Always Wrestling

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I’m still contemplating taking up fishing on the off chance I get to see Chris Cuomo shirtless.

I used to post a lot more around here about largely non-wrestling related things. Well, I posted about things that are not inherently wrestling-related, but that in that perverse way I have, I can’t help but overlay with homoerotic wrestling innuendo. Well, really, I posted about hot hunks who, as far as I know, don’t have any relationship to wrestling, that I fantasize about in raucous, rowdy, balls out, full throttle gay wrestling scenarios.

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Alexander Skarsgård inspires so many fantasies

My posts have become more and more focused on the world of unapologetic homoerotic wrestling, in part because I have less time in the midst of a busy life. That said, my remarkable penchant for recasting beautiful men into homoerotic wrestling fantasies in my imagination has never skipped a beat. I’m just not writing about it so much.

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Perfect combo: Speed skaters and headscissors

I was reminded of this when “Commenter” commented on my most recent post, asking if I was planning on authoring another Olympics-gone-wrestling series. I’ve done this a few times, basically documenting what I’m always doing when I’m watching the Olympics, namely, looking for arousing, hot hunks and, regardless of their actual sport, picturing them wrestling one another.

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I’m imagining the USA bobsled team has inspired more than just me this month

As I replied to “Commenter,” my time is achingly short to invest as much as I have in pulling off some round robins like I have for past Olympiads. However, if someone else wants to do the preliminary work of identifying the fantasy-worthy athletes and drawing up some brackets, I would do my best to sketch out where my mind goes. If different readers submit competing brackets, I will be happy to have you wrestle one another naked to determine whose brackets I should use.

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I have intrusive erotic fantasies that star Eliad Cohen

In the mean time, I thought I’d just offer a quick update on the hot men who have made recurring appearances in homoerotic wrestling matches in my mind’s eye in recent months. For example, and as always, Eliad Cohen. Fuck, I can’t even open Twitter in a public place anymore because the first glimpse I get of Eliad’s magnificent, hairy muscles make me instantly erect.  Eliad appeared in a New Year’s Eve wrestling fantasy I wrote last year, as he appears in fantasy after fantasy ever since. Hey, wait, New Year’s Eve wrestling fantasies! There’s another fond tradition I slacked off on this year.

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Marry me, Pedro Andrade

Another Twitter-infatuation I have that persistently drives me into wrestling fantasy territory is Pedro Andrade. I love this Brazilian beauty’s politics, his eye for photography, and apparently he’s a poet. So, fuck, yeah, I’m ready to propose marriage… and then he shares a little skin. Damn, he is gorgeous in every way. Brains and brawn? What a total threat he’d be as a babyface in the ring!

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I’ll fuck this “sleeve”

I almost nearly lost my shit as I started watching the Netflix series Altered Carbon. I am a ridiculous Sci-Fi junkie, so believe me when I swear I had no idea that this series was packed with so much mouthwatering beef. And then basically in the first scene, Swedish stunner Joel Kinnaman shows up naked and glistening, covered in lube. And moments later he’s naked in a communal shower. And in the next episode he’s naked and having sex. And then people show up to his hotel room, and he just stands there naked, the camera strategically positioned with a potted plant or some such nonsense obscuring his crotch. So much naked hotness! Kinnaman reminds me again how easily I’m turned into a slack-jawed fanboy for pretty much any 6’2″ blond, stunningly handsome Swedish man who takes off his shirt, which in my experience is pretty much any Swedish man.

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Squeeze those shoulders into my newsboy infatuation ranks, Baruch Shemtov!

My newest newsboy crush is apparently openly gay and buddies with Gio Benitez and Tommy Didario, so of course he’s got a place at my table anytime. But it’s not like he needs any coattails. Just fucking LOOK at the size of Baruch Shemtov’s biceps!? I vacillate between picturing him as the smooth beefcake jobber to Eliad’s sadistic ring villainy, or seeing the two of them as contenders for the prettiest tag team in history.

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Warm up the winter Olympics with some sweaty wrestling, please

Those are the current roster of studs slapping on face-to-crotch headscissors and making each other scream. In a better world, I’d write down some of the matches in which they star in my imagination.  In the mean time, I’ll try to clear a little time in my calendar in case you come up with a Winter Olympics 2018 bracket of homoerotic wrestling contenders to work with.

Cleaning House – 2017

As you might have noticed, I did a little New Year’s house keeping around here. It used to be an annual tradition to change up the color palette and mess around with the formatting here and there. Living the mantra of “things need to change” in this new year, I returned to this annual ritual of rearranging the furniture.  My other annual tradition always used to be to author a brief piece of fiction about starting the New Year’s off right, in the way that only readers of neverland would appreciate. Reasserting my long held belief that the active use of imagination is our greatest, and perhaps only, weapon against being consumed by the Borg collective, here’s a little window into what keeps my eye on the homoerotic wrestling ball these nearly 8 years on.


Ringing in 2017

Honestly, I wasn’t expecting much this New Year’s Eve. After having just moved a few months ago, I wasn’t expecting much more than a few phone calls from friends in other time zones before I drank one too many Kentucky Mules and, most likely, passed out about 2 or so hours before the ball dropped. It’s not like I was planning a pity party, mind you, but holy shit, how my spirits lifted when I answered the knock at the door and found globetrotter Eliad on my front doorstep.

