Tuesday Trunk Pulls

I’m huddled under a blanket and on the phone with my contractor to improve the insulation in my house before another polar vortex hits. So before my fingers freeze, let’s just admire the fine art that is the homoerotic wrestling trunk pull…

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Kid Leopard drags Sailor Rob’s battered body off the mat, one hand prying upward on the trunks, the other with his fingers wrapped around those irresistible, curly locks. The complete photo story of KL v Sailor Rob available in BG East’s Arena.
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Kid Vicious “helps” Joe Driver up with a promising tug on those achingly valiant red-white-and-blue trunks in Ringwars 8.
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Dennis the Menace gives the audience at Paradise their money’s worth in his oil match with hunk Jay Austin, making sure that minuscule thong doesn’t get in the way of the view of that phenomenal ass!
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In their Private Bout, Scott Rogers wasn’t shy about using Brian Baxter’s singlet for leverage in order to get that stunning ass into position.
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In another Private Bout, Scott lifts Chase’s beautiful body completely off the mat by nothing but those struggling trunks and a fistful of hair.

Bard’s Pilgrim Way

Club Paradise – Cambridge, MA

Where I come from, gay clubs tend to come and go like the tide. They may stay in the same location but change names and genres. They may keep the same name but move around the neighborhood. I don’t know if Boston is like that, so I can’t really say if the gay club Paradise in Cambridge may be the same venue where BG East shot their Paradise oil wrestling series. But while I’m working in the area, as one stop on my BGE pilgrimage, I took a stroll down Mass Ave and snapped these shots of Paradise today.

Like I said, I don’t know if this is the venue where BGE’s Paradise series was shot, but I get a little aroused just thinking about. The first Paradise tape was released back in 1989. All four tapes in the Paradise collection feature ripped, beautiful BGE boys getting oiled up and cheered on by a raging crowd of horny gay men as the studs grapple and slide all over each other on the dance floor.

Terry Reed brutalizes Dave Lowe – BG East’s Paradise 2
Regular readers already know what I have to say about much of this: 1) Homoerotic wrestling in front of a live audience is an obsession of mine lately. When the crowd gets into the action, it ups the eroticism for me many times over. The 2 Paradise tapes I own show the eager audience quickly picking their favorites and egging on the soaked studs tossing one another around for their pleasure. When they bark out, almost plaintively, what they want their champion to do to his opponent, it’s like an invisible hand stroking me to watch the wrestlers respond, taking their cues and doing their best to deliver what their worshippers cry out for.
Max Dare gets prepped for battle – BG East’s Paradise 1
And, of course, there’s the oil. Lubricated wrestling is as inherently erotic as it is iconic. For the Paradise matches, one lucky bastard from the audience got to oil down each wrestler and serve as that wrestler’s corner man for his match. Their duties seemed to be primarily focused on the liberal, lingering application of baby oil, shouting encouragement, and rubbing down their shoulders between rounds. This is a job I was made for.
Oil wrestling at Paradise cannot help itself but be a bit gimmicky at times. The setting and circumstances are more performance art than competitive or classic pro. But there are a few Paradise moments that I find extremely provocative and some of my favorite snapshots of homoerotic wrestling. Rev Sutton’s delivery in Paradise 3 against upstanding, clean cut Dave Lowe is truly inspired. Rev embodies a fully fleshed out heel character in an instant. He’s a cocky narcissist. He smirks and rolls his eyes at his opponent for daring to face him. He seems to seriously be ready to get off on dominating bright-eyed Davey. He even throws ice at him contemptuously between rounds, talking shit to his cornerman about what he’s going to do to the chump across from him. Most Paradise matches don’t take this much of a detour into classic pro storytelling, and for that, I absolutely love Rev Sutton in Paradise 3.

Miguel gets revenge on bully Sean – BG East’s Paradise 3

On a completely different end of the spectrum, Miguel Santos’ match against Sean Parker is a charmer. The set-up is that Sean was Miguel’s bully in school, but my, oh my, look at Miguel all grown up now! Both boys are cute as buttons and truly wonderful to watch squeeze and scramble in the oil. The morality tale of bully-gets-his, as cliche as it is, somehow sucks me in, and I find myself wanting to see stunningly gorgeous and now-bigger Miguel get a little revenge. An unexpected bonus in this match is the fact that Miguel has a series of wardrobe malfunctions, and they never quite manage to find the thong that can contain his big, beautiful balls.

