Forrest Taylor – Sidelineland

Lusciously Layered

May 2, 2024 wrestlebardLeave a comment

Charming Chase Addams has come a long way. I’ve interviewed Chase three times since he made such a huge splash in his BG East debut as an essential part of the multi-award winning Tag Team Torture 19 in 2016. You can listen to the audio of my most recent interview with Chase back in 2017, when I sat down with him down by the dock at BG East during a hot summer weekend of recording matches. For as long as I’ve known him, Chase has always had a “strong sense of self.” He showed up at BG East cocky, which isn’t so unusual, but Chase had the pro wrestling skills to back up his cockiness. While none of that has changed over the past 8 years, Chase has metamorphosed into one of the biggest personalities in the business.

In his newest match, Jobberpaloozer 24, Chase is fucking IN CHARGE. There are layers upon layers of allusion and backstory in this match, only some of which are fully excavated. Like, how did Mickey Knoxx end up in just a jock strap and that athletic cup muzzle, cowed and devoted to serve the Charming One? I’m not complaining about the cameo of Mickey’s gorgeous ass, mind you, but the provocative appearance is just rich texture to the world building of the opening moments of Jobberpaloozer 24. The scene is immediately lush with tension and suspense, with the deadly dangerous Queen of Hearts waiting for his bath to be run, letting his facial mask set as he works to calm the demons inside with meditation and deep breathing.

3-peat Jobber of the Year Forrest Taylor

So it’s stark narrative tension when Forrest Taylor shows up brimming with earnestness, challenging Chase to a match. Chase imperiously dismisses him out of hand. “What makes you think this is going to be any different, Forrest?” When I heard that line, I immediately pushed pause and checked the BGE catalog, because I don’t remember an earlier match, and BGE is notoriously stingy with rematches. And no, this is the first product we’ve seen Chase and Forrest in together, so again, the storytelling continues to grow three-dimensional with more layers of backstory. “I had a dream that I was going to win this time,” Forrest insists, and he’s just so fucking earnest about it. It’s not like Forrest is pretending to be something he’s not (after all, he is winner of 3 consecutive Jobber of the Year titles). His challenge isn’t exactly aggressive or heated. It’s just pristinely earnest. He’s on a hero’s quest handed down by the wrestling gods who graced him with the tempting taste of victory in a dream.

“I had a dream I was going to win this time!”

Chase is so over it all, though. It takes Forrest ripping the facial mask off of the Charming One’s face to finally get a rise out Chase, and then the thrashing is on. There’s so much lush context already, it’s almost beside the point to see the contrasts between these two. Chase is about half foot taller and (I’m guessing) 30 pounds heavier. The David vs Goliath angle is just another unspoken layer that dials up the tension. Within the first 10 seconds, Chase knees the dream-inspired redhead in the gut, chops a bright red handprint on Forrest’s lovely, lily white chest, flings him across the ring like a shot putter, and viciously steps on the stunned stud’s fingers. Then things really start going down hill for Forrest.

Chase has always been the master of punishing pro wrestling holds. These days, he serves up those innovative and intricate combo holds with even more indulgent helpings of erotic humiliation. For example, he plants Forrest in a tree of woe and stomps the living shit out of the hot little leprechaun, pounding the redhead down until the back of Forrest’s head rests on the mat. Then Chase adds insult to injury by sitting on Forrest’s face, just smothering the lucky little fucker under the Charming One’s beautiful cheeks. “How’s that vision quest working out for you so far?!”

Forrest digs really, really deep and gets a rally about halfway through this match. It’s fun to watch the redheaded stud’s anguish turn into a cocky sneer, as irrational optimism makes him drunk with just a taste of power. He slaps Chase in the face hard. He pounds the heel’s face into the turnbuckle. He yanks on Chase’s hair and flings the big man across the ring as if he was born to bully. “How’s it feel to be the jobber for once, huh,” Forrest demands to know, certain that the winds of fate are going to let him sail his way to earning back his demolished dignity.

Surely, I don’t need to give a spoiler alert for a Jobberpaloozer match, right? Suffice it to say, Chase unloads both barrels on the pretty boy, and reloads over and over again. I stand up and cheer when Chase executes his signature Will Breaker, and only a little bitter when Forrest is screaming his submission a half a second after getting strung up in the spine snapping hold. Chase is an artist, and his primary medium is molding a magnificently hot jobber like Forrest into homoerotic wrestling sculpture. “Are you humbled yet,” Chase shouts in Forrest’s face before stringing the hopeless redhead up in the ropes. He slaps Forrest’s pale body beet red. He smothers the bearded beauty with his crotch. He plants his ass in Forrest’s face again and again, eventually inspiring the redhead to defensively take a bite out of Chase’s lush cheeks. “Oh, you want to eat some ass?!” Chase seems both enraged and thrilled to have more reasons to thrash on his outmatched opponent. “Here’s the full course!”

In a stroke of storytelling genius, when this match reaches its fated climax, we’re treated to a replay reel of highlights of every humiliating defeat Forrest has suffered at Chase’s hands. Forrest is flashing back to one decisive loss after another over the months (years?) he’s been trying to overcome the odds and defy his impeccable jobber cred to finally defeat the Charming One. It wasn’t just a fabricated backstory. Forrest has been thrashed by Chase five times before this match, and the glimpse we get of each loss is gorgeously decisive. You have to imagine Forrest has got the inside track on earning his fourth Jobber of the Year title, considering he loses six times to the same opponent in just this one release!

There’s still another layer to the storytelling involving Forrest arranging for Freddy Campbell to show up after the match with Fireball to toast what Forrest had been certain would be his first victory. Forrest has not learned any lessons whatsoever, as he vows “next time” will be the charm, giving us insight into the tragic depths of the most notorious jobber currently on the roster. And the homoerotic pro wrestling fan that I am, I love that naivete and irrational optimism. And I love Forrest’s petulance that keeps earning him more heel thrashings. And I’m infatuated with his sensationally beautiful ass that, like Mickey’s ass, was clearly robbed by not even making it to the ballot for Best Butt last year (despite me knowing for a FACT that they were both nominated!). Such awesome storytelling in this larger than life match make it one you shouldn’t miss, if you like diabolically sadistic heels, boundlessly hopeful jobbers, and the homoerotic sculpture of top notch pro wrestling holds.

Simply the Best

January 26, 2024 wrestlebard4 Comments

In the past, I’ve talked with more than one on-camera wrestler who’s described their strong ambivalence about the year-end award seasons. From a fan perspective, it’s all fun and games, speculating on our favorites and comparing our picks with the the average votes of other fans. I imagine from a company’s perspective, it’s just good marketing, drumming up attention on the catalogs they’ve logged over the previous 12 months and maybe giving a little extra sales push from the attention. And I’ve heard wrestlers sincerely excited to be nominated, enjoying the love sent their way whether they win or lose. But I’ve understood the sentiment when wrestlers have described how it can be actively invalidating at times. Like, maybe they were so proud of a particular match that they starred in, but it wasn’t even nominated. Or they worked so fucking hard for months in a caloric deficit to make those abs pop, but didn’t get a mention. Honestly, the LAST thing I want is for a hot, eager homoerotic wrestler to feel invalidated for putting themselves out there. That’s the opposite of what this blog is about. Let’s all normalize the celebration of all sexy wrestlers following their passions on camera for our enjoyment!

