Watching Drake Marcos stretch out before his Masked Mayhem 13 match reminds me all over again how much he turns me on. His handsome face. His pouty lower lip. His long lean torso. And those legs. Fuck, those legs. They’re just so pretty and punishingly strong. Trust me, Drake’s long, meaty legs can squeeze the juice right out of an opponent.

Like me, Gold Shaft likes what he sees.

I’ve mentioned before my opinion that Drake is an epic underachiever on the mats. He’s been trained by the best. He’s got a short fuse against bigger opponents who try to bully him. It’s magnificent to watch him clench his jaw and shift into overdrive to battle back from a deficit. Drake has this raw, fiercely competitive edge to him that belies his well-earned reputation as a powderpuff jobberboy. Every time I settle in to appreciate a new Drake match, I’m wondering if this will be the breakout moment when finally lives into his potential as a vicious, erotic badass.

Fastest knockout in BGE history?

So I’m lusting over Drake’s legs and fantasizing about that long-awaited heel turn when Gold Shaft silently steps onto the mat behind Drake. It’s like a horror movie, with me yelling at the screen, “Turn around! He’s right behind you!” Gold Shaft admires the view a few seconds, which makes me love him more than ever (which is saying a lot). Gold Shaft likes what he sees, and Drake doesn’t even realize he’s already pinned between my gaze bearing down on him from the front and Gold Shaft’s gaze locked on from behind. And then just like that, Gold Shaft snaps his right arm across Drake’s throat from behind, pulls him to the mat in a padlocked sleeper, and peers around Drake’s head to soak in the sight of Drake’s handsome face going slack. Holy fuck. The fastest victory in BG East history? Possibly.

Gold Shaft rouses Drake to face his humiliation.

Fuck, Gold Shaft is pretty. Sure, the mask exponentiates his erotic allure, but that body?! I don’t quite understand how none of his opponents ever seem to lick his honey dipped muscles from head to toe. I feel like Pavlov’s dog, salivating uncontrollably at the sight of him. When it comes to Drake, part of his attractiveness is how he doesn’t quite seem to recognize how hot he is. But as for Gold Shaft, he knows exactly what a sexy mother fucker he is, and every flex and stretch and angle is dripping with erotic beauty. The way he possesses Drake, slack in his arms, stroking his torso, sliding his hands inside the front of Drake’s briefs and massaging his cock, is entrancing. He feels entitled to lick his opponent’s face and mount him, shockingly slapping Drake to consciousness again.

Make a wish!

For his part, Drake suffers like nobody else. The pathos streams off of his twisted, twitching body in waves. I’m sure it’s what keeps him chained to jobberhood, but nobody wrestling today sells his own jeopardy anywhere nearly as compellingly as he does. There’s a bitter panic pulsating off of him when he’s trying to suck air into his lungs with Gold Shaft’s figure-4 choke almost pinching his windpipe closed. Drake’s muscles spasm involuntarily when his opponent throttles his crotch violently. He has no poker face. When he’s getting buried under, every muscle fiber and choking gasp of air communicates clearly that he’s on the edge of terror and genuinely fears for his safety.  Drake goes there in this match and every match, because facing down his own panic and potential humiliation is dizzyingly sexy, and Drake loves erotic wrestling just that much to dance on the precipice of his own horror and degradation.


Perhaps Drake’s jeopardy and terror are what turns Gold Shaft on. Maybe it’s just stroking and humping and tasting his opponent’s sweet body under his control. Whatever it is, mere minutes into the match, he’s working hard to keep a lid on Drake’s bitterness coming to a boil. He cranks hard on a side headlock, smashing Drake’s cheek against his smooth chest. He’s on his knees on the mat, pumping viciously, Drake groaning in pain, and there’s Gold Shaft’s golden shaft stretching excitedly out of the top of his white trunks. We’ve seen his beautiful, erect cock come to bear in past matches, but there’s something so sincere and earnest about the appearance of the head of his cock rising like a periscope. He hasn’t touched himself. He’s just so entirely turned on by wrestling Drake that his cock refuses to be contained. I so fucking love watching wrestlers who are experiencing the same erotic thrill I am.

