Tag: Gabe Steel

Wrestlefest Live – 2025

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Like Wrestlefest itself, Wrestlefest Live grew in leaps and bounds this year. I attended WF Live last year, and it was an awesome, fascinating, intense, and immensely entertaining event. Last year, the Live show had the feel of getting smuggled into a speakeasy during prohibition. We were escorted, one elevator-full of wrestling fans at a time, to the undisclosed location. Seating was limited in a sparse, Manhattan loft space on the upper floor of a high rise. It was mat wrestling in front of an intimately small but enthusiastic crowd. The matches were bigger than the setting, really, with some fantastic, high profile wrestlers from the underground scene, stars of both self-published and corporately produced homoerotic wrestling. Seated inches away from match after match of sizzling hot bodies grappling for dominance was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before, and when the box office opened online for the show this year, I eagerly snatched mine up hours after they went on sale, which turned out to be a good thing, since the show sold out in about 12 hours.

Wrestlefest Live this year was billed as more. More matches, a lot more wrestlers (accounting for tag teams, celebrity refs, and unannounced ring takeovers, turned out to be A LOT), but the one element that piqued my interest most was the promise of a full blown pro wrestling show in a ring. I was in suspense, wondering how they’d pull this off, knowing it was set in the same club where the kickoff party had occurred the night before (see my account of drooling over Dio Characi there). I tried to moderate my expectations, frankly. I was picturing the possibility of sort of a backyard wrestling feel, but in this case, in the backroom of Red Eye. Let me be clear, I admire the fuck out of backyard wrestling, with the young wrestling enthusiasts who improvise a pro wrestling setting on the cheap in order to live out (and record and share) their fantasies of being larger than life pro wrestlers like the ones they love watching on TV. Sometimes the “ring” is a trampoline or maybe just a few traffic cones and an unsecured rope marking the imaginary boundaries of a ring. Seriously, I’ve enjoyed watching some backyard wrestling from time to time on YouTube, when I find some hot young men going all in for the raw love of it. However, I wondered if Wrestlefest Live this year might similarly require the audience to imagine more than it literally delivered, sort of like backyard wrestling enthusiasts with the passion, if not the actual equipment and budget, of indy pro wrestling.

But, whoa. Like, WHOA! This was a legit show, the actual incarnation of unapologetic pro wrestling for a homoerotic wrestling audience that I’ve always fantasized about but never quite believed I’d get to witness. Sometime between the end of the kick-off party and the start of the show, an army of elves (who I’ve since learned were primarily made of up many of the wrestlers in the show) literally assembled a pro wrestling ring in the back room of the club. It took up about 80% of the floor space, and they packed in the 70 or 80 of us who purchased tickets into the remaining 20%. You know how eager I was for this, considering I gave up the opportunity to keep chatting up Ben Monaco, Beau Jordan, and Mickey Knoxx at the bar to elbow my way to near the front of the line as soon as the doors opened. I scored a ringside seat near the corner of the ring where the wrestlers made their entrances. I mean, everyone had an up close and incredible view, but fuck, I could literally reach out and touch the ring. When Mickey Knoxx made his ring entrance with Rocko Mortis for their tag team match, he peeled off his top and tossed it out of the ring at my feet (I haven’t asked Mickey, but I prefer to believe it was intentional). Moments later, when their opponents, Beau Jordan and pinch-hitter Seon Cruz took the ring, Beau ripped off his tear-away stripper pants and also tossed them down right in front of me (again, I tell myself it was an intentional bit of titillation especially for me). Like, fuck, I was right fucking there! When Sid Shaw and Zach Reno’s off-the-rails match spilled out of the ring, it was nearly in my lap. For a couple of seconds, Sid had a hold of my shoulder and was trying to climb over me and my buddy next to me because sensationally sexy lightweight Zach was about to thrash the living shit out of him. Fuck, I was right there, and we were ALL right there, and what played out in front of us was incredibly hot, hilarious, and gorgeous pro wrestling action.

Most of the wrestlers on the card have grown up before our eyes, turning their passions for wrestling into entertaining videos on WatchFighters. Quite a few have headlined for companies like BG East, Wrestler4Hire, and Weekend Wrestling. I suspect few of them have done anything quite like this before, pulling off a live match in front of a roaring crowd of guys turned on by wrestling. But honestly, you wouldn’t have known it. The entire show had polish about it. There was an earnestness and unblinking sell about it that was totally un-self-conscious. The slams where hard and loud. Bodies were literally catapulted off the ropes. The face plants into the turnbuckles shook the ring and hurt just to watch. The slaps and stomps popped with this spontaneous authenticity that left bright red hand prints and yellowing bruises behind. I’m mean, sure, I’m certain there were moments that I needed to suspend my disbelief, but as I look back on my memories of the event just over a week ago, I honestly don’t remember them. I just remember the stories playing out in front of us. And the hot bodies. I remember those really well.

