Joshua Goodman – Page 2

When Stars Collide

February 10, 2017 wrestlebardLeave a comment

I’m going to keep singing loud praises for Ringwars 26, but I want to make sure and acknowledge that this is a seriously inconsistent collection. It ranges from the sublime to the passable, and in keeping with my policy over the past several years, I’m not going to harp on the weakest links in this chain. But I feel like it ought to be mentioned that there are weak links, in my estimation at least. On the other hand, there’s that climactic final match I gushed about a couple of days ago pitting two of the hottest, smoothest, most accomplished newbie wrestlers I’ve ever seen in one BG East match. Stacked up on that sublime side of the scale is also match #2 in the compilation, featuring the dream combination of Cole Cassidy and Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!).

I know that I say it far too often, that some favorite wrestler has just appeared “in the best shape of his life.” It’s not that I’m trying to overstate how supremely fit and sexy these gladiators look, but I just repeatedly fall head over heels in lustful adoration again and again when I see gorgeous hunks show up again in something new. But this time, I mean it. Seriously. Mr. Joshua and Cole are in the most perfect shape I’ve ever seen them. In particular, Mr. Joshua is just flawless. His skin is without a blemish and baked perfectly to a healthy, lightly bronzed hue. There isn’t an ounce of body fat apparent, and the leopard print ultra-brief (nearly a g-string) reveals more of his mouthwatering physique than I think anything else I’ve ever seen him in. His perennially magnificent aesthetics are simply amplified. His ripped abs are a fraction more ripped. His teardrop quads are just that much more defined. His peaked biceps and muscled ass and bulging, broad shoulders appear just a tad more peaked, muscled, and broad than a long-time infatuated fan like me can remember seeing before. The repeated musclemag coverboy poses he strikes are strongly reminiscent of vintage AMG softcore.

Cole isn’t as regular an object of my blogging obsession, but he is always homoerotic gold for me. We’ve seen Cole beefier, with a hotly muscled belly, and we’ve seen him even leaner than this, practically whittled to bone and muscle. But I think his fitness in Ringwars 26 is perfection. His muscles are incredibly thick and broad, and he’s sporting the impeccable proportions and gorgeously tapered-V of a fitness model. His mid-rise square cuts suit both his dangerous MMA style of fighting as well as his no-nonsense, absolutely functional, built-to-fuck-you-over body.

What makes this a match of my dreams isn’t just the lucky moment in time when both of these beauties are in perfect shape, however. This is also a fantasy match for me because I crush like hell on heel-on-heel action. Unlike the newbie-on-newbie match in this compilation, these are both known quantities, with 3-dimensional personas and long-established skills not just in wrestling, but in selling the melodrama. Even someone with passing familiarity knows that Cole is like a coiled viper, always deadly dangerous and incredibly stingy in giving away even a submission, much less a match loss. It’s not like Cole is passionless, but he’s sort of sociopathic in his cruelty. We seldom see spikes of rage or adrenaline-pumped victory celebrations. Rather, he’s like Michael Myers, taking his hits here and there, but bearing down with an air of destiny. He’s cruel, but more a force of nature than a classic sadist.

Mr. Joshua is a far more complex ring heel. He’s always been a raging narcissist, of course. I defy you to find an ounce of fault in that, because Mr. J’s body is just sexy as fuck. Of course he adores his own reflection. His reflection is dazzlingly, effortlessly erotic. And at times in Mr. Joshua’s career, he’s paid the price hard for just how distracting his Magic Mike-ready body is. He’s been harshly brutalized at times, particularly in those moments when he’s lost focus on the fight because his muscles demand his attention, or because his legendary mammoth bulge requires rearranging. But over the trajectory of his career, Mr. J has emerged as a surprisingly adept pro heel. Once he really started exploiting the devastating potential his magnificent muscles have in a wrestling match, Mr. Joshua’s narrative started veering decisively away from just being all about the pretty, and increasingly centered on the mean. He doesn’t mind so much being underestimated for his beauty, because it makes it that much more satisfying to take some new, smirking punk to school. His wrestling repertoire has expanded exponentially. He mentions in his match with Cole that he’s spent some time at the Snuka Wrestling Academy (whether that’s just bullshit to warn Cole against thinking Mr. Joshua’s leopard print banana hammock is a signal that he’s a pushover, or whether he’s actually been taking lessons, I don’t know). But Mr. Joshua is about 10 times more expressive than Cole. He’s agony is far deeper, and his pleasure exponentially greater. Rather than a force of nature, Mr. J is a profoundly complex, magnificently beautiful human being already mid-swing at Erickson’s final stage of human development: self-actualization. Like the Buddha himself, I half expect that we will simply see Mr. Joshua wink out of existence at some point near the end of a match, once he has fully, entirely, completely become the truest version of himself that he has been perfecting for years.

Fuck. I haven’t actually started even talking about the match, have I? Let me try (weakly) to keep this concise. It is exactly what I hoped for when I saddled up for a ride here. This is heel-on-heel punishment. Both warriors are entirely themselves, their most genuine expressions of the wrestling characters they have been wooing fans as for so long. Cole is fucking vicious as shit. He is impeccably suited for the task of amplifying and exploiting this particular opponent’s most glaring assets and weaknesses, such as when he pounds Mr. Joshua down into an astonishingly gorgeous over-the-knee backbreaker and starts wringing the fuck out of the monster barely stuffed down Mr. J’s pouch. I thank the homoerotic wrestling gods that Cole’s hands are big enough for the task, but even more, I sing them praises that Cole dug in deep right there where so many opponents before him have tended to shy away. Sure, a lot (A LOT) of Mr. Joshua’s opponents have delivered barrages of strikes at his pride-and-joy bulge, but when it comes to really getting handsy, to daring to test dexterity and finger strength against the most notorious anaconda in competition, Cole really kicks it up several notches.