Drake makes his tormentor suffer

My take is that this is not a squash. Drake is a tough mother fucker who can give opponent’s twice his size a full dose of hurt, so he gives Gold Shaft a serious run for his money. In fact, there’s a lush, tit-for-tat revenge sleeper just a few minutes after his own shocking undoing out of the gates that momentarily strokes those hopes of mine that Drake may harness all of that sensational wrestling skill and competitive drive to drag an opponent kicking and screaming to the edge of terror that he knows so intimately. But soon enough, Drake starts getting buried under, submitting as much to his own demons as to his opponent.  Gold Shaft knocks him out again and again, possessing Drake’s vulnerable body repeatedly, and then slapping him back to his living hell. It’s not a full on squash, but Drake should definitely be in the running for jobber of the year again.

Total control

The standing headscissors submission tops me off magnificently. Drake’s trunks violently wedged up his quivering ass are sensationally sexy. Gold Shaft mounting his unconscious victim from behind, thrusting his shaft grinding victoriously between Drake’s cheeks, is everything right about homoerotic wrestling. Gold Shaft is irrepressible. Drake is desperately struggling to uncork that vicious sadist he’s got bottled up inside. Everyone is turned on, especially me.

Tied up with a bow

“I’m a big fan!”

Lauden Sevior

Little Lauden Sevior is a mystery to me. He a gorgeous little flower. Hot, petite body. Delicately pretty face accentuated and framed with his long, flowing hair. Of course I understand why I want to see him stripped to a thong and showing off his beauty for a gay wrestling audience. I just think he may be better suited to be the eye candy ring girl (ring boy?) drawing hoots and leers in the intermissions between the bell than one of the fighters (I know, I know, this is a boxing metaphor rather than a pro wrestling metaphor).

Gold Shaft’s semi-sweet initiation of Lauden

But he keeps showing up on the BG East wrestlings mats, and he keeps getting crushed like a grape. The maulings of Lauden seem to me to be getting crueler and more lopsided with each go. Sensationally sexy erotic warrior Gold Shaft probably treated little Lauden with the most tenderness.  Of course that means that he terrorized the kid every which way, but by the attention with which Gold Shaft meticulously studied Lauden’s dancer’s ass, you could tell that he was going to save just enough of the kid’s dignity to make Lauden beg for his Gold Shaft. Ethan Andrews, on the other hand, fucking bullied Lauden relentlessly.  Similarly, the pleasure was all Ray Naylor’s as he snickered and taunted and laughed his way to one of the most heartless, vicious squashes I think I’ve ever seen. LJL kept little Lauden in the match just long enough to feast on the kid’s magnificently shattered dreams. Lauden seems to bring the nastiest out of his opponents. Frankly, I get why they all want to hurt him. I just don’t get why he keeps showing up for more.

Lauden can’t wait to get his hands on Drake

But I have my suspicions about why Lauden agreed to return to the scene of so many crimes to square off against the Cheshire Cat Drake Marcos in Undagear 27. Lauden makes no mystery of the fact that he is, like I am, a huge Drake Marcos fan. In his delicate high tenor Puerto Rican accent, he’s practically stumbling over himself from the start, fanboying all over Drake. There’s a possessiveness about it. He’s just counting his lucky starts to have made it through the gauntlet of previous muggers to have earned the opportunity to get his hands on (and especially, vice versa) his favorite BGE star. Little Lauden seems to think of himself as the president of the Cheshire Cat fan club, for which I say Watch yourself, prettyboy. I’ll join the long line of users and abusers to stomp my foot up your taut, athletic ass before you can rip that title from my hands.

“Can you get out of it?” Drake asks.  “Why would I!?”

