I was in heaven.
I have a lot of reflections I’ll share about my latest BG East pilgrimage in the coming weeks, about the business, about wrestlers, about fans, about me. But to kick off my debriefing of this epic experience, I want to jump right into the most enjoyable part of the visit: the interviews. I charmed several of these gorgeous men into agreeing to sit down with me at the lakeshore and answer some questions. They were generous, playful, flirtatious even. And several of them were open to letting me record our interviews and make the audio file available here on the blog.
The first interview I want to share was with stunningly sexy Kayden Keller. I tend to think of Kayden as relatively reticent in action, so it was a deeply pleasant surprise to discover that he is, in person, downright loquacious. Take a listen and learn a little bit about what pushes Kayden’s buttons, and how Kayden pushes mine. And just listen to his deep, sexy, ominous laughter throughout, as he muses about taking control, losing control, and his current record of how many men he’s had sex with at one time in the BG East ring. To start off, we talked about Kayden’s experience of these intense days of wrestling multiple matches on camera, his philosophy on the eroticism of being in control and, occasionally, being under the control of someone else, and how becoming a homoerotic wrestling heel has changed him.
Kayden Keller Interview – Part 1:
Next, we talked about what pushes Kayden’s buttons, the difference between a bully and a heel, and how completely distracted I was by Kayden’s gorgeous, long, muscled legs. What you can’t tell from the audio is that as soon as I disclosed to Kayden the effect his legs were having on me, he began flexing them and rubbing them, pulling up his shorts and quite intentionally pushing my buttons.
Kayden Keller Interview – Part 2:
As our interview came to its conclusion, we were briefly interrupted by Nino Leone looking for his lighter (and, I suspect, also drawn by the sight of Kayden showing off his flexed quads). We also hear about a particular unpublished opponent of Kayden’s who found exactly what buttons to push, and we learn the truth behind our fan fantasies about massive orgies breaking out with all of these gorgeous wrestlers being in the same place.
A recurring theme here has been my perpetual self-reflection on what it is about homoerotic wrestling that speaks to me. A regular point of perseveration has been what makes a wrestling match particularly “homoerotic.” I can get off on mainstream straight pro wrestling probably almost as much as the next guy, but my bread and butter continues to be this particular industry marketed specifically to gay men. And I know that within this industry, there are straight wrestlers, and the erotic heat that emanates from a lot of matches is what I’m bringing to it as a viewer. And I’m okay with that, as long as the whole interaction effect isn’t cloaked in a closeted wink-wink, where the producer and we know that this is marketed with a gay eye in mind, but the whole thing is kept strictly on the straight side of the fence so that a fan can exercise plausible deniability if they’re caught with an incriminating browser history (“I was just checking out some underground pro, bro”). Yawn.
But it also isn’t just an issue of wrestlers pulling out their porn-ready cocks and wrestling hard and naked. Though there’s nothing wrong with that, as far as I’m concerned. In fact, I’m advocating for more straight forward naked wrestling, not just the last 2 minutes of a match before it devolves into out of control face sucking (not that I have any problem with that, either!). But what I key off of isn’t just the explicit homoeroticism of naked bodies, by any means. There’s this sweet spot right in the middle of straight-up pro with me supplying all of the erotic subtext, and hardcore porn with a clumsy grapple as appetizer.
It’s sexy because of intention and attention. Like when a wrestler acknowledges that his opponent looks hot. The phrase, “Nice ass,” or “sweet pecs,” is pure gold when it comes to dialing a match squarely into the territory that grabs me hard. Of course a “no-homo” disavowal will totally kill that buzz, but happily I see less and less of that in the wrestling I watch these days. They don’t have to get their dicks out. Just notice, appraise the obvious assets of an opponent, and you’ve drawn me into the match. I’m invested 10 times more if the wrestlers state the obvious fact that they are both gorgeous specimens. I never see this in straight-up pro (not that I watch it much anymore), and I think it’s an angle that’s probably even more disruptive of heteronormativity than even getting your gear ripped off. Guys look at guys. Guys appreciate guys. Guys can be turned on by getting their hands on guys. The eroticism peaks long before (and even in the absence of) any cum being added to the recipe.
