Tag: Jonny Firestorm

Best Laid Plans

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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.

“No One Likes a Quitter”

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Jonny Firestorm has been clawing his way back into the hearts and fantasies of BG East fans recently, and I’m here for it. He’s got just a little salt and pepper in his full beard that’s fucking hot! Match by match, he’s honing his beefy body impressively. I’ve seen him on social media say that he’s roaring back into fighting trim after an injury, and, fuck, yeah, can someone forward me the name of his personal trainer? Because I’m still stepping up my own workouts in the hopes of getting a shot at making Scott Williams whimper this summer, and I could use even a tenth of whatever it is Jonny’s recent gains.

One of his newest releases is Jobberpaloozer 21, “breaking in” fresh faced new kid Leroy Blaze. When I say “kid,” I mean, fuck, dude looks young and still growing into himself. He’s 6’0 and 150 pounds, and frankly, sometimes, I strongly suspect numbers like those are exaggerations. But in Leroy’s case, I’m a believer. Super lean. When Jonny and Leroy do a little impromptu mini-pose off at the top of the match, no shit, Jonny’s upper arm is something like 3 times as thick as Leroy’s. Like, I’m seriously worried about this kid. Knowing Jonny’s repertoire like we all do, I’m genuinely concerned that he’s going literally break Leroy, probably in multiple places. Are you sure you know what you’re getting to, buddy?

“Hey, I think I know your name,” Leroy muses out loud once Jonny deigns to show up a few minutes late. “You’re that ‘legend,’ right?” Leroy puts air quotes around the word legend. Oh. Shit. “What was the name, oh… yeah,” he says with a smirk (like, fuck, literally a smirk!). “I think the name is Stormfire Jonny. You’ve kicked a lot of people’s asses.” It’s about 45 seconds into the match, and I’ve just done a complete 180. In that instant that Leroy pulls out the air quotes, I’m literally muttering at the screen, “Oh, fuck him up, Jonny!”

There’s something impressive about a jobber who can make me really, really, really want to see him get clobbered. And I really, really, really want to see Leroy take it hard. There’s something even more impressive about a jobber who makes sure that the legendary heel he’s facing knows just how much he deserves ever ounce of abuse that Jonny can serve up. I do give Leroy credit for doing his homework. He catches Jonny’s telegraphed attempt to sucker-clothesline him to start things and smoothly turns the tables. And by “turns the tables,” I mean he runs roughshod over Jonny for a good 6 minutes or so. Like, even I’m almost questioning if Leroy’s on to something when he implies that Jonny is over the hill, he’s stayed too long at the party, and he’s living off of former glory and diehard fans. At one point, as Jonny’s huffing like a steam engine, the ultra lightweight smirker tosses his ass through the ropes, and Jonny’s back hits the edge of the ring apron so hard it’s giving me a case of sciatica. When Leroy presses his advantage, leaping from the top turnbuckle to slam into the wounded legend on the floor below, Jonny gasps from underneath him, “Fuck you!” And holy fuck, 150 pound Leroy, making his BG East debut, snarls into Jonny’s face the prediction that he’s the one that’s going to do the fucking around here!

So, yeah, when Leroy presses is advantage once too often, attempting a flashy body splash off the top turnbuckle again, and Jonny impales him on his fist as he’s careening through the air, I think I speak for absolutely everyone in the homoerotic wrestling universe when I say that Leroy deserves everything he’s about to get. This is Jonny, after all. He can’t have stayed too long at the party because, let’s face it, it’s his fucking party! And holy shit, he pulverizes the new kid like a bug on a windshield. I mean, it takes about 20 minutes of unrelenting merciless punishment, almost entirely targeting those seriously impressive washboard abs on Leroy, but slowly ever so gradually, I come back around full circle to finally feel bad for the newbie all over again.

