Tag: Joshua Goodman

Grapefruits

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Have you voted for this month’s homoerotic wrestler of the month yet? If not, pick your wrestler of choice at the top right of this page. The poll closes tomorrow, and as of my writing of this post, it’s a barnburner battle between the Can-Am boys so far. I’m fascinated to see how the final numbers play out!

Tyrell Tomsen large and in charge against Patrick Donovan

In the mean time, I’ve been enjoying (and I do mean enjoying!) some wrestling that earned nominations for homoerotic wrestler of the month two months ago. BG East’s Wrestler Spotlight on Patrick Donovan is profoundly pleasing to me. Patrick and Tyrell Tomsen’s sun room mat match is hot as hell, and I do believe Patrick brings out the sexiest wrestling performance from muscle hunk Tyrell that I’ve seen so far (and I’ve loved Tyrell in everything that I’ve seen!).  Their bodies present a stunning contrast, with Tyrell’s thick, bodybuilder muscles and dark brown skin in as tight an embrace as physically possible with Patrick’s pale, long and lean (but muscled) physique. Patrick has become the king of pec punching, as far as I can tell, and big, meaty pecs like Tyrell’s are an incredible target for Patrick’s solid, concentrated, sadistically thrilling, drilling poundings.

Mr. Joshua and his grapefruit

It should come as no surprise, however, that my greatest infatuation is with Patrick’s ring bout against former favorite homoerotic wrestler – nonpornboy, Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!). Sweet mother of God, Mr. Joshua is driving me insane with lust! The attitude, the ass, those fucking amazing legs, the ripped abs, gorgeous pecs, and sculpted arms, combined with that coverboy handsome face works me with an intensity that makes me seriously consider whether Kid K should get demoted back out of the standings of my top ranked homoerotic wrestlers – nonpornboy division.

Mr. Joshua pins Patrick with his #1 asset

While not as stunning a visual contrast as Patrick’s pairing with Tyrell, Mr. Joshua and Patrick are well-formed, distinct wrestling characters that so many of us have come to know and lust after. The latest incarnation of Patrick is that of a serious, dangerous heel who has learned from years in the business the finer arts of physical punishment. Patrick is a viper. His lip curls in concentration and practiced focus as he dominates Mr. Joshua’s incredible body. He clearly enjoys his work, but he’s not at all light-hearted. He’s deadly serious, even as he slaps down thick sarcasm and taunting. Everything from Patrick is in the service of conquering his opponent. An early flurry of offense catches Mr. Joshua flat-footed, and Patrick puts him on his back folds his legs up to his ears and slides his crotch forward to shove his balls into Mr. Joshua’s face humiliatingly.

Patrick introduces Mr. J to teabagging

“Mr. Donovan!” Joshua gasps and sputters. “You know I don’t like being teabagged!” And there, you can see that Mr. Joshua has an entirely different ring demeanor. Even on his back with his sweet, sweet ass splayed vulnerably in his opponent’s control, Mr. Joshua is a smart ass. I mean that with complete love and respect, mind you. Mr. Joshua is through-and-through a smart ass. He loves the one-liners. He clearly, intensely loves to dominate. I’m captured in this match by his laughter. He laughs domineeringly, of course, but there are more than a couple of moments when he’s got Patrick in a really, really bad way, completely in his control and squirming in agony, and Mr. Joshua chuckles long and sincerely. Mr. Donovan may be all about getting down to business, but Mr. Joshua wants to stop and smell the roses (and the humiliation) along the way. He wants to have some fun (in the nastiest, meanest, most dominating and humiliating way possible) as he does what he does best: turn me on!

Patrick, channeling Bard, with more than a handful of Mr. J’s pride and joy

Mr. J’s cocky clowning seems to get under Patrick’s skin, and the lean veteran appears to work fixedly on the task of pounding the shit-eating grin off his opponent’s gorgeous face. A nasty slap to Mr. J’s hot pecs seems to do the trick. Mr. J clearly takes offense, and his smile fades in a mix of anger and pain. He retaliates with a sweet, loud crack across Patrick’s ass that even hurts just watching it. Patrick doesn’t manage to beat the smart ass out of him, but he effectively puts Mr. J on notice that any lapse, any loss of focus in order to showboat and monologue will earn him swift and painful punishment.

Patrick & Mr. Joshua make me a believer in spandex

I’m generally not a fan of spandex leggings on my wrestlers, but both of these boys do absolute wonders squeezed so tightly into their mid-level gear. The shiny fabric sculpted to Mr. J’s glutes like a layer of paint is completely hypnotizing. After a couple of minutes, I’ve decided that Patrick and Mr. J are already making me fire on all cylinders even with so much of their beautiful legs covered. That does not, however, make me any less exultant at the rip and strip angle of this match. When Patrick pulls off Mr. J’s training pants, my heart skips a beat. “Fine,” Mr. J. concedes without appearing too concerned or surprised by Patrick’s determination to strip him. “Take them off. I know thats what you’ve beeen wanting to do anyways.” And for that, Patrick is nothing short of my own personal avatar in his bout.

Mr. J is more than eager to do some stripping of his own

Mr. J’s smart mouth and all of those other components of his alchemy over me are in full force in this match. Every time he shoves his hand down the front of his trunks and adjusts the ballast therein, my familiar lust/hate relationship with Mr. J comes to the foreground. Either he’s smuggling a porterhouse steak down there, or he’s got mammoth balls that I’m desperate to get a gander at.  When he bodysplashes on top of Patrick, followed up by repeatedly pounding himself, cock-to-cock into his agonized opponent, yet again my identification with Patrick is almost desperate.

Nowhere else in the world I’d rather be!