That said, I still find myself getting swept up in the awards season hoopla. Jakob commented here a few weeks ago that he’d like to hear my personal picks, just in case my tastes might direct his attention somewhere fun. That seems cool to me and, hopefully, in the spirit of validating the beauty and art of homoerotic wrestling. So, I’ll reflect a little on the nominees and winners of the BG East Besties, and weigh in with any additional nominees I’d like to add, in the spirit of hopefully reinforcing more of my favorite wrestling hunks to keep going at it.

The slate of Sexiest Match nominees was super competitive, so kudos to the nominating committee (yeah, yeah, I’m on the committee)! And, honestly, the fan favorite winner, X-Fights 58: Dio Characi vs. Kayden Keller, was my pick. But if you’re looking for top tier sexy fucking wrestling, all of the nominees are golden. Wrestle Worship 5 was also on my short list. Mat Scraps 4 makes me salivate like Pavlov’s dog just thinking about it. Into burly bear daddies beating the living fuck out of hardbodied twinks? Dive into X-Fights 58 match 1. Really, anything with Dio and/or Forrest in it. Or Zach. The only match from my short list that didn’t get into the nominations was Ruff ‘n’ Raunchy 7 with debuting Zach Ramos burning down the house against rising erotic muscle heel Gabe Steel.

Best Mat Battle nominees also strong, though there were so many hot and hard fought mat battles this year. My top pick was Mickey and Forrest in Undagear 37, which was nominated but didn’t get the fan vote. Fuck, the intensity in that match made me felt like I was the one taking all those vicious slaps to the face! I also had Mat Scraps 4, because… see my comments above regarding anything with Dio and/or Forrest.

Best Ring Match was a foregone conclusion for me, and apparently for the majority of voters. Anything that starts with “welcome Brad Rochelle back to the ring” was destined to make me lose several loads. The Comeback 3 might have been competitive for that reason alone, but fuck no, Brad, Jonny, and debuting Kal Connors all three made that match crazy hot, hilarious, and flinch-worthy vicious! My short list also had the Hunkbash 29 tag team of Firestorm/Steel vs. rookies Vigo/Angeles, because it was so unexpectedly off the rails spontaneous and messy. Like, so fucking fiercely messy, I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. And by “it” I mean more than just Vinny’s ass. But… yeah, Vinny’s ass. But again, I’ve got nothing but love for all of the nominees. Any other year, and any of them could’ve owned the crown. But “welcome Brad Rochelle back to the ring” is the anthem of 2023, as far as I’m concerned.

For Best Body, here’s particularly where I don’t want anyone to feel invalidated, because the quality of hot bodies on camera in 2023 was just so insanely high. Last year’s winner and my pick again was Dio, but newcomer Kal Connor stole the title from him. And fuck, Kal… yep, a fucking stunningly crafted body, particularly for the fitness and aesthetics. Like, Kal beating out Monstah Mike (runner up) sort of sums up the quandry of a contest like this. Just two completely different physiques, both jaw droppingly hot, both get me hard the instant I see them, both the product of a genetic lottery and a whole lot of hard fucking work. Tanner, Tony, Vinny… the also-rans are all deleriously sexy hot bodied hunks. I nominated Tony and Vinny, in addition to Dio. But honestly, if we accept that differently built bodies make equally legitimate claims to be best, I’d add Forrest, Jesse, Hayden, Jason/George, Paris. All you boys who’ve got the balls to stare the camera in the eye and flash those double biceps wearing nothing left to the imagination… you ALL rock me hard.

The Top Heel category brings up a little controversy for me. The title officially switched hands after Kayden owned it for the better part of the past decade. It returned to the hands of former winner and institution, Jonny, so that makes sense. At the risk of bumping into Kayden or Jonny sometime and getting my ass kicked, I have to say that I nominated and voted for Brendan. Kayden’s loss to Ace Aarons in Ruff ‘n’ Raunchy 7 honestly shook me out of Kayden’s corner. That match still sort of haunts me for the drama and the seriously weird dynamics of the heel-on-heel story. Nobody on the list is undeserving, but I’m honestly keying in lately more to the likes of Brendan and Mike.

Dio Characi, repeated for Top Babyface. When you look up babyface in the dictionary, it should have his picture. I think every match description I’ve written for him and every review I’ve done has used the word “cherubic.” Fuck… again, see my comments above about anything Dio floating my boat. Sunny DeLeon also just embodies that babyface vibe. Honestly, though, I actually nominated Lobo Gris, Damian Pike, and Kal Connor. Though Damian didn’t make it to the ballot, I stand by him deserving the nod. Runner-up Jason/George didn’t even occur to me, not because he’s not devastatingly handsome, but just because he has a “fuck you” edge to him that makes me not think of him quite as a babyface. But again, all good, particularly if we add Damian…. and Mickey.

Forrest as Jobber of the Year again just fits. Dude has a corner on the market of pissing off heels in just the right way to get his SENSATIONAL ass (more on that in a moment) kicked harder and harder. He was my pick, and my nominee Freddy also got to the ballot. My other nominee was Kal, who didn’t get to the category, probably because we’re all still trying to peg exactly what role he inhabits most naturally in the BGE universe. Runner-Up Tanner is a sensational sufferer, of course. Damian is totally worthy. Hayden was a steller muscle jobber, but he was in only one match, his debut, late in the year, so I feel like timing was just off for him.

Debut of the Year went to Kal, who wasn’t even on my shortlist, but not because he doesn’t deserve the accolade. I just felt he also showed up pretty late in the year, giving us only a couple of glimpses, which isn’t his fault, but it did make me settle my nominations and vote elsewhere. Mickey Knoxx was, hands down, my pick for this category. I cannnot get enough of him ever since I caught his debut, and he’s kept coming in his rookie year showing something new and intense and fucking SEXY every time out of the gate. Really, same for my second place pick of Zach Ramos. I nominated Tony for this category because I could only nominate three, and I literally flipped a coin between Vinny and Tony for that third spot. Didn’t matter, though, because he didn’t make the slate. But I felt like, again, he just did more and showed more than, say, Ronin or Hayden did. Every one of them, including Tony and Vinny, were a sensational bench of rookies this year, though. No complaints from me, to be honest.

Now with the body part categories, see my comments above about celebrating EVERYONE. Voters picked Kal for best abs. The stunningly pretty boy probably hasn’t had a carb in years to craft that 6-pack, so of course that makes sense. And runner up Rocky… same. I actually voted for Jason/George because his abs just scream to me for someone to pound on them, which opponents almost always do, and his gut is a wall of muscle in a way that doesn’t show up quite like the classic 6-pack. Same for Dio, really… I really want to do a body shot off of his beautiful abs. Hayden and Vinny… totally. Either of them could show up and OWN this house based on the raw material.