The punishment is 90% high impact and vintage Jonny nastiness. At one point, he suspends the skinny little fucker upside down from a ladder and proceeds to beat the living shit out of his wasted abs with fists, claws, a shoe, and a medicine ball. He rubs the smartassness right out of Leroy (and, let me just reiterate, there’s a lot of smartassness in this rookie!), until he finally forces Leroy to call him by name. “You’re Jonny Firestorm! You’re Jonny Firestorm!” Let’s face it, he deserved everything up to that point. But, again, let me just repeat the harsh truth that Leroy just pointed out to us: this is Jonny-fucking-Firestorm, so there’s an added gratuity of another 10-15 minutes of unhinged brutality. I feel confident Leroy’s still got a bald spot where Jonny kept peeling him up by off the mat by a handful of hair (and Leroy, let me just assure you that bald is beautiful). He slingshots the kid back and forth by the elastic in his trunks so much that I’m feeling strongly compelled to bring back my Trunk Pull Tuesday tradition.

Somehow, my journey from worry for Leroy, to aching to seem him get pulverized, to a return to sympathy for him, finally reaches perfect harmony around the time that Jonny hoists the unconconcious rookie across one shoulder and marches him out of the ring room, in order to help Jonny “clean up.” Like, fuck. Win-win-win, right? Will we see armor-cored Leroy again? If so, will he dare be even half as much a smartass next time? I have to disagree with Jonny’s announcement that “No one likes a quitter,” when he’s spitting in disgust as Leroy begs him to let him go. But I totally agree with Jonny’s prediction, “Jobbers never learn.”

Best. Grindr. Hookup. EVER!

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Holy shit on a cracker! I just enjoyed the profound pleasure of watching one of Jonny Firestorm’s new releases, just in time to treat yourself for Black Friday. Squirreled away in Bundle #2 is a dazzlingly sexy 2-on-1 match, pitting Jonny and heel protege (!?) Kip Sorell executing the sexiest Grindr hookup in history with Christian Taylor.

“You look a little different on your Grindr profile, I’m not going to lie,” Jonny says when Christian steps into the ring with them. Can someone please, please screenshot me Christian’s Grindr profile? Because I’m not sure what that means, because…fuuuuuck… he is as sexy as he’s ever been, as far as I’m concerned. He’s got a 5 o’clock shadow that’s making me feel all sorts of new things about him. And he absolutely TOWERS over Jonny and Kip. I don’t think I’d ever quite realized how short Kip is, or perhaps how tall Christian is, until now, and the contrast is outrageously sexy.

This is a total squash (buyer beware, if that’s not what you’re shopping for). But fuck, the intensity remains super high throughout the entire 29 minutes. Apparently Jonny has handpicked Kip to be his new heel protege, and fuck it all if I’m suddenly convinced that that HAS to happen! I’ve honestly never seriously considered Kip’s heel turn potential until this moment, but put Jonny’s masterful hands on the task, and fuck… of COURSE devastatingly hot Kip would make a sizzling pretty boy heel!

They double-team Christian almost the entire time, and it’s gorgeous and absolutely artful. “I think you had something different in mind when I said my partner and I were looking for a threesome,” Jonny jokes. Oh fucking damn, Christian answered a Grindr call for a threesome, and showed up for this!? So many reasons to stay diligent on Grindr, my friends!

Every double-team hold is homoerotic sculpture. The mixture of the three different super sexy bodies turns me on harder and harder each moment of the match. One of my favorite moments is relatively early on, while Christian is still screaming and writhing and begging a lot. Jonny has tied his wrists behind his back, for absolutely no good reason other than increase Christian’s terror. Jonny rolls him into face-to-crotch headscissors and smothers him, burying his face in the legendary bulge and keeping him there with a handle on his hair. At the same time, Kip grabs him by the ankles and shoves the ball of his foot up Christian’s ass. Fuck me, I’ve got to push pause and rewind.

“Are you worthy to be our third,” Jonny asks, now with Christian smothering in Kip’s face-to-crotch, while Jonny tortures his back in a crab variation. “Yes. YES!” Christian screams, and I’m not quite sure if it’s begging for reprieve, or his desperation to join this threesome in earnest. I like to think it’s the latter. “Do you think you’re worthy,” Jonny demands. “Because all you do is whine like a fucking bitch!”