Anyway, there’s instantly a different vibe about this match than all of Lauden’s previous outings. For one, he takes up more of the space. Not physically, of course. He’s still insanely tiny. But he’s got a voice. He’s shown up with eager motivation to face his hero. He’s excited and determined, and I completely get why he’s here this time. He wants to feel the steel trap of Drake’s scissors first hand. He wants to watch that handsome face up close, beaming down in pure erotic wrestling joy. He wants to earn his hero’s respect, taking what Drake dishes out and, just maybe, turning the tables, all in the service of a little positive regard. Trust me, Lauden, I know exactly what you’re thinking.

Who’s happier?

Despite his win-loss record, it should come as a surprise to no one that Drake dominates most of this match. He presses his advantage in height and weight early and often, and he’s got magnificent mat skills beaten into him by the most accomplished mentor an aspiring erotic wrestler could hope for. He bullies little Lauden into position like so many of the prettyboy’s opponents before him, but the punishing holds are savored long and beautifully. There’s an explicitly sexy mutuality about the way Drake bears down on the dancer boy. Seconds in, Lauden is getting snapped in half in those body scissors (fuck, those hurt). He gasps in pain, feeling the pressure compress his rib cage. “Nice!” Lauden gasps, his face a mixture of agony and pleasure that I have to think is exactly how he looks when he’s mid-orgasm. “Can you get out of it?” Drake asks, smirking, soaking in the sight of what he’s doing to his opponent. Nine times out of 10, an opponent will try to play mind games right there. Most wrestlers will dismiss any hint that they’re getting hurt. You’re most likely to hear the phrase, “Is that all you’ve got?” in moments like this. But not this match.  Not Lauden, staring up at that sincerely delighted smile. “Why would I!?” Lauden coos, instead. Yeah, this is not your typical underground wrestling story.

Drake is delighted with his front face lock, hammerlock, bodyscissors trifecta.


So Lauden wants to suck down everything Drake’s got. And lest you underestimate him, Drake’s got plenty. He slams him to the mat with authority. He rips him apart at the shoulders with chicken wings. He rag dolls Lauden in as standing full nelson, that curtain of hair flying all over the place. More scissors.  A whole lot more scissors. With variable condiments on the side like an added hammerlock, a squeeze and slap to the ass. He rips off Lauden’s red trunks, leaving the lithe dancer in sensationally tight, brief, ass-revealing undagear.

Drake inspired

“You’re a lot easier than I thought,” Drake marvels, having his way from hold to hold, periodically surveying the damage in schoolboy pins. “Well, I don’t want to hurt my favorite wrestler,” Lauden winks. That’s right, Lauden delivers the hottest backhanded compliment of the year.  He implies that he’s letting Drake walk away with it, that he could hurt the Cheshire Cat at will, but that he just doesn’t want it. Whether it’s sincerity or bluff, it lights a renewed fire under Drake’s ass to squeeze every last ounce of fight out of his #1 fan (behind me).

Between a rock and a hard place

And then again, I suppose that’s option number 3. Not exactly sincere challenge or bluff, but rather Lauden is calculating just what concoction of compliments and trash talk he needs to feed his hero to inspire the punishing brutality that he knows Drake can deliver, when properly motivated. Drake hoists the dancer off his feet in a bearhug, making Lauden whimper. He charges into the wall, crushing little Lauden between his rock and the hard place. And speaking of hard places, when Drake pulls Lauden off the wall and snaps him back into a humiliating full nelson, Lauden’s swelling pouch telegraphs exactly what Drake’s brand of domination is doing to him.

“Nice body.”  “Thanks.”