The Best Bulge vote is always super personal, right? I didn’t even nominate Dio, but please, do, give him any award, because that Brazilian god is fucking priceless. I’m not even really sure what I’m looking for in a nominee for Best Bulge anymore, without Mr. Joshua or Pete Sharp in the mix. I nominated Brendan and Zach because I’ve fixated on their bulges this year, but neither of them got to the slate. Happy to celebrate runner-up Forrest’s bulge (and ANYTHING else we want to celebrate about him… see my several comments above about him and Dio owning it). And totally, Ash, Ace, Tanner, Kal… nice bulges, hotties! Kal’s peekabo wardrobe malfunction (<–credit there to my buddy AR who I first heard refer to Kal’s balls popping out in Comeback that way) was another sexy moment that made 2023 quite memorable for me. Honestly, though, all bulges are perfect, in my book, when they’re attached to a fierce grappling hunk.

And then there’s the Best Butt category. Winner Monstah Mike was third on my shortlist, so no real complaints there. Him shoving Brendan’s face between those monstrously massive cheeks sort of drove home just what an awesome claim he has on that title. And before I bitch, let me just say I am such a huge fan of all of the other nominees on the list. Now I’ve gotten that out of the way… WHAT… THE… FUCK with the omission of Mickey Knoxx and Forrest Taylor’s DAZZLINGLY sexy glutes!? Honestly, in my mind, I just kept going back to Mickey and Forrest’s match in Undagear 37 to try to decide which ass I crushed on hardest. It was Mickey’s, by the way. But more to the point, neither of these guys even hit the slate!?!? This is not the first time this category has born my wrath. This is one of those moments where I turn into a raving fanatic who CANNOT see how my infatuations (Mickey and Forrest’s asses) objectively were overlooked for this category. Someone’s thumb was on this scale. I call for an official inquiry. I call shenanigans, damn it!!!!!

Now that I’ve gotten that out of my system, I can be more magnanimous with the last of the categories I wanted to send up. Hottest Liplock… see my half a dozen comments above about Dio and Forrest. I actually give my vote to Forrest and Mickey’s angry hot liplock in Undagear 37, but it’s a toss up among so many scorching hot kisses. Personally, I put Zach and Lobo’s HUNGRY face sucking in second place from Florida Fights 11, but it just goes to show how hard it can be to compare different styles and tones of liplocks. All awesome nominees. All hail Dio and Kayden for a well deserved victory!

Any of you hot, hardworking wrestlers that didn’t get a nomination or were nominated, but didn’t win… I see you. You’re fucking sensational, just the way you are. This little awards exercise is all about us and our whims and peculiarities, and marketing, and not about what fucking sensationally sexy, gorgeous, courageous, fierce, and fabulous athletes you are. If you ever need a little validation, hit me up. I will tell it to you straight (well…. you know what I mean), and I can guarantee you, I think you’re a fucking star!

No Laughing Matter

December 27, 2023 wrestlebard3 Comments

I have on more review in the queue for the year-end releases, but I think this will be my final review to post this year. And fuck, Mickey Knoxx and Forrest Taylor’s Undagear 37 match is the cream of the 2023 crop! I knew I was going to be all over this pairing. I’ve spent a LOT of time in 2023 adoring them separately, so I was anxiously anticipating this release since I first got wind of it. My expectations were high, and the heat and sweat and intensity of this match exceeds them.

There are a few “themes” to this match that will speak to different kinks, I imagine. The most explicit theme is tickling. Personally, I have a complicated relationship to tickling that dates back to being held down by my big brother as a kid and tickle-tortured. That’s the vibe, right there, when Mickey’s hands stray from his sweetly sexy, generous massage of Forrest’s back to tauntingly tickle the red-headed lumberjack’s sides. Turns out both of these wrestlers are ticklish, and the difference between their groaning, writhing sell of wrestling punishment in contrast to their frantic flopping, kicking, yelping scramble when they’re tickled, leaves me thinking that, no shit, these sexy boys are legitimately ticklish. From start to finish, there’s this intense bully-tickle theme, as both beauties work to lock each other down so tightly that they can torment each other with their sadistically dancing fingers across their feet, sides, and armpits. The desperation in both of them, as they fight 3.5 times as hard to flail and flop free from their tickling predicament than they do the straightforward wrestling punishment, takes me right back to that tormented, bitterly and involuntary laughing, of my childhood nightmares.

The theme that strokes me even harder in this match, though, is the more meta-level theme of adolescent bullying. From that perspective, the tickling is just one tool in the wrestlers’ arsenals to tauntingly dominate each other with a sensationally sexy mean edge. Forrest initiates the taunting slaps to the face and seriously hard shoves to the chest. Early on, as they’re on their knees and just starting to lean in for another lock-up, the red-headed hottie suddenly slaps his palms against Mickey’s chest and shoves him so hard that the French Canadian flies completely out of the frame. Then, when Mickey comes back into frame, he’s a cruise missile in flight, in a soaring, irritated, mean flying tackle that knocks Forrest to his back with authority!

Fuck, I love that heat! The mean edge to this entire match is such a fucking turn on to me, and it certainly appears to ignite some hungry lust in Forrest and Mickey. So, it’s not just climbing on top and physically dominating their opponent. It’s not just indulging in the spoils of victory by stealing hungry kisses. It’s doing all that, and then, when the wrestler on the bottom is melting, suddenly punching him in the gut, kneeing him in the balls, and/or turning the putty of the rocked hottie into a live wire of panic with more tickling. Forrest keeps amping up that mean edge in a way that seems to take Mickey (the relative rookie) by surprise. But it’s so fucking delightful to watch Mickey’s fuse get lit. That bitterness in the back of his mouth when he gets slapped in the face hard makes this handsome hottie tap into a sadistic mean side I don’t think we’ve seen from him before.

Another theme that, of course, grabs me by the balls is the truly sensational focus on two of the hottest asses in wrestling this year. Honestly, this match is sort of my fantasy pairing of the top two contenders for my vote for Best Ass of 2023. And, as if channeling me, Forrest and Mickey take delight in each other’s luscious glutes. There are repeated fold over pins where the wrestler on top wedgies his opponent’s undagear to expose those magnificent glutes. When it’s Mickey’s turn, he kneads and spanks Forrest’s alabaster cheeks until they are an angry, visibly hot shade of dark red. Fuck, Forrest’s ass is so fucking lush!

Forrest gives Mickey’s ass the passionate attention it deserves, as well. In fact, Forrest cops a feel of Mickey’s gorgeous body repeatedly whenever the handsome rookie is on top of him. Previous opponent’s have just not shown Mickey’s stunning physique sufficient love, as far as I’m concerned, but Forrest’s groping hands know exactly what I’m thinking whenever I see Mickey in action. But it’s when Forrest is on top, with his opponent’s sensational ass in his sights, that his brilliance really shines through. He wedgies and spanks and kneads Mickey’s golden glutes, sure. But he also bites them and licks them and yanks Mickey’s white briefs down to completely expose them. I don’t know if I was ever as convinced in a match that a wrestler was thinking and feeling exactly what I’m thinking and feeling, as when Forrest is squeezing and tasting and spreading Mickey’s straining, quivering cheeks.