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Ellie said he ditched the party boys in Brazil just in time to catch a flight north and ring in the new year with me. He’s always been a doll. Not much of a planner, though. There he stood in subfreezing temperatures all done up in an impeccably tailored tux, with no overcoat. No hat. No gloves. His lush lower lip quivered a bit in the bitter cold. I almost hated to invite him, he was so fucking adorable shivering there on my doorstep. But I grabbed him by the top of his trousers and pulled him into my humble abode, hips first.

I offered Ellie a Kentucky Mule, but he asked for his bourbon neat. I asked if he wanted nosh, but he just silently shook his head and leaned in, those fucking sensational lips hovering inches in front of mine, that teasing grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. I asked what he did want, and he smiled even brighter, winked, and whispered, “Let’s wrestle.”

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He’d been talking about us wrestling for years now. In the beginning, I won’t lie, I was a little intimidated. Ellie’s about half a foot taller than I am, and he’s stacked like Jenga. He’s always been gorgeous, of course, but in the past couple of years, he’s managed to pack on about 15 pounds more of solid muscle while not adding a even a fraction onto his 29 inch waist. He could put a major hurt on a man. I knew he didn’t sincerely want to do me any permanent damage, of course, but a newbie grappler built like Wolverine and hopped up on his first erotic wrestling experience seemed like potentially dangerous territory.

But after a few months of Ellie talking about it, dropping it into conversation, clearly turning himself on by just the fantasy of it, I started to doubt it would ever actually happen. So I called his bluff. “Bring it, Ellie,” I’d tease him, knowing he’d have some excuse of producing a PAPA party on the other side of the globe. “Anytime, anywhere, big boy,” I’d taunt him when he brought it up again. I thought it might actually happen a couple of times when he was flying through the States. He’d stop by for a couple of days. He’d bring up the topic of wrestling. I’d remind him of my wrestling mat in the basement. And then he’d mention some pulled muscle he got from pushing too hard at the gym recently. I gave him a hard time for it, but honestly, he’s such a sweet heart. I didn’t push it.

But here we were, New Year’s Eve, and the hairy chested, babyface beast was ready to get it on. I had a hard on by the time I was dragging the wrestling mats out of the basement. Ellie had already shoved the living room furniture to the walls. I was unfolding the mats in the middle of the room, seriously distracted by watching him, staring at me, untying his bow tie. He unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his lush, bulging, hairy pecs. Fuck, this massive erection of mine was going to be seriously vulnerable on the mats.

I almost jumped when the doorbell rang. Oh, fuck! Not now! Ellie stopped unbuttoning his shirt and leaned against the arm of the couch. He looked a little impatient as he waited for me to get the door. I had a fleeting impulse to ignore the door, but then the doorbell rang five times in quick succession. My cock sagged with the sound of it.

I was ready to tell whatever new neighbor who’d decided to wait until New Year’s Eve to introduce themselves to go fuck off. I opened the door. And, oh. Fuck. It was Matt.

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I’d been harassing Matt for months to come see me, now that we live just a few hours apart. He’s nearly as busy as Ellie is, though. Our last Skype chat, I had specifically said, “Come by anytime at all.” Apparently, Matt had decided this was the time to surprise me with a visit.

He didn’t wait for me to invite him in. He just reached out, still wearing his big, puffy winter parka, and scooped me up in a hug. He gave me a big, lip glossed kiss with his cold lips. It was surprisingly tender for Matt. Until he abruptly hoisted me off my feet, and the hug turned into a bearhug. I arched backward, pressing  against his chest to try to pry his hands apart. He shook me side to side. I must have cried out in pain. Suddenly, I was dropped back to the floor, and a half second later Ellie violently shoved Matt’s back into the wall.

It was a slight train wreck. Matt was hurling a steady stream of profanities. Ellie probably was, as well, but my Hebrew sucks, so it’s hard to tell. Matt pushed himself away from the wall to get in Ellie’s face, but Ellie shoved him in the chest, hard, bashing him back into the wall. This was getting way out of hand, really, really quickly.

I managed to intervene after shouting them both down. I made the introductions and explained to Ellie that this was not a home invasion. This was, actually, one of Matt’s tamer greetings. They stared at each other a few long, pregnant seconds, listening to me, but ripping each other to shreds with their eyes. Finally, Ellie backed off and grinned half heartedly, offering to shake Matt’s hand.

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I wasn’t too surprised when Matt slapped Ellie’s hand away angrily. He was slowly cooling off, though. I explained that they’d both decided to surprise me with their visit. Matt was still giving Ellie a cool, calculating appraisal as he shrugged off his parka. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. Of course. Still staring fixedly at Ellie, he bounced his meaty pecs.

I managed to corral both of my guests into the kitchen. I offered Matt food and drink. He took a couple shots of Bourbon straight from the bottle. When he asked what Ellie and I were up to this evening, I skipped a beat. With the tension already thick, I didn’t know if it was a good idea to bring it up, but Ellie growled, “Wrestling.”