Those unfamiliar with Mr. Joshua’s resume (shame on you!) may find it paradoxical that actually it’s Mr. Joshua who is first to deliver a low blow. You might imagine that a guy with as gargantuan as a target as he has would want to avoid opening up a ball bashing competition. However, those of us who have long savored his work learned long ago the genius behind his insistence on striking first. Even if they don’t intend to, sooner or later every opponent ends up striking a blow below Mr. Joshua’s belt. Honestly, they can’t avoid it even if they try. So Mr. Joshua’s signature offense is to, literally, beat them to the punch and start the testicle torture. Cole is no exception. It’s very early days in this match, and Cole is starting to ride roughshod over the jungle boy. Cole has landed a jaw-splitting knee strike to Mr. Joshua’s chin, dropping him to the mat. Like the horror film antihero he is, Cole rains down leaping stomps to Mr. Joshua’s back, making the coverboy spasm. He rides a beautiful standing surfboard like Frankie Avalon, before bearing down that much harder on Mr. J’s lower back in a camel clutch and, eventually, a bow and arrow. There’s that familiar sense that Cole could send his opponent to the hospital here pretty quickly. Until Mr. Joshua takes a roundhouse swing at Cole’s balls. Watching Cole collapse in an impotent heap is amazing, but it’s nothing compared to Mr. Joshua climbing to his feet, grabbing Cole by the ankles, spreading his tree trunk thighs wide, and literally standing on his balls. We just don’t hear Cole scream often. But Cole screams.

I love that this match stays true to the wrestling characters we’ve grown to know and crush on. Buckle up, because the reversals of fortune could easily give you whip lash. And the fact that both of these nasty heels, each in their own way, sells riding time so magnificently really speaks to every Cole and Mr. Joshua fan out there. Mr. Joshua slaps Cole’s granite-carved muscle ass repeatedly in such a contemptuous, domineering way that I can’t remember Cole ever suffering before. There are long, juicy spells of Mr. Joshua in total control over the writhing, squirming, humiliated MMA star. This could totally be a Mr. Joshua career-defining victory.

However, Cole doesn’t just dissect his beautiful opponent, he lays him out with an obvious nod to the BG East fans masterbating at that very moment to the aesthetic wonders of Mr. Joshua’s physique. Crotch ripping spladles spread Mr. Joshua wide, his mammoth bulge quivering in fear just inches overtop of his barely covered hole. In a stroke of genius, Cole maintains the spladle even as he climbs to his knees, giving us a vertical angle on every inch of Mr. Joshua’s bulging, beautiful all over tan and completely jeopardized ass.

On the other hand, Mr. Joshua feeds fan infatuation with his mouthwatering bulge by beating Cole into barely-consciousness and then schoolboy pinning him, grinding the beef-packed pouch into Cole’s face. He drags Cole up by his head and pounds his massive bulge into Cole’s dumbstruck mug as he kneels like a supplicant before his god. Back down to the mat they go, as Joshua holds Cole’s face in place, cock pinning him, smothering him in headscissors, jerking and pumping his hips like he could be just about to shoot a load across Cole’s face.

On the other hand, Cole battles back into contention, wearing Mr. Joshua out from the base of the testicles upward, and softening the rock hard fitness model up for a perfect Mexican ceiling hold. I mean, perfect. Both boys are fully extended, stretched out. Mr. J’s joints are hyperextended, quivering, muscles looking like they could snap. And right at the apex of his rainbow arch is Mr. J’s dream maker, bulging, straining his pouch, I swear almost whimpering of its own accord.

Honestly, I was still guessing who was going to win this match with about 2 minutes left. And not just because fortunes kept being reversed, but because I believed every second of the way that either of these dangerous, nasty, legendary heels could win.

Check out Alex’s review for another take, though it sounds like we were pretty much on the same page on this one. The term “star” is probably thrown around too often, but these are two genuine homoerotic wrestling stars, and as Alex says, “These guys show why they’re stars.” Entertaining. Thrilling. Titillating. Suspenseful. And deep down homoerotically satisfying.

Face the Music

October 25, 2016 wrestlebard2 Comments

Joshua Goodman up close and personal with Troy Baker’s bulges in Mat Hunks 4

Taking a brief break from the heavy diet of reviews I’ve been dishing out, today I’m lingering a bit on that supremely homoerotic wrestling hold, face-to-crotch headscissors.

Chip Slater has a love/hate relationship with his face in Patrick Donovan’s crotch in Undagear 5

I’m sure I’ve mused about this hold before, but I’m too lazy to look it up. So I’ll probably repeat myself when I say that my heart pumps harder in my chest when a straight forward pro wrestling story suddenly introduces face-to-crotch scissors. If you buy that all of pro wrestling can easily be read as an extended homoerotic innuendo, face-to-crotch sort of slaps down the implied erotic subtext and steps at least one toe over the line into straight up homoerotic text.

Mitch Colby is about to pop with Cole Cassidy trapped between his thighs in Ringwars 15

How wrestlers carry it off, of course, can significantly add to eroticism. I suppose it’s possible to snap your thighs around another man’s head with that up close look at your balls in his face and it be solely about punishment and wrestling victory. But I love watching a wrestler snap shut that bear trap and then enjoy it, openly, luxuriantly, expansively. When someone on the delivery side of this hold pumps his glutes and shoves his hips forward with a little enthusiasm, when he milks the moment with pulsing flexed muscles beating out a morse code of agony from the gasping grunts of his opponent, when he stares down his own hot body and smiles at the sight of his opponent owned and getting primed for sucking cock, when he closes his eyes and leans his head way, way back and that look of an impending orgasm washes across his face, there’s nothing coded about this. This is hot, homoerotic wrestling gold.

Rick the Prick looks like he’s struck gold with Joshua Goodman’s legendary bulge in his face in Ringwars 12

The catcher can certainly connect the dots as well. Regardless of who ends up on top after all is said and done, I love it when a captured hunk’s eyes roam hungrily up and down his captors body above him. He doesn’t need to, but if he stretches his hands up and strokes those crushing thighs, the rippling abs, stretching so far as to palm the bulging pecs of his tormentor, it conveys what I’m silently thinking deep inside at that moment. A smothered grappler doesn’t have to, but if he’s man enough to nuzzle the balls bearing down on his face, fuck, maybe even open wide and give the trickster’s treats a hearty lick, it just puts the exclamation point on what this hold conveys from the start: wrestling persistently implies homoerotic intimacy.