The tables turn repeatedly in this match in such a way that I genuinely didn’t know which way the wind would finally blow, which is a plot that I appreciate A LOT in wrestling. I like a little suspense. I enjoy being surprised. I appreciate it when I find my loyalties, loves and lusts toyed with by the ebb and flow of a match back and forth, as I find myself torn between wanting more of both sides of the battle.  But when Mr. J turns on the afterburner and eventually begins to pick Patrick apart with glee in his voice and an extra bounce in his chuckle, he has me as completely at his mercy as he eventually has Patrick. The figure-4, face-to-crotch head scissors that Mr. J treats Patrick to goes on for days and transports me body and soul into Patrick in that moment.

Since trunks can’t quite contain him, why, oh why,
does he continue to wear them?!

Once Patrick can’t peel himself off the mat, Mr. J does his customary shoving his hand down the front of his trunks. This time, however, he takes some time to gently massage his testicles, recovering from some particularly vicious assaults by his opponent. Mr. J marvels that, “When you’ve got balls as big as grapefruits, that hurts!”  As Mr. J stands in the center of the ring, staring at the defeated body of his unconscious opponent, he once again digs around in his trunks. And in what I believe might be the first real glance we’ve ever had, his right testicle slides out of his trunks and hangs there for a while before he realizes it and manages to shove it back into its pouch. While possibly not literally of grapefruit proportions (or bowling ball proportions that I’ve suggested in the past), it’s obvious that Mr. J has no need to stuff his trunks with a porterhouse. He’s got major league beef all his own down there.

Mr. J enjoys bondage play and humiliating spitting on poor,  pretty Patrick

The end of this match continues to push the fantasy that Mr. J has inspired in me for his entire career. His decision to tie Patrick’s wrists to the middle ropes and his ankles to the top ropes in the corner nearly makes me lose consciousness from the violent redirection of blood flow in my circulatory system. Then, Mr. J’s choice to grab a bottle of water to spit on his opponent’s helpless, hunky, conquered and splayed body is over the top erotic. But then, when Mr. J turns out the lights and angrily demands that the camera crew get the hell out as he climbs back into the ring to continue the story with Patrick off camera… well, I’ll just say that I’ve got at least three bodily fluids escaping simultaneously and spontaneously.

No…… where….. else!!!

Most of Mr. J’s matches leave me powerfully satisfied (and completely exhausted), and this one is no exception. The pairing of two pros with such extensive resumes is genius. More to the point, it’s a beautiful example of allowing homoerotic wrestling genius to tell its own story, to prod and provoke, to erotically inspire with literalism and fantasy, to know its fans, respect them, and tell a story ripped from our (or at least my) fondest imaginings.

Now, let’s see Mr. J drop the trunks entirely… and keep the camera rolling for the post-victory celebration!

What’s Been Unsaid

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After nearly about a month and a half, I can finally spit out the metallic taste of blood from my mouth! When I made my pilgrimage to BG East in August, I was treated to the privilege of seeing photos from all of the catalog 89 new releases. It was a profound thrill, like being told that I, and I alone, could open all of my Christmas presents a week early. But then I couldn’t talk about it! I couldn’t write about it! I couldn’t obsess on the pages of this blog about each and every tantalizing, confidential morsel from catalog 89 that made my mouth water. I’ve been biting my tongue non-stop since August 5th, and I’m overjoyed that BG East has released catalog 89 for purchase. Let the obsessive reviewing begin (and the healing of my bitten tongue)!!!

I’m just hitting a few highlights for today, because there’s just too much that I’ve had bottled up that I’ve got to say about so many of the new releases. So in addition to nearly making want to cry to see Mitch Colby barefoot in the ring in Florida Fights 3, I’ve been aching to comment on match #1 from that same DVD. Hell and damnation! Kirby Stone can WEAR a pair of skintight shiny pink trunks! That ass has most certainly caught my attention!
Pretty much precisely the same thing has to be said about Cain McDonald in his appearance (taking fall #1!!!) against Mikey Vee. The legs and ass on this grappler make me gasp! That face looks just about too juvenile to feel entirely guilt-free about, but that lower body is 100% guilt-free adult male entertainment.
Next up on the comments burning a whole in my belly: Dev Michaels looks like a fucking monster in the ring against slender, unclassically but undeniably handsome newbie, Lucky Loko. Man alive the two of them make for an astonishingly arousing picture! The fact that Lucky didn’t run screaming from the building on sight of Dev makes him a hot commodity in my book.
And speaking of monsters in the ring (I’ve been DYING to use that line!), has it escaped anyone’s attention that Attila Dynasty appears to be smuggling major meat in his trunks in his scissor fest against Trent Blaze?!!! If the summer Olympics have taught me anything, they’ve taught me that gymnasts are sexy as hell, and the pics of Attila’s acrobatics in the ring have caught me completely off guard. I had no idea from his debut to expect either all that Attila can accomplish without his feet on the ground, or the massive ballast in the pouch of those powder blues (I’m heading back to Backyard Brawls 7 right now for another look).
Next up, it simply must be said that the sight of Z-Man clawing Skrapper’s chest and swinging for the rafters makes me just about ready to pop right here and now. If I know Skrapper, however, Z-Man better not count him out a moment too soon!
And I’ve been anticipating the hating for a while, but I call it like I see it. And as much as the sight of Rio Garza’s body getting worked over (and that face crushed between his opponent’s legs) is like icing on the cake, the pics of Jimmy Gee’s slabs of beef that are his muscled ass has got the be the most delicious main course in this match for me.
I’ve also been aching to say that it’s about time for another installment of Wrestle Worship. I love this concept. I need more of this concept. And newbies Magnus and Surge appear to dish up an extraordinary amount of eroticism with delightful proportions of both wrestling and body worship. Does anyone else wonder if Magnus requires his own zip code? And speaking of numbers, does anyone have Surge’s telephone #!?
Again, I’ve been dying to celebrate the return of ripped, rock hard Tyrell Tomsen. I can’t think of a better opponent to pick apart a bodybuilder adonis than the likes of sexy-assed veteran Patrick Donovan.