The situation was rapidly spinning entirely out of my control, once again. The boys immediately headed to the living room, checking out the arrangements for the match Ellie and I were preparing for. Matt laughed in Ellie’s face, assuring him that I would kick his ass. I should have been flattered, but I could tell this wasn’t about me. Matt was determined to take this instant grudge with Ellie to the mat. I was a little more surprised that Ellie was so enthusiastically taking the bait. These beefcakes were going to wrestle each other, and, wait. What the fuck about me!?

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Like I said, this was well out of my control now. Ellie pulled his massive arms out of his tuxedo jacket and finished unbuttoning his shirt. They both took off their shoes and socks. Matt kept his sweat pants on, but Ellie unbuttoned and stepped out of his slacks. His hairy quads were bigger than I’ve ever seen them. His tighty whities stretched around his massive upper thighs and across his world class muscled glutes. He stood about 2 inches taller than Matt, but I’d guess they were about the same weight. Matt’s probably a little more thickly muscled, particularly in the upper body, but it’s all shades of gray. By the bulge swinging freely between his legs, outlined underneath his sweatpants, I was guessing Matt was going commando. Which, again, wouldn’t be a surprise. I sat down on the couch and just watched, momentarily distracted from that feeling of being left out.

They started circling one another. Matt feinted several times, mostly just to taunt and tease. To my surprise, Ellie read him like a book, dancing away gingerly but without taking any of the feints too seriously. When Matt finally made a serious stab at a single leg, Ellie hopped backward as he shoved downward on Matt’s back. Matt dropped to his stomach, and a half second later, Ellie was on top, spinning across his back and controlling his right arm.

Matt looked suddenly a whole lot more serious. He lunged upward to his knees, sliding Ellie off his back. But Ellie wrenched Matt’s right arm behind his back, cinching up the hammerlock with his right hand while wrapping his bulging left bicep across the front of Matt’s throat. Fuck me, I had no idea what I had been about to walk into. Ellie was fucking on it and in charge!

Matt lunged forward, flipping Ellie over his back and sending him skidding on his ass into my coffee table. Bless his heart, I think Ellie was trying to be careful not to break my table. Of course, in the mean time, Matt was grabbing him by the chin from behind and pulling him back to the center of the mat. He positioned his right knee in the center of Ellie’s muscled back and pulled with both hands on the chin lock, stretching Ellie’s neck backward at a sick angle. Ellie’s eyes popped open wide. He clawed at Matt’s fingers in a panic. I suspect this was a little more serious of a match than he was expecting to have tonight.

Just as Ellie seemed to be about to pry his opponent’s hands off of him, Matt windmilled his right fist and pounded it hard into Ellie’s right pec. Ellie’s eyes screwed shut in agony. I suspect the knee jabbing into his right lat was as injured as his pec. Matt swiftly grabbed Ellie’s wrists and pried them backward, folding Ellie’s massive back in half around his knee. Ellie’s huge, hairy pecs quivered, straining, looking for the world like they could snap apart at the seams. His jaw dropped open in a silent gasp.

Matt looked over at me and smiled. “Oh, Bard, this was going to be your New Year’s Eve fun?” He shook his head with contempt while leaning forward, giving Ellie a moment of relief before violently wrenching his arms backward even farther. “You are so fucking lucky I showed up to this party,” Matt smirked, winking at me. “Between the two of us, I think we can probably have a little fun with meat here.”

My cock was about to rip the crotch of my jeans open at the seams, so I not-so-discretely unbuttoned and unzipped to release the uncomfortable pressure. “Ooo, yeah,” Matt chuckled, “you like watching this pretty boy suffer, don’t you?”

Okay. On the one hand, fuck yes. Of course I was getting off on watching Ellie getting ripped apart. On the other hand, I was the one that was supposed to be doing the ripping. The snide smirk on Matt’s face as he watched me involuntarily grab hold of my raging hard on was pissing me off.

Clearly, the whole thing was pissing Ellie off, as well. With a primal growl, he suddenly thrust his hips upward and kicked hard. They both tumbled backward in a heap. Ellie swiftly spun around, in Matt’s guard, and pressed his left forearm across Matt’s throat. There was already a little sweat stain forming at the crack of Ellie’s ass. He was really leaning in, bearing down on the choke, when Matt’s ankles snapped together, his meaty thighs digging into Ellie’s sides. Ellie’s conditioning is superhuman, so I really expected him to hold out, but it took no more than about 4 seconds before he screamed. He rose up on his knees and desperately began to try to press Matt’s knees apart.

Now, I know those scissors. They cracked a rib of mine a couple of years ago. Matt is fucking vicious with that vice. But he isn’t always such a dick. For example, right there, with Ellie almost whimpering in pain, Matt laced his fingers behind his head and smiled up like, well, like a dick. “Cry for me, bitch!” he taunted. So fucking rude. So fucking hot.