It’s a dangerous game to play, poking a bear with a stick in order to see it roar. There are mini-climaxes of Drake being sincerely furious and putting a nasty hurt on the little guy. You know which ones hurt by the smile evaporating from Lauden’s face, and the Puerto Rican jobber coming charging at him seeing blood. And no shit, Lauden puts some hurt right back on the Cheshire Cat. Grinding the ball of his foot into Drake’s balls steals a little of the wind from the Cheshire Cat’s sails. Lauden mounts him in a schoolboy pin and shoves that semi-hard poker right into Drake’s gasping face. Just to keep him focused on the task at hand, Lauden leans back and claws at Drake’s balls, squeezing out a scream. And then, slowly and savoringly, he strokes the palms of his hands up Drake’s sweaty torso. “Nice body,” Lauden coos. “Thanks,” Drake smiles up, a half second before hooking the dancer’s shoulders with his long legs and slamming the kid to his back.

Drake meets his #1 fan (behind me)

There are tears of agony shed from both wrestlers. They’re pushing themselves just that hard. They’re coaxing out of each other a gorgeously nasty street fight, and the give and take is the most compelling wrestling I’ve seen Lauden pull off.  There’s a whole lot of spanking, and in fact, I’d guess that if we were able to torture an honest answer out of him, that would be Lauden’s secret most desire. My hunch is that he isn’t just a masochist. I don’t think he enjoyed any of his previous matches as much as this one, because just getting stomped into a pool of tears and sweat isn’t his thing. But by the screams and final submission to Drake as the Cheshire Cat bends him over his knee and spanks his ass blood red, I think right then, there’s nowhere else in the world little Lauden Sevior would prefer to be.

Yes sir, may I have another?!

And when Drake climbs on top, post match, and they start making out, I get the impression that Drake is equally as happy with this moment, and not just because it’s a much overdue tick in the win column.

What everybody wants

The Point

Derek da Silva points left

Every so often I find myself in a conversation with another wrestling fan about what makes homoerotic wrestling “gay.” I’m not in the camp that would argue that all wrestling is particularly homoerotic. I’ve seen some wrestling that I would classify as thoroughly and tragically straight. An occasional wrestling match explicitly marketed toward us gay fans of wrestling will even strike me as not gay in the least. Which, of course, raises this persistent and recurring question of what makes some wrestling “gay.”  I’ve said in the past that I think it’s the queer eye watching a match that ultimately qualifies (or disqualifies) a wrestling match as homoerotic. Thus, a wrestling match doesn’t have to climax in fellatio or anal penetration for me to find it outstandingly homoerotic. For that matter, I’ve enjoyed watching two wrestlers who I’m pretty damn sure are, on their own time, straight as rulers, engage in entirely non-explicit, classic pro wrestling, and peg my homoerotic meter hard. Then, of course, there’s the distinction between a wrestling match that’s explicitly gay as opposed to a wrestling match that’s homoerotic.

Walking hard on, BG East classic Dino Serra in Wrestle Shack 7

There are a lot of moving parts to deconstructing what makes a particular wrestling match gay (or straight, for that matter). But I recently found myself arguing that one component that transforms wrestling into homoeroticism (and not just being gay), is that iconic barometer of male erotic attention: the erection.  I’ll add it to my swelling collection of homoerotic wrestling if I get hard watching it. Even faster, I’ll drop it in the “homoerotic” side of the equation the moment I see one of the wrestlers sprout wood.

Lance Jeffers crotch monster stole the show in Wrestle Shack 6

I’ve had a few conversations with experienced, gay professional wrestlers from BG East about the topic of erections in the ring (or on the mats). Clearly, the heat of competition, the conspicuousness of a camera crew, or perhaps the camera itself can be a cold shower to gay wrestlers who happily report getting hugely turned on by wrestling on their own time, but don’t quickly rise to the occasion when the cameras are rolling. But thankfully, the pro wrestling erection is not all that hard to find at all, and I send up a little cheer and prayer of gratitude to the homoerotic gods every time I spot one.

Wade Cutler added impressive bulge to his already bulging body in his Hard Pros matches.