There were competitive matches packed with impressive athleticism and wrestling technique. Babyface hero Dash Halley put those meaty pecs of his on the line against massive muscle bruiser Leon Cyrus in a best-of-5 battle that hit hard and kept us guessing to the sweaty end. My buddy Bobby Carter’s match against the institution, Lobo Gris, also started as one of those highly competitive and suspenseful battles, with pounding muscles and long, wrenching submission holds. But all of the matches showcased personalities and drama at least as much as they did stunning athleticism and technical wrestling. Both of the tag team matches were both dripping with melodrama, which is what tag team wrestling demands. When Kid Canuck and Ryan Reilly faced off against MPJ and Bruno the Beast, there was a shocking tag team partner betrayal culminating in a humiliated jobber pile of hot, sexy, demolished pretty boys. In most of the matches there was the teetering back and forth of the balance of power, with wrestlers owning the momentum and taking liberties and threatening to count their chickens before they hatched. Oh, and did I mention there was hot, hunky stripper wrestling? I feel like that deserves to be repeated.

The messiest and the most polished matches were back-to-back. My pick for messiest match was Gabe Steel taking on Drew Harper… and then Gabe taking on Dash Halley… and then Gabe taking on surprise reveal of Jonny Firestorm… and then Gabe taking on both Gabe and Drew. It was all high impact moves, with piledrivers for days. Honestly, there was so much going on I lost the thread of what the hell was exactly happening and who I was rooting for. Entertaining? Absolutely. But way, beautifully messy. The Weekend Wrestling feature of the evening was pretty much the opposite. Sadistic Sid Shaw took on Zach Reno, as I mentioned before, and it was smooth and polished to a glistening shine (just like Zach’s ass, which yes, we saw). Sid and Zach told the story of the underdog little (hot) guy refusing to be intimidated by the big, unhinged muscle brute. There was forced stripping, trunks pulled to show off two sets of hot glutes, and spanking. It was tightly told, with a couple of extensively experienced wrestlers to make every bump and spank feel spontaneous and part of a bigger story, including pulling in some ass whooping on Cole Cassidy (Weekend Wrestling Producer) which was oddly satisfying (not sure why I keyed off on seeing heartthrob hunk heel Cole get his ass kicked as much as I did).

And then there were just these unique moments that speak to the diversity of wrestlers and wrestling that populate this fabulously sexy community. Sir Dark’s match was just entirely off the hook and unlike anything else in the ring that night (in a super fun way). He was feral and bloodthirsty, out to fuck someone up so bad that he impulsively takes out the ref before a pop-up challenger can be identified from the audience. When KC Ryder steps in to be the beautiful blond babyface hero to stand against the forces of chaos uncorked by maniacal Sir Dark, the drama really got intense. Their match was ego-fueled and larger than life. It was sexy as hell and had me holding my breath in suspense and awe. Not sure if I’m conveying it, but it was just a whole different flavor to add to the buffet of Wrestlefest Live. The inaugural championship match between beefy babyface Ben Monaco and take-no-prisoners muscle heel Tarz Lando was (possibly) the the most thoroughly sweet treat for squash fans. The championship belt was decided in a super hot muscle massacre, dripping with cocky swagger and taunting trash talk and gorgeous, huge hairy pecs everywhere. The range throughout the evening was delightful, and the bench was deep.

It wasn’t perfect. There was a 20-minute delay at one point to try to troubleshoot the livestream that stopped working. There were blown moves, an occasional oversell, and even a frew more undersells. I saw Gabe Steel icing a swollen-shut eye after his match, and I’ve seen hints on social media that he may have more story to tell about things that didn’t go to plan. But as a gay fan turned on by wrestling, by sexy wrestlers and the drama and the battle for domination, it was magnificent. It was larger than life. From the rainbow ring to the ball claws and face sitting, it luxuriantly gay. It showed a ton of respect for the art and science and athleticism and beauty of professional wrestling. And it felt deeply respectful to a standing-room-only crowd of homoerotic wrestling fans. Those with credits for this sensational production included KC Ryder, Rocko Mortis, Cole Cassidy, and my cousin Scooter for what had to be a shit ton of upfront organizing and legwork, and there was another small army of guys holding the cameras and running the equipment. A quick shout out to the hot, handsome nerd-hunk ring announcer who should’ve thrown down the mic and ripped off his shirt (but didn’t). All of the celebrity refs (Chase Addams, Ethan Axel Andrews, and new-to-me muscle god Boy Radio) brought the sexy-in-stripes vibe and helped stir the pot of drama inside the ring at every turn. The Red Eye staff were uniformly delightfully hospitable and gorgeous (especially the bearded server with that hot-ass singlet serving drinks at ringside). I look forward to posting more detailed reviews once the matches go up on WatchFighters, but in the meantime, I’m combing through my hundreds of pics and videos I snapped, despite the announcement at the start of the show encouraging us to only take pics and videos “sparingly.” So not sorry!

WrestleFest – Historic

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There’s just so fucking much to reflect on when it comes to wrapping my head around my experiences at WrestleFest NYC 2024! As I mentioned last week, a major item on my schedule for WrestleFest was moderating a panel discussion and question & answer session centered on the History of Gay Wrestling. It started off as this cool idea that I’d fit in on top of wrestling and socializing at the fest. Then it grew and morphed into this spectacular and historic opportunity to gather together an unprecedented collection of wrestlers, in-front-of and behind the camera talent at BG East, and around 100 fans to reflect on how far we’ve come as a community. As it took shape, it had a special focus on the homoerotic wrestling video production industry as it relates to meet-up wrestling, wrestling clubs, BJJ training facilities, and other fascinating branches of the diversity of who we have been and who we are as the gay wrestling community today. In the weeks leading up to the event, I somehow went from being a talking head moderator for the event to chairing the planning committee. Lest “chairing” sound more self-important than it really was, let me clarify that it was largely devoted to trying to channel an ever growing number of creative, innovative, talented wrestling hunks into arriving at the same place, at the same time, in order to (roughly) accomplish the same task. No mean feat, trust me. By the time last weekend rolled around, I was showing up to WrestleFest to take care of panel business, and hopefully squeeze a little wrestling and socializing in on the side.