And finally, Mr. Joshua, Patrick, barefoot, in the ring, with Patrick’s testicles getting crushed in Mr. J’s fist… You’ll have to excuse me now. I need to rehydrate after writing those words. I’m sure you’ll be hearing much, much more from me about all of this in the future.

Bard’s Pilgrim Way – Journey’s End (Part 2)

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A prominent piece in the BG East collection of wrestling art and memorabilia.
My pilgrimage to the BG East compound was nothing if not a spiritual experience! Having toured the grounds and been awed at the sight of the outdoor settings in which some of my favorite homoerotic wrestling inspiration has been taped, the Boss led me back inside to continue the tour.
I was conscious of a sudden spike in my arousal. I’d never thought about it before, but there’s something about the interior BG East matches that stroke my wrestling kink more powerfully than just about anything else. Downstairs, we walked past the home gym that I’ve seen many times before in the prelude to so many BG East matches. No one was working out that day, but in that library of homoerotic wrestling I treasure in my mind’s eye, I could see golden boy Troy Baker at the pec deck, muscle bruiser Jed Jamison doing bicep curls, bilingual Chris Bruce pumping out incline presses.
Alexi Adamov talks trash as Christopher Bruce pumps iron in
BG East’s Mat Hunks 8
When Kid Leopard led me into the matroom, I experienced another spike in my homoerotic wrestling arousal. I’ve enjoyed watching so much powerfully sexy wrestling inside those 4 grey walls. It struck me that it’s a bigger space than it seems on camera. Even still, picturing two sweaty wrestlers throwing each other around with a cameraman trying to stay out of the way (while capturing the perfect angle on the action), made me appreciate both the artistry and mechanical expertise of the BG East mat matches that much more. It was just a few weeks ago I was renewing my arousing fascination with Skrapper, watching his rude awakening  at the hands (and legs and lips) of AJ Lyle for Undagear 17 on those very same black mats. I was fascinated staring at the wall just to the right of the door, where rookie Randy Stanton momentarily clawed Joshua Goodman’s pecs (that’s Mr. Joshua Goodman’s pecs to you!), until the pendulously hung muscle stud screamed.
Rookie Randy Stanton makes Mr. Joshua scream in the
mat room for BG East’s Matmen 21
It was the journey upstairs, however, that made my heart beat the fastest. Climbing the spiral staircase (you’ve seen it), we reached the door to what felt to me like the holy of holies: the BG East pro wrestling ring.

Rock hard Brad Rochelle uses every inch of the BG East ring
to humiliate jobber Patrick Donovan in BG East’s Wrestlefest 2
I was stunned by how familiar it was! The wrestling memorabilia all over the walls, the ringside mirror, the iconic wrestling ring tucked tightly into the corner. So much of my homoerotic wrestling inspiration set in this space made visions literally appear in front of my eyes… of sweat-soaked Brad Rochelle squeezing lean Patrick Donovan’s head between his rock hard thighs while the jobber suffered helplessly tied in the ropes… of towering Mitch Colby in a Mexican Ceiling Hold, suspended so gorgeously and vulnerably in the air by ripped heel Cole Cassidy… and merciless Kid Leopard himself, standing there right next to me, but simultaneously there inside the ring with his arm locked across Wade Cutler’s throat as the stripped muscle hunk obediently jerked off for KL’s pleasure.
“The Professor Winthrop Fitzgerald Arena
James McCartin, Builder 1993
Kid Leopard, Proprietor”
The Boss pointed out the plaque on the outside of the ring post facing the door. I’ve seen the ring a thousand times (at least), but never noticed the plaque before: The Professor Winthrop Fitzgerald Arena.  “Professor Winthrop Fitzgerald designed the ring. He also appeared…” I finished the sentence at the same time the Boss did, “… in Live at Campus!” The professor was Scott Rogers’ “manager and mentor,” appearing as his corner man in Roger’s unsuccessful title match against Kid Leopard himself. The Boss told me that the professor once hosted gatherings of wrestlers at his own Florida compound.

A recent addition to the extensive wrestling art collection in
the ring room and throughout the BG East compound
The Boss pointed some more choice, up close details of the ring room. The extensive collection of wrestling art throughout the entire BG East compound includes some wonderful works ringside. He pointed out the cabinet in the corner that we almost never see, with notebooks full of details on BG East wrestlers, including their signature moves and training goals. There was the clock on the wall, a piece of wrestling memorabilia itself, which didn’t actually work any longer, which resulted in many a wrestling session going longer than anticipated as everyone lost track of time.

Pro wrestling collectibles lining the walls of the BG East ring room
I was standing at the altar of my homoerotic wrestling kink, an awed pilgrim soaking it in. I associate the BG East wrestling ring with some of my most ecstatic, intimate, private moments, so to be standing there in the light of day next to Kid Leopard himself left me feeling almost raw.  I’d traveled a long way from home to find myself journeying deep within myself, treasuring that library of homoerotic wrestling inspiration that emerged from this very spot.

