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.
Richie Douglas won this match the moment he realized how much Goren Ford wanted his body.
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).
Gold Shaft’s semi-sweet initiation of Lauden
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.
Lauden can’t wait to get his hands on Drake
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.
“Can you get out of it?” Drake asks. “Why would I!?”
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.
Who’s happier?
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.
Drake is delighted with his front face lock, hammerlock, bodyscissors trifecta.
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.
Drake inspired
“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).
Between a rock and a hard place
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.
“Nice body.” “Thanks.”
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.
Drake meets his #1 fan (behind me)
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.
Yes sir, may I have another?!
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.
Drake immobilized by Skrapper’s cock – Matmen 26Lauden Sevior starts punching Drake’s ticket – Undagear 27Oh, look, Drake’s ass pinned to the wall by Ethan’s monster cock – Undagear 25Jaysen Minx mounts Goren Ford’s hot ass and makes him ask himself just how bad he wants to fight back – Undagear 27 Shocked heel beefcake Hawk Rodman’s final concession is cradling Fabrice’s thrusting cock between his cheeks – Mat Rookies 2
I know of wrestlers who nearly lost their balls getting caught smuggling behind-the-scenes pics out of BG East shoots, so I continue to applaud Our Man Inside (OMI) who once again has dropped a manilla envelope full of random, unpublished BGE candids on my doorstep. This envelope was huge, so I’ll try to refrain from taking up too much space with my comments or speculations. Though, who am I kidding? I can’t restrain myself from speculating. In any case, OMI, you are my hero!
First up, we’ve got a whole bevy of poolside hotness. I have not appreciated Mad Mykel’s magnificent ass nearly enough until now. On the other hand, Ty Alexander and Richie Douglas’ asses have been on my radar for years. Honestly, who do I need to fuck to get to see more of Richie Douglas incredibly tasty body!? And ever a safety nut, I hope Mykel, Ty and Richie know that I’ve got to hands and a bottle of sunscreen at the ready. Anytime.
Next up, we get a sensationally rare treat of unpublished photos from the BG East ring. I’m instantly titillated by the site of an as-yet-unreleased match pitting papa Shane McCall ripping my long-time infatuation, Drake Marcos, limb from limb. The double team by Kayden Keller and Jonny Firestorm Camel-Crabbing flyweight phenom Charlie Evans is instantly huge drama making my mouth water. But holy fuck, I need to send OMI a gift basket as gratuity for a couple of extremely rare action pics of Kayden working over the stunningly handsome, hot as fuck classic hunk and declared man-of-my-dreams, a contemporary Scott Williams. Please, homoerotic wrestling gods, hear my prayer that this foreshadows new releases starring the Man of My Dreams!!!
So it appears OMI may be a creeper with sensationally good taste, because this next batch has a ton of BGE stars in various states of sleeping, waking, or possibly just cuddling in bed. Such intimate vulnerability. So many slack, supine, defenseless hunks on display. I have an incredibly strong urge to slide under the covers with Kayden and spoon him awake.
This next batch I’ve filed under “letting their hair down.” As I’ve said often, there’s something potently sexy about seeing the ring warriors of my homoerotic fantasies with their guards down, relaxed, happy, and as is evident in these stolen shots, abundantly goofy. And the goof-in-chief most definitely appears to be The Boss himself, who I hope to the homoerotic wrestling gods never finds out who dished me these cutting room floor shots of him hamming it up. This also reminds me, why haven’t we seen more of sensationally hot boybander, Baby Boy Nino Leone?
Finally, this last batch of relatively random shots I’ve compiled under the heading of BGE boys doing what they do best, namely, looking gorgeous. Reigning HWOTMChase Addams eats shirtless, Drake rehydrates after that match with Papa Shane, and KL, Kayden and Charlie prove how devastatingly handsome they look all cleaned up. And then there’s Ty, Kayden and Jonny looking like they’re acting a Shakespearean scene. Shirtless, of course.
Again, OMI, my deepest gratitude and promise of pseudo-journalistic integrity when it comes to never, ever, under any circumstances up to and including corporal torture, will I disclose anything I know about your true identity. Keep the good times and behind the scenes goodies coming. And all of you BGE boys outed for your handsome smiles and adorability in stolen moments of candid life, keep looking gorgeous. Don’t change a thing.
I’m following the trail of one of my favorites and tucking in to watch Drake Marcos bring a fantastic new authenticity to W4H. Not that I think W4H hasn’t always featured sensationally authentic sell. It just hasn’t always read “homoerotic” as much as I think it’s supposed to. That’s officially old news as of right now, because Drake is the gay wrestling avatar for all of us when he stares down beefy Brad Barnes and muses out loud about playing “tops and bottoms” once this oil wrestling match is over.
Brad is the self-annointed king of oil wrestling
“Brad Barnes here, master of the oil wrestling!” Brad lubricates his flexing muscles slowly and seductively, bragging about being the king of this sub-genre. No one can argue with his well-established position in the pantheon of homoerotic wrestling stars. He’s not as big nor as ripped as we’ve seen him in the past, but damn, he’s every ounce as tasty as always. The beard disguises his ridiculous beauty. Maybe he’s cottoned on that being too pretty is a liability in this business.