Steve Sherman tangles with Wade Cutler – BG East’s Paradise 4

Iconic classic homoerotic wrestler Wade Cutler shows up in both Paradise 3 & 4. In 4, he faces off with Steve Sherman in a prelude to the classic ring battle that has stills popping up in fan sites in every wrestling kink corner of the internet. There’s something gaspworthy, however, about watching muscleboy Wade get his assed kicked like he’s some 98-pound weakling by the bodybuilder (and clearly experienced amateur wrestler) Johnny Rock in Paradise 3. Wade has been a recurring star in many a sweat-soaked homoerotic wrestling dream of mine, and seeing him getting owned by Johnny Rock has fueled many a fond fantasy.

Jay Austin wails on Dennis the Menace – BG East’s Paradise 2
The BG East website no longer lists it, but the Marky Mark and Cruze match in Paradise 4 is another sure fire orgasm for me. One of these days I’ll order Paradise 1 & 2, and I’m sure I’ll find myself happy to own all of these classic glimpses of club wrestling kink. So is Paradise on Mass Ave in Cambridge the same venue that brought us these beautiful works of art? I don’t know, but just the possibility made this stop along my homoerotic wrestling kink pilgrim’s way truly inspiring!

Playing to the Audience

Kid Leopard v Matt Carlton – BGE  Live in San Francisco

Today’s BG East Arena update features several galleries from the vintage Live at San Francisco collection of matches. In addition to reminding me that I need to get a copy of these live audience matches featuring some of the early lions, it also reminds me that I really like homoerotic wrestling in front of an audience.

Brooklyn Bodywrecker v Scott Rogers & Matt Carlton – BGE Live in San Francisco

A reader recently chatted with me about the concept of gay wrestling in front of an audience. We both agreed that the concept really moves us. I’m not entirely certain what all the moving parts are that multiply the eroticism of homoerotic wrestling with a live audience, but I have to believe it has to do with the shared intimacy of watching arousing, hardbodied athletes playing to a mutual kink.

Reed/DJ v Rouge/Tucker – Naked Kombat – December 23, 2009

Naked Kombat taped three incredibly hot matches in front of an audience before calling that venue quits. Their boys always got hurt when they wrestled in front of a crowd of cheering fans. Did the kombatants experience an extra rush of adrenaline when the boys in the stand roared with delight at each homoerotic hold? Did they find themselves trying a little too hard, pumped a little too much, with a jeering, cheering, hungry audience egging them on like the crowd that inevitably forms around schoolyard scraps? Maybe that’s part of the equation of what turns me on, as well. There’s an extra dose of adrenaline with an audience watching. There’s not only the fantastically intimate relationship hammered out between the wrestlers, but also the relationship between the wrestlers and the audience. Like a threesome, it adds something exotic and extra intense to an already erotically charged moment.

Reed/DJ v Rouge/Tucker – Naked Kombat – December 23, 2009

My recent introduction to the illustrated storybooks Sexfights at the BG Arena captures this ménage à trois sentiment quite nicely. The story of one night in an explicitly gay, live audience, ring wrestling arena, suggests that the wrestling studs fighting to cum out on top experience a synergistic, orgasmic psychic connection with the audience, carried across the sound waves of the audience’s shouts of encouragement, instruction or derision. The wrestlers, financially rewarded on a sliding scale based on how hardcore the victory sex gets, find themselves nudged further in brutality and passion as a result of the boys in the chairs, aroused and enthralled at the live, homoerotic, 110% wrestling kink action occurring just a few feet in front of them.

Chuck Tiger Collins v Fallen Angel – BGE Live on Campus

So perhaps a Sexfights at BG Arena scenario might have trouble finding an insurance carrier (which I assume was the real nail in the coffin of Naked Kombat’s live audience matches). And perhaps as homoerotic wrestling has become more established, there’s less opportunity for the ragged spontaneity of a Wrestlefest, for example.