Giving It a Shot

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I haven’t talked about it much, but it’s not exactly a secret that I’ve occasionally been invited to write text for new releases on the BG East website.  I’ve felt incredibly privileged to be given the opportunity to contribute a small piece to the industry that has inspired, provoked, and aroused me for so long.  I had to think about it carefully the first time I was asked, though. My primary relationship to homoerotic wrestling is as a consumer and fan. I have incredible respect for the hard working hunks in front of and behind the camera making this business fly, but I’m very conscious of the fact that my investment in each new release is very different from those who climb into the ring, slam one another down to the mat, or busily work the booking, payroll, production and delivery of the wrestling entertainment that shows up like magic in my mailbox. I wrestled (metaphorically) with feelings of insecurity, concerned that my text might not do justice to the intimate athleticism, artistry, and livelihoods wrapped up in each match. In the end, I conceded to “give it a shot,” seeing whether I could bridge the distance between my wrestling fantasy consumption and my relatively mechanical skills in stringing together words and metaphors (you know how I love my metaphors), and manage to contribute materially to the production of homoerotic wrestling. 

Giving it “a shot” has continued with some frequency since that first match I wrote. With each new copy I generate, I feel a profound humility. I’m not just being modest. While I’ve received affirmation of my writing skills from many different corners of my life, I grapple with deep down feelings of inadequacy each and every time I write marketing materials. Happily, BG East edits my text to smooth out the rough edges, accentuate the particular appeal of each match, and correct my grammar and spelling. Despite my moments of anxiety, I’ve never had text returned to me as unworthy. When it’s polished and published, I inevitably assess the final product better than I thought it was when it was fresh on the page. As of very recently, I’ve continued to be invited to participate in generating copy for BG East new releases. And  each time, I think carefully, gauging the distance between my investment as a homoerotic wrestling consumer and the blood, sweat and tears (I like the tears… more tears in homoerotic wrestling, please!) that go into the painstaking work of producing hot, hard, high quality wrestling.

Aside from what it is I’ve been able to contribute to the homoerotic wrestling industry, writing copy for the BG East website has also had an impact on me. I sweat out every dot and tittle, so whenever I’m handed a new release to write, everything else (blog posts, my original homoerotic wrestling fiction, my “real life” work) gets sidelined for a while. However, it’s also afforded me the opportunity to review some truly awesome wrestling matches before almost anyone else has, and it’s introduced me to some incredibly skilled and arousing wrestlers who might not have otherwise caught my eye and commanded my attention. It’s also sensitized me (even more than I was already) to the hot copy that other authors write for homoerotic wrestling marketing materials, and I’m certain that it’s made me a better writer (every time I share text under any circumstances, I learn more about the art). I’ve been delighted to virtually meet a few of the creative minds behind the scenes, who, I am delighted to report, have been remarkably gracious and generous to work with.
I consider myself as someone still trying this gig out. I continue to think carefully about what I’m able to contribute and how writing marketing copy impacts my enjoyment of my homoerotic wrestling fantasies.  Perhaps the time will come when the invitations to write stop coming my way. Maybe I’ll hit the wall someday, and decide that I just don’t have it in me to write marketing text any longer. But for now, when the invitations come my way, I still experience a thrill that I may have something worthwhile to offer, that my words might be of value to the industry from which I receive so much pleasure. I suspect that the next time I’m asked, I’ll probably feel that familiar wave of excitement laced with pangs of insecurity, and I’ll say once again, “Sure, I’ll give it a shot.”

Bard’s Fantasy League Picks

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When Z-Man debuted with BG East 3 months ago, a regular reader emailed me to let me know just how excited he was by this news. He immediately speculated on who from the BG East roster Z-Man should wrestle next. Turns out, he hit the nail right on the head, proposing that a Z-Man v Kid Karisma bout would be over the top arousing.

Of course, now we know, Z-Man followed up his mat debut with BG East with a pro ring muscle match against none other than Kid K. Nice call, savvy neverland reader! And your prediction that a Z-Man v Kid K match would be smokin’ was perfect prognostication.

From a different angle, Cage Thunder recently called out both BG East rookie Austin Cooper AND proposed a detailed ring match scenario against Austin’s rookie buddy, Jake Jenkins. I’ve got a major league crush on Jake,  so Cage’s proposal to face him in the ring is fueling my imagination. Jake in white trunks with pale blue trim, then 30 minutes after stepping into the ring with Cage, stripped naked, pounded into a daze and helpless in Cage’s skilled hands… well, this concept is pure gold, in my estimation.

All of this speculation, proposal and prognostication sheds light on what I assume must be a nearly universal mental exercise that wrestling kinsters play: the fantasy homoerotic wrestling card. At least, I’ve been playing that game for as long as I’ve been erotically captivated by wrestling. I love that these virtual connections available to us now, like blogs and emails, give us the opportunity to compare notes. So, in addition to a Cage on Jake Jenkins ring strip battle, here are the current top 3 fantasy league homoerotic wrestling matches on my scorecard:

Lon Dumont v Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!)

I’ve fantasized about this combination long and hard. Not only would this settle once and for all the question of who deserves the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy division (but remember, it’s about who turns me on the most, not necessarily who “wins”), I also think this would be an absolutely amazing mash-up of two delightfully different sets of assets.

Thiago Diaz v Brad Rochelle
I haven’t even had an opportunity to see if Thiago has anything at all to offer in the wrestling ring other than that fantasyman bod and that hefty package dangling between his legs, but I’m already lining him up for some rookie initiation. The return of Brad has been a long-held aching fantasy of mine (and many others, I know), and I think Brad working over Thiago’s muscles from top to bottom would be an earth-shaking combination of veteran fan favorite with jaw dropping rookie sensation.
Cody Nelson & Travis Storm v Kid Vicious and Rafe Sanchez

First of all, Kid V partnering with Rafe Sanchez has long haunted my homoerotic wrestling dreams. Second, I’ve nursed a whole lot of lust for a PG-to-R-rated evolution of the careers of pretty, innocent, eager muscle boys Cody and Travis. I picture this as both a coming-of-age wrestling scenario for the bright-eyed boys as well as Rafe’s first apprenticeship match, learning from the master of sadism himself.