So there are those themes to stroke various kinks and tastes… tickling, bullying, adoration of asses. But for any fan of homoerotic wrestling itself, the intensity of the competitive side of this match is just sensationally sexy. Fuck, Forrest’s scissors make me swoon as hard as they, quite clearly, make Mickey suffer. There’s an unscripted scrambling edge to the action that feels spontaneous and ego-driven. When Mickey smoothly and decisively pries Forrest open in a banana split spladle, just owning his quivering handstrings and taking possession of the red-head’s balls, the sweat and pain and delight painted across the entire scene is classic wrestling kink. The story grows suspenseful as the action turns ragged and bitter near the end of the 30+ minutes. They’re evenly matched in size, skill, and intensity, and I don’t know who’s going to score that last submission, until the loser is getting his face pounded with the victor’s grinding crotch, alternating with the victor’s hungry lips possessing the gorgeous loser’s mouth.

Fuck, I don’t know if this settles who gets my vote as having the Best Ass of 2003. This very well may include my vote for Hottest Liplock of the year. I do know for certain, however, that Mickey Knoxx, fiercely aggressive and bitter, executing offense with authority and looking like a total badass BOSS, is deliriously sexy! And that punkish, taunting, mean edge to Forrest has never been more successful in starting a inferno that the bearded babyface beauty may, or may not, be able to handle.

Monstah

December 4, 2023 wrestlebardLeave a comment

Monstah Mike is so fucking big and solid, he’s got the gravitational pull of planet. You can tell, because from the moment he debuts for BG East in WrestleShack 31: Cash or Cum (spoiler alert: the answer isn’t cash), Freddy Campbell is either circling him or crashing into him over and over again, and just has no chance in hell of reaching escape velocity. Mike has apparently been hired to work in accounts receivable at BG East. Some weasely red-headed jobber rented out the ring room for some private time, and then tried to skip out without paying the rent. Mike was probably told the name of the jobber, but, seriously, how many weasely little red-headed jobbers could be on the BG East payroll?

Freddy is seriously confused when Mike FILLS the doorway of the shack (and then some) with his gargantuan boulder shoulders and demands that he pay up. Unbeknownst to either Mike or Freddy, the real culprit was, of course, Forrest Taylor (honestly, doesn’t that sound more like Forrest, for some reason?). Fuck, Forrest is stirring up shit when he’s not even on site! “Bossman said to collect what he’s owed from some ginger jobber. Looks about right,” he says, giving Freddy a slow, appraising once over. “So, where’s the money?”

Freddy is duly impressed with Monstah Mike. “I don’t mind a handsome guest,” he says, checking the bodybuilder out with a grin. “But you’ve got the wrong guy. I don’t owe any money.” Future opponents take note: Monstah Mike doesn’t take “no” for an answer. A forearm smash across the chest (and, seriously, look at the size of that fucking forearm!?!?) knocks Freddy into the back wall of the shack.

The whole time, Freddy is protesting his innocence, and not for one second does it matter to the hired gun. Mike is going to beat the money out of him, and, by the looks of it, Mike enjoys his work. He tosses Freddy around like a rag doll. He repeated slams the wrong ginger jobber to the mat, and into the walls, and into his own rock hard body. Holy fuck, that’s hot! Mind you, Freddy has been putting on muscle in his last several matches. BG East has him listed at 185 pounds. But he might as well be 142-pound Forrest, for all it matters, with a fucking AVALANCHE of exquisite, gargantuan muscle pounding down on him and flattening him like a pancake.

It’s all overwhelming muscle and power in this match, and everything about it is absolutely convincing and incredibly hot. Early on, Freddy lashes out with some punches at those huge targets that are Mike’s pecs and I’m pretty sure the blows hurt Freddy a lot more than Mike. The debt collector folds Freddy like origami, wrapping him up in a small package and then, delightfully, showing just how much he enjoys his work by kneading and biting the ginger’s ass and stroking Freddy’s crotch. “Wasn’t expecting to have this much fun,” Mike mutters, good-naturedly, as he’s streamrolling and possessing Freddy at will.

The sexiest moments for me happen when Freddy finally finds the right button to push (a solid jab to Mike’s balls) to get some revenge on the strongman. When Freddy slides the debt collector between his legs to lock on body scissors, the ginger complains, “Fuck, I can barely get my legs around you!” And, indeed, fuck. Mike is just that fucking huge, every ounce of it solid, succulent muscle, to make it nearly impossible for Freddy to really lock down those scissors. Freddy makes the most of the moment, though. He gets a standing ovation from me for yanking on those ultra briefs Mike is wearing and wedgying the most muscly ass I’ve seen bared in a long time.

It’s Freddy’s spladle on Monstah Mike, though, that leaves me dizzy. Fuck, fuck, AND fuck, all that luxurious muscle ripped open wide. I’d bet cash Mike can crack walnuts with those glutes, but in that spladle, ass in the air, he’s whining and crying like a bitch. Mike SELLS that suffering, which makes the contrast between all that dazzling muscle and his complete helplessness sensationally epic. And Freddy is every fucking one of us, taunting the bodybuilder and clawing the fuck out of Mike’s balls.

Lest we blow past even my infamously adept ability to suspend disbelief, rest assured that Mike turns the tables back upright. And the hired muscle is now pissed. He snaps shut the beartrap of his monstah thighs around Freddy’s head and threatens to pop his skull like a grape. Mike picks him up and pins him against the shack wall, Freddy’s feet nowhere near the ground. He makes Freddy lick, suck, and kiss his massive muscles, wringing all the humiliation he wants out of the naughty boy for that embarrassingly sexy spladle a few moments earlier. Barehanded chokes and endlessly punishing bearhugs crush the wrongly-accused ginger like a beer can.

And speaking of beer cans… fuck, when Monstah Mike tugs his briefs down his sequoia thighs, out springs a cock to match the rest of Mike’s massively developed body. He gets himself even harder by pounding his un/lucky opponent’s face senseless with it. Naked, he sits on Freddy’s face and smothers the lucky ginger with those gargantuan muscle glutes. I go back and forth about how to describe Mike here, but I’m just going to say it. He’s fucking amazingly pretty. I mean, I don’t know how someone selling alpha dog muscle enforcer like he does would feel about that adjective. And it’s not like there’s anything delicate or demure about Mike. But nevertheless, I think he’s just astonishingly pretty, in that 5’10, 230-pound, sculpted muscle and early-80’s biker stash way he has about him. If it was a braver and better world we lived in, there’d be young homoerotic wrestling fans with posters of Monstah Mike hanging over their beds. I hope that IRL he’s got some adoringly infatuated boyfriend bringing him flowers and telling him he’s gorgeous every day, because as big and bad and intimidating as he is, he’s just fucking pretty. I can’t think of a better way to put it.