Drake enjoys his work
Drake strolls in and shakes hands respectfully. Hell, he even offers (and is welcomed) to finish oiling up Brad’s bulging physique in those hard-to-reach spots where Brad’s massive muscles get in the way of him reaching around. You know how, when we’re watching wrestlers apply oil, you can tell when they aren’t into it? How many times have we noticed probably straight grapplers look a little bored and engage in the least possible bodily contact while still, ostensibly, being able to claim to have oiled an opponent up? Drake, on the other hand, is happy to help. He’s the Cheshire Cat for a reason, so just watch the corners of his mouth curl in delight as he liberally coats Brad’s mile wide back, then drop to his knees to get the backs of the bodybuilder’s monster thighs (Brad’s meaty ass right at eye level, of course). Drake reaches around from behind and palms Brad’s abs, slides his hands slowly and expansively up and all over Brad’s juicy pecs. If a wrestling match wasn’t in the offing, I’d say Drake just might have kept this up until he was pounding out a load across Brad’s gorgeous muscles.
“Is the ‘master of oil’ going to take that?!”
But Brad pulls away, looking uncomfortable. That bitch. Right then and there, I want to see Drake kick his mother fucking ass. Drake is the everyman on the mats here. More precisely, he’s you and me and every gay guy who’s been told he should apologize for getting turned on by a hot, cocky gym bunny flaunting himself provocatively and then pretending he wasn’t cock teasing all along. They shove each other in the chest, the aggression coming to a quick boil. Brad’s got a lower center of gravity and a ton of power advantage, and our gay avatar looks momentarily like he’s about to get muscle bullied (….again….). Then, suddenly, Drake swings his open right palm and lands a cracking, hard, wet slap across Brad’s way too pretty face. Oh, fuck yes, this is going to happen!
“Looks like master of shit right now!”
I’ve wrestled Drake, so I’m not nearly as surprised as Brad appears to be when the Cheshire Cat deftly slides to the side when the muscle tank comes charing in a rage. Smoothly, Drake lassos a side headlock and efficiently muscles the bodybuilder to the mat. “Master of oil wrestling?” Drake asks, cranking hard and making the bodybuilder whimper. “Looks like master of shit right now.”
Drake really, really enjoys his work
I’ve faulted Brad for being flat-footed in the past. I’ve chided him for lacking initiative, for rolling over and taking it too quickly. And, honestly, this match could have easily been pulled down by that same dynamic if it weren’t for one thing: Drake makes him hurt.
Drake tenderizes the beef
Brad actually mentions out loud at one of his brief moments in the driver’s seat that Drake is working the match way stiffer than Brad expected. Read: Drake is actually, genuinely, pushing the pretty bodybuilder baby-ass right up to the point of seriously hurting him. He repeatedly tries to wrench Brad’s left shoulder out of joint with a severe hammerlock. He threatens to snap his oil-lubricated spine in multiple camel clutches. Hell, he looks like he nearly rips Brad’s massive pectoral muscles off the bone in long, deep, vicious pec claws. Fuck, Drake does us proud, gay wrestling fans.
Squeeze the Charmin
Two things, in particular, Drake does that seriously bring excellent notes to the W4H catalog. One, he gropes the meat salaciously. The dragon sleepers lay Brad out best for Drake to use his free hand to slide his palm all over Brad’s fantasy man body. Brad bucks and kicks (more than usual, again making me believe the subplot that Drake is working this match harder than Brad is used to), and the Cheshire Cat just smiles brightly as he squeezes and feels up all of those bulging gym muscles. “You’re the kind of guy I admire at the gym,” Drake muses out loud at one point, treating himself to gently kneading, and then hard slapping, Brad’s muscle ass cheeks. “But, it looks like it should be the other fucking way around!” Drake narrates this drama beautifully, pointing out in both word and deed that Brad’s impressive muscles are nothing but fuel for Drake’s lustful fire. “This has got to be humiliating for you, right?,” he asks, mostly rhetorically. “I mean, look at your big ass! I’m destroying you!” More to the point, the relatively average physique on Drake is equipped with everything he needs to not just neutralize the pin-up boy, but to so completely break him down as to leave him wide open for an erotically turned on opponent to familiarize himself with Brad’s body the way we’ve all fantasized about taking possession of those hot muscleboys strutting and grunting and posing for themselves (though, really, you and me) in the mirror at the gym. He strokes the writhing bodybuilder’s pecs. His hand slides down to Brad’s lower abdomen. He drags his hand, fingers stretched wide, down Brad’s quivering inner thigh, and then briefly, but unmistakably, takes an appreciative squeeze of Brad’s vulnerable crotch.
“You’re about to be my favorite jobber!”