What are your fantasy league homoerotic wrestling matches of choice?

Enraptured

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While a California nut job has garnered unfortunate attention for predicting that the world will “end” today, I have to reluctantly admit that I’m having a profound religious experience at this very moment. I haven’t been “raptured,” but I’m enraptured by yesterday’s release of the latest BG East catalog. So much eye candy! Surely there’s some divine inspiration bringing together the likes of coverboy handsome muscle stud, Marco Carlow, and Dev Michaels with BG East-style motel wrestling. And speaking of divinity, I’m powerfully provoked by the promising return of the lickable body of Angelo Blanco in lip-smacking, dicks out, asterisk-punctuated Masked Mayhem 8. I’m aching to see Jonny Firestorm and my former homoerotic wrestler of the month, Bobby Horton, sorting out who’s badder, now that I’ve read Joe’s preview review. But it’ll probably come as no surprise that it’s Gut Bash 8 that’s made the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel’s Messiah ring in my ears.
I’m on board with anything I can get my hands on starring my favorite homoerotic wrestler – nonpornboy, Lon Dumont. If there were ever abs screaming out for gut pounding testing, it’s the competition-quality physique of sexy Lon. Sweet Jesus, that body brings a tear to my eye! Lon’s sporting a shaved head, so if I’m tracking his heads-up from my interview with him a couple of months ago, this match against Joe Robbins must have been taped sometime last year.

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! Behemouth 6’2″, 240 pound Joe Robbins stacked up side-by-side against crystal cut, 5’7″, 145 pound Lon is a heaven-sent scenario. I’ll take some big v small wrestling fun anyday, but when “small” is the physique of a podium-topping competitive bodybuilder, this just opens up incredible possibilities of homoerotic wrestling paradise.

Holy shit! Lon in still frame getting an ab-workover by big Joe is perfection. So I’m not sure how to upgrade on perfection when it comes to Lon’s razor sharp wit and fast-on-his feet cocky banter forged from years of pro-wrestling. More of Lon is always an answer to prayer, but gut pounding from a beasty Joe is pure, unmerited, divine grace.

Ah, hell, but wait… Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) shows up on the other side of this Gut Bash 8 package. And speaking of packages, Mr. J has got to have made a pact with the devil, to be that handsome, that gorgeously fit, and having that much heft to have to stuff into skin tight trunks. It’s no wonder that Mr. J is the top contender in my book, to be in line to challenge Lon for the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestler – nonpornboy. 

Damn, damn, damn! While I still say every Mr. J new release ought to repeat the storyline of Matmen 21 (Mr. J challenges an amorous admirer to wrestle for the opportunity to earn the reward of full contact bodyworship of Mr. J), I won’t turn my nose up to Mr. J putting his “20 pack” on the line in a gut pounding ring battle with big Eddy Rey.

The sight of Mr. J squeezing Eddy’s face between his muscular thighs as Eddy is tied up in the ropes makes me think all sorts of delightfully guilty thoughts. One of those thoughts is that this ought to be one of the rides at that homoerotic wrestling theme park that I’ve been fantasizing about lately. I’d wait in line to take Eddy’s place here, that’s for certain. Mr. J is one of the best at making being bad look so, so good. He’s a devilish, sneaky, powerful, egomaniacal hunk who is always chomping at the ass of my favorite homoerotic wrestler- nonpornboy, Lon for my loyalty. It’s like Lon is there, flashing an ab-crunching double bicep pose on my right shoulder, and Mr. Joshua has one hand cradling the back of his head and the other stuffed down his trunks (rearranging his manhood), on my left shoulder.
And here I am, right in the middle, in pure heaven!

A Fan Favorite

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Yesterday I celebrated Brook Stetson, co-owner of my homoerotic wrestler of the month title. Today, at the risk of repeating myself, I turn to Brook’s partner in crime, the other co-owner of my homoerotic wrestler of the month title, Mitch Colby.

Mitch was a running feature obsession in this blog almost from the beginning. When he debuted for BG East in Alexi Adamov’s Wrestler Spotlight tape, I was instantly a fanatic. Drop dead gorgeous, strong as an ox, and glistening with sweat, there’s nothing that I don’t like about Mitch’s physique. But it was always something more, something unexpected that Mitch brought to the table that has made me never be able to take my eyes off of him when he wrestles.

It’s his maturity, by which I do not mean some asinine euphemism for his age. True, he showed up on the scene a decade or two later than some of the youngest bucks that vie for our attention in the homoerotic wrestling world, but frankly that’s neither here nor there for me. Mitch possesses a chilled calmness, an unflappability, a stone cold centeredness that reflects a mature soul. I mean, let’s face it, it’s hard to out-pretty Alexi Adamov. But Mitch is every ounce as gorgeous, as far as I’m concerned, and he’s a good bit sexier because he seems to understand exactly who he is at every moment, no matter what the trash talk and mind games his opponents toss his way. The way Mitch puts Alexi in his place and leaves him flat on his back in the gazebo is all sorts of pleasing.

I won’t try to give a comprehensive blow by blow of Mitch’s career because, let’s face it, that’s been an ongoing labor of love throughout the nearly two years of this blog. Rather, let me note the highlights that taught me something new about the big, beautiful Mitch. For example, after a hard, sweaty gazebo battle with pretty boy Alexi, things turned down right nasty for him when he climbed into the wrestling ring against one of BG East’s resident bad boys, ripped stud Cole Cassidy, in Ringwars 15. Sadly, this is Mitch’s only appearance to-date in the ring. Perhaps the seriously vicious beating he took at Cole’s expert hands (and particularly the torture Mitch’s pecs took in Cole’s claws) left Mitch with PTSD for ring action. Mitch works some nice offense in on the little powerhouse, but when it comes to decimating and displaying a big, hard hunk, there’s arguably no one better than Cole. Happily, Mitch proves that he can suffer and take a beating like that hard, ripped body of his would imply.