I’m definitely not a size queen, but it is true that more massively endowed members are more readily spotted, particularly when the trunks are still on. And I really love what a big, growing, stretching, swelling cock looks like straining at the seams of beautifully snug wrestling gear. It’s often (not always) value added for me when a raging erection is openly acknowledged and a full-on plot device in a wrestling match. That said, there’s something poignantly, intensely erotic about the unmentioned special guest that shows up unannounced, obviously born of an unspoken, deep down, honest to the wrestling gods erotic enthusiasm for muscle pounding wrestling.

It’s all about the magnificent, massive, pounding cocks in Cockfight 2

So, sure, I could conceive of wrestling that’s gay and yet not all that homoerotic (though just knowing that wrestlers are gay likely tips the scales on my side of the screen). And I treasure many wrestling matches between ostensibly straight wrestlers who, nevertheless, crank my erotic fantasies with both (all four) hands hard. But a surefire element that never fails to make me claim a wrestling match as my kind is a hard, bulging, visibly swelling erection (preferably two or more) that stands as a living, weeping embodiment of what has made wrestling an erotic obsession of mine all my life: it’s a fucking fantastic turn on.

Lucky rookie Frank Daly found out what effect wrestling Kid Vicious can have on him!


Rick Hunter discovered how excited Kid Vicious was to wrestle him in Wrestle X
Brian Baxter points right.

And the Nominees Are…

Time’s a wasting, so if anyone is going to still benefit from seeing side by side (or top to bottom) comparisons of the nominees for BG East Bestie awards before polls close at midnight tomorrow night, I’d better get on it.

The Best Body category is an enigmatic one for me. Taking in the whole of a wrestler’s physique speaks to different tastes and attention. How the academy narrowed the field down to these six specimens, I can’t imagine, but it’s a very, very hot field to choose from.

Kid Karisma (my pic)
Van Skyler
Z-Man (2013 Best Body Winner)
Lon Dumont
Chace LaChance
Logan Vaughn (those legs!!!)

Competition for Best Bulge is probably equally as subjective, but when we zoom in on the crotch, I have to think that size matters. In this case, these are the boys with the heft and volume to get nominations from the academy.

Pete Sharp (defending Best Bulge 2014 winner)
Kayden Keller
Jobe Zander
Jonny Firestorm
Gold Shaft

Nominees for Top Heel somehow seems like one of the clearest categories in the poll. The pro wrestling heel is an iconic role, and at BG East, it’s inhabited by some of the hottest, most merciless and vicious bad asses on the planet. Defending Top Heel of 2014, Kid Karisma, didn’t even make the cut this year, but this year’s field is incredibly competitive.

Joe Mazetti (my pick)
Guido Genatto
Flash LaCash (Drake’s pick)
Lane Hartley
Jonny Firestorm
Kayden Keller

So who do you like, and who do you think got snubbed by the academy this year? Remember to vote by midnight tomorrow night, Friday, January 22.

Hump Day

While I sort of despise the use of the phrase “hump day,” I have to admit today feels like a classic hump day.  Grinding hips, anticipatory pleasure, the fun of friction… yeah, I’m feeling it today.  Sort of like these studs…

Drake Wild gets into the spirit, mounted atop Tyler St. James’ gorgeously muscled hump in Pro Sex Fight 10.
Aptly named Gold Shaft wears down the crevices in Glacier Blue in Masked Mayhem 11.
Immanently humpable Gabriel Ross makes the most out of long, lean, flexible Christian Taylor’s hot body, working a lip lock/hump combo in Wrestle Shack 18.

Me rindo!

5’8″, 130 lbs, Rookie treat Lauden Sevior
I’ve been finding my eye captured lately by men who I lovingly classify as twinks.  There’s probably a more accurate, subtle and respectful way to refer to them, but I mean no disrespect.  Very lean, not thickly muscled but with that momentary coincidence of youth and cardio-tuned fitness, these are bodies that speak to me only when the mood strikes.  For some reason, lately the mood as been striking.
Gold Shaft works to possess every inch of Lauden’s lean body!