The other thing that Drake brings to the table that is a sensational addition to W4H is the narrative itself. It’s hard for me to describe this match without dipping extensively into the dialogue (Drake’s), because it’s accentuating and counterpointing every move and reversal. “You say you’re the king of oil,” Drake crows, saddling up across his upper abdomen and diving in deep with double pec claws, “but it looks like oil might be your kryptonite.” The reference to Brad as Superman, to the medium that the bodybuilder was convinced showed him and his skills off to perfection as his ultimate weakness, is multilayered and a loving nod to the comic geeks among the gay wrestling fan audience. “In some circles, I’m known as everyone’s favorite jobber,” Drake explains in an obvious reference to this blog. “But it looks like you’re about to be my favorite,” he sneers, nearly decapitating the man of steel with a camel clutch until Brad frantically taps out. Again. And again.
“Good luck getting out of those monster things”
It isn’t quite a squash. Brad actually fights back, which isn’t always something we can count on from the pretty boy. His most successful offense is trying to snap Drake off at the neck with monster headscissors and an angry showering of oil. If he were half the wrestler Drake is, he’d have ridden those moments of momentum and the crushing weight of gravity all over the Cheshire Cat until he shut the prattling provocateur up decisively.
Drake delivers the goods
But let’s face it, while Brad is undeniably gorgeous, while his muscles are magnificent, while that cleft chin is straight out of a comic book, while his body is the perfect, living rendition of my Stretch Armstrong doll from my childhood (which, yes, so got me off), he is not half the wrestler Drake is. I’ve long fantasized about Drake living into the moment and unleashing the heel within. I’ve told him, frankly, that he’s got all of the makings of a sensationally nasty, cruel, incredibly effective erotic heel. But this is the first time I’ve really seen that brilliance shine through quite this openly and directly.
Your Drake’s gym bunny now, Brad
No shit, Drake accidentally sleepers the bodybuilder out cold. Now, if it were you or I, what would we do with Brad Barnes, flat on his back, unconscious and completely at our mercy? Yeah, Drake drizzles on more oil and feels this side of beef up one last time, just to make his own crotch swell that much more and enjoy the spoils of victory.
At the mercy of the Cheshire Cat
Super sweet drama. The gayest thing I’ve seen on W4H, and believe me, I’ve been watching and hoping for them to highlight the “homo” in their bid to stake out more territory in the homoerotic wrestling market. Brad as the big, bulging, pretty muscle boy all shut up and humiliated and possessed by an unapologetically gay, obviously, superiorly skilled opponent is delicious. And seriously intense mat wrestling sold this hot and furiously is rare, and incredibly so when it comes to that most homoerotic of all contexts, oil wrestling.
When I started blogging nearly 8 years ago, I had no idea it would come to this. There are a few moving parts to this little melodrama being played out in my life, so bear with me as I write some expository to try to set up the remarkable circumstances within which I find myself. I know that you’re used to me writing homoerotic wrestling fiction, but at the risk of ripping off the Cohen Brothers, let me just assure you that while I have skipped over some of the more trivial points in the story, the rest of what I’m about to tell you is described exactly as it occurred.
The Classic, man-of-my-dreams, Scott Williams
First of all, as I say often, I have my favorites. Even casual readers can name the hunks who reliably, predictably, inevitably get me hard every time I watch them in action. From Chris Cuomo to Mitch Colby to Rusty Stevens, there are a few names that recur with such frequency on these pages that I’ve been known to provoke irritation from some readers who tire of my infatuations. However, as I also say often, this blog has always been about me, so suck it up or move on. One of my longstanding fan infatuations that I’ve held for long before I started blogging is for The Classic, Scott Williams.
Milking the fight of opponents for years
I swoon every time I watch Scott snap on headscissors, flex his glutes, and press his hips forward, threatening to crush some lucky son of a bitch’s skull. In an interview I did with another classic infatuation, Shane McCall, I referred to Scott as “the man of my dreams.” It’s not an exaggeration. Scott’s devastatingly handsome hotness has always made him fantasyman material for me. Everything about him makes me weak in the knees. The square jaw, the bald head, the ripped muscles, the scorching intensity. His published work for BG East is comprised of merely 4 matches, and yet his presence in my homoerotic wrestling infatuations is so much more huge than that. When I recently learned that Scott still wrestles privately and in custom matches arranged through Jonny Firestorm, I started saving pennies immediately for another chance to crush on Scott’s hotness. I’m still saving (it takes a lot more pennies than I typically have on hand), but in the mean time, I regularly sift through the social media feeds of other wrestlers that I know also do similar work for Jonny, panning for that priceless glimpse of Scott’s gorgeous, hairy pecs.