I’m so excited to see Kip warm up to heeling, torturing Christian’s nipples, throttling Christian’s cock, and smiling in delight as he does it. There’s this spontaneous moment where Jonny is pitching and in control, and Kip is taking a quick breather, admiring the scene or total humiliation in front of him, when Kip seems to be unable to restrain himself from leaning over and landing a cracking slap across Christian’s tortured, handsomed, hirsuite face. Damn, Kip, I am buying this!!!

Lovely, LOVELY action from all three veterans of my homoerotic wrestling fantasies. The dynamic duo heels leave Christian tied up, hanging from the ropes, passed out from pain. “Let’s go get a bite to eat, and we’ll come back for him later,” Jonny grins as the climb through the ropes. Fuck, yes. Best Grindr hookup EVER!

Save Me a Seat

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One of my regular rants is about how much I enjoy homoerotic wrestling in front of a live audience. From the classic public events BG East filmed many years ago, to the more recent Wrestlefest matches, recorded in front of an audience of their wrestling peers, there’s something spontaneous and extra intense about wrestlers going full throttle on each other in front of others. I had the honor of writing the match descriptions for the newly released Wrestlefest 4, because, frankly, I elbowed and shoved my way to the front of the line of writers this time to insist on getting the first glimpse of these two fabulous matches. Both matches were very satisfying, for all of the reasons that I’ve mentioned concerning the extra adrenaline rush of a live audience, but also because the wrestling is just so fucking sexy! For this post, I want to pour a little love on Jonny Firestorm and Dio Characi, and the rich cast of characters at ringside who made their match so… interactive.

It’s impossible for me to overemphasize how much I am turned on by Dio. What felt like a near miss in his debut match, is an absolute bullseye when he climbs into the ring with Jonny. Just objectively, the Brazilian bomber is just so fucking sexy! He’s the paradigmatic babyface, with an adorable face, beautiful even, stacked almost improbably on top of a fucking outrageously sexy body! BG East lists him at 6′ even, but he looks even taller, particularly as he towers over a half a foot taller than fireplug Jonny. There’s a lot to take in on Dio’s bod, from his sweet, round pecs and his hot, hot six-pack abs. But I go a little light-headed whenever I get a serious glimpse of his astonishingly sexy ass. I literally stood up and cheered when Jonny peeled the Brazilian’s trunks off, leaving an unobstructed view of those glorious glutes hugged snugly by a brave, brave little thong.

Whereas Dio brings the shiny and new to this match, Jonny brings the legitimacy of a legend. This is Jonny’s second Wrestlefest, and mind you, Wrestlefest 3 was released well over a decade ago. Jonny has been heeling, day in and day out, the whole time, and was already approaching legendary status well before Wrestlefest 2. I’m still a little astonished he and Kayden can be in the same room together, because the sense of something dangerously unsettled is palpable, as the reigning, back-to-back, multiple Top Heel awardee Kayden watches the talents and terror of a mentor who was perfecting the craft well before the first BG East year-end besties were ever handed out. Jonny’s beefy, hairy, and looking like a badass brute, which is the absolute perfect complement to cherubic playgirl bunny Dio.

The action is intense and brutal. As you might imagine, Jonny is downright diabolical, and having a couple of heel proteges at ringside certainly seems to bring out a little extra sadism and a little devilish gleam in Jonny’s eyes as he brutalizes the Brazilian babyface beauty. When he plants Dio in a tree of woe, I knew there was something magical about to happen. I had NO idea that magic would include Jonny, literally, chomping down on Dio’s huge, vulnerable bulge! Fuck, I wouldn’t brush my teeth for a week, to savor that!