In the very early days of thinking the panel through, a few of us honestly didn’t know how this type of event might resonate with the rest of the WrestleFest vibe. We arranged to book a room at the community center that could seat 60 people, taking it on faith that we’d manage to raise the funds to pay the rental. By the time we showed up this past Sunday afternoon, we’d had to upgrade the room rental to accommodate the more than 100 people planning on showing up, and had secured pledges to cover the cost of the larger space and equipment. Watching people start to stream in when the doors opened was sort of surreal, to be honest. Guys looked curious and excited as they kept filing in, browsing the tables of memorabilia that panelists brought as well as silent auction items available. I was a bit of a nervous mess, frankly. The nerves were firing on several levels, including this being my first “public” appearance for me, after almost 15 years of relatively anonymously blogging here. I was also just nervous about speaking in front of 100 friends and strangers. And, sure, I was nervous about whether our planning was sufficient to wrangle the egos and anecdotes and honors necessary to pay proper respect to the shoulders on which an event like WrestleFest NYC 2024 rests. I had more than a few sleepless nights in the previous week imagining 1,001 things that could go catastrophically wrong. And, to my continued amazement, it went beautifully from start to finish!

The BG East crew video recorded the panels, and I don’t know what their plans may be for the recording. But the panel discussion in the first hour turned into a fascinating glimpse into the evolution of gay wrestling from the perspective of 6 wrestlers who haven’t just lived it, but have actively shaped it. No one had sufficient time for us to really get their full stories. We knew all along the time constraints were going to leave us all a little less than satisfied at any one step along the way. But the collegiality and camaraderie of all of the featured panelists wove its way into this fun, funny, inspiring narrative about guys just making it up and figuring it out along the way, and slowly and surely, what they were making up and figuring out became the geography of gay wrestling community we take for granted today. Like the evolution of finding wrestling opponents in personal ads in the Advocate, to regional wrestling club newsletters, to AOL chatrooms and Global Fight and MeetFighters. They talked about how wrestling with gay sensibilities have charted a path through freestyle wrestling clubs and jiu-jitsu training gyms still today. And there was this fascinating interplay between meet-up wrestling culture and the evolution of the homoerotic wrestling video production industry, with even pre-BGE roots in companies like AMG and Old Reliable, and then us largely focusing on the role of BG East, and the dozen or more other wrestling companies that have come and gone, modeled on BG East’s eye for the art, athleticism, and dramatic production behind their wrestling videos. Fuck. It was seriously deep and layered and flew by just way too fast! But it was exactly what it needed to be in that moment and for that occasion.

The panelists were the cream of the crop, starting with our featured speaker, Kid Leopard, himself. One of the early New York Wrestling Club contributors, Bill Erland talked about his journey from pro wrestling fan to wrestler. Shane McCall shared a glimpse of his transformation from a quiet, relatively nonathletic gay kid into the LEGEND Shane McCall, babyface battler and rookie of the year turned dangerously badass erotic warrior. Scott “the Man of my Dreams” Williams took the podium to talk about his journey from solidly accomplished submission wrestler in his BG East filming days to finding his way into a BJJ gym, where he’s been training and accepted as a gay man in the often hypermasculine world of MMA. Kid Leopard reflected on his storied career as a performer, a pro wrestler, an on-camera wrestler for BG, and then his entrepreneurial genius in building BG East into the pillar of the gay wrestling community it has been for the past 45 years. And Kid Vicious reflected on embodying both one of the most notorious sex fight characters in gay wrestling iconography, while also transitioning to behind the camera, directorial, and management responsibilities, helping to navigate BG East through the increasingly turbulent and uncertain waters of technological revolutions and the gig economy of self-produced wrestling fare. Fuck, how did we get through that much depth and breadth!!!?

Scott Williams and Shane McCall seemed to enjoy themselves

Despite how wound tight my nerves were to start with, the event turned quite emotional for me, as I’ve heard it did for several other folks who were present. I was already getting chills just listening to Shane talk about the liberation of letting his inner gay wrestling badass out. When Scott was bearing witness to just how accepting and affirming his jiu-jitsu training gym was, I was seriously torn between having my heart warmed and my cock hard, because… Scott. The heartstrings really took a tug, though, when Kid Leopard started his remarks off by awarding a trophy, in absentia, to Jonny Firestorm, who at the last minute wasn’t able to join us at WrestleFest. And then, Kid Leopard delivered another surprise award to my co-moderator and legendary ring announcer, Bob Wood (watch BGE’s Wrestlefest 1, Live at Metro, or Live at Campus for a taste of what Bob brings to hot gay pro wrestling drama).