Mitch’s first motel match was notable for me, particularly, because he squared off with Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) in Motel Madness 7. Yes, the reigning top contender for my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy went toe-to-toe with the reigning top contender for my favorite homoerotic wrestler – nonpornboy division. Mitch’s physique is simply perfect in this match, and I don’t blame him a bit for allowing Mr. J to maneuver him into position to shove that massively packed crotch of his into Mitch’s face.

My next stop on Mitch’s memory lane is another motel match, in which Mitch showed what he would do if BG East dangled a little bit of fluff in his face, by which I mean twink delight, Jeremy Burk, in Motel Madness 8. This is classic big v little wrestling, and I’m on the record repeatedly as partial to that scenario. What makes this match hit my list of must mentions about Mitch are two things, really. 1) This is a fantastically erotic match that’s expertly paced. Some squashes are downright boring, but there’s nothing at all boring about Mitch’s systematic pummeling of Jeremy. It gets hotter, more painful, more humiliating, and sexier with every passing moment. And 2) this was my first peek at Mitch naked. After crushing Jeremy, Mitch takes his little piece of fluff to the bathroom where they peel out of their gear and explore one another’s bodies in and out of the shower. My fetishistic lust to scrub Mitch down from head to toe with a thick, slick coat of lathered soap probably belongs on a different fetish blog, but suffice it to say, I’m bitterly envious of Jeremy.

Back to the Florida sunroom, and my next notable highlight of Mitch in action is his sweat-fest with Skrapper in Catchweight 3. Seems that Mitch has a taste for the lightweights, and despite putting up some serious offense, Skrapper was always destined to be schoolboy pinned with Mitch’s sweaty crotch shoved in his face. What stands out from this match, however, is the post-match pool play. Mitch fireman-carries his twink out of the sunroom (with Skrapper slyly copping a feel of Mitch’s glutes along the way… I tell you, that Skrapper impresses me!), and then tosses the spent punk into the pool. One last bearhug in the middle of the pool turns from a device for inflicting pain into a passionate embrace, as they make out enthusiastically. Many, many more homoerotic wrestling matches should end this way.

The same Florida sunroom is the setting for a true epiphany in Mitch’s resume. He takes matters firmly in hand against Derek da Silva in Crotch Crushers 1, tapping into his sadist side to beat, pound, claw and, indeed, crush Derek’s testicles. In addition to being the first time I saw Mitch really grab hold of his opponent’s manhood, it’s also memorable because it was right around this release that Derek stole the title as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy from Mitch for a brief time. The contrast of short, pale and hairy muscleboy v tall, tanned, and smooth muscleboy is aesthetically stunning.

It was the release of Mitch’s Wrestler Spotlight tape that helped Mitch rip his inaugural title belt away from Derek and slap the hairy Italian into second place. Most specifically, it was Mitch’s matroom sweat fest with Patrick Donovan that turned my affections decisively back to Mitch. This match is profoundly arousing from start to finish, but it’s the bearhug competition right in the middle that makes my heart pump hardest. Patrick and Mitch are in the same league when it comes to almost everything… height, weight, good looks, fit physiques, wrestling skill, and maturity. So it’s that much more climactic when Mitch once and for all puts the veteran down, climbs on top, and locks lips with the loser.

A few months after Mitch regained his title as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, he lost it in stunningly fast fashion against the wickedly nasty stylings of Rusty Stevens. From the realm of Naked Kombat and Can-Am, Rusty managed to grab my attention and hold on with both hands. Mitch slid into the top contender spot behind Rusty’s razor sharp trash talking and primal determination to dominate his opponents. So when BG East, just a few months later, released the Breaking Point: Sexiest, in which Rusty and Mitch have it out in the Florida sunroom, I was in awe. This was my fantasy come to life. I mean, most homoerotic wrestling is in one way or another my fantasies played out for me, but this was quite specifically and particularly my fantasy of pornboy v pornboy wrestling. While Mitch came out on top (at the same moment Rusty was cumming from the underneath), I had to say decisively that it was Rusty who aroused me most in this match, primarily on what is undeniably his #1 strength: his witty trash talk and delight in dishing out humiliation. It was a battle for the ages, but Mitch was relegated to stick it out in second place in my rankings.

And then last month, BG East released Mitch’s most recent match for Sunshine Shooters 4, which earned him the homoerotic wrestler of the month co-title. Mitch is also currently in possession of the top contender spot for my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy yet again, chomping at Trent Diesel’s gorgeous ass to take the title for the third time. Regardless, however, Mitch will always be a favorite, and wherever he is at any particular moment in the rankings of my favorites, I will always be a Mitch fanatic.