While this is a babyface beatdown, this is not a squash. Dio is a fierce mother fucker, and I love him for that. He turns the tables several times on the bulldozing heel, and I buy every single one of them. A hugely muscled bearhug and a gorgeously savored OTK backbreaker demonstrate convincingly that Dio is a beast, and he came to play. But woah, the torture rack?! Parading Jonny-fucking-Firestorm around like a chump on his shoulders, wringing him out in front of the bench of babyface boosters drowning a wailing Jonny with taunts?!? Sweet!

The wrestler-audience does their job, keeping it live, fresh, and intense with the guarantee that somebody is going to get ultimately and publicly humiliated. I love the spontaneous taunts and cheers, the pleading with Dio to hold out against Jonny’s machinations, the jumping up to land a few gratuitous, completely illegal blows of their own when the opportunity “presents itself.” I’m registering exactly two complaints about the audience, though. Complaint #1: What… THE FUCK… is Freddy Campbell doing on the heel bench!? I mean, I realize that he’s Ash’s boy toy and all, but the doe-eyed pretty boy has GOT to be in line for jobber of the year at this point, and slipping him onto the heel bench, even with his badass boyfriend protecting him, just seems like a miscast. Complaint #2: Will someone PLEASE take your sock off and shove it down Forrest Taylor’s throat!?! Dude, he does not shut up, and I almost can’t quite suspend my disbelief enough to wrap my head around how Jonny didn’t drag him by his lumberjack beard into the ring and beat the living shit of him right next to Dio. Hell, I’m a little awestruck that one of the other babyfaces didn’t get fed up with Forrest’s over-exuberant work on the sidelines and pummel the pretty boy themselves. If there was ever a jobber gagging for a beatdown, it was Forrest that day on the babyface bench at Wrestlefest 4.

I loved this match, and I’m proud to have been honored with the opportunity to write the match description!

Thongs for the Win

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BG East has a sale running on their membership site, Arena. It appears that someone has lovingly curated all of the Video On Demand matches that feature wrestlers in thongs. Fuck me, where did I go so miserably wrong, that I did not end up with the job of combing through the BGE catalog looking for thongs?! I feel like my entire educational career is suddenly a tragic farce, now that I know what job I should have been padding my resume for all these years. And those “career aptitude” inventories I filled out for my guidance counselor were clearly a load of bull shit, because if I was hardwired for any particular career, it’s OBVIOUSLY to be the lucky son of a bitch tasked with categorizing BG East products by themes for sales promotions. Fuck you, Mrs. Rogers, my high school guidance counselor, who said I ought to pursue a career in human services or educational settings.

In a cheap imitation of the professional I wish I was, I’ve now been spending some time looking through the sale catalog at matches with thongs. Woozy, what an erotic trip down memory lane! Like, Reese Wells getting his balls bashed until his cock was so hard that it, nor his balls, could fit inside his bullseye thong’s pouch any longer. Sweet fucking homoerotic wrestling gods. Legendary.

Mike Columbo’s thonged dismantling of Jay Stevens from Fantasymen 18 gets a discount in this sale. Let me repeat, Mike Columbo’s ass in a thong…. Good fucking gods, are you kidding me? Talk about legendary, and this match is from the first DVD I ever bought, in no small part because of the irresistible allure of Mike’s bare ass cheeks. He is a TERROR in the match, and I personally never loved him as much as when Mike was brutalizing a lucky fucker like Jay, wringing him out to two dimensions in epic, epic muscleboy body scissors.

The Gear Wars: UK Kink match between Ashley and Rob has recently been on my mind for some reason. And by “some reason,” I mean Rob’s stunningly gorgeous cock, and the ridiculously weird sock-fetish theme of the match. Honestly, I came for Ashley’s prettiness, but I go back again, and again, (and again) for Rob’s insanely gorgeous muscles, stunningly hot cock (I know, I already said that, but it bears repeating), and his sensational intensity that totally rubs out any campiness from the sock fetish antics.