I’ve mentioned before that I regularly push rewind around the time I get to more explicit sexual content at the end of harder-core matches. Like when I was following Naked Kombat, I would skim over the sex round to see if anyone comes close to Rusty Stevens’ perfect mix of corporal punishment, humiliation, and wrestling domination (naked pony rides, leg scissor armbars used like an accelerator pedal to taunt, tease, and torment a loser by commanding them to jack off just shy of orgasm again and again). The fucking itself, even the acrobatic, artistic fucking of professional porn stars who somehow are able to stretch and maneuver into positions that I’m pretty sure would dislocate multiple joints if I attempted them, comes across as downright pedestrian to me. The erotic heat is the sweat-inducing wrestling competition. It’s the suspense and the battle. It’s the passion to dominate knowing that the loser is going to get fucked, rather than the loser getting fucked, in and of itself.
So I love the story of a wrestler having to battle with his own lust to stay focused on beating his opponent. The erotic offense of one hunk destroying his opponent’s defenses with a nibble of the ear or a stroke of his hot body strikes me as the height of homoerotic. There’s a fantastic, frustrating, intensely provocative tease near the end of some matches where the lines between competition and giving in to total lust get so blurred that I can’t tell what’s an openly erotic trap and what’s just mutual submitting to the intimate passion of bodies grinding into bodies. So when one wrestler is ready to just get down to hooking up, and the other is just playing along long enough to snap shut a sleeper, or pound out a finishing OTK, or slip on a knee-breaking figure-4 leglock for the final, screaming, totally vulnerable submission, fuck that puts me over. Whipping out cocks and sucking and fucking at that point is totally vanilla, as far as I’m concerned. I’m pushing rewind to watch that look of shock wash across the loser’s face when he realizes his lust just walked him by the nose into becoming the property of his new master.
My tastes are broad and varied. I can get off on a wide spectrum of homoerotic content, from barely implied by the copyright holder to blistering hot fuck stakes consummated. But that sweet spot that I crave most in the middle of the normal distribution is unmistakable, and yet resists the easy out of sliding too quickly into hardcore porn. It’s an open nod to me, the audience, and an intentional grappling with the erotic potential between two smoking hot hunks hell bent on dominating one another. It’s a look, a groan, a nibble, a slap, a gasping grope, an unfocused reverie. It’s stating the obvious, that two barely clad studs pounding, grinding, and crushing into one another is potently intimate and powerfully arousing. Guys like guys. Wrestling ensues….
I told you that last batch of BG East contraband was the fucking motherload, now didn’t I? Just to add context, this 3rd installment is still not all of it. It is, however, sweet, because of all the smuggled goods that OMI dishes out, my favorites are always the captured moments of my favorite BG East wrestlers relaxed, chilling, smiling, clearly enjoying themselves apart from the drama in the ring. These are the shots that make me admire these hotties that much more because they’re unpackaged, (relatively) candid, and somehow make them that much more crushworthy because they’re real. Speaking of crushworthy…
Fuck, every last one of these boys are adorable. No game face. No bloodlust. Just hot young hunks who can beat the living fuck out of each other one minute, and then kick back and chill when all is said and done.
I think this batchlet speaks to OMI as much as it does to the sensationally tasty hunks featured. We know precious little about the identity of OMI, but I can’t help but infer that he is equally as infatuated with Mad Mykel’s ass and Chase Addams nipples as I am. Just as an aside, Mad Mykel has made some tragic gear choices in the past, but I am incredibly anxious to get to see him in action in this jungle boy loin cloth.