The Cheshire Cat, Drake Marcos
Now, let me shift my attention just a little, with the promise that, I swear, these various subplots will all collide before this post is done with. Another familiar infatuation that readers know well is my fandom for The Cheshire Cat, Drake Marcos. I was crushing on Drake’s handsome hotness since, literally, before I ever saw him wrestle. About four and a half years ago, Kid Karisma smuggled some behind the scenes snaps out of a BG East shoot. This was before The Boss started requiring non-disclosure agreements and my sources of up and coming BGE gosssip dried up, except for my very deeply embedded, super secret smuggler of back stage pic, known to me only as OMI (our man inside). In any case, I was already groovin’ on a candid, fully clothed shot of Drake at his very first BG East taping, before we even knew his name. My fan relationship with the Cheshire Cat has taken several abrupt and unexpected turns. Drake reached out to me, turning up the charm even before his first match was released. Every time he wrestles, I repeatedly get off on his intensely erotic approach to the genre. I was thrilled to get to do a tandem interview with both Drake and Mason Brooks, soon after Mason crushed the Cheshire Cat like grapes and laid formal claim to his ass in Passion and Punishment 1. In that interview, in my sincerest effort to applaud Drake for looking so delicious getting pounded to pulp, he took umbrage at me suggesting that he’s an outstanding jobber. Words were spoken. Challenges made. And about 10 months later, there I was, getting a tour of BG East’s South Campus from none other than Drake.
The end of Blogger vs. Wrestler
The tour was capped off with a settling of that brewing tension between us. Having no pro wrestling experience, I was unceremoniously tossed into the ring by my tour guide and worked over harshly, with that handsome, taunting grin beaming down at me every step of the way. Well, the grin sort of disappeared around the time that this “mere blogger” strung his tasty little meat sandwich up in the ropes, and then exploited his vulnerability in a tree of woe. And then stripped him naked, laid out flat on his back in the middle of the ring, snapping pics to document the priceless moment. There’ve been more words. Accusations of cheating and presenting “alternative facts.” I think Drake has simmered back down and finally acknowledges that in this blogger vs. wrestler battle, he was, in the end, my compliant plaything. I still pop my cork just knowing when there’s a new Drake match out (like now, so watch for my review of X-Fights 42).
The Trophy Boy Ty Alexander
And now, for the 3rd tine of this complicated fork, let me just remind you of my ongoing enjoyment when watching the homoerotic wrestling career of Ty Alexander. Like Drake, my fandom for Ty began before we even got to see him wrestle. An OMI snap captured Ty’s hotness when he was all promise and potential and anticipation. In the intervening 3 years, the Trophy Boy has made quite a name for himself, owning social media, selling his sensational brand of fashion-forward wrestling narcissism, and managing to snag the Jobber of the Year title while demonstrating repeatedly that he is no pushover.
Ty demands respect for his ass
And so here’s where all three of these strands of story start to entwine. I had the temerity to let it be known that I did not vote for Ty to win the Best Butt title this year. Regular readers were completely unsurprised that I, once again, threw my full support behind Kid Karisma’s behind. For some reason, this provoked Ty to take aim at making me pay for my “mistake” … corporally. I’ve since received challenges from Ty to face him in the ring, so that he can work out his frustrations all over my body. He’s promised to beat my blogger ass for the perceived slight toward his.
At first, I didn’t take this all that seriously. This is Ty Alexander, we’re talking about. Jobber of the Year. When a notorious jobber tries to pick a fight, it’s just because he’s aching to get owned, right? It’s not like I need to jump when Ty snaps his fingers, because a young stud as gagging to be dominated as Ty is in 90% of his matches is surely going to still be on the line whenever I get around to pick up. Right?
Well, the whole surprising heat from the Trophy Boy took a sudden and unexpected turn for the dark side about a week ago. I got a notice that I had a video from him waiting for me in my inbox. Now, Ty has sent me (and I’m not exaggerating), hundreds of pics and clips of him. He knows I like the look of his body, and he’s every bit the narcissist to get off on knowing it, so he scratches both of our itches. Often. So I clicked on this latest video expecting to see him showing off his 2nd place ass in the tanning both or in the gym locker room again. But no. This was unlike anything I’ve ever received before.
It was Ty, mounted across Scott Williams’ back, wrenching the man of my dreams in a totally fucked up, nasty ass, vile as shit camel clutch. Of course, my dick snapped to attention immediately. I thought, for a brief moment, this was just a little stolen snippet from another Jonny custom bout. But again, no. Ty was shoving Scott’s gorgeous face (mostly covered by Ty’s hands) into the camera and sending a very personal, very specific message, to no one else but me.
Ty dangles Scott’s ripped body in front of me
“Hey Bard,” Ty says, like we were old chums picking up in the middle of a conversation we’ve had for years. “I just wanted to show you our friend, Mr. Scott in my camel clutch.” Uuuuuuuugh, Scott groans in obvious pain, Fuck you!, he snarls furiously, wailing and choking on the torture. There in a pro ring somewhere. “This is what’s in store when you face me, when you finally man up,” Ty continues, staring at the camera and smiling even as he wrenches that much harder on Scott’s neck, making The Classic whimper.
Fuck you, fuck you, shut the fuck up! Scott shouts, his voice muffled through Ty’s hands clamped around his leading man chin. “Last time I checked,” Ty smirks, “I pretty much fucked him today. Are you going to give now, Scott?” Fuck you, you fucking fuck, God damn it! Scott wails. Ty pulls back on his neck another 3 inches and Scott’s voice rises about 10 decibels and half an octave, God damn it, God damn it! No, fuck off!!!! “Give!” Ty demands cooly, almost quietly, leaning back another 2 inches. I GIVE, YOU FUCKER! Scott screams in exquisite agony.