Ricky Roma and Gabe Steel were in the house

Kid Vicious and I had a little surprise planned of our own, though. I think we genuinely caught Kid Leopard off guard by handing him an award in honor and gratitude for his lifetime contributions to promote and elevate gay wrestling. He got two spontaneous standing ovations from a room full of passionately grateful fans and colleagues. I think it may be the first time I’ve ever seen Kid Leopard at a loss for words, and it was sweet and powerful and brought a tear to my eye. Of course, Kid Leopard’s speechlessness only lasted about a minute, but, fuck, yeah. I think the weight of a ton of gratitude and respect landed just right.

Shane McCall and Scott Williams feeling the love from fan and friend Tarz Lando

We switched up the panel for the second half of the event, populating the front table with 8 or so BG East wrestlers, which honestly was a little random, because there were at least that many more of them still in the audience. Here’s where I got to ask questions I gathered from the live audience assembled that day for the event, as well as from blog readers and social media followers. So, for example, I did deliver the question that Alex posed in the comments here last week, asking Kid Vicious “who coached/trained him originally to be so amazing at erotic wrestling, and how did he get into it?” The answer can be boiled down to Kid Leopard, and he sought out Kid Leopard. But it was this spontaneous and funny answer where, I kid you not, Kid Vicious looked almost a little embarrassed by the praise! Again, I’m not going to do the answer justice, so I’m hoping folks may have an opportunity to watch the recording sometime soon. I was expecting the wrestler Q&A to be mostly fun and cheesy, maybe with a mix of kayfabe and BTS glimpses. And it was totally that, but holy hell, it was also astonishingly moving, too! One audience member anonymously wrote a question, asking for advice for an aspiring jobber looking to finally follow his gay wrestling dreams, now that he’s in recovery from addiction. Woah. WOAH. I got chills just reading the question, and I honestly had no idea who among the wrestlers might answer or how they’d respond. And they lined up to share their words of encouragement and concrete, serious as fuck gems of advice (e.g., make sure you negotiate ahead of time and trust who you’re wrestling so you stay injury-free, and sell your heels!!!). Another question from the audience asked about the desire to see more wrestlers of color and trans men in gay wrestling, and, again, I didn’t know where that was going to take us. And it took us into some real talk about the BG East audience, profits, and the marginal return on investment when the studio recruits and tapes wrestlers of color knowing that their existing customer base doesn’t respond the same way as to white wrestlers. It wasn’t the sad truth and the realities of racism and transphobia in the market that gave me chills, but the earnest opportunity this audience member was taking to talk to the powers that be and have that real conversation, and then the willingness of the wrestlers and the wrestler-producers on the panel to wade into those waters and respond with an authenticity that doesn’t solve the problem, but respected it and named it. Where in the FUCK else do we have those conversations so spontaneously and respectfully like that!?!?

Early BG East wrestling hunks back in the day

There was also this subtle moment in the Q&A that snuck up on me in terms of how powerful it turned out to be. I asked a question my buddy AR had suggested that I ask, inquiring of the BG East wrestlers who they wish they could have wrestled, but who had already left the scene before they arrived at BG East. The instant I asked the question, Mason Brooks’ hand shot up like Hermione Granger in charms class. With eager earnestness, Mason said, “Brad Rochelle!” That started this popcorn of earnest answers from the panelists, and then the BGE wrestlers in the audience, and then anyone and everyone else, naming their favorite BG East wrestlers who’ve starred in our personal fantasies. Alexi Adamov, Mike Columbo, Blaze, J-Rock, Aryx Quinn, Dark Rogers, Nick Archer, Justin Pierce … answers kept coming, and with each name, there were spontaneous corporate sighs and grunts of agreement rising up from the entire room. It felt like we were tapping into some collective unconscious, naming out loud our lustful objects of fantasy and discovering 100 others were right there with us. I honestly got chills as the names and sighs and collective moans kept coming, not only because it was just cool to witness BG East stars tapping into their own inner fanboys, but because it felt like this visceral manifestation of the way in which wrestling videos have helped to weave each of us, independently watching our own screens in privacy, into a community of shared passions and common experiences.

They’ve been cracking each other up for decades!

My head is still buzzing from just how incredible I felt the panel turned out. It was about history, and it was fucking historic. Things were said there that needed to said. Appreciation long overdue. Praise that’s never quite been articulated in that way before. I had this powerful impression that there was a lot less dividing the panelists up front from the 100 or so audience members watching than I’d imagined there to be before the event started. I’m left with this profound appreciation for the way that gay wrestling pioneers before us blazed a trail that was never a sure thing, but yet has led us to a place where we can celebrate homoerotic wrestling in more ways than ever before. And I’m left with this sense of awe at the way that homoerotic wrestling videos have shaped not just my tastes, but my sense of myself. And clearly I’m not alone in that. Seeing a diversity of wrestlers celebrating homoerotic wrestling, making themselves vulnerable on camera, and lending their voices and bodies and creativity to giving form to what we find most erotic leaves us feeling a little more seen and heard and respected. I may not be the LEGEND Shane McCall or Scott THUNDER Williams. I’m definitely not the legendary erotic warrior Kid Vicious, or the godfather of gorgeously sadistic heels Kid Leopard. But thanks to them, I feel more powerful and attractive and interesting and empowered. I feel like I’ve got a place in the world that seems like it was just handed to me, but in reality, was hard-earned from thousands of acts of courage and innovation. My sincere thanks to all of the panelists and the wrestlers who showed up and treated your fans with such authentic and spontaneous respect and love.