Charlie Evans makes the most of the rare standing face-to-crotch headscissors at the mercy of Steel Muscle God in Oil Hunks 8 (MDW)

When the camera angles and storytelling are just right, face-to-crotch headscissors shine a spotlight on one man’s bulging package, bringing his entire, tasty physique into the mix, making even that swelling muscle of passion a part of the corporal domination of another man. For me, it isn’t even so much about the oral sexual implications, as much as it signals that every magnificent inch of a wrestler’s hot body is engaged in dominating his opponent. Hell, when wrestling companies choose to transition from explicit wrestling to explicit sex, I typically push rewind. Because what’s getting me off is the homoeroticism of the wrestling, not the wrestling as foreplay for sex.

Rio Garza cannot handle Aryx Quinn in BG’s Bad Boys

I suppose it isn’t such a far distance between why I’m such a fan of face-to-crotch headscissors as I am a fanatic for my favorite pro wrestling hold, the over-the-knee backbreaker. Both draw my eye to one wrestler’s bulging package. Both center the frame on the outline of a bulging cock and the ballast of balls. Both seem ripe with the erotic potential marrying gay sensibilities and a pro wrestling kink. Both make my pulse pound in anticipation of what happens next to, or with, or on behalf of one wrestler’s swollen pipe.

So much erotic passion led up to this moment of Mitch Colby smothered by Brook Stetson’s sweaty pouch in Sunshine Shooters 4.

I sometimes find it ironic that this blog attracts so many visitors thanks to the still frames I include, because it’s the story in and around any one captured slice of time in a wrestling match that tantalizes and titillates me. It’s not any one frozen image that becomes the perfect muse to my erotic imagination, but the drama played out in motion, the slow contraction of muscles, the arching agony in a lower back, the quivering pouch, the writhing feet futilely kicking the mat. I’ve lately talked in terms of “the moneyshot,” meaning that moment in a match at which point I’m likely to climax, but that moment is about the 1,600 seconds before that led up to that moment, the deepening jeopardy of one man, the swelling confidence of another, the bodies growing wet with sweat over time, the veins swelling and pumping harder with blood from the effort and the adrenaline of competition. I get off plenty to face-to-crotch headscissors, but I’m never just getting off to face-to-crotch headscissors.

Kid Brock’s face swallowed whole between Blazes gargantuan thighs in Rainbow Restlers 2

If there is one valuable analog of face-to-crotch headscissors, I think its the comfort a wrestling company has with the homoerotic eye of their gay audience. In scanning for face-to-crotch headscissors images across several platforms for this post, I found them concentrated in just a couple producers’ catalogs. And I think they play a part in direct proportion to how explicitly companies market to those of us in the audience tuning in and ponying up because we are sexually turned on by wrestling. Of course, face-to-crotch headscissors aren’t the only way of crossing the line from homoerotic subtext to homoerotic text. Hell, they probably aren’t even the best way. But from a strictly correlational perspective, I think they show up in proportion to how much I (at least) perceive of a producer as appreciative of and comfortable with me, as a gay man, watching their wrestling products as a means of sexual gratification.

So much sexual gratification when Logan Vaughn milks Trey Dixon into whimpering obedience in Florida Fights 5

So probably a close second as my favorite wrestling hold is face-to-crotch headscissors, because when they’re done wrong, they can reveal a whole host of troubled self-hatred bubbling beneath a veneer of nohomo bravado, but when they’re done right, I feel respected as a gay wrestling fan, drawn into the intimacy of homoerotic combat, and turned on hard.

Kid Vicious puts his swelling cock where Niku Samir’s face is in Motel Madness UK 5

Expiration Dates

July 6, 2015July 6, 2015 wrestlebard10 Comments

I’m venturing into highly contested waters today, so put your life vests on and buckle in. Age. I’ve chatted with homoerotic wrestling fans who consider hunks old enough to legally drink alcohol as getting too old for their tastes. Mind you, the fans in question are more than twice that age, but for the time being, let me just focus on the wrestlers. By the same token, I’ve talked with homoerotic wrestling fans who are a tad creeped out by wrestlers that look too young. Hell, I had an extended exchange with a fan who was gagging for a silver fox bracket of homoerotic wrestling for mature muscle only. I’ve also heard rumor of homoerotic wrestling companies who turn away handsome, magnificently muscled, high quality man meat with impeccable wrestling credentials and a sensational sell because they only work with guys younger than 30 years old. Age is clearly something that factors into the homoerotic wrestling scene in complex ways.

lodi — Billy Lodi looks like a high school sophomore and wrestles like a wildcat.

You know me, of course. I can pump out a teary eyed infatuation for hunks across a wide range of demographics. I’ve been known to get off on one of those barely legal babyface kids who, although he’s old enough to vote, has the look of a high school sophomore. Now, I fully endorse limiting the subjects of erotic products to those of legal age to comptently give their consent. I don’t want to see (let me repeat for the morality police: I DON’T want to see) an actual 14 year old, no matter how sweet his ass, step into a wrestling ring to be an object of erotic lust for grown men, much less for him to be groped or ground by an amorous wrestling opponent. If a 21 year old could pass for a 14 year old, and he has that sweet ass I just mentioned, fuck yes, get his legal signature on a contract, throw him into a ring to get slammed, stripped, and sucked, and then pay him handsomely. My line isn’t whether the audience could imagine the hunks to be underage. It’s just a question of whether they are, in the eyes of the law, legally capable of consenting to adult decisions like starring in media targeted toward erotically interested consumers. There’s got to be a line with regard to age, maturity, and capacity to give consent, and I’m just fine with the legal standards that operate in the homoerotic wrestling industry.

unnamed

So there’s that threshold of age on the bottom end of the scale. But what about the top end of the scale? Do (should) wrestlers age out of being suitable stars of homoerotic wrestling? Of course, I continue to advocate for legal capacity as a requirement. Guys with impaired capacity due to intellectual disabilities or mental health issues, no matter their age, no matter how rocking hot their six-pack abs and sculpted, tree trunk thighs are, shouldn’t be professional homoerotic wrestlers. But other than that small minority of adults, I see nothing wrong with, and in fact see many things very, very right with, wrestlers having no inherent expiration date for steaming up screens.

mitch — Mitch Colby started homoerotic wrestling only after his phenomenal physique was aged to perfection.