As incredibly impressive Monstah Mike is ALL over, there’s one super impressive muscle on Freddy that puts even the debt collector to shame. If you’ve watched many of Freddy’s matches, you know what I’m talking about. Even Mike’s impressed, admiring the school bus as he presses one of his hugely peaked biceps across Freddy’s throat and smothers the ginger with Mike’s sweaty briefs. Like me, Freddy doesn’t last long after that point. “Damn, boy,” Monstah Mike marvels, “you’ve been holding a lot in there! Good job!”

Freddy is a wasted pool of sweat and cum by the end. Mike looks like he’s super proud of his work, and hungry for another assignment from the boss man. Just as he’s finally walking out the door of the shack, he calls over his shoulder to Freddy, “You clean yourself up. And then GIVE ME THAT MONEY!”

Super fun, funny, and dizzyingly sexy encounter in WrestleShack 31. Freddy NEEDS to settle up accounts with Forrest somehow, and Monstah Mike needs to just keep doing whatever the fuck he wants with whoever the fuck he wants whenever the fuck he wants… as long as the cameras are rolling.

“You’re So Hot!”

October 5, 2023 wrestlebard3 Comments

I realize that I’m not subtle, but for the sake of new readers, let me state what’s abundantly obvious to anyone who’s read me over the past 12 months or so: I am a fan of Dio Characi. I’d really love licking honey off every inch of his ridiculously beautiful body, of course, but my fan-status is based on more than that. Dio seems to seriously enjoy wrestling. I can’t say the same for all wrestlers who show up on our small screens, but Dio has this delightful presence, this immediacy in his matches that never fails to sell me the story that the cherubic Brazilian babyface with a sizzling hot body gets off on wrestling. Of course, for all I know, it could be bullshit. Dio could be like a lot of wrestling-for-gay-eyes guys, just clocking in and earning some extra cash off of eager marks like me. But if so, he’s even more brilliant than I already think he is, because he tells that story so fucking well.

I’m also a fan of Forrest Taylor. Honestly, I’ve taken some shit for saying that out loud, because Forrest seems to collect haters like overripe fruit attracts gnats. And I get that, truly and deeply. There’s something about his tenor voice, spitting out cocky, contemptuous trash talk, demanding to be praised/worshiped, that makes me want to gag him with his own sweat-soaked trunks. But about 42% of the way through every match I’ve seen of Forrest’s, I completely forget to be irritated by him. Instead, I just marvel at his remarkably hot body, his lily white complexion and fiery red hair pulled straight out of the same gene pool as I come from. Fuck, Forrest’s rock hard muscled ass and thick, aesthetically stunning thighs make all the argument needed to convince me that he deserves the praise he demands. I mean, sure, he deserves to have someone shove his own sweat-soaked trunks down his throat and spank those shockingly white glutes crimson. That, too. But fuck, I can’t quit the guilty pleasure of letting his relentless wrestling offense and carved-from-ivory physique make me forget, for a little while, how annoying his over-the-top overconfidence and smirking trash talk is.

So Dio, grinning hungrily at the start of Mat Scraps 4, openly acknowledging how hot he finds it watching Forrest’s thick quads stretching and flexing as they warm up, is all sorts of right. “It looks like you have good quads,” the Brazilian bombshell says what we’re all thinking, even if I’m the only other one saying it out loud. In that classic Dio way, it’s not so much a compliment as it is a come on. Dio’s fucking famished from the moment the video starts, and that lick smacking hunger is the slow burning vibe that keeps their mat scrap hot and homoerotic. I swear, 95% of hunks showing up to wrestle for gay eyes seem to bitterly loathe the idea of giving an opponent an ounce of credit. Now, that’s fucking irritating! Dio, on the other hand, pays Forrest well-deserved compliments from start to finish in this match, and not only is he the bigger man for it, he’s also lighting the match in my crotch as I eagerly watch to see where his relentless attraction is going to drive the two of them.

Forrest is… well, Forrest. Without skipping a beat after Dio’s honest opening compliment of his hot legs, the red-headed hottie smirks and says, “Oh, I know I do.” It’s this oddly hot subtext throughout the match, that Dio hungrily praises Forrest, and Forrest just keeps throwing sneering trash talk back at him. Fuck, it’s SO audaciously irritating when Forrest sucks up Dio’s compliments and serves him damningly faint praise in return. “Yours are nice, too,” he deadpans. “Just not as nice as mine.” Half the match later, Dio gasps, full sell, “You’re so hot.” Then, as Forrest is getting fucking swarmed by the Brazilian, forced to worship the Brazilian house-on-fire Best Body at BG East winner last year (his DEBUT year!!!), Forrest deadpans again, “You do have a good body, I’ll admit….” You can hear the “but” hanging silently in the air, as Forrest let’s the tension mount. “…even though you’re weaker than I am.” It’s a patently ridiculous statement, as he’s staring up at Dio, force fed Dio’s bulging biceps, made to lick Dio’s pits and squeeze Dio’s pecs. I’d be so fucking irritated with him, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s now wrestling in a jock strap, and that magnificent alabaster ass is bare and so fucking beautiful. What was Forrest saying? I can’t remember now.

Dio clearly forgives/forgets Forrest, too. When Forrest is taking a turn accumulating riding time, squeezing (convincingly!!!) Dio’s coverboy torso between his tree trunk thighs, the Brazilian both suffers and manages to tug Forrest’s trunks off his ass. Holy shit, Dio kneading his fingertips into the red-headed hunk’s glutes blows my mind, all by itself. Forrest’s ass DESERVES the greedy, possessive clawing and groping Dio gives it. When Forrest cockily shoves his opponent’s face between his cheeks, there’s this sweet, sweet moment of perfection, as Dio, unsolicited, offers, “I’m enjoying the view a lot from here!” Like, FUCK. Such a fucking authentic moment that speaks volumes of truth about both of these gorgeous hunks, as well as you and me.

It will surprise no more than about 3% of Forrest’s marks (me NOT included) that Dio is just too much for him to handle. The Brazilian is 5 inches taller and a good 40 pounds of solid, succulent muscle heavier than the impertinent bearded pretty boy with such a smart mouth. It’s not a squash by any means. It’s got some playful highlights to the schoolyard who’s-bigger/badder feel to it, as they trade holds and hurts. And Forrest makes the big boy hurt! Fuck, Dio’s suffering sell is luscious. But just like gravity pulls us just one direction, there’s an inevitability about Dio wearing Forrest out hard and long. There’s one sensationally hot moment when Dio is really building up a head of steam, crushing the snarky red-head, digging his fingers deep into Forrest’s rock hard core. He crushes Forrest’s balls and smothers him in his pit. Then, trapping Forrest’s left hand behind his head, he claws the living FUCK out of the red-head’s impressive lat muscle. It looks like he’s ripping meat of the bone, and holy shit, it makes me swoon!