Classic wrestling hunks paving the way

At the risk of forgetting someone, I just want to personally thank BG East’s Kid Leopard, Kid Vicious, Sailor Rob, Shane McCall, Bob Wood, Bill Erland, Mason Brooks, Drake Marcos, Ricky Roma, Ben Monaco, Mickey Knoxx, Ollie Watts, Seon Cruz, Randy Roberts, Matt Carleton, Ethan Andrews, Kayden Keller, Brian Powers, Gabe Steel, and… fuck… I’m sure I’m missing some more. Chime in and remind me!

Classic wrestling hunks loving what they do and the community they’re part of

And deep gratitude for photo permissions from Ricky Roma and Tarz Lando, and, as always, BG East!

Best Laid Plans

wrestlebard5 Comments

The final flurry of new releases for the calendar year are out, and there are some eleventh hour gems in BG East’s catalog 173. One of the gems that wore me out is the tag team anchor match in Hunkbash 29. It features the recurring heel duo of Jonny Firestorm and Gabe Steel taking on a surprising rookie combo of former foes, Vinny Vigo and Tony Angeles. Jonny and Gabe bring the sneering, mustache-twirling, sadistic wickedness. Vinny and Tony bring the mountains of pretty, pretty (pretty!) muscle and a surprising unpredictability that made me unable to tear my eyes away to the very end.

I say “surprising unpredictability” not only because I have no idea what to expect from Team Muscle Hunk, but quite obviously, neither do Jonny or Gabe. And, I feel pretty certain, neither do Tony or Vinny, for that matter. I’m certainly not one to spread the rumor that a lot of professional wrestling is scripted, but if you subscribe to that nefarious conspiracy theory, I guarantee you that you’re going to reach the same conclusion that I did: the wrestling drama in this match goes way off script mostly thanks to Team Muscle Hunk. I honestly don’t know if Vinny and Tony don’t really understand the mechanics of tag team wrestling, or they just don’t give a shit and make up the rules as they go. The first explanation sort of jives with a hot-bodied rookie couple like these guys are supposed to be. Sort of eager, impressively endowed and enthusiastic, but maybe naive, poorly trained, a little sketchy on the idea of one partner tethered to their corner until the legal tag is made over the top rope. So, when Vinny leaves his corner, leans through the top two ropes and stretches his stunning (STUNNING) 6-foot physique to basically reach Tony in jeopardy several miles away from being anywhere near making a legal tag… maybe it’s sloppy over-exuberance and a lack of familiarity with the art and science of professional tag team wrestling. Or, on the other hand, maybe Tony and Vinny (and, honestly, mostly Vinny) have the heart of heels wrapped up in dazzlingly pretty babyface beauty, and they know full well they’re fucking with the rules because they just want to win. Either explanation sort of turns me on, for different reasons. But whatever explains it, it’s fucking genius, and I love it!

It’s not like upperclassmen Jonny and Gabe set a good example when it comes to coloring between the lines, of course. They do stick to conventional tags, but the badass boys sort of “forget” when one partner tags out that he’s supposed to actually climb back out to the ring apron and wait his turn. In other words, the double teams are fast and furious and earn this barely controlled chaos a legitimate claim to being a sensational “hunkbash.” Tony (bless his gorgeous cheekbones and astonishingly proportioned tapered-V) is the weakest link, and the heel sharks are almost literally licking their lips as they repeatedly isolate and double-team his Captain America-esque physique with gleeful passion.

Before the heels even set foot in the ring, Gabe has already called dibs on pounding the shit out of big Tony’s gorgeous bod. “That one just screams to get beat,” he explains to his heel mentor, Jonny. And, true enough, drop-dead gorgeous Tony folds like a house of cards A LOT as the hot and brutal action unfolds. And Jonny and Gabe milk the double teams on Tony longer and longer, sort of banking on Vinny not realizing that if they bust out a double-team, all bets are off when it comes to tagging. I mean, Tony was just no match for his bigger, badder tag team partner when they went at it a couple of catalogs ago in their double debut as part of Babyface Brawls 5. Sensing his vulnerability underneath all those magnificent muscles, Jonny and Gabe seriously fuck Tony up two-on-one several times, with Vinny getting more and more pissed watching on, seemingly uncertain of how to proceed.

One of the most sensational stories in this match is the evolution of how the heels regard Vinny. This dude is fucking HUGE. He’s the biggest wrestler in the ring, by quite a bit, and every pound is just ridiculously, luxuriously huge muscle. Pre-match, back when Gabe was calling dibs on Tony, perennial badass Jonny, around 50 pounds smaller than Vinny, seems unconcerned that it means Jonny’s task is to claim Vinny. But holy shit, once Vinny finally gets too pissed and impatient to care anymore what the rules are, he turns into a fucking steamroller!