And finally this last subcollection for the day features sizzling hotness all around, including the most elusive interview get of my blogging career, Kid Vicious. I’ve begged, borrowed, and stolen to convince KV to sit down with me for an interview. I’ve made promises. I’ve done favors. I’ve had him halfway to the table on at least a couple of occasions, only to have the most vicious tease in the business take a call and turn away at the last minute. I’m still working on figuring out who I have to fuck to get him on the record with me, but once I do, you’ll be the next to know.
I know for a fact that OMI has been taking some heat, in cognito, from the powers that be at BG East for his corporate espionage/fan fantasy fulfillment. Send your kindest wishes and prayers for safety to the homoerotic wrestling gods that OMI remains our man inside. And pass along the word to anyone you know with strings to pull that Kid Vicious gives that sit-down soon.
As I mentioned a while back, I had the biggest drop of BGE photo contraband left on my doorstep a couple of weeks ago. I’ve been strapped for time, so I’m just now sorting through these gems, doing a little latent class analysis to come up with implicit categories, and ready to share a few more. I identified today’s theme based on the 90 degree/90% humidity hell I’ve been surviving for the past couple of days. In other words, here are some OMI treasures that I file under both “hot” and “staying cool.”
The phrase “fun in the sun” doesn’t quite capture just how sexy and delightful these photos are of BGE boys at poolside in Florida. By the gear, these pics all appear to be shot around the time of the taping of Wet & Wild 7: Pool Tournament. If you haven’t seen that lovely competition, check it out for the hot bodies, the surprisingly intensely competitive round robin, and the post tourney groping and liplocks.
These post-taping pics of Jonny on clean up duty after the Pool Tournament raise a host of questions. 1) What put a headliner like Jonny in such a doghouse that he’s on janitorial duty? 2) Why the fuck didn’t we get to see the tournament competitors’ trunks come off, since clearly, they came off?! And, 3) what ever happened to those lime green briefs that Drake wore in the Pool Tournament, got fished out of the pool by Jonny, and then reappeared as the prize in the shockingly bitter Babyface Brawl X? After so much sweat and cum was spilled over that hot gear, one wonders just where that sexy swath of fabric ended up.
And finally, this latch batch of smoldering hotness I just file under “the future’s so bright, you gotta wear shades.” Baby Boy Leone is wearing me out with his shirtless, hairy hotness and retro, oversized lenses. And the posed, dockside hunkfest is now my desktop image, because it inspires about two dozen homoerotic wrestling fantasies on continuous loop in my imagination, about half of which feature Christian Taylor getting double-, triple-, or quadruple-teamed by this particular incarnation of the boyband.
As always, let’s all voice our gratitude and say a little prayer to the homoerotic wrestling gods for OMI’s safety, so that we may enjoy many, many more behind the scenes treasures like these in the future!
Little Lauden Sevior is a mystery to me. He a gorgeous little flower. Hot, petite body. Delicately pretty face accentuated and framed with his long, flowing hair. Of course I understand why I want to see him stripped to a thong and showing off his beauty for a gay wrestling audience. I just think he may be better suited to be the eye candy ring girl (ring boy?) drawing hoots and leers in the intermissions between the bell than one of the fighters (I know, I know, this is a boxing metaphor rather than a pro wrestling metaphor).
But he keeps showing up on the BG East wrestlings mats, and he keeps getting crushed like a grape. The maulings of Lauden seem to me to be getting crueler and more lopsided with each go. Sensationally sexy erotic warrior Gold Shaft probably treated little Lauden with the most tenderness. Of course that means that he terrorized the kid every which way, but by the attention with which Gold Shaft meticulously studied Lauden’s dancer’s ass, you could tell that he was going to save just enough of the kid’s dignity to make Lauden beg for his Gold Shaft. Ethan Andrews, on the other hand, fucking bullied Lauden relentlessly. Similarly, the pleasure was all Ray Naylor’s as he snickered and taunted and laughed his way to one of the most heartless, vicious squashes I think I’ve ever seen. LJL kept little Lauden in the match just long enough to feast on the kid’s magnificently shattered dreams. Lauden seems to bring the nastiest out of his opponents. Frankly, I get why they all want to hurt him. I just don’t get why he keeps showing up for more.