In the end, Dio shuts up the relentless, notorious trash talker in the second best way I can think of. In case my take on how erotic this match is leads you to think the boys get naked, let me transparently point out that no cocks are visibly unsheathed. Two of the sexiest asses in the business are beautifully bared, and every other inch of their bodies is explored and destroyed, admired and tasted, though. Dio is a force of nature, and I’ve got a spare bottle of honey waiting in case I ever get the call from him. And Forrest is so fucking irritating, his confidence so overblown, and then about 42% of the way through the match, Dio rips off his trunks and kneads those tasty glutes and… what was I saying about Forrest? I just can’t remember much after that moment. Damn.

“You look great”

June 12, 2023 wrestlebardLeave a comment

I often wonder how much organization is churning away behind the scenes at BG East. I enjoyed getting to be on site during one of the weekend shoots several years ago, as a dozen or so hot wrestlers all descended on the BG East headquarters to squeeze in as much sizzlingly sexy wrestling as possible over a few days. Hot guys were everywhere I turned. There was wrestling happening somewhere all the time, often more than one match being recorded at the same time in different venues. And when they didn’t have the cameras pointed at them, there were idle wrestlers everywhere, in the kitchen, down on the dock, watching television, napping in the sunroom. It was so fucking busy, with so much eye candy everywhere, I quickly suffered from whiplash and a raging sugar high.

So it wouldn’t exactly surprise me if the oft-used premise for a match, that two wrestlers showed up to warm up and practice in a temporarily unclaimed spot in the compound, actually happens. A lot. That’s the premise for Ring Rookies 6, when Forrest Taylor walked into the ring room, expecting to find it empty, but instead found Jack Norwood already warming up in the ring. It was Forrest’s second release from BG East, and his first time stepping foot into the ring. It was Jack’s debut, and as of this posting, his only released match. So this was, indeed, a classic ring rookies set-up.

“Excuse me! Who are you? I reserved the ring for this time,” Forrest bitches immediately. “I got here first,” Jack snaps coldly with a sneer. I like the look of Jack. He has that combination of a pristine, pretty face and a hot, meaty body that works wonders for me. He also possesses chill confidence, to the point of being downright cold. He suggests that they can settle who gets to stay in the ring room by wrestling for it. With a whopping one match already under his belt, Forrest is way cocky and quick to accept the challenge. And in the opening flurry of action, fuck, Forrest looks like he was born in a wrestling ring! He breaks a collar and elbow lockup with a sharp knee to Jack’s gut, before scooping the newbie up in a full nelson. The red-headed lumberjack swings him around in the full nelson, letting centrifugal force add brutal pressure to his hands cranking on the back of Jack’s neck. He flings the newbie into a corner and punches the living fuck out of Jack’s tightly muscle, flat abdomen. “I told you to leave when you had the chance,” Forrest snarls with an evil grin.

Regular readers know I always enjoy a hotly contested, competitive match, and that’s what Jack and Forrest deliver. They both possess a curious quality of cocky confidence bordering on ring savvy, considering they’ve reportedly not battled it out in the ring before. But they both obviously have wrestling experience behind them. Jack delivers a snap mare that absolutely no rookie has a right to. Just when Forrest is crawling up to his hands and knees, shaken hard, Jack snaps his thick thighs around the red-head’s lean waist and squeezes. Forrest refuses to submit, even while he’s struggling for air. As the “rookie” Jack starts to roll them around the ring by the body scissors, Forrest wails and writhes like a fish on a hook. He desperately tries to pry apart Jack’s crushing legs, but the rookie’s smooth, rock hard quads are like a steel padlock, going absolutely nowhere.

Both ring rookies score submissions, and they both gloat big time. Forrest lays into Jack’s meaty pecs like a terrier with a bone, ripping, stretching, punching and prying them all over the ring. “Go ahead and quit,” Forrest demands with a smirk, working to rip Jack’s head off his neck with a chinlock while punching the muscle kid’s pecs a deep cherry red, until he finally submits,”Okay, okay!!!”

“You like that,” Forrest asks, catching Jack eye fucking him as he’s flexing his sweet, petite round guns in gloating victory. “You look great,” Jack admits on his hands and knees, staring unblinkingly at Forrest’s big tartan bulge swinging in front of his face. Then he’s laughing like a supervillain after he’s delivered an uppercut to Forrest’s balls, dropping the red-headed hunk to his knees hard. Once Jack notices how fucking pissed it makes Forrest to drag him around by his hair, he does it pretty much non-stop. The red-head gives away a submission to an abdominal stretch, a century into getting his alabaster abs pummeled hot, hot red.

I like the attitudes. I like the bodies. A lot. I like the suspense of two snarling, evenly matched, fresh and ferocious fighters wringing each other out, demonstrating both their potential to dish it out and take it. We’ve seen a lot (literally) of smoking hot Forrest since then, and I, for one, am down for seeing a lot more of him (in all senses of the phrase). I think it’s surely time to see Jack’s hot, muscled bod and cocky, calculated chill back in action, too.

The winner trusses his beaten rival up in the ropes, cooing in the loser’s ear as he bears down on a lovely sleeper. “I guess we both got to use the ring,” the preening, flexing victor monologues, his eyes admiring his own hot body on display with his vanquished rival slack and helpless behind him. “But we know who the winner is.”

Activating Erotic Mode

January 27, 2023 wrestlebard2 Comments

In the newest BG East catalog there’s a little gem that is guaranteed to spark controversy. I know that Robo-Wrestler is guaranteed to spark controversy because I’ve already had an extensive debate about it with another BG East fan and friend of mine. Honestly, I think the only really controversial element to Robo-Wrestler is its very gimmick-forward stance. Forrest Taylor and Mason Brooks fucking go for it, with a seriously earnest supporting performance by Freddy Campbell. It’s sensationally sexy and astonishingly clever homoerotic wrestling packaged inside a summer jamboree skit. The text is balls-out bold: Forrest has ordered an android version of Mason Brooks (“Mason-bot” even gets his own wrestler profile, because the commitment to this gimmick as 100%) to wrestle with any time and every time he wants. He wanted a Kid Karisma-bot, but it was too expensive. “You know I’m a cheap-ass, and this is what I could afford,” Forrest snaps back at his gamer buddy Freddy who gives him a hard time for ordering off of the clearance rack. I love all three of these guys A LOT, so I’m sure that’s biased me toward being willing to suspend disbelief and roll with it. But seriously, if any one of these hunks had gone in half-assed, if they’d snickered and rolled their eyes at the gimmick, this product would have ground to a screeching halt for me. But bless their beautiful, hot asses, the boys sell it like there’s an Emmy nomination at stake.