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Ellie looked almost paralyzed by the pain digging into his sides. His neck arched backward, his eyes closed, he was clearly nearly at the breaking point. I was feeling bad for the stud. This wasn’t what he came here for. But then he drilled a thumping right jab into Matt’s lower abdomen, and I was feeling a lot less sorry for him.  Matt’s ankles popped apart. He was sucking on air, his jaw gaping open. Ellie’s superhuman conditioning roared to life, because he didn’t need even a second to recover. He grabbed Matt’s ankles and rolled the gasping hunk to his shoulders, folding Matt in half. Deftly, he swung around and kneeled over Matt’s face, his sweaty pouch swinging a couple of inches above Matt’s forehead. Ellie used his knees to pin Matt’s ankles to the mat, reached forward, and yanked Matt’s sweat pants down his legs. I was wrong. Matt was wearing a jock strap with a very roomy pouch to let his infamous anaconda swing freely.

I was lost for a moment in admiring Matt’s spectacular bubble butt when Ellie barked, “Count it!” It took me a couple of seconds to register what he was saying. Oh! He wanted me to play ref all of the sudden? Sure. I dropped to my hands and knees and slid a hand underneath the left side of Matt’s back, just to verify that he was squarely pinned. He was. One. Two. Three. I slapped down the count.

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Ellie hopped off and danced on the balls of his feet. He looked so damn proud! I felt like giving him a lollipop. Or a blow job. Right at that moment, he could have named his prize. But Matt was roaring to life, bitching like an ex-con sailor. He climbed to his feet and angrily yanked his sweatpants off. He was bitching at me about counting too fast. He was bitching at Ellie about cheating. Mostly, it was just a long string of profanities with no grammatical sense or point to them, other than to express the beefcake’s seriously bruised ego.

It isn’t like there was a bell to ring for round two. Matt just attacked. A shoulder block to Ellie’s sternum knocked the wind out of him. Matt just kept charging, lifting Ellie off his feet and slamming him into the wall. My original oil painting from a artist on the Olympic Peninsula shook off hits hook and crashed to the floor. Fuck, they were breaking my shit.

Ellie pounded down double fisted hammer blows into Matt’s broad back. Matt started to back off, but the second Ellie pulled himself away from the wall, Matt lunged forward again and scooped the 6′ muscle man up into a bearhug. This wasn’t like that playful bearhug he had me in at the front door.  I could tell that he was digging those fists deep into Ellie’s lower spine. Matt is incredibly strong. Trust me. I’m not surprised he was able to hang Ellie there for a few seconds, but Ellie is one solid slice of beef. Matt’s grip weakened and Ellie’s toes sagged back to the floor. Ellie was catching his breath, starting to try to squeeze his left hand inside the hug, when Matt grunted loudly, arched backward, and then turned Ellie in mid air, slamming his back to the mat loud enough that my floor boards creaked.

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Matt rolled up and placed his left knee on the side of Ellie’s face, pinning him there humiliatingly as he looked up at me with that shit eating grin and flexed a double bicep. I sat down on the couch again and grabbed my cock, again. Matt was doing this for me. That twinkle in his eye and that sneering upper lip said it all. This actually was about me. Matt was jealous of the attention I had been about to pay Ellie. Fuck, this was hot.

Ellie shoved Matt’s knee away and rolled up to his knees. Matt climbed to his feet, still showing off those gargantuan biceps, but now aiming the guns intimidatingly in Ellie’s direction. Furiously, Ellie lunged for Matt’s lower legs, but Matt kept his balance. He squatted low and locked his arms around Ellie’s tiny waist, hoisting him up with a loud grunt. Ellie’s legs lifted high off the mat, with him now suspended precariously upside down. Matt took a few stutter steps, just to show off, I’m sure, before swinging Ellie forward and slamming his upper back hard to the mat.

That hurt. It’s just a wrestling mat on hardwood floors. Ellie looked dazed, which probably explains why he did nothing to defend himself as Matt grabbed him by the chin and pulled him, tottering, up to this feet. Matt hooked his right arm between Ellie’s legs and scooped him up across his chest. He did a full lap of the mat this time, again, winking at me, showing off. He came to a halt directly in front of where I sat on the couch. Violently, he dropped to one knee, pounding Ellie’s lower back across his outstretched thigh. Ellie jerked in shocked pain, the air exploding out of his lungs. He started to sit up, but Matt shoved his chin back down, bending him backward across his thigh, pressing down with his other hand on Ellie’s hairy right thigh.

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Ellie groaned loudly. Matt looked up at me and smiled broadly. That cockiness, those big, beautiful pecs. Fuck, nothing could tear my eyes away from that magnificent specimen… except for the bulge in Ellie’s briefs. Oh my God. There was Ellie, nearly broken in two in a nasty ass over-the-knee backbreaker, totally getting owned. And he sprouts wood.

Following my gaze, Matt noticed the effect he’s having on Ellie. H was clearly as surprised as I was. And pissed off, I’m sure because Ellie distracted me from adoring him. He shifted his hand away from Ellie’s thigh, grabbing him by the balls through the fabric of his sweat soaked briefs. Ellie screamed. Loudly. Matt’s lips curled away from his teeth in concentration as he bore down on the boy’s testicles. Ellie jerked and kicked, but Matt had plenty of muscle to pin him there solidly across his leg, squeezing the fuck out of his balls.