Asses Named

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I think I must study homoerotic wrestlers’ asses more compulsively than you. Or, perhaps, you just played yesterday’s game of Name that Ass at home, rather than drop a comment here. In either case, topher and Jose D. get smiley faces on their homework for excellent effort, with Jose D. getting an extra star on his for correctly naming (if tentatively) 4 out of 5 of the asses. For the record, and for you playing at home, here were the correct answers:

Ass #1 belongs to the top contender for the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy: BG East’s Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you! and extra credit to Jose D. for mentioning this fact). I figured this might pose a challenge because, seriously, it’s an uphill battle to try to tear your eyes away from Mr. J’s mammoth package to appreciate his remarkably beautiful assets elsewhere. I think the best shot of his fantastic, sweaty, hard muscled glutes show up when he’s stripped to his thong in his match with Rocco in Jobberpalooza 7. True, Mr. J is completely bare-assed at the hands of Brooklyn Bodywrecker in Mr. J’s Wrestler Spotlight, but this is mostly smoke and mirrors, and I remain bitter at being personally taunted by BBW at the end of this bout (well, not me personally, but all of us suckered into snapping this piece up to see Mr. J’s naked piece… doesn’t happen). Mr. J pulling out some thonged ass domination on Rocco, for my taste, is the best for ogling his carved, round muscle glutes.

Ass #2 from yesterday’s game belongs to Rock Hard Wrestling rookie sensation, Travis Storm. I like Travis. A lot. His teeth attract my attention first. His got a major mouthful of them. A close second favorite attribute of the rookie his is sweet, round ass. Jose D., wracking up extra credit after extra credit, correctly noted that yesterday’s pic #2 comes from Travis’ delightful match against the butt-fantastic likes of Cody Nelson. Travis’ deep-seated camel clutch on Cody is like a clash of Titans, as lucious mounds of muscle press against luscious mounds of muscle. I will pay to see more of Travis’ gorgeous ass, and there are two ways of interpreting that statement, and both are equally accurate.

Ass #3 from Name That Ass belongs to another homoerotic wrestling rookie desperately in need of another match: Can-Am’s Landon Mycles. Jose D. gets partial credit for naming Landon, but only tentatively. There’s nothing tentative about Landon’s hot, hairy, blond naked ass in Pro Sex Fight 1 against Michael Vineland. If this pornboy does not turn up naked and soaked in sweat in the ring again, this will be a crime against wrestling kink nature. Landon was a one-time favorite homoerotic wrestler of the month, and I have my fingers crossed that someday he’ll have another crack at the title.

Ass #4 was again, tentatively and correctly identified by Jose as belonging to my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, Trent Diesel. Damn, I love Trent’s ass. Sure, I love Trent’s everything, but that ass is so aesthetically pleasing. He seems to like to require his vanquished opponent’s to bury their faces deep between those gorgeous cheeks, and while I’m not really up for that with just anyone, Trent would definitely be on my list of boys to rim. Occasionally, Naked Kombat takes the boys into the shower for “round 4,” which is the context for this shot of Trent soaping up across the shower from Ryan Rockford who just beat Trent’s tantalizing ass in oil. Ryan may have come out on top in NK points, but Trent is by far the most entertaining element in this, and nearly all, his matches. Long live the king.

The final ass in my inaugural Name That Ass game (there will be more… I had fun, whether you did or not), stumped even Jose D. Indeed, this ass is featured over at Thunder’s Arena. But it does not belong to Z-Man or Ace Hanson. No, I’d trade even their fine butts for this one. This ass could belong to none other than Mr. Ass-tastic himself, Big Sexy. I first cottoned on to the thrill value packed into Big Sexy’s amazing ass when he showed up as Santa for Thunder’s Arena’s holiday novelty match. In head-to-toe red spandex, there was just no mistaking that the athletic glutes on this man were world class. I’ve since gone fishing through many of the Big Sexy archives, and for my tastes, his #1 asset is displayed most pleasingly in his 2010 appearance against Z-Man for the Halloween Pumpkin match. Holy hell.

So how did you do? Did you beat Jose D.’s score? Perhaps more clues will be in order next time around.  Till then, you’ll have to practice. Watch lots (and I mean LOTS) of homoerotic wrestling, paying particular attention to the fine, fine, muscle asses you see. Good luck.

Crowning a New Champion

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It probably hardly needs mentioning, does it? I was so completely charmed by my interview with Lon Dumont that no one could be surprised to learn he’s reclaimed his title as my favorite homoerotic wrestler (non-pornboy division).

Since I stumbled across Rusty Stevens’ resignation from porn, the serious competition has been in the non-pornboy rankings, as far as I’m concerned (no disrespect intended toward Trent Diesel, of course). Joshua Goodman’s (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) last two matches have been stunningly erotic, even while still including no actual nudity. When Mr. Joshua decided to put bodyworship on the table, and invite a gym bunny admirer to wrestle for the pleasure of owning Mr. Joshua’s gorgeous body, that nudged him right over the top of inaugural title holder, Lon. But after having the opportunity to actually chat with Lon, there’s no doubt about it. He’s managed to body slam Mr. Joshua back into second place.

Mr. Joshua v Chico Valdez – Ring Rookies 2

I think it was the moment that Lon thanked me for noticing the fine way he fills out his wrestling trunks, that the title technically changed hands. He just has a graciousness about him with regard to my insistent adoration of his granite-carved physique that’s astonishingly sexy. As is abundantly evident in both the interview and Lon’s matches, he’s quick-witted and smart, and I wouldn’t be all that surprised to see him make an appearance competing on Jeopardy (and likely kicking ass there, as well). Graciousness and smarts as accessories to a competition bodybuilding body with years of hardworking wrestling experience? Hell, yeah! Lon Dumont is definitely the undisputed title holder in my book.

Lon Dumont v Terry O’Daly – Demolition 14

The only blemish on Lon’s BGE career thus far is the tag team loss he suffered at the brutal hands of Donnie Drake and rookie sidekick Doug Rand. I had intended on asking Lon more about this cloud hanging over his match record, but I was completely charmed by his passion for sharing his life with rescue animals. So, let me tally this us once more… graciousness, smarts, granite body carved by Michaelangelo, veteran wrestling savvy, AND sensitive, socially conscious animal lover!? My, oh my… Mr. Joshua, you’ve got your work cut out for you.