Here’s where all of that chaotic spontaneity suddenly becomes intense… and fucking sexy as hell! Because neither Jonny nor Gabe can, individually, crack a dent in the 6′ wall of muscle that is Vinny. And even when they pull out the double-team on him, no shit, Vinny is most of the time STILL fucking in charge, because Gabe and Jonny, as powerful and experienced as they are, just cannot button Vinny down. At one point, when Vinny has exceedingly successfully come to Tony’s rescue and sent the heels scattering like rats caught in the beam of a flashlight, Gabe and Jonny circle back on him, determined to bring the behemoth down. The heels have Vinny’s Thor-esque physique strung taut into a double-team bow and arrow because, no shit, one of them would NOT have been able to pull that off. And, it turns out, BOTH of them together can’t pull that off! Sheer, raw, magnificent power busts big Vinny free in a way that clearly stuns Jonny and Gabe. And then, he wraps those anaconda arms around Gabe’s throat in a choke, from which Gabe is NOT going to escape. Simultaneously, his gargantuan thighs have snapped shut around Jonny, and for just a second there, I’m honestly worried about the legendary heel’s internal organs. Eventually, Tony drags his fine, fine, FINE ass back into the melee for Team Muscle Hunk to execute beautiful side-by-side take downs of the completely flummoxed heels, but seriously, Tony could have done a load of laundry and balanced his checkbook, because Vinny had the badboys rocked hard all on his own. “Hey, asshole,” Vinny snarls in this deep, deep base voice with an accent I can’t quite place but apparently my cock speaks fluently because it’s instantly responding. “I told you we’d kick your ass,” he taunts, as Team Muscle Hunk give each other high fives and flex over the fallen heels.

So, yeah, this definitely isn’t a squash. And, if you’ve ever read me before, you know that I’m thrilled to share that news. In fact, the balance of power teeters back and forth so much, and the action is so raw and messy and peppered with blown holds and abandoned moves, I’m thinking way, way near the end that this might be the most clever script-flip in homoerotic wrestling history, with the designated hunks being the ones dishing out the ultimate bashing. Tony (bless his succulent nipples and washboard abs) is in way over his head, but honestly, all he has to do is just stay in big Vinny’s wake. It’s suspenseful to the end, and I seriously think none of the four of them really know how this free-for-all was going to sort itself out until two overwhelmed wrestlers pass out in climactic side-by-side sleepers in the middle of the ring.

I’ve got a good friend who is, like Gabe, all about Tony Angeles these days. Tony’s got this smoldering, serious leading man vibe about him, with that classic babyface combo of traffic-stopping handsomeness and a fantasyman hot bod. He’s got a long way to go before he can stand up to the likes of Jonny or Gabe, but he could totally have a long and acclaimed career as a muscle jobber in the meantime. But if pressed to make a choice, I’ve got to say that I’m unequivocally Team Vinny. Not just because of those massive pecs and the light layer of fur on his lower abs, and not just because of his stunningly thick tree trunk thighs. It’s also the way he persistently climbs up to perch on the top turnbuckle to launch his rock hard body through the air like a bunker buster. And it’s the way he grabs Jonny’s ankle mid-kick and rumbles out in that crotch-stirring bass voice, “Now, it’s my turn.” And it’s because Vinny looks like he’s having fun. Like, when he’s crushing Jonny between his lushly thick thighs, he smiles and sticks out his tongue, just fucking LOVING the feel of dominating a frustrated opponent with his superior muscles. So, sure, sure, he’s a babyface beefcake… sort of. But he could totally be a muscle heel. Hell, in those few moments when he’s actually getting wrangled, his suffering sell is also lush, and he could totally be a muscle jobber. But even more exciting for me, I think Vinny could just be Vinny, an iconoclast who ignores convention and just has sensational fun making it up as he uses that epic physique to dominate opponents.

Remember My Name

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Apparently, Gabe Steel has met Zach Ramos before, but doesn’t remember him. Now, I’m a virtuoso when it comes to suspending disbelief. I can swallow a whole lot (figuratively speaking), but holy shit, the idea that someone could forget meeting Zach stretches even my professional-level imagination. He’s 6-foot, 200 pounds, and so fucking effortlessly sexy! The goatee. The ponytail. The slyly handsome face. And that ambition?! Fuck. “You’re going to be hearing a lot more of me,” Zach says, smirking in Gabe’s face. And then, when Zach explains that he’s going to make his name at BG East by kicking Gabe’s legendary ass in his debut match, I’m sold.

Zach’s BG East debut against Gabe takes place in the new release Ruff ‘N’ Raunchy 7. The match catches me by surprise for a few reasons. For one reason, Gabe has been eating up and chewing out newbies lately, and I was totally expecting a steam roller of a match. Not that Gabe can’t take a lot, but he’s just been dishing it out so much lately. He’s proven he can squash an outmatched newbie with panache. He looks bigger, harder, and stronger in every match. The next BGE Wrestlefest, save this hunk a seat on the heel bench. So squaring off against another hot newbie babyface has “one-sided romp” written all over it. And early days, it totally reads that way when Gabe muscle bullies the big, pretty boy relentlessly. He has 200 pound Zach off his feet in a bearhug within seconds. He suplexes the rookie with abandon, planting the boy’s lower lumbar inches deep into the ring. And, no shit, within the first couple of minutes, he manhandles Zach suspended upside down and delivers a piledriver to the stunned stud. “I thought you were going to do something, that you were going to make a name for yourself.” Big Gabe has already busted out a sweaty sheen, crowing and sneering over the bashed babyface at his feet. “Still waiting!”