Seriously, go along for this ride, and you will see some sensational storytelling, hot, brutal wrestling, and full-throttle naked homoerotic grappling with a couple of incredibly tasty hot bods. Fuck, Mason(-bot) looks more and more gorgeous every time I see him in something new. His nipples continue to make me swoon, and fuck, those lush, massive, gorgeous pecs of his make everything he’s in have to have “-erotic” as a suffix. He not only takes shots at his reputation at BG East, he dishes them out, acknowleding that his “model” of bot has received poor costumer reviews because “my personality is off-putting. Too real and borderline insulting.” And Forrest just keeps showing up and making me dizzy, match after match. Just sticking to the visual aesthetics, fuck… I am in lust with every inch of him, and his overall proportions. He should be naked in every fucking match, as far as I’m concerned, because, fuck, he looks STUNNING naked. And Robo-Wrestler goes there brilliantly.

I could see some wrestling fans taking issue with the execution of the narrative, that sort of pulls the curtain back on kayfabe and pops open the hood to give a glimpse at the engine underneath homoerotic pro wrestling. Mason-bot has different “challenge levels,” from jobber to competitive wrestler to heel to erotic warrior. Forrest can’t quite figure out how to switch from one challenge level to another (hilariously), and his buddy Freddy mostly makes matters worse for him by accidentally turning up the difficulty rating on Mason-bot. But this is actually the most genius piece of this product for me. Because Mason walks us all (mostly Forrest, but clearly you and me, as well) through the paces of classic jobberdom, trash talking competiveness, sadistic heeldom, and, thank the homoerotic wrestling gods, gagging-for-it homoerotic warrior. Forrest remains Forrest, mind you. He won Jobber of the Year for a reason. So it’s absolutely hilariously fascinating to watch Mason-bot’s different challenge levels bring out different elements to tried-and-true, cheap-ass Forrest. As a jobber, Mason is a ton of shallow bluster and put-on cockiness, swearing that he’ll never submit to Forrest’s (fucking hot) bodyscissors one second, and then tapping out and pleadingly submitting the next. Like a fucking jobber.

“Freddy, I’m going to kill you,” Forrest snarls, when Freddy accidentally turns on the “Grappling Mode.” Mason-bot starts to seriously resemble Mason. He legitimately out-hustles and out-muscles Forrest. He nearly chokes him out cold before Forrest can submit. He’s taunting and bullying, brutalizing the sexy little red-headed minx (with fantasyman quads and glutes). He yanks on Forrest’s beard and stretches out the brutal punishment luxuriously, as the gamer buds struggle to wrangle Mason-bot’s control app under their control. When Freddy accidentally activates “Dirty Tactics” mode, Mason-bot locks him down in a figure 4 headlock and slaps that gorgeous, alabaster ass of Forrest’s (which I STILL say ought to have won Best Butt last year). And then there’s “Kill Mode,” in which Mason-bot turns full on sadistic heel, relishing in Forrest’s screams and pleas, ignoring his submissions, hell bent on humiliating his new “owner” relentlessly. “Do you feel humiliated, Forrest?” Mason-bot asks woodenly, schoolboy pinning him and smothering him in his crotch, as Forrest writhes and screams and kicks in terror. Holy fuck, yes, I’m definitely along for the ride at this point.

When the boys finally discover how to turn on “Erotic Mode,” everyone (and I mean EVERYONE) is firing on all cylinders. Full throttle, no pretense muscle worship. “Would you like me to flex my biceps while you grab my pecs,” Mason-bot asks woodenly. Holy shit, these guys convince me completely that they’re fucking into each other, right around the time Forrest tells his buddy Freddy to get the fuck out of the matroom and let them get down to business in private. Beautiful, excited, earnest as fuck cocks come out. Mason-bot slams Forrest down into an OTK and starts to jack him off hard and fierce. When he slams him to the mat, Mason(bot) sits on Forrest’s face and pounds his own throbbing cock into the lucky, sexy-ass leprechaun’s chest.

It’s fucking hilarious. Mason, Forrest, and Freddy are fucking hilarious, and the scene is outrageously hilarious. And I get it. That could be a buzz kill, but it most certainly wasn’t for me. It was sensationally clever, telling a story that unpacks homoerotic pro wrestling tropes, turning formulaic, gimmick-free(ish) wrestling on its head, and turning up the heat with something entirely novel, self-consciously iconoclastic, and intensely erotic. I laughed. I was wildly turned on. And I got off repeatedly, all the while feeling like I understood myself and my relationship to homoerotic wrestling just a little better.

“You talked a big game online…”

January 2, 2023 wrestlebard5 Comments

Forrest Taylor says he isn’t impressed when Brendan Byers climbs into the ring in Babyface Bash 2. But he should be. And between you and me, I’m pretty sure Forrest is lying. “You looked taller and stronger online,” he says dismissively. “I was expecting some great big giant.” There’s a pull of gravity to the massive muscles towering over sexy little Forrest though, that I just don’t quite believe he isn’t feeling. When Forrest flexes his own hot, lean biceps proudly, Brendan steps up and flexes one of his own huge, mountainous peaks, and I swear to the homoerotic wrestling gods, the little guy’s entire head disappears behind it.

I’ve mentioned before the remarkably persistent, nay relentless commentary that Forrest pulls out at EVERY occasion. I’m a HUGE fan of trash talk, and pillow talk, and villainous monologing, and, well, wrestling text of all sorts. So it’s saying something when even I have to say, “Will someone shut Forrest up!?” On this day, in that ring, that someone is big, bad, brutal Brendan Byers!

I don’t want to be misunderstood, mind you. Fuck, Forrest is a tasty fucking treat! He was on my nomination form for multiple categories for the BG East Besties, and hands down, he was my top pick for Best Butt this year. In a homoerotic wrestling universe dominated by huge muscle monsters and physique stars, there’s just something about his gorgeous quads and that insanely round, mouthwatering bubble butt, that would make me pick him out of a crowd of hotties every fucking time. Hell, I’m even a huge fan of his beard, despite the inordinate amount of attention he constantly draws to his, admittedly, impressive facial hair. Lest I be painted as a hater, let me declare unequivocally that I am a Forrest Taylor fan.

But holy fuck, is it satisfying watching him get the living SHIT kicked out of him by Brendan Byers! Forrest also demonstrates why I voted for him to retain his title as Jobber of the Year for another year, by egging on his own corporal punishment with unbelievably cocky trash talk, even while he’s getting buried under the mountain of muscle crushing down on him. Literally, Brendan his choking him with his own suspender and riding him HARD in a camel clutch, and Forrest is snarling and spitting, “You ain’t shit.” Fuck, talk about asking for it. Fuck, talk about DEMANDING it!? It’s sort of the definition of “heel bait,” as his plucky defiance makes the muscle bear ripping him apart limb by limb that much hotter and fiercer. Brendan drags his nose across the side of Forrest’s face, breathing in deeply, absolutely intoxicated by the aroma of defiantly hopeless jobber wafting up at him. He throws him to his stomach and mounts that ass that got my vote, grinding his hips, holding him by the hair, and announcing convincingly “You’re mine, boy!”