And finally, Thrash thrashing El Favorito, who I’m convinced was named in honor of me! Sweet fucking gods, El Favorito’s ass NEVER looked better, and I’m in more of a position than most fans to back that claim up. And I maintain a long, long, LOOONG simmering crush on Thrash, and, in particular, his circus strongman, insanely sexy quads.

More thongs need to show up, and then get ripped off, in homoerotic wrestling, as far as I’m concerned. But who am I? Clearly not an insider living my best self with the job I was born for.

Two-On-One Tuesday

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To keep things shiny, I’m trying out a new hashtag: #TwoOnOneTuesday. No one loves a little alliteration as much as I do. Well, I know of one particular homoerotic wrestling producer who does, but other than that, I suspect alliteration tickles me more than you (which reminds me, I think there ought to be more tickling in homoerotic wrestling!). In any case, Two-On-One-Tuesdays may, or may not, end up being a thing. You can let me know what you think in the comments. But so far I like it. There’s something particularly sexy about seeing a couple of mates manhandling and mastering a muscleman, making him moan and milking his misery.

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Possibly the first 2-on-1 match that I got off on was the Tag Team Torture 2 match where Jeff Phoenix’ partner was a no show. There was no mention of who the son of a bitch was who abandoned this bulging, blue eyed, blond beefcake to face notorious heels Jose and Cruz alone.  Wouldn’t that have been a sensational grudge match sequel, when Jeff beat the living fuck out of the traitor!? Jeff held his own for a while against this 2-on-1, just long enough to make the coverboy cocky, which turns Jose and Cruz’ double team demolition that much sweeter.

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The bitter divorce of Jonny Firestorm and Calvin Haynes’ tag team led instantly to the sensationally sexy double-team of Calvinby Jonny and his rebound partner, pretty-pretty Royce Perry. I’ve nursed this fantasy pretty much every time I’ve had a rough break-up. Seriously, I always have this exact fantasy of meeting my ex in a wrestling ring, revealing the mouth-wateringly hot new model I traded up for, and the two of us beating him down, turning him on, and leaving him with blue balls.  Just me?

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Over at W4H, sexy go-go boy Christian Thorn apparently took so many brutally one-sided beatings that Cameron arranged for him to take some wrestling lessons from pro  hunks Ronny Pearl and Teddy Trouble. What could go wrong?  The classy pros put the pretty boy through his paces, but perhaps it’s too much of a good thing. Double-teamers take notes: 2-on-1 babyface jobber crushing can go wildly off the rails if you can’t get on the same page with your partner.

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It’s another pro vs. Instahunk story when Joey King takes advantage of his extensive experience to humble bodybuilder Steel in Rough & Ready 103. But Joey’s simmering feud with that other Instahunk, Scrappy, comes back to bite him in his lovely, round ass, when Scrapster joins the fray. So, sure, I can totally tune in to pretty muscleboy posers working up a head of steam on a bad ass pro.

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Regular readers will recognize this tendency I have to get totally infatuated with a particular wrestler who may, or may not, be objectively more notable than anyone else. And there we have Weekend Wrestling’s Pretty Boy Assassin. I don’t know exactly what it is that turns my crank quite as hard as he does, but I’m screaming to tag in with him when he’s getting double teamedby his official opponent, Brendan Byers, and WW’s boss man Cole Cassidy. Fuck, now I’ve got a fierce rescue fantasy churning away. Just one more way a two-on-one can turn me on!

Let me know what you think about #TwoOnOneTuesdays, and if they should stay on the menu.

Who Wore It Best?

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Big Joe Robbins has a pair of the meatiest, most punishing legs in homoerotic wrestling. To be honest, Joe had to grow on me. He’s too chill. He shows precious little/no emotion.The emotional range of a match almost entirely depends on the sell of his opponent. But over time, I realized the subtle, sexy truth about big Joe. He plays his opponents like a musical instrument. Like a virtuoso bowing a Stradivarius, Joe’s passion is evident in the timbre of the screams of his opponents.