But, just when I’m settled in only half paying attention because I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this movie before, Zach stops taking punches and starts delivering them. Just when Gabe has peeled him off the mat like roadkill and has him kneeling at his feet, the rookie starts punching the rock hard wall of Gabe’s gut, and he just doesn’t stop! The punches connect. I’m fucking sold, watching coiled Zach unspool a roundhouse that lifts Gabe off his feet. He beats the big man down with sheer nerve and conviction and has him in a cradle pin that Gabe is too rocked to kick out of. He pries the rising muscle heel apart, joint by joint, with a kneeling surfboard, literally, gleefully, genuinely laughing when Gabe tries to muscle his way to an escape and can’t pull it off. “When I’m done with you, everyone’s going to know my name!”

So Zach packing serious offense and big, big personality to match that big, beautiful body is surprise #1 for me. Surprise #2 is how relentlessly erotic this match turns. It’s like the pull of gravity sending a satellite plunging back to earth, it’s just so fucking irresistible. So, sure, it’s in the Ruff ‘N’ Raunchy product line, so I’m expecting this to turn way sexy. But fuck, I was NOT expecting this! Both hunks go for broke targeting each other’s balls, which isn’t the surprising part. They both get super handsy, shoving their mitts inside each other’s pouches and squeezing the obvious excitement they’re both experiencing harder and harder (again, this ISN’T really the surprising part for me). The crotch-to-crotch grinding, pounding, that fine line between raging domination and just careening toward getting off on each other’s suffering starts to take me a bit by surprise, not so much because it happens, but the ferocity with which it keeps happening. But when the hands on the crotch stop squeezing and start stroking, it absolutely catches me off guard. When the trunks come off and the wrestling continues, every inch of their bodies explored and displayed… fuck, yeah, that was more intense than I expected…

…but holy fuck, when Zach is suspended naked in an inverted bearhug and forced (fuck, no one is telling me he’s not loving his job right then, though) to give the infamous heel head while he hangs there, I’m genuinely surprised by the level of intimacy, strength, and acrobatics. And then, mid-servicing, Gabe delivers a gorgeous, naked piledriver to the rookie!?!? Holy fuck, maybe the biggest surprise for me is that Gabe’s cock is still attached, because I was seriously worried how a mid-fellatio piledriver might turn out for either/both of them.

Zach lands with full on personality. That almost unhinged little spontaneous laugh of his absolutely sends me, making me buy that he’s thrilled to be putting his ass on the line in this bid to establish himself as a BG East wrestler to be remembered. And, sure, maybe, just maybe, I can’t help but identify with him, coming face-to-face with an A-List gay who can’t be bothered to even remember that they’ve met before, and beating the living shit out of him, savoring the moment of Gabe’s suffering on behalf of all of us not quite (yet) impressive enough for a cocky white party it-boy to recall his name.

I’m not saying he comes out on top in this match. But I will put money down on the fact that Gabe is going to remember the name Zach Ramos from this point onward. And the name Zach Ramos is certainly lingering on my lips. Get this gorgeous side of beef back into the ring, pronto!

The Stash

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My heart always pumps just a little harder when I get to see a newbie in action. All of that potential yet to be revealed, character yet to be discovered, story yet to be written… it’s super exciting. Of course, not all newbies turn out to be full of potential. They don’t all turn into a compelling character. Sometimes, they suck, frankly. I’m not naming any names here, but I suspect I’ve tipped my hand plenty of times over 14 years worth of posts. My mission isn’t to tear down around here, though, but to celebrate and lift up what I find delightful and sexy and sensational in homoerotic wrestling. What all that in mind, I’d like celebrate a hot newbie who just debuted with BG East in Demolition 36, Evan Sterling.

Fuck, he had me at the stash. It’s fierce and in your face. Frankly, I wouldn’t mind it being in my face. Or my crotch, for that matter. But more to the point, Evan’s got style and attitude that’s instantly apparent. He’s also got a rocking hot bod with a sensational ass and what has to be my early favorite for Best Bulge of the Year. Even before Gabe Steel shows up, while Evan is warming up and stretching out on the ropes, he has to pause several times and manhandle his crotch. I have to think it’s a sign that he’s excited, as he anticipates his BG East debut against rock hard rising heel Gabe. But it also has a little of that sense of Mr. Joshua, having to interrupt his thoughts and wrangle his elephant trunk every so often, because it’s got a mind of its own.

Gabe sees what I see. Once he’s arrived and the obligatory trash talk and bicep comparisons have played out, Gabe stares straight at Evan’s jiggling pouch and shakes his head. “That’s quite a target,” he says, not really explaining himself, but no explanation is really necessary. I instantly like Evan for all of the reasons mentioned above, but also because he’s done his homework. He asks if the rumors are true that Gabe possesses balls of steel. “It’s in the name,” the sneering veteran snarls back at him. “Now, let’s see what you’ve got.”