“Sorry, Bard,” Ty says to me, staring into the camera as he climbs off, revealing he’s been working that vicious camel clutch on Scott’s entirely naked ass. “Just look what’s in store when you finally face me,” Ty concludes, stretching out on top of Scott’s muscled back.
At this point, let me pause the narrative to make a couple of points. First of all, no. I won’t post the video. One reason is that I don’t have permission from all parties involved to publish it further. But an even bigger reason is that I am a greedy fucker, and knowing that this steaming hot 60 second vignette was made for my eyes only has made me get off on it repeatedly in the past week or so, and I’m savoring it as my own, my precious.
But further, can I just say what a mind fuck it is to watch Scott Williams, the man of my dreams, one of my longest standing homoerotic wrestling infatuations, get punished for no other reason than the fact that Ty knows I crush like crazy on Scott!? Scott’s whimpers and wails, his bald head flushing beet red, his bitter, tortured, agonizing profanity and naked humiliation have occurred for one reason only: for Ty to get at me.
So, there’s that. Fuck me sideways, this has got to be the sexiest call out in the history of professional wrestling. Well, it was the sexiest call out until just yesterday when I found a second video in my inbox.
This one is 3 minutes long. As it opens, Ty (completely naked) is climbing onto a hot, naked ass belonging to someone lying face down on a bed in front of the camera. Ty grabs this lucky loser by the hair and wrenches his face up and toward the camera, so that I can see…. that it’s Drake Marcos.
Similar shot from their Babyface Brawl X, though Drake wasn’t enjoying it this time at all
“Hey Bard,” Ty chats with me again through the camera. “I just put Drake through the ringer. I’ve kind of owed him a little bit of a beatdown for a while, because of all the shit he talks about me.” Ty muscles Drake into a camel clutch, again shoving his prey’s agony-contorted face into the camera for me to watch up close. Drake is wailing like a wounded animal. Ty suddenly drops him and flings him to his back, saddling up naked on Drake’s gut and throttling his throat with both hands. The Cheshire Cat is choking and spitting and struggling to shove Ty away, but Ty grabs my boy’s wrists and pins them to the bed.
“I think it’s time to finish up little Drake here,” Ty says, leaning back. Drake immediately lands a cracking punch to Ty’s left pec. A half second later, Ty slaps the fuck out of Drake’s face. I mean, fuck, it hurts just watching it! Then Ty stretches across Drake’s chest and wraps him up in a Kiss of Death, locking down a sleeper while smothering Drake’s mouth and nose to speed things up. Drake flails and bucks in a panic. Ty just keeps riding until his mount goes limp underneath him.
“See Bard, you’re missing out on all of the fun here,” Ty smirks into the camera. “So I hope you’re ready for whatever’s going to come Drake’s way, ’cause I’ll just do the same to you whenever I wrestle you.”
So, I’m both titillated beyond belief to see if a new ransom video shows up in my inbox, and a little worried for all of the favorite wrestlers I’ve gushed about over the years (Mitch, Mason, Brad, Kayden, Rusty… watch your backs!). I had no idea Jobber of the Year Ty had this level of sadistic cunning. He’s picking off my favorites, one by one, and video documenting their humiliation as a means of provoking me to accept his challenge and show up for Blogger vs. Wrestler, The Sequel. There’s something downright diabolical about it. It manages to inspire adolescent rescue fantasies, me the superhero breaking down the door to save the day for these hot slices of beefcake getting stacked like cordwood by this supervillain. And, on the other hand, it piques my curiosity as to just how far the Trophy Boy will take this, and will he dig himself in too deep and bite off more than he can chew before I’ve finally had enough and show up to redeem the heartthrobs whose only offense has been to get me hard and inspire me to write about them?
I’m sure you’ve got advice for me, so let me have it in the comments below. I repeat, no, I won’t share the videos with you. But I will, most certainly, let you know how this twisted plot of suffering and shocking torture continues to play out.
The Best of BG East in 2016 has already been announced! Damn, that was fast. Clearly, I get into awards season heavily, so of course I need to debrief.
Biff’s ascendancy to the throne as Top Babyface is a remarkable rise for last year’s Debut of the Year winner. Seriously, we’ve been lusting after this gorgeous muscle man for less than two years! And just like that, he steps in, yanks the title from longtime title holder Jake Jenkins, and slaps JJ to the curb. There’s a reason that I let alliteration go fucking nuts when I’m talking about big, blond, blue-eyed, buff, bulging, beautiful babyfaced Biff.
With no defending title holders in the pool, Chace LaChance muscled his washboard right onto the throne as having the best abs. I had guessed that Chace might leverage his army of body worshipping fans to fill this vacuum.
