Tag: Joshua Goodman

I’ve complained before about the master cock tease, Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!).  By “complain,” of course, I mean that I bitch relentlessly about the aching frustration of having never seen Mr. J’s gargantuan crotch monster unleashed.   As BG East’s winner for Best Bulge, Joshua’s infamous oversized baggage is in a class of its own (though I’d give a kidney to see a side-by-side and crotch-to-face comparison of Mr. J and painfully pretty “don’t-call-me-pretty” Pete Sharp!).  I’ve spent a lot of time blogging about my unrequited love affair with Mr. J’s junk, and it surprises me not one iota that the longer he’s been in the business, the more Joshua’s most obviously eye-catching asset features prominently in the dramas in which he stars.

Joshua’s most recent release in Ringwars 21 battling against Brooklyn Bodywrecker’s punishment sponge fuck puppet, Ned Norris, is merely the most recent development in the ongoing saga of how Mr. J’s massive package can take center stage whenever he steps into the ring.  Early on in his career, his opponent’s just couldn’t take their eyes off his overstuffed trunks, typically not mentioning it explicitly, but who’s gonna miss it when during every single match he’s got to pause, shove his hand down the front of his trunks, and rearrange things that have shaken loose in the action!? More recently, opponents have begun to want to use Joshua’s pendulous testicles as a punching bag.  That notorious best bulge has been targeted in later catalogs for crotch claws.  BBW was the first and, to date, the only opponent to not only conquer the stunningly beautiful Mr. Joshua, but to then peel him out of his trunks, drape his naked body over one shoulder (displaying the most underrated ass in the business), and carry Mr. J out of the ring.  Before he left, BBW taunted us on this side of the camera.  He knows we want to see what he’s seen lurking underneath Joshua’s trunks, but in the most vicious heel move I’ve ever seen, BBW snarled with contempt at us and assured us that Mr. J is as big and stunning as we suspect… but BBW walks off with the most stunning trophy of all tucked up tightly against his chest, remaining unseen for public viewing.

I thought Ned Norris seemed like an unlikely challenger for Mr. Joshua when I first saw the matchup. He’s a lean 6 foot, with a hairy bod and a handsome face. He’d catch my eye in a crowd… at least a crowd that insanely gorgeous, smooth, sculpted Joshua isn’t in. But when Ned strides across the ring and crowds Mr. J from behind as the infamously dangerous narcissist lustfully studies his own peaked biceps, you’ve just got to admire the audacity. I wouldn’t mind standing that close to Joshua’s hot bod, but Mr. Muscles is a nasty, dangerous powerhouse. When Ned flexes his biceps directly behind Mr. J, the super-close-up comparison is not kind to Ned. He’s a hot, hairy hunk, but he’s clearly a mere mortal when so closely compared to the divine Mr. J. As Joshua fans will expect, he makes Ned pay for for the audacity. It takes him approximately a tenth of a second to drop Ned to his knees and begin a beautifully long session of using Ned’s suffering body as a prop to display the aesthetic perfection of Mr. J’s muscles put to the use that the gods intended when they sculpted him out of granite: dominating an overwhelmed stud in the wrestling ring. True to his most mouthwatering form, Mr. Joshua flexes and poses at every turn, turning every joint wrenching, breath-stealing, soul crushing hold into the stage upon which Joshua’s beautiful physique looks that much more stunning for the obvious utility of it.

There’s nothing that doesn’t stoke my engine with such gusto as Mr. Joshua on script and melding amorous self-worship with total, humiliating domination. But the eroticism spikes dramatically the moment that Mr. J has Ned’s head trapped between his gorgeous, smooth thighs, chin pointed at the ceiling. It’s a stunning visual, this standing headscissors. Ned’s neck looks like Mr. J could snap it with an ever-so-slight twist of his hips. I’d pay an extra month’s rent for Ned’s view at that moment, as Mr. J leans back against the ropes and pumps his guns again. Then out of nowhere, Ned reaches up tentatively, hooks the fingertips of both hands in the waist of the narcissists trunks, and starts to drag them downward. Holy hell, Ned instantly turned from lamb-to-the-slaughter jobberboy into my personal hero! He manages to drag the insanely tight fabric a nice distance, definitely exposing Joshua’s hip flexors. If Mr. J had roused even a half a second slower from his lusty self-adoration, he wouldn’t have managed to cup his hand across the top of the trunks just barely still covering his crotch and halt the downward progress of his gear. There’s a painfully quick struggle between the two, with every ounce of my attention pulling for Ned’s fingertips to win the tug of war. Alas, Mr. J eventually slaps Ned’s hands away and pulls his trunks back up. Fuck. So close.

Mr. Joshua doesn’t seem to hold a grudge about the near-strip. There’s no gay-panic defense necessary here. Mr. J knows what you and I and every sane opponent before and including Ned Norris is fixated on: the real star of the show, his monster package. I live with questions burning through my crotch, such as is that huge heft equally distributed between cock and balls, or is Mr. J primarily one or the other? Ned Norris nearly answered 99% of my aching questions about Mr. J in one fell swoop, and rather than resent him, Mr. Joshua seems merely inspired. He begins to delight in crotch-pinning Ned’s face to the mat over and over. He taunts him with instructions to open his mouth and take Mr. J’s balls whole as he flexes his biceps and grinds his crotch into Ned’s face in a schoolboy pin. Mr. J appears both unsurprised and, if anything, delighted to learn that Ned’s ulterior motive here is unleashing his beast. With the stakes a little clearer, the master narcissist and notorious cock tease does a truly professional job of bringing Ned’s prize so close… so, so close… but holding it just barely out of reach.

Astute fans will note that this is not in the Strip Stakes series, so adjust your expectations if I’ve led you to think that you’ll get the eyeful we’ve been aching for. Ned does not follow in his master’s footsteps, and I can only imagine (fondly) the discipline Ned faced when he got home, dutifully donned his leather collar, and had to relate to BBW how he fared. Mr. J uses his impeccably toned bod to quite literally pound Ned from every angle possible, rolling the hairy jobber across the mat and tenderizing his back with countless knee drops. Again, we know Ned can take (and let’s face it, relish) a brutal beating, but with Mr. J’s conditioning and strength paired with the tantalizing implicit disclosure that Ned’s got his sights set on Mr. J’s number one muscle, Ned’s buttons are both pushed and bashed in with a hammer until he’s a puddle of squashed dreams and quivering muscle. Ned’s fleeting moments of offense show off some sweet, sweet angles of Mr. J’s physique, but like a pebble tumbling down hill, setting off a landslide, Ned eventually gets buried deep beneath the crushing, overwhelming, gorgeous muscle stud on top of him.

The moment Mr. Joshua’s name appears on a BG East Strip Stakes DVD box, I will instantly lose a load. Next time, perhaps Ned Norris and Randy Stanton should coordinate their efforts. If it would help to take up a collection to incentivize Mr. J to battle on sans gear, count me in as a mega-bundler! In the mean time, Joshua has woven that intoxicating, crazy-making, frustrating, and powerfully entertaining web over me that he has so many times before. And I’ll say it again, whoever gives us the Mr. Joshua full-monty goes into a homoerotic wrestler hall of fame all his own!