“Tell Bard you submit,” Matt demanded. Ellie whimpered, sucking down air, before finally whispering, “I submit.” Matt twisted his ball claw for added agony, making Ellie scream again. “Tell Bard that I’m the man,” he demanded.  Ellie remained silent, other than agonized groans, until Matt leaned into his twisting ball claw for more pressure. “You’re the man!” Ellie gasped.  Matt chuckled, still not relenting. “Tell Bard that you’re my fucking bitch.”

Oh fuck, now I really felt bad for Ellie. I was just about to tell Matt to knock it off, but Ellie gasped, “I’m your… fucking bitch,” before I could say anything.  Matt laughed out loud and stood up, dumping Ellie to the mat unceremoniously. He planted his right foot on Ellie’s chest and flexed his biceps again. Fuck, what a sight.

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I started bitching at Matt about being a bad sport. He stomped on Ellie’s chest and walked over him, adding insult to injury, on his way to grab me by the wrists and yank me to my feet. He laughed at my complaints about being a prick to my guest. He pointed out that my erection, now at full mast, sort of undermined my tone of righteous indignation. He had a point. He grabbed me by the back of my head and pulled me toward him, nearly sucking my tongue out of my mouth. Fuck, he’s hot. It’s not like there was no reason I was practically begging him to come for a visit.

And then, like Matt always does, he pushed it one step farther. Still Hoovering my tongue, he wrapped his massive arms around me again and jacked me back up, off my feet, into a bearhug. I grunted in pain, but he kept sucking on my tongue, squeezing me into him, crushing my cock against his abdomen. Did I mention how strong he is?  He took a few steps around the mat, stepping over Ellie, with me suspended in that embrace. Finally he pulled his face away, letting me catch my breath as best I could with my ribs getting crushed. “Now, you’re turn, Bard,” he snarled ominously.

I’m not ashamed to admit that Matt beats my ass about nine times out of ten whenever we wrestle. Win, lose or draw, the post-match victory fuck is always well worth it. He’s just so fucking strong, and he exploits his size advantage every last inch. He’s a vicious brawler, and I respect him for it.

On the other hand, there was no chance in hell that Ellie was going to show an ounce of respect to him. I had no idea what was going on at first, when Matt suddenly gasped, he’s eyes bugged out. He dropped me awkwardly to my feet. For the second time tonight, Ellie had intervened to rescue me from his bearhug. This time, he accomplished the task by reaching between Matt’s legs, from behind, and clawing the living fuck out of Matt’s balls.

He clearly had it coming to him, am I right? I tried to keep an eye on what was happening, but it was tough, doubled over and reintroducing my lungs to oxygen. There was a lot of grunting and shuffling of feet, but when I was able to really take stock of what was happening, Ellie had Matt pinned, face first, against a wall. His right hand was still crushing Matt’s balls, forearm deep between Matt’s massive thighs.  Ellie used his left hand to grab the hair on the back of Matt’s head and slam his face repeatedly into the wall.  When I say, “into the wall,” I mean “into the wall.” There were now a dent exactly the size and shape of Matt’s handsome mug in my drywall.

I just watched in genuine awe as Ellie lunged low and bent Matt backward across his shoulders. His claw never let up for a second on the bad boy’s balls, even as Ellie stood up, using his free hand to grab Matt by the throat and bend his spine around his neck. Holy fuck, I had never seen Matt manhandled quite like that before. Ellie was transcendent. Think Marine O’Malley climbing off the page from his bout with Surfer Larry Schultz. Matt was completely helpless and 6 feet off the mat-covered hardwood.

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“Oh, fuck me,” I remembering muttering to myself. Ellie’s eyes locked with mine, and there was something uncharacteristically unkind about the look he gave me. He walked toward me so deliberately that I stepped backward, tripping over the corner of the coffee table and landing on my ass back on the couch. Ellie stood there over me, his legs spread wide. Slowly, he squatted low, using Matt as a barbell. Just as slowly, he straightened his legs, rising up and flexing those sensational quads.

Whatever I always saw as “sweet” about Ellie was, at least for the moment, completely evaporated in the heat of his rage. He did a set of squats and then simply walked forward out from underneath Matt, letting the deadweight slam in a heap on the mat behind him. He took a couple of steps toward me like he was about to beat my ass next, but then turned back around and dragged Matt up to his hands and knees by a fist of hair. With one hand latched onto Matt’s throat and the other wrapped around Matt’s balls again, Ellie lifted the battered beefcake up off the floor, arched his back to hoist him high, and then dropped to one knee, busting Matt’s gut across his outstretched thigh.

He let Matt bounce off his knee and land in the fetal position on the mat, groaning. I caught myself about to chuckle at the thought that I was feeling sorry for Ellie not five minutes earlier. He was now living large and in charge, bending over and ripping Matt’s jock strap off him in a spray of shredded fabric and elastic. Matt’s famous lead pipe slapped down damply on the mat, magnificent as always.

Matt groaned and tried to pull away when he realized Ellie was shoving the tattered remains of his own jock strap into his mouth. Thus gagged, big, bad ass Matt was dragged yet again to his feet, this time to be snatched up in a picture perfect full nelson. Ellie rag dolled him back and forth, making Matt’s pendulous cock slap from thigh to thigh.