Fuck, yeah! I have been arguing for years that Kid Karisma had the best body from top to bottom, and I’m thrilled that the court of public opinion has finally agreed with me. Last year’s winner, Chace, wasn’t even nominated, which certainly begs the question of who would fans want to worship more today. And there’s absolutely no other possible way to resolve this question than a jock strap wrestling match in the ring. And I STILL say Kid K’s body would rock the competition out cold.
Honestly, I’m unaccustomed to being so much in the majority when it comes to the Besties. But like me, a whole lot of the rest of you also noticed Kirk Donahue’s gargantuan bulge this year. I can think of no hotter scenario than Pete Sharp and Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) coming back in 2017 for a 3 way bulge off.
I’m shocked and aroused to learn that Guido Genatto just got beaten by Jonny Firestorm for the title to Top Heel. I said that if anyone could do it, it would be Jonny. Guido is loud, and huge, and nasty, but Jonny just shut the Dirty Daddy up but good by taking the title.
Again, I say, fuck, yeah! At what point do we just name this the Kid Karisma award? I’m thrilled to be with the herd in getting behind (and I mean, close behind) Kid K’s glorious glutes for yet another year as Best Butt. I know of at least 2 former contenders who didn’t get nominated who are bitter as shit, but not me. I’m just leaning back, a little light headed, and soaking in the sight of the Eighth Wonder of the World, Kid K’s unsurpassed ass.
Again, I was consistent with the popular vote in calling Ty Alexander Top Jobber yet again. On the one hand, it’s a dubious distinction to be a Top Jobber repeat. No one exactly likes to lose, do they? On the other hand, a jobber of Ty’s quality can make even a train wreck of a match compelling. And I predict that if he keeps that bleach blond ‘do, he’ll get his ass spanked relentlessly yet again in 2017.
I hedged my bets big time in the Debut of the Year category, but true enough, my vote didn’t swing things Chase Addams’ way. Instead, it was one of the other hot newcomers I thought was in contention taking the title this year, rock hard Beauxregard. I love what he brings to the table, and I think all of BG East is better for it. I’m looking forward to seeing what big Beaux accomplishes in 2017.
Best Submission of 2016 – Jonny Firestorm & Calvin Haynes in Hunkbash 18
Congratulations to Jonny and Calvin for taking the enigmatic title of Best Submission of 2016. I had my eye on another contender, but it’s not so surprising that the bad ass who just took the title as Top Heel would lock down the Best Submission follow up. And there’s no arguing that he fucking brutalizes doe eyed babyface Calvin.
A hearty congratulations to Kayden Keller and Debut of the Year winner Beauxregard on taking home the title for Sexiest Match of the year. It was a scorching hot field of contenders, and though I didn’t side with the majority on this one, there’s no denying they slapped down what was almost certainly the most explicit, sweaty, sexy assed heel on heel beatdown of the year. Well earned praise for KayK and a super hot haul for Beaux’s first year in the business.
Best Ring Match of 2016 – Tag Team Torture 19 – Addams & Alexander vs. Evans & Taylor
I wasn’t playing coy with just how infatuated I was with this match, so I’m thrilled no end to see it take the Best Ring Match title. If even one of the four of these young studs was a weak link in the chain, a complex tag team melodrama like this could have easily been a dud. But every one of the wrestlers in this match earned every praise and every award it got. Now when do we get to see Team All-Americans tear into the tag team ranks again?
Best Squash of 2016 – Demolition 21 – LaCash vs. Sorell
Kip Sorell got squashed like a bug by Flash LaCash, and fans picked it as the best of 2016. I’m generally lukewarm on this genre in general, but I get it. This is a hot match. My vote went elsewhere, but I’m so not in the mainstream when it comes to squashes in general, I’m not too surprised.
Best Mat Match of 2016 – Undagear 25 – Andrews vs. Marcos
This was a close second choice for me, but I was irked not to get a chance to vote for what I thought was an even sexier Drake Marcos match. In any case, kudos to Drake and Ethan for nailing down this victory with gallons of sweat and tears and some damn fine mat wrestling. This was super competitive, brutal, and sexy as fuck.
Hottest Liplock of 2016 – Wet & Wild 8 – Taylor & Haynes
I didn’t vote with the majority in this category, either, but there’s no denying the remarkable passion in that pumping, grinding, grunting make out session between Christian Taylor and Calvin Haynes. I’m thrilled to see both Christian and Calvin starring in multiple award winners this year. And when it comes to liplocks, really… is anyone a loser?
Chace continued to show off his blazing fan power with a win in the category of Best Spotlight. I had this as a third place on my score card, so I clearly broke with the herd. But the definition of a wrestler spotlight is fan power, so congratulations to Chace and all of the opponents who made this DVD a winner.
Best Overall Match of 2016 – Tag Team Torture 19 – Addams & Alexander vs. Evans & Taylor
You don’t know how thrilled I am to see fans select the opening match of Tag Team Torture 19 as the Best Overall Match of 2016. It got universally rave reviews from all of us who take the time to blog about this stuff. I’m pleased as punch that fans were of like mind with us bloggers, and I hope it does nothing but push for more tag team matches, more selfies, and much, much more of Christian Taylor, Charlie Evans, Ty Alexander, and Chase Addams.