My thoughts are distinct from, but related to, the occasional wrestling narrative of a younger stud taunting his older opponent. I actually love seeing younger and older wrestlers go to town on each other, though I confess I typically ache to see the more mature guy own the young buck’s ass (and any other body part he wants). When Mitch Colby showed up for his debut match with BG East, wrestling against hottie Alexi Adamov, Alexi was already disparaging Mitch as ready to be put out to pasture. Mitch smirks in response to the “old man” banter, and then lets his gorgeous pecs and bulging biceps give the only answer necessary, laying Alexi the fuck OUT when all was said and done.

mitch2 — Go on, Alexi. Take a look at the “old man” who just put you down.

Now I’m terrible at guessing ages. But I’m thinking Mitch couldn’t have been over 40 years old when he wrestled Alexi. Possibly early 40’s, but that absolutely requires that he have the genes of a comic book superhero. Look at that fucking rocking muscle bod!? So sure, he’s older than Alexi, and Alexi wants to unsettle this physical phenom of a newbie muscle stud, so the young Russian gets all snarky about the only thing he can imagine sensational Mitch could be, in any way, insecure about. About the time Alexi is doing the backstroke in a pool of their combined sweat, unable to pry is wasted, hot, gorgeous young body off the mat, the “old guy” drama comes to what I think of as a sensationally satisfying end.

mitch3 — Bear daddy Brooklyn Bodywrecker takes full possession of every naked inch of Joshua Goodman (though we only see his gorgeous backside).

Physical maturity, pitched well, makes me weak in the knees. Take Brooklyn Bodywrecker with salt-and-pepper goatee and chest hair bringing us as close as we’ve come to seeing Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) stripped naked and showing off the ballast he carries in his pouch. Joshua tries to get underneath the classic heel’s skin with the “o” word. Bodywrecker tags him, bags him, and takes out the prettiest trash on the planet. How old was BBW? I have no idea. I’m guessing over 40, but like I said, I suck at guessing ages. But one thing I do know for certain: he wasn’t “too old.”

Take Christopher Bruce’s big comeback a few years ago, returning in mindblowing condition after last appearing a decade earlier as a doe eyed, shapely, lean go-go boy, now older, marginally wiser, and stealing the spotlight from every frustrated opponent with that insanely sexy, infinitely fuckable, massively muscled bubble butt. Cole Cassidy, Jonny Firestorm, they keep calling Chris out as some sort of doddering elder statesman, but that’s just the narrative tension in the story. The obvious truth is that he’s a fucking muscle god who, as far as I’m concerned, is about 30 times overtly sexier than he was a decade ago. Proving that it isn’t just the story of the mature hunk schooling a cocky young upstart that gets me off, he’s still getting his ass handed to him most of the time, but the years are absolutely nothing but value added in my book.

christopher3 — Take a good look at an “old man” of the ring, Jonny!

So age, age differences, “oldness,” “youngness,” sure all of these things are moving parts, contested, manipulated, foregrounded strategically. But in and of itself, the actual notion that someone is too old, as a function of a particular number, just seems ludicrous to me. Sure, maybe over the course of his years a wrestler has fucked up his knees or lost his strength or gone on blood thinners, in which case high impact, highly entertaining homoerotic wrestling competition may not be for him anymore. But’s that’s about injury, disease, and fitness, not a number.

dirk — Dirk Caber is reported to have only started muscling up and settling into porn at age 30. With a handsome, grey beard and insanely hot, mature beef, he is a raging bull when he wrestles and fucks for Naked Kombat.

As with any professional athlete, I’m sure there’s a time when they may choose to do other things than exercise, diet, and train with the intensity it requires to be safe and healthy and successful in a pro wrestling ring. But I’m also sure there are plenty of hunks who are talented and enthusiastic enough to keep climbing through those ropes past their 30’s (for god’s sake), definitely past their 40’s, many, I’m sure past their 50’s and maybe even 60’s. While I know there are those fans who want nothing but barely legals, I’m in the camp (and I know there are many of us) who are happily entertained and fully aroused by homoerotic wrestling hunks of a variety of ages, in a broad array of scenarios, pitching, catching conquering and being conquered by peers and young punks alike. Bald spots and grey hair can grab me by the short hairs, when paired with a sexy body, an engaging attitude, and a skillful sell.

shane — Shane McCall returned to BG East competition this past year as a more mature, salt-n-pepper bearded bear daddy with a crazy sexy belly and a fierce readiness to teach twink Ty a thing or two (or twenty) in Catchweight 6.

Before I finish what has turned into a very long post, let me just add a word of encouragement and another word of caution to those who are inspired to comment here. First, I always enjoy hearing from readers, comparing notes, seeing where our tastes overlap and where they diverge. Please do let me know what you think about homoerotic wrestler expiration dates. And, as has been my policy for quite a while, note that I won’t approve posts that attack particular wrestlers or that disparage anyone with the balls to climb into a ring and wrestle for a bunch of horny gay men. You don’t have to like the same wrestlers I do. You don’t have to agree with my opinions. But comments are welcome here that are respectful of me and the homoerotic wrestlers who populate the pages of this blog and who deserve courtesy, even if you or I aren’t fans.

OTK

August 26, 2014 wrestlebard2 Comments

otkshannonvgenelli — The erotic art of an OTK backbreaker. Dirk Shannon and Peter Genelli are stunningly poised in this moment of total control from Canadian Musclehunks 8.