But I have my suspicions about why Lauden agreed to return to the scene of so many crimes to square off against the Cheshire Cat Drake Marcos in Undagear 27. Lauden makes no mystery of the fact that he is, like I am, a huge Drake Marcos fan. In his delicate high tenor Puerto Rican accent, he’s practically stumbling over himself from the start, fanboying all over Drake. There’s a possessiveness about it. He’s just counting his lucky starts to have made it through the gauntlet of previous muggers to have earned the opportunity to get his hands on (and especially, vice versa) his favorite BGE star. Little Lauden seems to think of himself as the president of the Cheshire Cat fan club, for which I say Watch yourself, prettyboy. I’ll join the long line of users and abusers to stomp my foot up your taut, athletic ass before you can rip that title from my hands.
Anyway, there’s instantly a different vibe about this match than all of Lauden’s previous outings. For one, he takes up more of the space. Not physically, of course. He’s still insanely tiny. But he’s got a voice. He’s shown up with eager motivation to face his hero. He’s excited and determined, and I completely get why he’s here this time. He wants to feel the steel trap of Drake’s scissors first hand. He wants to watch that handsome face up close, beaming down in pure erotic wrestling joy. He wants to earn his hero’s respect, taking what Drake dishes out and, just maybe, turning the tables, all in the service of a little positive regard. Trust me, Lauden, I know exactly what you’re thinking.
Despite his win-loss record, it should come as a surprise to no one that Drake dominates most of this match. He presses his advantage in height and weight early and often, and he’s got magnificent mat skills beaten into him by the most accomplished mentor an aspiring erotic wrestler could hope for. He bullies little Lauden into position like so many of the prettyboy’s opponents before him, but the punishing holds are savored long and beautifully. There’s an explicitly sexy mutuality about the way Drake bears down on the dancer boy. Seconds in, Lauden is getting snapped in half in those body scissors (fuck, those hurt). He gasps in pain, feeling the pressure compress his rib cage. “Nice!” Lauden gasps, his face a mixture of agony and pleasure that I have to think is exactly how he looks when he’s mid-orgasm. “Can you get out of it?” Drake asks, smirking, soaking in the sight of what he’s doing to his opponent. Nine times out of 10, an opponent will try to play mind games right there. Most wrestlers will dismiss any hint that they’re getting hurt. You’re most likely to hear the phrase, “Is that all you’ve got?” in moments like this. But not this match. Not Lauden, staring up at that sincerely delighted smile. “Why would I!?” Lauden coos, instead. Yeah, this is not your typical underground wrestling story.
So Lauden wants to suck down everything Drake’s got. And lest you underestimate him, Drake’s got plenty. He slams him to the mat with authority. He rips him apart at the shoulders with chicken wings. He rag dolls Lauden in as standing full nelson, that curtain of hair flying all over the place. More scissors. A whole lot more scissors. With variable condiments on the side like an added hammerlock, a squeeze and slap to the ass. He rips off Lauden’s red trunks, leaving the lithe dancer in sensationally tight, brief, ass-revealing undagear.
“You’re a lot easier than I thought,” Drake marvels, having his way from hold to hold, periodically surveying the damage in schoolboy pins. “Well, I don’t want to hurt my favorite wrestler,” Lauden winks. That’s right, Lauden delivers the hottest backhanded compliment of the year. He implies that he’s letting Drake walk away with it, that he could hurt the Cheshire Cat at will, but that he just doesn’t want it. Whether it’s sincerity or bluff, it lights a renewed fire under Drake’s ass to squeeze every last ounce of fight out of his #1 fan (behind me).