Congratulations to everyone who won, and to all the nominees. It was an outstanding year at BG East, precisely because everyone in front of the camera and everyone behind the camera did such an excellent job producing high quality homoerotic wrestling of that flavor that only BG East can quite manage. I would argue there are no losers here.
Tonight. Midnight. Submit your votes for the Best of BG East in 2016. I realize that I’m atypical when it comes to how many BG East matches I watch over the year, so this little voter’s guide is intended to help fill in any blanks some of you may have for lack of exposure to some of the nominees. If 2016 teaches us nothing else, it proves that nothing requires us to be educated and informed voters. However, if you prefer to vote based on something other than your cock’s reaction to one still photo, but you don’t have time to see the whole ballot of matches, feel free to consider my opinions for what they’re worth (which is relatively little, but a little more than voting with no basis whatsoever).
Let’s power through the remaining categories to finish off your ballot.
It’s a little surprising to consider this match “from the vaults” for a 2016 award. Both Jonah and especially Cameron were so young in this match. It’s hard not to superimpose what we know about how Cameron grew up, muscled up, and launched his own production company since this match was taped. I loved this match immensely. It’s rough and raw. The boys clearly hate the fuck out of each other. Lovely, lickable twinks who may look like babies but wrestle like nasty back alley brawlers.
It’s a close call for me, but my vote goes to Kid K and Mason. Both of these beautiful boys are perennial favorites of mine, so I had very high hopes for this match going in. They didn’t disappoint, and in fact the intensity is even hotter, the bodies even more beautiful, and the mat wrestling drama even more compelling than I’d expected. It also helps that these hunks so enjoy each other’s bodies. It’s cocky and playful and reads like the hottest foreplay in history.
Similarly, I’ve never seen a match that includes JJ or Attila that fails to get me off. It’s a match up of an amateur mat champ and a ripped, acrobatic brawler. These are both thoroughbred athletes with massive egos, so the action is brutal and vicious. Not nearly as much erotic heat as Gazebo 18, but magnificent mat wrestling nonetheless.
The narrative behind Coop and Ryder’s mat tussle is great. Coop’s competitive amateur wrestling days seem so far behind him, since he’s been showing up as Dr. Cooper and dissecting opponents like a heart surgeon (aka, mercilessly) in the ring. So Jake seems to be unaware that Coop kicks ass on the mats as well. Ryder lies and cheats his way into putting the doctor into serious jeopardy, but in a lush mash up of babyface Austin and his Dr. Cooper heel alter ego, this mat battle turns nasty pro.
I’ve written a small novel about what this match does for me, so I’ll try not to repeat myself. What grabs me by the balls most is how both of these dazzlingly pretty boys show us something completely new. They’re gorgeous. The wrestling is completely ego driven. They’re gorgeous. The dialogue is sensationally sexy. They’re gorgeous. And the all in, vicous submissions are way more intense and work than I expect to see from supremely pretty boys like this. Oh, yeah, and they’re gorgeous.
Speaking intensity born of dislike, Drake and Ethan rip into each other with a passion that can’t quite be described with words. They’re mean to each other. They’re vicious and brutal. It turns sensationally sexy as the gear gets stripped, but not so much because they turn each other on, but because you get the impression that the final victory lap (after the pony ride) could very well be a domineering, taunting, sneering, contemptuous fuck. Buckets of sweat. A couple pints of tears. Lush bodies. This is a very close second choice for me.
Hottest Liplock
We almost certainly all know what we like about liplocks. I like sweat, palpable passion, a tablespoon of aggression, and authentic lust. Here are your options.
I’m in an ethical dilemma when it comes to giving you a look at the first nominee for Hottest Liplock. BG East has an embargo on me sharing any of their pics that contain full frontal, and yet the only shots of this liplock include both wrestlers with their full-mast cocks in hand. So I’m hoping that I’ll be forgiven for cropping out the bottom of this shot, to stay within the strictly PG requirements I’ve agreed to, despite having to drop the BG East copyright at the bottom of the photo. If this photo suddenly disappears and is replaced by a puppy, you’ll know that I have been asked, and as always I’ve agreed, to a request from the copyright holder to remove the image. All that fine print aside, this is a hot liplock, right?
Sensationally sexy liplock between Christian and Calvin. The authenticity is well-established long ahead of time, as they both telegraph all along that they are turning each other on. If you still doubt it, their rock hard cocks straining the pouches of their trunks should prove the point.
My vote goes to Drake’s kiss-‘n’-pin of gorgeous newbie Nino “Babyboy” Leone. It ticks off all of my boxes, including sweat, passion, simmering aggression, and what is quite obviously open lust. This is one of the most brutal matches this year, which makes the incredibly tender ending that much more dizzying. Squarely in the homoerotic sweet spot.
When it comes to quantity, Charlie and Blaine very well may have locked lips the most in their ginger-off in the backyard. I believe Blaine gets the award for popping Charlie’s (kissing) cherry first in his homoerotic wrestling career, but Charlie is quite clearly abundantly skilled in sucking face and using it as a defensive maneuver on the mats. For kissing as chess match move, I give this liplock a close second place on my ballot.