I recently commented that I’d trade most gay porn sex scenes for a mouthwatering over the knee backbreaker any day. This isn’t indicative of how I feel about sex, per se. I was pointing out that it’s the typical woodenness (not the good kind) and scriptedness of hardcore porn that I find less than fulfilling. However, it is indeed indicative of how I react to homoerotic wrestling, even when it’s sold with a pretty transparent script, and truth be told, the OTK backbreaker in particular works me every time. Even a poorly sold OTK makes my heart beat faster. But a truly exquisite OTK is a work of art that captures the essence of eroticism, domination, and combat that jerk my libido hard. When I think of the OTK backbreakers that have stuck with me, seared into my memory and making my pulse pound even in retrospect, here are few of the G-rated (well, let’s say PG-rated just for the extra prudish out there) examples that I’ve filed away for safe keeping and frequent consulting.

otkrochelle — From my first BG East crush, Fantasymen 18, Brad Rochelle bends like a gymnast and Jeff Phoenix exploits that flexibility beautifully.

otkdasilva — Kid Vicious never fails to make the most of an OTK, bringing gorgeously aroused Derek Da Silva to the edge of ecstasy and agony at the very same moment in Ball Bash 1.

otkdarius — Darius is the classic muscleman laid bare as Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) digs deep in Ringwars 16.

otkcruise — Vile Morgan Cruise uses Skip Vance’s lower leg to torture his boyfriend in a leg lock while simultaneously breaking Skip across his thigh in Tag Team Torture 16: Boyfriend Beatdown.

otkzman2 — To of the finest bodies locked together in a beautiful display of muscle, balance, and flexibility as Tyrell Tomsen brutalizes Z-Man in Wrestle Revenge.

otkshippvhopkins — Simply gorgeous. Massively muscled Ted Shipp takes exquisitely sexy Beau Hopkins and stretches lays him out like a Thanksgiving feast in Canadian Musclehunks 6.

A Rock and a Hard Place

July 27, 2014July 26, 2014 wrestlebard2 Comments

Regular readers know that my infatuation with Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) and his bulge know no bounds. I’ve long muttered that I wish I knew how to quit him, because he’s a horribly cruel tease. But the moment I see that there’s a new Mr. Joshua release, I salivate uncontrollably and start obsessing all over again. So I was thus already entirely physiologically aroused when I sat down to slurp up Tag Team Torture 18: 2 on 1.

b&b — Team B&B: Braden Charron and Brad Barnes

The “2” are similarly slurp-able Braden Charron and Brad Barnes. Braden has recently emerged from jobberhood as an increasingly dangerous ring veteran. He’s still full of attitude, but these days he actually has a lot more than just looking pretty to back it up. Brad seems appreciative as hell to learn at the feet of seasoned Braden, as the two quickly and effectively establish their characters as muscle master and obedient apprentice.

joshua12 — Team B&B cannot believe their luck when Mr. Joshua announces he’ll take them both on singlehandedly.

When Joshua shows up dressed in badboy black and announcing his tag team partner has stood him up, B&B can’t quite believe that Mr. J has decided to take them both on singlehandedly. Joshua doesn’t seemed concerned about his odds. Atypically, he’s checked out the competitions’ resumes and seen them both repeatedly manhandled. He doesn’t seem to have noticed Braden’s more recent graduation to the ranks of the serious competitors, though. Too much Mr. J arrogance? Or does he know something about the B&B boys that evens the score?

josh2 — Mr. Joshua goes where so many muscle bashers have gone before.

Mr. Joshua joins the long line of BG East badboys who have sunk their claws deep into Brad Barnes and made all of his mouthwatering muscles melt in agony. He OWNS musclestud Brad beautifully! Perhaps J’s strategy is simply to pick the muscle jobber clean and never allow badass Braden a moment to intervene. If he can manage that, I totally believe the odds have tilted in his favor.

josh6 — Mr. Joshua taunts Braden who watches helplessly from the ring apron as his muscleboy partner is humiliated.

Soaring on top, Mr. Joshua gets cocky (I know, that’s redundant). He taunts Braden who, as a competitive face, has to watch helplessly from the ring apron as his muscleboy partner is completely humiliated. J flaunts his domination of crumbling Brad, pointing out to worrying Braden exactly where team B&B’s achilles heel lies (somewhere between Brad’s ears). J provokes and preens the fresh muscle master, riling him up and daring Braden to take a dip on the dark side and fuck the rules.

josh3 — Muscledaddy Braden steps in to school his boy’s bully.

You knew it. I knew it. Mr. Joshua’s overconfidence would come back to bite him in his gorgeously muscled ass (sign me up for that job!). Brad tags in his muscle master partner. Braden demonstrates to J that he’s no longer the infinitely crushable muscle jobber he was in days gone by. He out hustles and outmuscles Joshua with total command, seriously stroking my homoerotic kink by revisiting upon J revenge torture for pretty much each and every humiliating maneuver that Joshua had subjected Brad to. How dare you hurt my partner, the subtext screams. Now I’m going to teach you a lesson for making my baby boy cry!

josh11 — Braden’s abdominal stretch makes Mr. Joshua teeter on the edge of a humiliating defeat.

Brad grows visibly excited on the ring apron watching his muscle master take control and defend his honor. Taking in the sight of his muscle daddy beating up his bully, the muscleboy literally bounces on the balls of his feet, pleading to get tagged in to savor the moment of making cocky Mr. J submit. Braden’s got J trussed up gorgeously in an abdominal stretch, millimeters away from wringing Joshua dry. He shakes his head, clearly pissed that earnest Brad is pleading to give up a sure thing in order to wrench revenge out of his bully’s battered body. Braden is an indulgent muscle daddy, however. Against his better judgment, he tags Brad in.

josh12 — Earnest Brad struggles to pick up where Braden left off.

Brad quickly, just a little awkwardly wraps Mr. Joshua’s aching body back up into an abdominal stretch. But his center of gravity is too far forward. He doesn’t quite stretch Mr. J out to the limit. Braden tries to coach him into position from the corner, but Joshua is obviously catching his breath in Brad’s clumsy control. Brad struggles to nail the submission hold down when abruptly J flexes those stunning abs, twisting forward, pulling the jobber off balance and flipping him over, slamming him to his back. Brad’s blown it!

joshua13 — Mr. Joshua grabs control of this situation with both hands.

If Mr. Joshua was cocky before, if he was taunting and shaming-by-association Braden before, he’s out of control now. Brad is putty in J’s hands. Joshua scolds Braden for letting his muscleboy suck him into such a rookie mistake.

joshua14 — Mr. Joshua defies the rule-abiders from allowing muscle daddy back into the ring.