Case in point: Lauden Sevior’s BG East debut in Sunshine Shooters 6. He takes my breath away as he stretches out before his masked opponent, Gold Shaft, enters the room, and I’m as astonished at my reaction to him as I am at his obvious sexiness.  From some angles, there’s a Brad Pitt a la Thelma and Louise handsomeness about Lauden, but sweet Jesus, he’s so damn lean!  The flowing, shoulder-length locks and that the look of recent graduation from boyhood into downy, freshly sprouted chest hair makes my mouth water.  From Gold Shaft’s reaction when he walks in the room, I’m not the only one.  Even had we not already seen the cock-wrestling credentials of this masked stud, it’s impossible to miss the raw, testosterone fueled sensuality that pulses off his lovely, smooth body.  The contrast between this mysteriously and ominously masked cock-wrestling power-hitter and Lauden’s apparent achingly beautiful innocence is hot, hot drama!

Gold Shaft breaks the kid apart piece by piece!

Gold Shaft clearly needs a mouth stitched into that mask, because he’s so obviously famished to taste the tender corn fed veal dangled so tantalizingly in front of him.  Credit where due, Lauden slaps down some entirely respectable offense that makes me think that with a little more training and a lot more classes in the school of hard knocks, he could mount a dazzle and destroy strategy on some unsuspecting heel wannabe.  But he has two fatal flaws in his arsenal: his hot glutes and flowing locks simply demand for Gold Shaft to take possession of them.

Gold Shaft perches his golden shaft across the rookie’s baby face
Honestly, I don’t think there are a lot of rooks who get so erotically and entirely used their first time out of the gate.  Clearly, Gold Shaft has had that same hankering I’ve had.  The veteran spends days lustily squeezing the twinks lovely little ass.  He wedgies Lauden’s trunks up nice and high to get full contact with his milky white mounds.  The kid loses track of which is the ceiling and which is the floor along the way in the match, and the more vulnerable he gets, the more passionate Gold Shaft grows.  He grinds his crotch into the twink’s ass and across his face and against Lauden’s bulge and… well, everywhere.  
Gold Shaft can’t keep his fingers out of Lauden’s glowing locks

But it’s Gold Shaft’s lack of all self-conciousness or self-restraint when it comes to Lauden’s hair that transports me inside that white mask of his.  He runs his fingers through the twink’s locks everytime his hands wander anywhere near his head.  Gold Shaft seems lost in awed, dominating lust at the feel of his  baby-baby faced opponent’s hair wrapped up in a handy handle and used to perfection to drag Lauden humiliatingly off the mat, across the room, and plowed face-first into Gold Shaft’s monster bulge.  That body, that ass, those long, flowing locks were simply made for this moment of soul crushing wrestling domination at the hands of master artist who plays him to nothing short of perfection.

Lauden gets strummed like a ukulele! 

Damn, this kid is tormented and pleasured in such perfect harmony!  I mean, he’s putty in the hands of the terrifying masked god of some mythic homoerotic pantheon, but Lauden’s first go at homoerotic wrestling on camera documents the insanely pretty green rookie pounded into the depths of despair and almost hypnotically lifted to the heights of carnal pleasure such that the result is simply stunning to watch.  The persistent ebb and flow of brutal pain and dizzying ecstasy leave Lauden so entirely disoriented that there’s honestly very little left to the imagination when he’s dragged crawling on his hands and knees across the mat by the masked god who has taken full possession of what is guaranteed to be an obedient acolyte right in the middle of his initiation into the mysterious rights of homoerotic wrestling.

Gold Shaft continues his rites of initiation on the pretty rookie off camera

Here’s to hoping that Gold Shaft didn’t strike such terror into this tasty little biscuit that Lauden has been too seriously psychically/spiritually damaged to ever dare set foot in front of a BG East camera again.  Because I, for one, would like to be the first to suggest there’s nobody, but nobody more ideal to star in the next Hair Stakes match than Lauden versus Diego Diaz, both Latino beauties tempting fate to try not to be the first to scream “Me rindo!” before the clippers forcibly make him a shade less pretty.