And then again, I suppose that’s option number 3. Not exactly sincere challenge or bluff, but rather Lauden is calculating just what concoction of compliments and trash talk he needs to feed his hero to inspire the punishing brutality that he knows Drake can deliver, when properly motivated. Drake hoists the dancer off his feet in a bearhug, making Lauden whimper. He charges into the wall, crushing little Lauden between his rock and the hard place. And speaking of hard places, when Drake pulls Lauden off the wall and snaps him back into a humiliating full nelson, Lauden’s swelling pouch telegraphs exactly what Drake’s brand of domination is doing to him.
It’s a dangerous game to play, poking a bear with a stick in order to see it roar. There are mini-climaxes of Drake being sincerely furious and putting a nasty hurt on the little guy. You know which ones hurt by the smile evaporating from Lauden’s face, and the Puerto Rican jobber coming charging at him seeing blood. And no shit, Lauden puts some hurt right back on the Cheshire Cat. Grinding the ball of his foot into Drake’s balls steals a little of the wind from the Cheshire Cat’s sails. Lauden mounts him in a schoolboy pin and shoves that semi-hard poker right into Drake’s gasping face. Just to keep him focused on the task at hand, Lauden leans back and claws at Drake’s balls, squeezing out a scream. And then, slowly and savoringly, he strokes the palms of his hands up Drake’s sweaty torso. “Nice body,” Lauden coos. “Thanks,” Drake smiles up, a half second before hooking the dancer’s shoulders with his long legs and slamming the kid to his back.
There are tears of agony shed from both wrestlers. They’re pushing themselves just that hard. They’re coaxing out of each other a gorgeously nasty street fight, and the give and take is the most compelling wrestling I’ve seen Lauden pull off. There’s a whole lot of spanking, and in fact, I’d guess that if we were able to torture an honest answer out of him, that would be Lauden’s secret most desire. My hunch is that he isn’t just a masochist. I don’t think he enjoyed any of his previous matches as much as this one, because just getting stomped into a pool of tears and sweat isn’t his thing. But by the screams and final submission to Drake as the Cheshire Cat bends him over his knee and spanks his ass blood red, I think right then, there’s nowhere else in the world little Lauden Sevior would prefer to be.
And when Drake climbs on top, post match, and they start making out, I get the impression that Drake is equally as happy with this moment, and not just because it’s a much overdue tick in the win column.
It’s been a while since I took a break from interviews and reviews for a more thematic post. Today, I’m thinking about that peculiar idiom, referring to Wednesday as “hump day.” I actually missed this convention growing up. It was some time in my early adulthood, probably perusing commentary about homoerotic wrestling, when I first heard the term “hump day.” Now, I see and hear it everywhere. I still associate it with sex, but considering how mainstream it is, that’s clearly not implied by everyone. But among those of us into homoerotic wrestling, what else would come to mind?
An enthusiastic pelvic thrust in the midst of a wrestling match is one of those relatively subtle moments that instantly turns a confrontation sensationally erotic. Personally, I get off on wrestling beyond any direct analogy to sex acts. But there’s an extravagant openness about a wrestler taking an opportunity by force to tease his crotch grinding into his opponent’s crack. It opens up exciting possibilities about stakes. It signals to those of us aroused on this side of the screen that at least one of the hunks on that side of the screen is also turned on. It’s impassioned and motivated and pulls a wrestling match out of the closet by the scruff of the neck. In those rare moments when the wrestler getting humped responds receptively, when his mouth gapes open in frustrated desire, when he’s visibly struggling with a momentary lust to get fucked by the hot hunk on his back competing with his desire for wrestling victory (I’m looking at you, Drake Marcos), then a wrestling match is elevated for me beyond any hardcore porn scene I’ve ever seen.
So, happy hump day, homoerotic wrestling fans. And a thousand thanks to those wrestlers who kick the competition up a notch with a hearty, grunting, sweaty pelvic thrust.