As long as everyone is playing by the rules, with Mr. J staying on message by neutralizing Braden by monopolizing Brad, he’s got this all wrapped up. But this is Mr. Joshua, and self-restraint is not his strong suit. He both provokes Braden a step too far and completely unnecessarily cheats in his possession of withering Brad. Faces B&B hear the dinner bell ring when Joshua signals that the rules are out the window.

josh10 — So you don’t want to play by the rules, Mr. Joshua!?

Here’s where the most epic promise of this match is realized. Mr. Joshua is absolutely brutalized in a muscle bashing double team. The visuals here are simply stunning. Joshua is completely overwhelmed under two mountains of muscles bearing down on him. B&B toss him back and forth, both muscle daddy and his boy staying perfectly fresh even as Joshua is wearing down to pieces.

josh4 — Braden hoists the screaming muscle heel high and tight.

Mr. Joshua is nothing but B&B’s plaything as they trade him back and forth in bear hugs. Mr. J’s legendarily dangerous muscle physique clad in badboy black suffers with the majesty of a mighty predator-turned-hunted.

joshua16 — Braden feeds his muscleboy with a morsel of crushing his bully.

When B&B turn Mr. Joshua into deli meat in the middle of their muscleboy sandwich, I’m thinking that this has become a game changer in Mr. J’s career arc. Mr. J has suffered before. He’s been crushed by some of the best. But squeezed like jelly between two of the prettiest wrestlers to have jobbed for BG East, Joshua’s humiliation has never been more poignant.

The crushing of Mr. Joshua is complete. B&B are delighted with themselves as they soak in the sight of the notorious badboy turned into their bitch. Brad, in particular, is intoxicated, bouncing for joy and luxuriating in flexing over the once mighty king of the ring. The Best Bulge winner two years running is an impotent puddle on the mat, not just outmuscled, but outmuscled by a pair of pretty boy jobbers-no-more. I’m smelling fresh meat, and if I know the ranks of ambitious young BG East wrestlers (and I do), I’m certain I’m not the only one. Mr. J’s hot ass and massive, pendulous, legendary package have got a pair of bullseyes painted on them.

josh8 — Dive in, boys! Mr. Joshua’s broken body (and ego) is open for business!

And I for one am THRILLED!

Hot off the presses!

June 16, 2014 wrestlebard1 Comment

The weekend I leave home for vacation, BG East goes live with Catalog 104.1! Damn! There’s a lot of eye candy I’m already enjoying on the website. I’ve had a chance to enjoy a couple of the new releases already, but I’m not sure if I’ll be able to give any of these fine offerings a fuller treatment before I get back. Damn, damn, damn! There’s some fine temptations here!

joshua — Muscle sandwich! Mr. Joshua Goodman takes it from the front and the back going 2-on-1 against Braden Charron and Brad Barnes in Tag Team Torture 18.

cam — Cameron Matthews glistens with a bashed Lorenzo “Jake” Lowe draped across his shoulders in Submissions 9.

barry — Instant top tier entry into the Fantasymen category, Big Barry Burke brings the muscle in Ring Rookies 4.

jake — Guido Genatto appears to completely humiliate cocky stud Jake Jenkins in Demolition 17.

jonny — Jonny Firestorm appears to be about to rip the head off of Nick Rush in Demolition 17.

jayden — Jayden Mayne is in a world of hurt against Charlier Panther in Demolition 17.

drake — Drake Marcos, who has yet to deliver on the Christmas present he supposedly has picked out for me from last year, looks like he’s getting owned by one of the most babyfaced babyface rookies, Ty Alexander, in Babyface Brawl X.

Thing appear to get delightfully wet and wild with a bevy of babyface beauties in Wet ‘N’ Wild 7.

The Tease

June 11, 2014 wrestlebard7 Comments

I love/hate a hot tease. I think the best/worst tease in homoerotic wrestling continues to be Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!), for constantly calling attention to his gargantuan package but never giving a glimpse of the monster beneath. I used to place Jobe Zander up there in the rankings of most heartless tease in homoerotic wrestling until a helpful reader pointed out to me his “masterpiece” is unveiled in a solo jerk off appearance in Can-Am’s Hard Heroes title Troubled Tights (which I still need to see). There are plenty of other homoerotic wrestlers who milk me/the suspense viciously with a cruel tease. Among them I count dreamy Rio Garza for that luxuriously hot body getting pummeled to a pulp repeatedly, but somehow never losing his trunks, and pendulous Pretty Pete Sharp who, like Mr. J, sports a mammoth bulge that screams, SCREAMS for someone to grab hold with both hands (it’s a two fister, for sure), but somehow, unbelievably, no one has.

First glimpse of Ty Alexander and Kayden Keller (left) before their BG East debut a month later.

When it comes to the heartless tease, of course there are entire homoerotic companies that choose to wear that mantle by marketing primarily to the gay wrestling kink audience without ever explicitly acknowledging the homoeroticism they invoke. I keep a candle lit that one day Rock Hard Wrestling and Thunder’s Arena, for example, will openly dive into the kink they tease, and I suppose the unrequited, underground wrestling tease is a marketing device for building and holding the tension, as we wait and wonder if they’ll step over the line finally. From an entirely different angle, Our Man Inside (OMI) at BG East has been working the tease like no other for the past 6 months or so, sneaking out behind-the-scenes photos of BGE boys between matches, including previewing never-before-seen newbies yet to see the light of day in official release. You may remember that’s how we “met” beautiful bon-bon Ty Alexander and smoldering heel-at-conception Kayden Keller. Kid Leopard himself gave neverland an exclusive tease of BG East’s new Florida campus and, at the same time, previewed now established monster-muscle heel Lane Hartley and go-go boy extraordinaire, Kip Sorell. Stroking the buzz ahead of release is a sweet moment in sex, and I for one think it has the potential to translate most excellently to the PR of homoerotic wrestling promotion as well.