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Joe’s signature hold is his bodyscissors variation, where he clamps those monstrous tree trunks onto an opponent’s torso and then rolls up to his hands, suspending a trapped hunk off the mat. The genius of this hold includes the  spotlight it places on Joe’s mammoth thighs. The position shows off Joe’s lovely, luxurious, round glutes. And it displays his opponent’s trapped muscles, complete helplessness, and exquisite agony beautifully. As Joe digs his knees into his prey’s kidneys, the suffering sings from way down deep. If they’re off key, Joe applies the precise pressure to wring the right notes out of them.  It’s always astonishingly dominant, a move that only a huge, powerful muscle hunk could possibly pull off. Every opponent looks helpless, completely dominated, and absolutely humiliated.

But when it comes to Big Joe’s kidney crushing, suspended bodyscissors, who wore it best? Check out my curated selection of nominees, and vote below.

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Suspended bodyscissors #1: Denny Cartier

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Suspended Bodyscissors #2: Tyrell Tomsen

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Suspended Bodyscissors #3: Eddy Rey

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Suspended Bodyscissors #4: Donnie Drake

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Suspended Bodyscissors #5: Jobe Zander

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Suspended Bodyscissors #6: Jonny Firestorm

Hair Pull Humpday

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Ray Naylor vs. Lauden Sevior – Sunshine Shooters 8

Hair pulls are one of those little, subtle pleasures that superboosts the erotic aspect of a wrestling match for me.  It’s disrespectful. It’s often unnecessarily cruel. It’s frequently functional, permitting a pitcher to position his reluctant prey for new angles of punishment. It stokes the fires of domination, often as plot device to signal that a competitive match has turned into cruel playtime. It can be affectionate, but when it comes to wrestling, it’s value added for me when it’s mean, rough, and adding insult to abundant injury. Here are a few hot and sexy hair pulls to help drag you over the weekly hump.

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Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) dragged outmatched Christian Taylor about by his leading man locks in Demolition 27. As I recently mentioned, I theorize that every act of Mr. J’s punishment and degradation transformed naive, innocent babyface Christian into the erotic wrestling institution Christian has become as BG East.

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Royce Perry works to impress his new tag team partner, Jonny Firestorm, by adding insult to injury to total humiliation all over double-teamed Calvin Haynes in Tag Team Torture 20.

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There’s something extra sexy about a dominant pro heel hunk who calmly demonstrates his mastery with a hair pull. Kelly King holding a sagging Lane Hartley up by his follicles in Pros in Private 13 give me that burst of adrenaline I could use to get over the hump.

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Jonny Firestorm absolutely throws everything, including the kitchen sink, at Jake Jenkins in Jobberpaloozer 12: The Works.  For my tastes, the hottest moves are paired with Jonny wrapping his fingers through the muscle cherub’s curly locks and prying him apart sadistically.h0107_lg.jpg

I’m sure I’ve featured this shot of Dom the Dominator nearly ripping Brad  Rochelle’s head off of his neck in Demolition 3. But it’s worth a lingering, repeat look. Sure, a chin lock might have been fractionally more functional to accomplish the same purpose, but the savagery of using Brad’s hair as a handle here is delicious!

Hang in there, my friends! When it comes to surviving this week, it’s all down hill from here!

Wasted Wednesday

wrestlebard7 Comments

Another Wasted Wednesday has me catching my second wind to get through the week by soaking in the sight of cocky, confident muscle men taken out. This time, I’m contrasting side-by-side images of said hunks, first at the beginning of a match, with fire in their eyes and the wind at their backs, and then about 20 – 30 minutes later after they’ve been laid waste. It’s a big part of what turns me on about wrestling. The psychological drama of getting face-to-face with your vulnerability at high speed is honestly at least as titillating as the sight of gorgeous bodies barely in tight briefs or less. It’s also why I love re-watching matches, to turn back time and watch the strut and bluster, witness the absolute certainty in their superiority. Would they take it back if they knew they’d be flat out, completely defenseless, and totally humiliated in mere minutes? But they don’t know, so they slap their dicks down and reveal a soft underside that only pride, a rocking bod, and a supersized ego can leave you with.