“Tell Bard you submit,” Ellie growled as he positioned Matt directly in front of me. Matt’s arms flopped lifelessly as Ellie bore down on the full nelson, pressing Matt’s chin hard into his chest. “I… I submit,” Matt gasped.

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Ellie dropped him like a sack of potatoes at his feet. His eyes locked with mine, Ellie lifted his arms and treated me to his own magnificent gun show. I started applauding. Fuck, this was the best wrestling entertainment I’d seen… ever.

Ellie ignored the applause and turned his attention back on the heap of muscle crumpled at his feet. He bullied Matt up to his knees and scooped him up in his arms across his body. Ellie rolled him up across his collarbone, and then dropped hard to one knee, slamming Matt’s lower back across his outstretched thigh. Retribution, baby! I loved the symmetry. Right then and there, Ellie was a master of the universe.

He pinned him there across his leg. Matt was significantly less flexible than Ellie, so there was a lot less bend. But Ellie pressed hard, nevertheless. He couldn’t help but size up Matt’s jackhammer, feeling the heft of it bouncing in his hand for a few seconds. But the aesthetics gave way to mechanics, once Ellie wrapped his fingers around Matt’s naked testicles and started to squeeze. Matt screamed like I’ve never heard him scream before.

“Tell Bard that I’m the man,” Ellie growled. Ellie was running him right back through the same paces Matt had put him through. Matt choked and sputtered on the pain, but finally gasped, “You’re the man!”

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Ellie dumped him to the mat and stood up, hands on his hips, his rippled abs pumping oxygen to his magnificent, glistening muscles. There was one more tit for tat revenge submissions he had yet to secure from Matt. He looked winded but determined. The only question left was how.

Suddenly, Ellie bent forward and peeled his dripping wet briefs off his long legs. The tighty whities were mostly transparent now. Ellie always looks phenomenal, of course, but he’s never looked this good before, on top, in charge, the victorious gladiator preparing to put his opponent down for good. He leaned over and stretched his soaked briefs over Matt’s head, completely covering his face with them.

Then Ellie squatted low, wrapped his huge arms around Matt’s torso, and hoisted the dead weight up and off his feet into a magnificent, naked bear hug. Matt’s back arched in agony. He tried to press away from Ellie’s hairy chest, desperate to free himself. His groans and whimpers were muffled underneath Ellie’s underwear covering his face.  Ellie stomped in a circle around the mat, allowing gravity to grind spikes of pressure into the torturous hold. Matt was weeping when Ellie finally demanded, “Tell Bard that you’re my little bitch!”

Burly, vicious, bad ass Matt bullied into crying like a bitch. Fuck I was savoring this. After several long seconds, Matt slumped over Ellie’s big, bulging right shoulder, still whimpering. “Say it!” Ellie barked. “I’m your bitch,” Matt groaned, resigned, honestly and truly beaten.

I was on my feet for a standing ovation before Ellie even managed to drop the ballast back to the mat. He flexed his peak biceps my way. The grin on his face was once again hinting at that sensationally sweet stud who had seemed, momentarily, to disappear behind the raging hulk who just beat Matt’s magnificent ass so completely. The wink and subtle nod of his head was a clear invitation to laud the victor up close. I didn’t need to be asked twice. I stepped over Matt’s writhing body on the mat and reached out to get feel of those monster biceps calling to me.

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Ellie stretched his magnificent body.  I massaged his taut traps. I dug my knuckles into the bulging knots in his muscled back. In complete honesty, I whispered to him that he was, in this moment, nothing short of a god. He deserved it. Things finally sorted themselves out, sure, but he was still seriously disrespected in my home.  I caressed his glorious, naked ass as I swooned over his complete wrestling mastery. I licked the sweat from the deep crevasse between his gorgeous pecs, stroking his ego, worshipping his power. I felt his hand on the back of my head, pressing me into his chest firmly. And then…

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… well, it’s hazy from there. There was a struggle, definitely. Those pecs are divine, of course, but I couldn’t breath, shoved up between them so tightly.  Ellie was smothering me in all that hairy muscle. I sort of remember sagging to my knees, looking up at him, looking down at me.  I’m pretty sure I blacked out the first time with my head getting crushed in Ellie’s standing scissors.  I roused next to find Matt hovering over top of me, Ellie’s hand shoving him down to his knees. Obeying Ellie’s command, Matt yanked my clothes off. Following orders, Matt started sucking my cock, which was quickly pushing me over the edge, right up until Ellie dropped to his knees over top of me and planted his naked ass across my face. I blacked out briefly again, I’m sure. I think I remember Ellie riding me in a camel clutch, but that’s mostly a haze. I know I submitted over and over again, but I don’t remember how many times. At some point, I roused to realize I was staring up at Ellie’s mammoth erection, my head throbbing in face-to-crotch headscissors. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Matt, squirming in a sleeper hold with Ellie’s big right bicep pressed expertly across his throat. Matt’s thrashing about and groaning slowly faded as he went down. I struggled to stay conscious, just to watch Ellie to jack his gorgeous, veiny cock right in front of my face. I didn’t hold on long enough.