MDW teases us with handsome muscle hunk Mutant

New kids on the block, Muscle Domination Wrestling, have lubed up and are rubbing out an exquisitely tantalizing tease of a new addition to their roster, Mutant. MDW’s VIP lounge members can peruse this incredible specimen of a muscle hunk in detail, and I’ve provided a few examples of Mutant’s beauty here as well. Mutant is about 5’11” and 225 pounds of insanely hot, hard, low hanging muscle with lickable ink on his left pec, right upper arm, and right obliques. Where do these stats come from, you might ask? MDW hasn’t told us anything about Mutant yet. But this isn’t Mutant’s first toe-dip into homoerotic wrestling. He’s also battled down in Florida for Thunder’s Arena nearly ripping fantasy twink Tak’s head off in Battlespace 69 (which for the numbering, I was hoping for something much more explicit).

Mutant looks like he can tease with the best of them.

I think there’s most definitely a place for tease-marketing, because I love getting my appetite whetted just enough to make me drool like a Mastiff every second until I can match up the reality to where my imagination has taken me. I’m not so much a fan of entire tease companies walking the line, but a sweet preview to get our blood boiling like these shots from MDW are tons of fun. Please, oh please tell me that Mutant is about to meet hairy he-man Chace LaChance in a rip, strip, and oil barnburner. Once Chace has made Mutant his bitch, please let’s see a daddy/boy tag team against just about anyone, but I’d give my left nut for it to be Muscle Master Kevin and an obedient Damien Rush. Just the thought of what might be is getting me very hot and bothered. See what a skillful tease can do!?

Thumbs down his trunks, Mutant teases plenty more to come!

Thank Your Lucky Stars Boys

March 26, 2014 wrestlebard3 Comments

I’m sure I was probably too harsh a couple of days ago when I took poor twink Hunter James to task for not enjoying his muscle worship session with Braden Charron nearly enough in Muscle Domination Wrestling’s Oil Hunks 2. Muscle Master Kevin himself had to comment that I probably got the wrong end of the stick, mistaking Hunter’s deer-in-the-headlights-nervousness with a lack of enthusiasm. Fair enough. It got me thinking about point-of-view. POV in a well-told story typically takes the reader into the scenario in some relatable way. The character from who’s POV the story unfolds is identifiable and comprehensible to the reader. We may not exactly embrace them, but sometimes the truly masterful story is the one that sucks us into the POV of someone we might otherwise think is incomprehensibly other to us (hello, Dexter). Like Hunter James in OH2, there’s a play on POV in many homoerotic wrestling products that pit a man of pure fantasy, ripped from the cover of a physique mag, unattainable like a star in the heavens, and pits him against an opponent who is relatable to the average Joe wrestling fan. The drama unfolds with the majority of viewers squarely in the back pocket of the average Joe, the Everyman. He may win or lose, compete or cave, but the story unfolds with us securely experiencing the scene from the POV of the boy who’s got to be thanking his lucky stars to get thrown into the deep end of the pool to swim with the gods for a brief moment in time.

Hunter James being dominated and “forced” to oil up and admire a naked Braden Charron is a case in point. Hunter is not a physique star. I’m not saying he’s not a handsome little piece of meat, but the contrast between his lean, undefined, attainable body and the bulging, tanned, impeccably groomed beauty of Braden is a contrast that seems to almost inevitably shove most of us into the POV of Hunter. That’s probably why I’m so harsh on him. I think of myself, briefly, vicariously, as him. I’d dig my fingers deep into those glutes when Braden demands that I spread baby oil across his ass, so when Hunter demurely paints on a paper thin coat by barely making contact with that ass, I want to slap the twink around. That’s NOT my POV, damn it. Enjoy it! Play with it. Thank your lucky stars and then dive in with both feet and celebrate the phenomenal physique standing there naked in front of you demanding your adoration.

randy — Randy Dowell looks like he’s staring into the face of a Greek god as he kneels at the feet of Mark Merino.

I’m overemphasizing the attainability aspect of the Everyman, I’m sure. I’m not saying that a wrestler can’t look hot and still carry off the role of selling the average Joe thanking his lucky stars. Take Randy Dowell, for example, who in Wrestle Worship 2 had the stunning good luck to not only worship both Mark Merino and Stan Greer, but to watch, in awe, as Mark and Stan battled with one another over who’s hunky body Randy should worship last. The plain, cold truth is that Randy Dowell is a hot, handsome hunk in his own right. He’s not nearly as massive as Mark or Stan, but he’s fit, hard, and handsome as hell. But its context and sell that make him work as our eyes and ears (and mouth and nose and especially hands) in the ring, with the DVD promo letting us know that Randy is a fanboy who pelted BG East with a flood of pleas to get to meet gorgeous Mark in person. And Randy is thanking his lucky stars over and over, enthralled, enraptured, turned on like a light switch and hitting every mark that a muscle fan would insist on hitting when faced with the smorgasbord of beef set in front him.

randy2 — Randy Stanton may not take possession of Mr. Joshua, but on behalf of us all, he gets an appreciative, lingering grope in of Mr. J’s amazingly hot bod.

Another Randy, Randy Stanton, similarly is in possession of a hot, fit, lean bod all his own, but the handsome hunk is absolutely salivating when he strolls into the BG East mat room behind none other than Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!). Again, context builds this narrative every bit as effectively as Randy’s awestruck and truly awesome sell. The match description explains that Mr. J is playing with fire, letting himself get picked up by star-struck Randy and offering up full possession of Mr. J’s phenomenal physique should Randy have what it takes to own it. Holy hell, what a concept! What a cocky sell both of Mr. J’s gargantuan, mammoth, oversized, mouthwatering massive ego (you thought I was going to say something else), as well as transforming hottie Randy S. into, well, you and me, another guy dizzied by Mr. J’s gorgeousness and slack jawed at the wide open opportunity to get his adoring hands all over that body, heart pumping with the possibility of tagging Mr. J’s ass and, more importantly, unleashing the beast that Mr. J infamously smuggles down the front of his drawers.