Here are a few choice wrestling hunks who showed up pumped and beautiful and convinced of their invincibility, who ended up crushed just right.

One of my hardest wrestling crushes thoroughly documented in the pages of this blog is Lon Dumont. I was instantly smitten at first sight when this stunningly beautiful competition bodybuilder didn’t just look the part in his debut match in Fantasymen 22, he absolutely owned the ring and his opponent. Now, I never tire of watching Lon (full-stop, but also let me continue) work his top shelf heel magic, particularly when he rocks muscle heads significantly bigger than he is. But I’ve got to admit that seeing him bested and brutalized at the end of Last Man Standing makes me swoon, all the more for the rarity it is.

I have a very different relationship with Damien Rush. He possesses one of the most outrageously over-sized egos in homoerotic wrestling, if not anywhere outside of Washington, DC. The daddy’s little rich boy backstory makes me love, love, love to hate him, and the bigger and beefier he gets, the more extravagantly puffed he becomes, and the more desperate I am to see him humbled hard. Since his early “swimmer’s build,” he’s been getting a lot of mileage out of his gorgeously thick muscles and comic book proportions. When he stomps into the ring, flexing, and his simpering, contemptuous baritone starts chugging away with silver spoon-fed self-praise and blue blood destiny for greatness, my orgasm is just a tad fiercer for it when I see him plowed under and laid waste, as in Hunkbash 17 when smooth muscle giant Vasily Volkov bashes the snot right out of him.

I haven’t quite decided what my fan-relationship is with hot bodied bro Kenny Starr yet. I mean, fuck, that body, of course. But honestly, I don’t know if my crotch aches more to see him ground into putty or doing the grinding. Ty Alexander makes a strong case for the former in Jobberpaloozer 17. Kenny’s glorious, wedgied ass exposed, nearly drowning in a pool of his own sweat, and unable to muster enough energy to lift his head off the mat is certainly a sensational use of that smoking hot body of his.

Seeing Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) take a turn on the losing end of the stick is another rare treat that leaves me just a little frustrated, honestly. Don’t get me wrong, watching a notorious badass heel undone is that much more pleasurable when said badass is a musclebound physique star with a multi-award winning bulge. The hit Mr. Joshua’s ego takes in a match like his Ring Hunks 1 battle with Aryx Quinn gets me way, way hot and bothered. But fuck it all to hell, seeing him wasted, out cold, and humiliated, and never seeing an opponent unleashing Mr. J’s not-so-secret weapon when he can’t lift a finger to defend himself makes me blow blood vessels. Come ON, Aryx! WTF?!

I’ve been starting to dabble in Thunder’s Arena again, for a change of pace, and there are just so many mouthwatering muscles to sink my teeth into! For example, Battlespace 112 grabs me hard, initially because I can’t decide if it’s silky smooth, mocha skinned surf bro Jack Beaver or mop-headed, smoldering alabaster boy Kid Thing who’s hotter. Perhaps paradoxically (or not), it’s seeing Kid Thing worked to a nub and literally out cold still standing that tips the scales his way for me. Fu-uck, we need a Kid tournament some day [makes note to self for future fantasy match].

Rio Garza. Let me just say his name and step back and watch the ages old fault lines pop open in homoerotic wrestling fandom. I’ve long been on the record that I love to hate the Mexican muscle boy precisely because he never quite managed to go from go-go boy to wrestler. I mean, he wrestled. A lot, to say the least. But I never thought he brought a whole lot more than a dizzyingly sexy body to the table. I know for a fact that at least a couple of his opponents felt the same way as I do, which explains the ferocity behind the brutal beatdowns lovely Rio took in the ring. If you’re going to be a dazzlingly sexy muscle jobber, you deserve the credit for making wasted be so deeply satisfying for fans, as he does in Hunkbash 11.