But back to Lon’s only match loss, the question I’d planned to ask Lon was about his tag team partner in that fated match, Chace LaChance. Personally, as a firmly established Lon fanatic, I’d think Lon would have had better odds of coming out on top taking on Donnie and Doug single-handedly. I thought that Chace brought almost nothing to the table other than his sweet, go-go boy muscles (which, let’s face it, fall into the category of “cute” next to the sliced and diced hardness and definition of Lon), his five-o-clock shadow, and that metaphorical target painted on his pretty, all-over-tanned ass that said, “Kick the shit out of me!” In fact, my take was the Chace was a net competitive loss for the LaChance/Dumont side of the equation (though he does bring plenty of “pretty” to enjoy).

Chace LaChance

Chace has been getting that sweet ass of his beaten left and right in his short tenure with BGE, so I don’t know if he’ll even have the audacity to show up again, particularly after his abject humiliation in a second appearance against Donnie Drake, where Donnie manhandles and mauls both Chace and Brent Salvo simultaneously and single-handedly (only further proving my point that Chace was clearly the weakest link when he teamed with Lon). But if Chace is still sniffing around for more BGE action, then I think Lon ought to re-open that wrestling school of his that he mentioned (and a can of whoop-ass) with Chace LaChance as his first pupil. Corporal punishment would definitely be standing orders.

Lon Dumont v Eddie Rey – Fantasymen 32

I suppose, when it comes right down to it, I’m not sure who wouldn’t make Lon look good. Perhaps Joe Robbins could fit the bill that Lon suggested might earn a victory over him, considering Joe is, indeed, right around 100 pounds heavier and over half a foot taller. But as I said to Lon, I pity any wrestler who thinks that’s the only thing it will take to defeat him. When it comes to who might be “foolish enough” to accept a forced-to-flex challenge from my favorite bodybuilder battler, I’d nominate Kid Karisma (who would NEVER believe that his muscles could be inferior to anyone’s), or perhaps a green rookie who needs initiated into the ring, like Attila Dynasty. Of course, it goes without saying that there’d be just about no bigger battle of egos than a Lon v Mr. Joshua face-off, but I still say that Mr. Joshua should devote himself exclusively to matches that involve wrestling amorous admirers intent on worshipping his body and tapping his ass, if they can defeat him. Much more of that from Mr. Joshua is his best chance at clawing his way back on top of Lon’s rippled abs and reclaiming the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestler, non-pornboy division.

Someone is, at this very moment, complaining that Lon granting me an interview has unjustly swayed my rankings. Let me just emphasize that these favorite homoerotic wrestling rankings are always MY favorite homoerotic wrestling rankings. This is always about who’s turning me on and entertaining me the most, and hands down, that would be Lon these days. Of course, if there are any other contenders who’d like to even the playing field by giving me an interview, I’m more than happy to oblige! That said, it’ll be tough to charm me quite as much as my reigning homoerotic wrestling non-pornboy, Lon Dumont.

Battling Brothers

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Homotrophy keeps delighting me, lately. These pics of “Eric” from the Sweat Underwear collection (a collection designed with you and me in mind, clearly) caught and held my attention. This is hardly surprising, since Eric is quite a hot hunk. But there was something more, some bell ringing in the back of my head. Finally, I figured out what connections were getting made in my subconscious. You may not see the resemblance, and if so, keep it to yourself (don’t kill my buzz!). But personally, I think Eric looks a lot like my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler (nonpornboy), BG East’s own, Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!).

With you, my discerning reader, in mind, I conducted an extensive visual inspection of everything I could get a hold of for Eric and for Mr. Joshua. It was grueling, painstaking work, I tell you, but I’m committed to your enlightenment. I finally decided that I don’t think that Eric is, indeed, Mr. Joshua in a clever underwear model disguise. And I’m happy to say that Mr. Joshua doesn’t have Eric’s nipple piercings, because that just always seems a dangerous accessory in a homoerotic wrestler. No, rather than a doppelganger, I think Eric is more like Mr. Joshua’s hot brother or first cousin. Similar face, very similar body (if Mr. J is a tad harder and bigger), and after agonizingly labored inspection with my zoom, I have to say that it looks entirely possible that Eric has a package that very well could be in the same (extremely exclusive and astonishingly impressive) league with Mr. J’s.
I’m always a sucker for the sexy brother/cousin tag team gimmick. I saw through this gimmick about the time that I watched them try to sell Lance as a “Von Erich.” Frankly, I always assumed Kerry must’ve looked a lot like the milk man, but Lance? There’s no way that came from the same corner of the gene pool. But it was the story that made me suspend my disbelief. It was the layering of drama, along with the side by side multiplication of beauty, that made me feel some extra loving for battling brothers/cousins. 
I think Eric looks like he could be game for some hot, sweaty action, BGE-style, don’t you? Mr. Joshua ought to bring his “little” brother, Mr. Eric, along for a tag team bout. At some point, there would need to be side-by-side standing head scissors on their poor (lucky, lucky, lucky) opponents, as the brother’s simultaneously shove their big hands down the front of their trunks to adjust the oversized luggage they both carry. And because everything Mr. Joshua does from now on MUST continue the fantastic theme of body worship, ala his smoking hot recent mat romp with rookie Randy Stanton, the Mr. Goodman Brothers team would certainly work themselves into a frenzy by soaking in the awed adoration of their opponents. They’ll probably want to trade worshippers at some point. Mr. Joshua will probably demand some double-team worship, because his ego is just that big. Mr. Eric would feel disrespected. Resentment would grow. And a fantastic, deeply personal wrestling grudge would blossom.