The first thing that’s apparent, is that Evan is a punishment sponge. Like, fuck, he soaks it up in the early moments of this match. When Gabe has him on his back, holding his ankles and spreading his legs wide, Evan takes a knee to the crotch that, I swear, looks like it bounces off. “Barely felt it,” Evan snarls. Like, fuck, Gabe may not be the only one in that ring with balls of steel! Furious, Gabe dives forward, pounding his forehead into the new guy’s balls. “Felt that, though, didn’t you,” Gabe asks rhetorically, as Evan is writhing and rolling across the mat, cradling his balls.

Gabe keeps applying finishers and demanding submissions, and holy fuck, Evan keeps telling him to go fuck off. Fuck, I love that ferocity. Gabe has him locked up in super sexy standing scissors, reaches around and grabs Evan by the balls, and lifts his legs in the air by them, holding him there in this gorgeously dominating reverse inverted bearhug, still clawing away at the balls. He’s fucked five different ways in that position, but still, when Gabe demands the submission, all he gets out of Evan is another snarling “Fuck you,” with just the barest whimper of agony at the edges.

“Now I know this is the game we’re playing,” Evan snarls after landing a breathtaking knee strike to Gabe’s (not so impervious after all) balls. “What happened to those balls of steel?” The hot rookie puts an exclamation point on it by pulling his singlet straps down, flexing his hot pecs, laughing and preening like he just sealed the deal. Fuck, like I said, he’s fierce, even when he’s digging his own grave.

Every second that he runs roughshod over Gabe, Evan is going deeper and deeper into debt. Once the seasoned muscle heel, now soaked in sweat (just one of Gabe’s superpowers), climbs back into the driver’s seat, he starts collecting. Evan’s pendulous package is in Gabe’s sights most of the time. At one point, the rookie is racked across Gabe’s huge shoulders, while the heel strategically positions him to let the top ring rope choke him. That super prominent rookie bulge is a sight to behold, quivering there so audaciously at the apex of the brutal arc Gabe is making out of his spine. Gabe does squats with his newbie barbell across his shoulder. He wrings out those big, bouncing balls relentlessly. And what does Evan say in reply? “Fuck… you!!!!”

“You’ve got a mouth on you, boy,” Gabe growls at one point, part irritation, with more than a little admiration mixed in. The heel’s attention turns to Evan’s ass eventually. Again, I get it. “Damn,” Gabe says what I’m thinking. “I might have to take that ass after this match is over!” And, fuck, Evan is in no shape to make a counter offer as Gabe grinds him down farther and farther, stripping him of his singlet and wedgying those designer trunks way up the rookie’s crack. Eventually, Evan burns through that ambition and stubborn ferocity, and he’s left crying and begging like a bitch, “No more! No more!”

But if the homoerotic wrestling gods are listening, I hope they hear this prayer directly from my lips. Please, let us see more of Evan Sterling!

Hair Pull Humpday

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As I was saying yesterday, the process of curating the pics of Scrappy getting his trunks pulled prompted me to notice that he gets his hair pulled even more often than his trunks! He’s got a sensational head of hair, and those curls cry out for getting pulled. Heels cannot resist lacing their fingers through his cherubic locks and yanking him around. There’s clearly a huge market for humiliating Scrappy. With a physique that stacked, a face that pretty, and a smirk that cocky, it’s little wonder his catalog is populated by endless examples of him screaming in helpless agony, owned and abased. You’ve got to love seeing this musclebaby cry!

scrapchase

In Scrappy vs. Chace LaChance vs. Gabe Steel, there are lot’s of trading allegiance double-teams, but watching beefy Gabe and Chace working over Scrappy is definitely my favorite constellation. Scrap whimpers like a crybaby when Gabe drags his fine, fine ass up by a handful of hair.

scrapbrute

In Ring Wars 83, Brute brutalizes the barefoot babyface every which way. Babyface bullying like this is classic, and Scrap’s screams as Brute pulls on his thick locks are compelling.

scrappy dax

It’s a surprising give-and-take when bearded beefcake Dax Carter steps onto the Muscleboy mat with Scrappy. Copious sweat and viciousness, like this screw-top hairpull-chinlock, whip these boys into quite a sexy froth.

joey scrap

Pro bad ass Joey King strips, rips, and rides Scrappy hard in Custom Video 61. On his hands and knees, the terror in Scrappy’s eyes as Joey drags him around by his hair is such sexy drama!

rhino scrappy joey

In Mat Rats 105, Joey comes back to pass on his veteran tips to hot hunk protege Rhino, including teaching that same maneuver, putting Scrappy on his hands and knees and steering him to complete humiliation with two handfuls of hair.

scrapjoey

Proving the point that fucking over Scrappy never get old, Joey also drags Scrappy’s sweat soaked hotness all over the Thunder’s garage mat in Mat Wars 74. Scrappy keeps working out, wracking up wrestling experience, getting smarter and meaner, and still, beefy heels like Joey tenderize him like a side of beef and humiliate him with laughing hair pulls.

scrappy drew

Little surprise that Scrappy takes out his pent up frustration so fiercely when he’s on offense, like in his rip-and-strip beach match against lovely blond bro Drew Harper over at W4H. Can’t you just see the ghosts of Gabe, Brute, Dax, Joey, and Rhino haunting him as he drags Drew through the surf by his hair?

Scrappy

It’s little wonder he’s one of the top stars on the scene right now. Scrappy brings so much to the world of homoerotic wrestling, including such sensational handles to pull on!