I should probably quit, but I couldn’t help myself but track down one more stunning fantasyman who comes to mind when I think of pathos in defeat. Kid Brock wrestled in a total of just 4 BG East releases, and still I obsess about him these many years later. It was the angelic babyface somehow misplaced atop his gargantuan, fierce physique. It was a whiff of greatness, like this Kid could legitimately deserve his place in the extremely exclusive ranks of Kid greats at BGE. It was that porn-ready muscle ass and those sensationally thick thighs. But, in the end, it was all that wasted promise, plowed under, destroyed, humiliated, and him leaving an epic career of homoerotic wrestling greatness just lying their on the table, just like he was just left splayed out and destroyed by the likes of Structure in Ring Wars 9. Like seriously, I think this Kid could have owned us ALL if he’d stuck around!

Such a sensationally sweet, sexy, satisfying waste to see hot bodied hunks like these laid out!

Trunk Pull Tuesday

wrestlebard6 Comments

When I decided to resurrect the blog here, I thought about what I enjoyed most about the exercise. I’m planning on leaning into the pleasure, in the interest of maintaining a healthy, long-term relationship with the task of putting my homoerotic wrestling thoughts into text. As a result, you can count on seeing more wrestling fiction, more guessing games, and, yes, I strongly suspect you’ll find me obsessing about hot news boys. One of the countless little value added elements to homoerotic wrestling for me is a hearty yank on an opponent’s trunks, and thus the tradition of Trunk Pull Tuesday.

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In BGE’s Hunkbash 5, Dante gave Brad’s a tug

I’d go so far as to suggest that trunk pulls were one of the first subtle elements in professional wrestling to ignite my homoerotic imagination. Ostensibly, a wrestler grabs his opponent’s trunks for leverage. With next to nothing else adorning the wrestling body, a wrestler uses the trunks as a handle to snap that snap mare, to drag him into motion in order to pound him that much harder with a fist, or a knee, or a clothesline.

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Dax Carter tries to rip Scrappy McNair apart at the seams for Muscleboy Wrestling.

Of course, that’s not the only thing I saw, as a kid growing up watching hot bodied hunks wrestling on television. I saw alluring glimpses of skin and tan lines normally discretely covered by modest patches of fabric. There was a fleeting view of a little more ass cheek, a tantalizing flash of lower abdomen, implicitly drawing attention away from the wrestling text and toward the erotic subtext just beneath the surface.

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Bruno the Beast is feeling what I’m feeling yanking on Steve Tanner’s for Muscleboy Wrestling.

It remains a particularly titillating element in homoerotic wrestling, as far as I’m concerned, when, wrestling for gay eyes, a grappler yanks on his opponent’s trunks. Even when it isn’t prelude to stripping gear off entirely, it automatically bridges the narrative of combat and the story of sexual arousal. There’s still a third layer of eroticism for me when I can tell the puller gets it, that he knows how sexy this is, that he is, like I am, turned on not just by the competition for falls, not just the pleasure of spoiling a ripped opponent’s modesty, but that he feels the gravitational pull of the whole thing drawing him, and his opponent, and his audience into an explicit story of sexual attraction with the turbo boost of wrestling for erotic position.

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Gabriel Cross cannot wait to unwrap Ian Levine forMuscleboy Wrestling.

The driving momentum of all those homoerotic wrestling punches and headlocks and spladles and scissors is heading toward a story centered on what happens in the geography underneath the trunks. There are endless recipes involving various quantities of aggression, narcissism, brutality, contempt, competition, ego, and lust, but the trunk pull is a tried and true ingredient for turning up the erotic heat, at least for the gay wrestling fan, if not for the combatants themselves.

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Mr. Joshua Goodman takes a break from tugging at his own in order to shred Christian Taylor’s in BGE’s Demolition 27.

Okay, I’ve banned myself from searching for more tasty trunk pulls. For now. Until next Tuesday. Keep yanking, wrestlers (and fans).

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Jonny Firestorm executes a rare and humiliating trunk pull on giant muscleman Joe Robbins in BGE’s Ring Classics 1.