Can-Am pulled off a similar motif in their recent release of Pro Sex Fight 10. In this case, it’s much less about the context and the narrative off camera, and built almost entirely on the stunning, striking contrast between the two sex fighters, Drake Wild and Tyler St. James. Tyler is a fantasyman like few others. Tanned, impeccably toned, beautifully blue-eyed Tyler is posted at 6’2″ and around 247 pounds, while lithe, lean, pale Drake is reported to be somewhere in the vicinity of 5’4″ and a buck and a quarter or so. That alone sucks me into that ring irresistibly entranced by the David v Goliath implications, but even more so by the fantasyman v lean, brooding mini-twink. Visually, I’ve seen Drake’s sort out at the bars on plenty of occasions, including the attitude and the Napolean-complex-will-fuck-you-up-for-real stance. I can’t say I’ve ever seen a heavenly vision quite like Tyler in real life, much less had the opportunity to climb into the ring, call him on his shit, and both figuratively and quite literally fuck him up.

My final example of a thank-your-lucky-stars boy who pulls this motif off persuasively is Mark Nelson’s fanboy meets his worst nightmare/fondest fantasy Brooklyn Bodywrecker in Demolition 3. Another fanboy granted his fondest fantasy, Mark is sucking down the humiliation and punishment of BBW like a parched bedouin in the desert. The tension of physical domination, of terror, of the battle of bodies and wills is no less present, and Mark is another hunky hottie, but the sell is all about the point of view of the average Joe who comes face to face with a real, life, towering homoerotic wrestling god.

Who’s your favorite Everyman wrestler and in what match?

Spring is In the Air

March 19, 2014 wrestlebard3 Comments

Spring has arrived (then left, then came back again), bringing with it warm sunshine and hot studs wearing shorts. Honestly, it’s still too cold for shorts, but I’ll slap you silly if you tell that to the well-muscled men in my neighborhood who have been dying all winter to show off their marvelously meaty thighs. Now another 10 degrees warmer and I’m certain they’ll also go shirtless. In the meantime, I’m thanking the homoerotic wrestling gods for the fantasy-fueling glimpses of strong, thick, hunky legs.

In their honor, I lift him an extremely long-time obsession of mine, Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!). I’ve mentioned before that pretty much everything about Joshua is underrated due to the extremely attention-grabbing cantaloupes he smuggles in the pouch of his trunks. I’ve spilt gallons of virtual ink marveling at the package that has won the Best Bulge at BG East award 2 years running, but when I can manage to tear my eyes away from the hypnotically swaying ballast he’s packing, I’m captured by how gorgeous his legs are.

Gorgeous is a word that has to appear a dozen or more times in a review of Mr. Joshua’s appearance in Hunkbash 15 because his opponent is possibly the most gorgeous creature on the planet, devastatingly lovely Rio Garza. Typically I think of the adjective “pretty” to correlate highly with “breakable,” “vulnerable,” and “doomed” when it comes to homoerotic wrestling chatter, but Rio is both supremely pretty and possessing astonishing tenacity and endurance, because he’s had that award winning ass of his beat senseless so many times that no one could begrudge him if he were to never set foot in a wrestling ring again.

rio — Two great tastes that taste great together.

But Rio does, again and again, and once again he climbs into BG East’s ring with one of the most notorious narcissist heels in competition, Mr. Joshua. I’m enthralled with the contrasts as the two check each other out. Skin tone, proportion, features, weightiness… these two men are a bundle of contradictions appearing in the same ring together. I’m incredibly turned on by both, which makes it that much more astounding to me to recognize how different they are in personality and proficiency in the ring.

rio5 — Rio teases those of us aching for more of Mr. J’s gargantuan package.

And when Rio strikes early, spladling Mr. Joshua wide and showing off the prize that Joshua fans worship above all else (that mountainous package), I’m struck by the perspective of seeing Mr. J made so vulnerable by a notorious jobber like Rio. Joshua is perennially dangerous. Even when he loses, he dominates. Even when he’s humiliated, there’s a presence about him that holds the momentum like he holds my gaze. But when Rio rips apart his gargantuan thighs and rolls Mr. J up, asshole toward the ceiling and that legendary bulge bulging and quivering, the drama grabs me hard.

rio6 — Mr. Joshua digs deep into a pile of quivering beauty.

Then, of course, Mr. J grabs Rio. Hard. Holy shit, in the long, long line of brutal beatings Rio has suffered, this is one of the sexiest. There’s no time to worry about whether Rio is going to sell it (a question I’ve raised in the past regarding his work), because Mr. J maintains such a commanding, persistent pace that Rio’s got nowhere to go but down, down, down.

rio7 — Rio is forced to flex, but Mr. Joshua pumps his quads just because he knows how fucking sexy they are.

And here’s where I circle back to the beginning of this post to say that in the bedazzling spectacle of gorgeousness, where my eyes just soak in helplessly one astonishingly sexy sight after another (Joshua’s bulge, Rio’s abs, Joshua’s bulge, Rio’s anguished face, Joshua’s bulge, Rio’s stunning ass, Joshua’s bulge, Rio’s obediently flexed bicep), I can’t help but let out a little gasp of appreciation for Mr. J’s cabled, thick, damn sexy quads. They aren’t in the leading role in this incredibly talented ensemble cast. Fuck, they wouldn’t even get nominated for a supporting role award. But they are essential and breathtaking nonetheless.

rio12 — So much to appreciate, including those awesomely tasty quads!

I once posted about my unrequited lust for precisely two wrestlers who tease and taunt the fans cruelly, dishing out insane quantities of sexiness but always falling just shy of showing off every gorgeous thing about them in a wrestling match: Rio Garza and Joshua Goodman. In Hunkbash 15, they continue their vicious ways, stripping down everything but everything and leaving me shedding a tear of unfulfilled anticipation for seeing either of them (just imagine the novel I’d have written here if they’d both done it!) getting stripped naked and brutalized, finally baring it all. But the bastards still have me wiggling on the hook, as I find still more to drive me crazy with lust. Well played, you horrible, horrible (insanely sexy) hunks.

Tuesday Trunk Pulls

February 25, 2014February 24, 2014 wrestlebardLeave a comment

In a “fresh tugs” edition of Tuesday Trunk Pulls, there’s a big crop of trunk pulls in the new release section at BG East. I mean, a lot! If you need a little extra leverage, if you need a little handle to get everything in just the right position, always feel free to grab hold of the tiniest tether: your opponent’s trunks. And if there’s a camera nearby, treat the rest of us to a little pre-Christmas unwrapping party!