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Ellie roused both me and Matt to ring in the New Year at midnight. It was sort of romantic, really, in this way that erotic wrestling can be. Ellie toasted the New Year with my bourbon. Matt and I, on our knees, worshipping him.

It was the perfect way to wake up, on New Year’s morning, sandwiched between Ellie and Matt in bed. Matt and I teased Ellie about beginner’s luck. Matt promised to whip Ellie’s beautiful ass the next time they wrestle. I complained that I never had my fair shot at either of them. But there’s no denying it. Ellie was the New Year’s Eve champ. We have a tentative date for the three of us to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day.

Beef will not be denied

I’ve been enjoying the Hottest of the Hottest series, and I swear, I’m getting back to the current match soon.  Before I do, I’ve been tickled by several recommendations I’ve received from readers wanting to add someone to the roster of competitors. Now, officially, the Hottest of the Hottest is limited to those fashion pretty boys who Details magazine put on their cover celebrating the hottest 31 fashion models. And, of course, I’ve culled the field even further because I knew from the start I’d run out of steam before I managed to write an elimination tournament in which 31 different guys make appearances.  But it’s that particular pretty of blue steel fashion boys that qualified this very small crowd to make the cut.

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Sean O’Pry is a first round pretty boy fashion model winner of the Hottest of the Hottest competition.

Several of you have let me know that you’d really like to see some beefy slices of heaven that weren’t on the cover of Details climb into the ring in this round robin.  It makes total sense to me that fitness models, gay muscle stars, and solo muscle site infatuations would jump to mind and pique your homoerotic wrestling imagination as you read about the Milan runway crowd throwing down hot and heavy.  So far, there are three nominees who’ve gotten play in your imaginations.

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Eliad Cohen – Papa Circuit Party maven and fantasyman extraordinaire, he was the coverboy a few years ago for the Spartacus World Gay Travel Guide.
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Underwear model and professional gay beefcake Colby Melvin could very possibly paralyze opponents with those baby blue eyes!
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Beefcake personified, Eric Lavin has a big fan of his All American Guys portfolio.

So yeah, I can easily see a follow up elimination tournament of beefy muscle stars, and if (and I mean IF) I maintain the fortitude, maybe the champ of the Hottest of the Hottest tournament, whoever he turnout out to be, will find his painfully pretty cheekbones tossed into the ring with the fitness model champ. The only question left is who else needs a shot at the fitness model homoerotic wrestling title? Let me know what you think.

The Next Morning

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I cannot possibly pay more attention to Russell Tovey because I’ve been completely obsessed for years.

A friend re-posted this completely unnecessary BuzzFeed homage to convince us that we ought to be infatuated with Russell Tovey. That ship sailed years ago. He’s appeared in two homoerotic wrestling fantasy pieces of fiction of mine, and countless more in my imagination. He’s also looking buffer and buffer lately, as if he needed to increase his raw, dorky, intense sexiness.  I’d donate a kidney to wake up in the morning and see that sexiness staring back at me.  Which made me think, who else would I both want to wrestle, fuck, AND wake up in the morning next to?

Fortunately, the selfie craze provides a lot of material to try out. Here are few of my homoerotic wrestling fantasymen who have shared exactly what it would look like to roll over in the morning after a night of full throttle erotic wrestling and see what’s left in the dawn-kissed light of day.

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Possibly my pick for the sexiest man on the planet who I have not seen wrestle, Eliad Cohen looks like he’d be ready for the rematch the morning after.
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John Magnum made a HUGE impression on me by making a HUGE impression all over poor Philip Aubrey’s lean body in John’s one appearance on Naked Kombat. The boy can wrestle and fuck, and waking up next to that gorgeous ass would make all that punishment he dished out the night before totally worth it.
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Friend of neverland and former homoerotic wrestler of the month Aryx Quinn is already sexy as hell, but with a dog sleeping on his shoulder as the morning light filters through the window, Aryx is a vision.
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Regular readers know my theory about hot wrestlers and dogs, proven yet again by the view of former homoerotic wrestler of the month Austin Wolf rousing in bed next to you with the pup snuggled in between.
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Naked Kombatant Landon Conrad is devastatingly handsome and built like a comic book superhero, but waking up with the dog under one arm and his bedroom eyes for nobody but you is icing on the cake after that night of fuck-stakes wrestling.
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Yet another homoerotic wrestler of the month and comic book superhero porn star fighter, Marcu Ruhl’s massively muscled sexiness is insanely alluring relaxed in bed and looking over at you as you slowly rouse in the morning.
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Just picture waking up next to BG East rookie Logan Vaughn, still stripped naked like you left him after you conquered that hot ass the night before in the ring.

Who’s Counting?