I get the impression that I am as big a fan of Chris Xaos as most of the rest of you are of Mike Martin. So between the two of us (you, me), we should be crazy for their scorching hot mat match this year. The liplock is more teasing than passionate, for my tastes. That said, I’d change my vote for a chance to stick my tongue down Chris Xaos’ throat (well, if he’s naked).
There’s nothing teasing about Christian and Jeremy’s passion at the end of their hot and rough mat match. This is a full on make out session, and it’s lathered in sweat, and it’s got a half a cup of aggression still playing out, and I fully believe these boys are into each other. Christian is the reigning kissing master at BG East, which may work against him this time around for the potential vote splitting with his liplock on Calvin.
Best Wrestler Spotlight
It seems like a testimony to a wrestler’s marketability to get an entire DVD release devoted to one person. So the three nominees this year for Best Wrestler Spotlight represent some major fan favorites.
Biff follows up with his victory as Debut of the Year last year with multiple nominations across the ballot, including for his Wrestler Spotlight. He’s compelling and gorgeous. I actually think the strength of this collection is in the quality of his opponents, though. You get the impression everyone wants a shot at this ridiculously hot beefcake. This is a very close second place for me.
Has anyone ever starred in 3 Wrestler Spotlight DVDs before? Although this collection tends toward showing off Coop’s work as a gorgeously bashable babyface, his mat match with Jake Ryder gives some awesome flashes of Dr. Cooper hanging out his shingle. The quality of his opponents is less consistent than the other two Wrestling Spotlights, but Coop has emerged as such a fantastic, complex, competitive, multifaceted character, that I’m persuaded (just) to cast my vote for him.
Chace’s spotlight is sort of a retrospective of his career, featuring him as the go-go boy, the beefsteak, and the fitness model that he has been at different phases of his wrestling. His end of the bargain is less consistent than the other two Wrestling Spotlight stars, which is to be expected considering these matches come from such drastically different parts of his career. Still, although there’s nothing to complain about, I enjoyed Coop’s cubed spotlight the best.
Best 2016 Overall Match
Now the free for all starts. I know well that fans are fierce about their favorites, and when comparing apples to oranges, there’s no pretense of objectivity or even a measurable standard to point to. Seven times out of 10, I’m biased toward ring matches. I tend to favor big personalities and hot bodies in equal measure. I like to be surprised. I like to be made to laugh. And it is essential that I get hard. With all those biases in mind, I’ll tell you how I see the field for Best of 2016.
First on the ballot is my pick for the Best Overall Match at BG East in 2016. It’s an instant classic. It’s sexy as hell. Two incredible debuts. Drama, drama, drama. Very high quality pro wrestling. Intramural rivalries. And dick pic selfies. It’s everything I could want in a match (except for a copy of those dick pics).
A very close second place for me is this masterpiece on the mats between Drake and Skrapper. If I’d had the option, I very well might have picked this over Mason and Kid Karisma for the Best Mat Battle, but alas, the nominating committee didn’t see fit to give me the chance. The wrestling is outstanding. The erotic tension is thick and juicy. And the boys are real and beautiful. The only edge TTT19 has on this for me is the full throttle pro ring vibe.
So put Drake in the ring with Kayden Keller, and you might think I’d be unable to resist. I resist, though. It swings hard for a slasher vibe, but doesn’t quite connect. TTT19 and Drake’s work in Matmen 26 hit the bullseye better. And then there’s Drake’s gear to consider (smh).
Watching cocky indy pro Kirk Donahue get trampled by a “mere” underground phenom like Dr. Cooper is guaranteed to tickle my funny bone and get me hard. This is a magnificent beatdown and totally worthy of a shot at the title, but it just didn’t get my vote.
That’s right, haters, Drake Marcos anchors a full half of the Best Match nominees this year! I recently referred to 2016 as the year of the rookie, but it may have to be rebranded as the year of Drake. The heat is scorching in his match with Ethan. And I do love seeing bully-Ethan face off against someone who gives it right back to him. But the raw rage and bitterness don’t quite put this match over Drake’s match with Skrapper for me, and neither quite persuade me to tip them over Tag Team Torture 19.
See all my comments above about why I voted for this as Best Mat Battle, and then remind yourself that this does not take place in a wrestling ring. It’s immensely satisfying, funny, fierce and brutal, and it gets extra points in my book for Mason’s perfect (perfect) choice in undergarments. But I’m still throwing my one, lone vote to the fierce foursome in TTT19.
The real winner is you and me, of course. Such a rich, entertaining, arousing body of work from BG East in 2016 is why BG East is the first place I go for that particular mix of homoerotic wrestling that keeps me satisfied. Congratulations to all of the nominees (except for Kirk). You are, every last one of you, gorgeous to watch mix it up in the ring, on the mats, and everywhere else that the Boss’ imagination takes us. Thanks for all of the distractions in 2016 that kept me from the abyss of absolute despair over current events
Sidelineland 