Brad Rochelle v Patrick Donovan – BGE Wrestlefest 2

But I’ll keep a candle burning for the hope to someday buy my ticket for a ringside seat to watch the kink infused melodrama of homoerotic wrestling played out close enough for me to smell the sweat. Surely the seats would be packed for an opening bout with, say, my favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy division Lon Dumont swagger out and climb commandingly through the ropes to work his bodybeautiful, indypro-informed magic on – how about – BGE veteran delight, Patrick Donovan. Patrick would be rewarded by those of us in the seats for copping some gratuitous feels of LD’s gorgeous pecs, but LD would surely pound his amorous opponent into a sweaty, exhausted, defenseless pulp, earning even more awed adoration from us in the crowd. Match 2, I’m thinking, should be a little kinkier. Let’s say Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!), eager to show up LD, climbs into the ring next, against Grapple 101 emcee, Ashley Ryder. Ashley lets us in the seats know that if he conquers my top contender for the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy division – he’ll give us all what we’ve been swooning for for more than a decade: an unobstructed view of Mr. Joshua’s stripped cock and balls. Hell, the crowd would turn on Mr. J in a flash, wouldn’t we!? Our blood would pump faster with each small advantage that Ashley managed to claim over Mr. J. When Ashley found himself bullied and slammed by his opponent, we’d roar in protest, desperate for our fresh-faced champion to deliver the goods he cockily promised. Knowing Ashley, sooner or later, boots would be stripped and the tension would rise over his fetish for claiming his opponent’s socks. And, let’s face it, Mr. J would likely capitalize on Ashley’s single-minded devotion to his gimmick, beating the Britboy’s face into the turnbuckle, tying him in the ropes and battering him with every appendage, before choking him out in the center of the ring as we catcalled, watching our hopes to see Mr. J’s goods fade with Ashley’s consciousness. But as full of himself as Mr. J is, he isn’t immune to the adrenaline rush of the roaring crowd. We’d chant, “take it off, take it off, take if off,” making the adonis pause as he’s stepping through the ropes to make his exit. “Take if off, take it off, take it off,” we’d chant like devotees of our druid god, weaving a spell so powerful that Mr. J, in his lust to be worshipped, couldn’t refuse. He’d tease us. He’d start to strip, and then wag his finger at us, plucking our pumping heartstrings like a harpist. Take it off, take it off, take it off… we’d keep whispering, breathlessly, desperately, until his eyes closed in rapture at the sound of our worship, and as if with a mind of their own, his hands peeled his skin tight trunks down his long, muscled legs. He’d grab his balls in his right hand and his cock in his left, giving them a habitual tug, before lacing his fingers behind his head and flexing his eight-pack directly over top of Ashley’s prone body, soaking in the impassioned shouts and grunts of our climactic adoration.

Dennis the Menace v Jay Austin – BGE – Paradise 2

Holy crap! I got completely lost there in my own fantasy of a BG live audience event, now didn’t I? Surely there’s got be at least another two or three more matches on the card, but I’ll save the rest of that fantasy for another day. For now, let me just say again that I think there’s an awesome chemistry to live audience wrestling, as evidenced by straight-up mainstream pro wrestling profits, that would only be that much more appealing in undisguised homoerotic fare. My candle is lit for a return of live audience action to gay wrestling, and me with my ticket to a front row seat.


Despite Joe’s certainly wise counsel that I should stop masturbating and make sure I get plenty of fluids and rest as I recuperate from the crud, I have all this time on my hands… Seriously, no masturbating? I think that cure may be worse than the disease. As I contemplate the bitter medicine that Joe prescribes, I find myself drawn by a familiar infatuation with beautiful butts.

Perhaps it was spending so much intimate time (in my imagination) with Alan Ritchson as I wrote a fictional wrestling match with him competing against model Jared Prudoff in the first round of the tournament to determine who will be hired as Brody Productions’ newest executive assistant. Alan has one beautiful, round ass that he displays so generously.

With nothing to do but wipe my nose and ponder, it’s the image of beautiful, round cheeks that keep intruding on my thoughts. A sweetly muscled ass is truly a thing of beauty.
My two favorite wrestling asses these days have to belong to Derek da Silva and Tyrell Tomsen (particularly when Tyrell is in competition shape). I’m not entirely sure how Derek’s opponents are able to restrain themselves from constantly grabbing his massive glutes. The fact that Derek is also so stunningly flexible makes his body an infinite wonder of both power and grace.
When Tyrell is in his shredded shape, his butt is hypnotic. When he works up a layer of sweat, and then snaps his brutal biceps around his opponent and lifts him in the air in an overpowering bearhug, it’s Tyrell’s striated, rock hard, flexed ass that I can’t take my eyes off of.

One of the most beautiful, classic displays of an ass put to good use has to be
Jay Austin’s thonged derrière as he squeezed Max Dare in Hard Pros 1. That stunning muscle working hard and dominating Jay’s screaming opponent tells the whole story, from start to finish.

Other folks probably see other things in a fevered delirium. As Joe tells me, I should probably be conserving my bodily fluids for more important tasks as my body fights off whatever crud has invaded it. But I can’t help myself. More importantly, I don’t really want to help myself. In the ache of illness, the joys elicited by the images of gorgeous muscled asses make my misery endurable.