Neverland turns 4 years old today!  In some ways, it feels like 40 years, in other ways, it feels like 4 months.  The scope of what I do online in response to my infatuation with homoerotic wrestling has grown significantly since I posted my first post 4 years ago today.  Writing homoerotic wrestling fiction was, honestly, the first focus I brought, with neverland being primarily a vehicle for dissemination my interest in sharing fiction.  Since then, however, the fiction has taken a back seat to the blogging and promoting the outstanding ongoing scene of homoerotic wrestling productions and musing about my homoerotic wrestling fantasies that may, or may not, show up in a full-on piece of fiction.  In the last few months, I’ve been grieving that switch in priorities a bit.  If only I had more time for my writing, I’ve continually told myself. My goal of writing at least one new match a month has long ago been abandoned.  Happily, others with the writing bug have been contributing to the expanding library of homoerotic wrestling imaginations come to life in text (and choice graphic aids).  I think, with the maturity of 4 years under my belt, I’m coming to terms with the truth that blogging is feeding my kink and interest more than writing wrestling fiction.  I have a couple of fiction projects I’m very, very, very excited to be rolling out in the next couple of weeks, but otherwise, I think the 4th anniversary of neverland will mark a down shift in my intentions to write, to match the de facto truth that my attentions have strayed a bit from my fiction writing already.  So at the ripe old age of 4, I’m signaling my letting go of my grief over less fiction writing and my enthusiastic embrace of more time in neverland.
I’m playing Powerball in order to fuel my calling as an Eliad Cohen stalker!
And finally, as a birthday present to myself, I’m celebrating today with a focus on who, I think, may be the sexiest man who I’ve never seen in a homoerotic wrestling match: Eliad Cohen.  If I were a better (and especially richer) man, I’d be a full-on celebrity stalker of Eliad.  Sadly, his jet-setting schedule hosting Papa circuit parties across the globe far exceed my means to obsessively track him down.  On the other hand, fortunately, he is a generous Facebook poster, and my inner stalker is regularly sated with mouthwatering photos of this epic hunk going about his days, loving his family and friends, seeing the sights of the cities of the world, and, oh yeah, taking off his shirt… a lot.  Seriously, I think this man is as close to my physical ideal as any hunk I’ve ever seen.  If I had a category for my favorite non-wrestling hunk (don’t tempt me, you know how I like my lists), I believe it would be a close contest between Joe Manganiello and Eliad, with Eliad’s hairy chest and tats managing to just nose Joe into my “top contender” spot.  I’d donate a vital organ if it meant I could see Eliad climb into the BG East ring and put those insanely sexy muscles to the purpose they were, quite clearly, most naturally and meaningfully intended: wrestling another hardbodied hunk until one of them is stripped naked and worshipping the victor’s divine physique.
Quite possibly my physical ideal!
As an anniversary present for neverland (not really, but I can pretend), Eliad has posted this crotch-rousing tease of a video promoting (I think) another one of his Papa parties.  This is as close as I think I’ve ever seen what it would be like to watch him in a homoerotic wrestling match.  The performance piece features him and another muscleboy in gladiator gear… sort of… engaged in fantasy hand-to-hand combat… kind of.  There’s a poundingly hot gut punching montage in the credits, so be patient. Inexplicably in the heart of the video (full embed below), they abruptly rip off their utilikilts, and then Eliad demonstrates his status as a muscle god by blowing the head off of his opponent with a magic ball of fire.  Watch to the end, though, and you’ll see the gymbunny stud is quite fully alive and returns to Eliad’s side to begin to stroke his buliging, vascular muscles hungrily.  In other words, this is essentially a performance art version of pretty much 80% of homoerotic wrestling matches (hunks grapple, strip, total domination secured, and then erotic lust takes over).
Eliad’s dominance demonstrated, his muscle conquest returns to worship him (line starts behind me, bastard!)
To all of you who’ve made neverland a going concern, commenting, encouraging, challenging, linking, giving permissions for reposts, guest posting, and just being all around cool fellow journeyers in the wrestling kink universe, this anniversary is as much a celebration of you as it is an acknoweldgment of the passage of time or the accumulation of blog archives.  It continues to be a joy, and that (and, really, that alone) is what makes me fully expect to be celebrating year 5 exactly 12 months from now.

Pleased to Make Your Acquaintance

I was mesmerized by those hairy pecs and munchable nipples the moment I saw Eliad Cohen on Men’s World last week. Good God, this man is pure sex! I thought to myself, that has got to be the sexiest body on the planet. Then again, I think that about a lot of hunks (I’m fickle).

Then I noticed he’d been featured on Homotrophy on Saturday…

…and then on eyecandy and Project Q on Sunday… 

….and then on Tattooed Hunks yesterday…

… and now neverland today. His “artist” Facebook page identifies Eliad as not just a dizzyingly gorgeous body, but also an actor, model, and personal trainer. He’s also the coverboy for Spartacus International Gay Guide.

Eliad’s fan page on Facebook gives a detailed bio that makes me think it may not just be bullshit. Reportedly, he’s an Israeli, 23-year old, fresh out of the army (aren’t all 23-year old Israelis?), gay entrepreneur.

When he puts up his fists, he suddenly becomes an object of wrestling/fight kink fantasy, as well (of course!). I’m picturing him as the template for a character in my superhero wrestling fantasy series. I’m not sure what his superpower should be, though…

Eliad is further proof of a long-standing theory I have that Israeli men are among the sexiest in the world. I hope that all this recent attention inspires more exposure for Eliad, and in the mean time, he’s working overtime in my homoerotic wrestling imagination.