My fellow Scotsman gets a little riding time, thanks to a savage punch to Brendan’s balls. But when Forrest mounts his own “revenge” camel clutch, giving it everything he’s got, Brendan literally smirks, “That tickles.” When Forrest snaps on face-to-crotch headscissors, it makes me wonder if I ought to have nominated him for best bulge. But it also has this pretense of twink dominance, all the while, I’m pretty convinced, it’s doing NOTHING but making big Brendan build up a whole new, bigger, harder head of steam.

A few highlights that grab me by the balls include the absolutely devastating series of pounding over-the-knee backbreakers that make me think for a moment there that Forrest was actually broken. Forrest pummeled while trapped in the ropes is exquisite. Somewhere in the melange of the sound of the red headed hunk’s panicked whimpers paired with the sight of his alabaster, fucking impressively built quads hanging there uselessly, I am seriously turned on!

A little over 17 minutes in, and Forrest loses the red and white stripped briefs he’d had on under his tartan, and, damn it all, that’s a fucking hot, bearded, booted naked man getting his sensational ass handed to him again and again and again! He fights it at every turn. He refuses to accept the inevitable, and that’s SO fucking adorable. “I told you all that shit talk would come back to bite you in the ass, didn’t I,” Brendan points out, mounted on Forrest’s naked ass and yanking his head back with a handful of fiery red hair. “Yes, yes,” Forrest gasps, with pleading in his breathless voice.

The reverse inverted bearhug with Forrest’s entire head shoved inside of Brendan’s pouch is epic, but fuck, I’m going to feast for days on the naked bearhug and wears that buttle butt out so gorgeously. So, sure, I’m going to keep bitching about Forrest’s relentless trash talk, because he’s asking for it, right? He wants to irritate, doesn’t he? There’s a devious, clever angle there, where every heel, and at least this reviewer, fucking sees RED under the constant onslaught of Forrest’s bluster, pretty much guaranteeing his total destruction again and again.

Fucking brilliant!

Fresh Meat

August 9, 2022 wrestlebardLeave a comment

In between the time I was last blogging with some regularity and today, a lot of shit has gone down (<- understatement of the century). As a result, there are some fresh faces (, jobbers, and heels) on the scene that I’ve not obsessed over here, though that’s certainly not to say I haven’t obsessed over. So let me, in brief, highlight some of the relatively fresh meat that is long overdue for me to adore in print. Honestly, my bandwidth has been pretty limited to BG East and indy pro available on YouTube, with a couple of glances over at HunksWrestling because they’ve been recruiting some fucking dazzling specimens lately. So, this isn’t a representative sampling of all the homoerotic potential to hit the scene in the past year and half, just where my time and attention has drawn my focus. Please feel free to add in the comments that rookies and sophomores from other companies that I’ve failed to mention.

Forrest Taylor (those fucking thighs!!!)

First of all, Forrest Taylor. Holy fuck. It felt to me like this hunk came out of nowhere to suddenly catapult to my top 5 favorite wrestlers. Honestly, he’s the perfect size for me. Compact, fit as a fiddle, and so. damn. pretty. Everything below the neck was carved by Michelangelo, and everything above the neck is porn-ready lumberjack. I didn’t know how much I was missing a red-headed, bushy-bearded, never-say-die twink scrapper, until I caught sight of Forrest. I could (and probably will, sooner or later) wax poetic about his physique, but it would be criminal not to immediately mention here that he’s got an astonishingly gorgeous ass. Like, astonishing. I nominated him for last year’s Debut of the Year. I voted for him as Debut of the Year. And he won Debut of the Year (and Jobber of the Year… he was my second choice in that category). I’ve loved his work in Wrestleshack 27, Ring Rookies 6, and most recently, Ring Singlets 1.

Lobo Gris is really seasoned fresh meat. I’ve followed him on social media well before seeing him grace the ring and mats of BG East, so he was so familiar and tantalizing from the start. He’s got a 70’s porn star body, with an effortlessly impeccable hairy torso and an irresistibly yankable bushy black coif. So fucking handsome, and an incredibly sexy, aggressive, confident persona. I know that he was unmasked in his debut masked match, but I really, really want to advocate, in the strongest possible terms, for a suspension of the masked luchador rules that say once unmasked, a wrestler doesn’t don the mask again. He turned up my temperature when I watched him wrestle Forrest in Wrestleshack 27, and made me dizzy with lust in his sweat soaked corporal lesson in cultural humility with Mason Brooks in Gear Wars 9.

Freddy Campbell (and the face he stole off of a 1950’s television puppet)

It took a little while, but Freddy Campbell as grown on me. Initially, when he was so ridiculously green, I was resenting him for riding his BF’s coattails into some prime time BG East matches. But damn it all, I keep watching him in match after match, and he keeps sending me harder and harder. He’s doesn’t have the whittled, rock hard physique of so many of the homoerotic wrestling stars, but he’s got that lush, targetable ass and that ridiculously cute (like, surreally sexy Howdy Doody) face that constantly screams for someone to pound him into a pulp. You can watch him objectively growing in confidence and skill across his BG East matches over the past many months, which is sort of intoxicating, in and of itself. I was still hating him in his Backyard Brawl 14 match, but I’ve gone back to it again, with new eyes, and new appreciation, and can’t help myself but enjoy it on repeat. I really learned to love him when he got the full-on Mason Brooks treatment in Wrestleshack 27, and Gear Wars 9 far outpaced my expectations (because I’m pretty lukewarm on soccer), in large part due to watching Freddy saddle up on offense.

Finally, for this post at least, I feel the need to mention John Wolfboy. I know he’s not new to homoerotic wrestling, having appeared for quite a while in at least a couple of other companies. So you probably already knew him, and had formed your opinions about him, long before me. But I was seriously delighted to see him show up at BG East in the past several months and pit that whipcord lean body against some of the reigning bad boys. He seems to have gleefully stepped/stomped onto the hornets nest of heel daddies and their dutiful boys/boyfriends. With the beard and wavy brown hair, he sports a hypermasculine vibe, paired evocatively with a lightweight, junior varsity physique. He has that special talent that I’ve only noticed in a couple of other wrestlers before, to look like he’s got skinny arms one moment, and then to flex, and BOOM… out of nowhere, appear these lovely, meaty, peaked biceps. What brand of devilish sorcery is this?! And does the Wolfboy do worship sessions (asking for a friend)? I first sort of felt bad for his bruising, upperclassmen beatdown (especially considered it was his BGE debut) of Freddy in Backyard Brawls 14, though watching Kayden step in and piss along the borders of his territory (burying Wolfboy under) was poignant. Watching the through-story (fuck, I love a through-story) play out, as Freddy’s BF defends his honor by taking Wolfboy on in the ring, followed by Ash’s heel mentor, Kayden showing back up for another pissing contest, was incredibly successful story telling, as far as I’m concerned. And fuck, can W-boy take, and dish out, a brutally sexy beating!

I’ve got a longer list of fresh meat to laud, but I’ll push publish now, so that I can get on with some other projects that I’m excited to share here soon. In the meantime, let me know who’s been turning your eye lately.