Moving On

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This is the only point of reference I care to have for Miley Cyrus.

I did not watch the MTV Awards, so somehow I feel like I should be entitled not to be subjected to the constant bombardment of commentary and judgment of them that I see from every news outlet that I visit. My only, and I mean ONLY point of reference for giving the smallest shit possible about Miley Cyrus is that she is/was/pretended to be at some point engaged to Aussie body beautiful Liam Hemsworth, who appeared in the most recent addition to my celebrity homoerotic wrestling fiction universe, Producer’s Ring, in which Liam battled nasty and naked against big (BIG!) brother Chris. Way, way, way back there in the chain of associations there’s someone I seriously could not pick out of a lineup who goes by the name Miley Cyrus. That’s all I want to know about her. She has zero further importance to me, other than that I must cut her out of my Aussie brother fuck-fantasies and insert myself, pasted directly between the embattled muscle bodies of Liam and Chris. Period. Seriously people. Move on.

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Now if JT strips and dirty dances, that should be televised non-stop for weeks.

Speaking of moving on, I give a slightly bigger shit to the news I saw that the MTV Awards provided the setting for NSync to get back for about two blinks of an eye. Sure, I got hot and sweaty over them when they were barely legal, but more importantly in my erotic fantasy life, Justin Timberlake starred in an all-star, three-way erotic combat fantasy match in the Producer’s Ring against both Ryan Reynolds and Bradley Cooper. For those familiar with Producer’s Ring, it was a Focus Group match (as was the Hemsworth v Hemsworth beatdown), which means the boys battled it out in a gay bathhouse fight-pit wearing, at least to start, nothing but terrycloth.  Yeah, somehow I feel a little dirty and a little shallow admitting that Timberlake was polishing me off long before he and his personal trainer carved that hardbodied torso he likes to show off when he’s moonlighting as an actor. I’m okay with it, though.

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JC Chasez may not be dating Chace Crawford, but he is wrestling down and dirty in my homoerotic wrestling imagination.

But Justin is not the only NSync boy to make a satisfying appearance in my celebrity homoerotic wrestling fantasy fiction. JC Chasez sorted me out quite nicely when they were actually a boyband, and then he turned up just a couple of years ago climbing into the pro wrestling ring in my imagination for a battle of the boyander resurrectionists, fighting for a second set of 15 minutes of fame against 98 Degrees pec-master, Jeff Timmons. I swear to Neptune that then and now I’d kick Nick Lachey to the curb in an instant for a naked romp with Timmons. The Chasez v Timmons ring match was seriously ugly, permitting me to sort out seriously guilty vices from a decade earlier when I crushed, in shameful silence, on boybanders-who-should-wrestle.

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This is precisely how I imagine Jeff Timmons looks after a seriously brutal, no-holds-barred homoerotic wrestling beatdown in the ring.

I saw the news today that Timmons is back to tempt me into further flights of erotic fantasy, hosting a new stage show called the Men of the Strip, putting his Chippendales stint to good use by stripping down alongside eight other hardbodied hotties and teasing audiences to as much sexual arousal as they can legally experience in public (it is Nevada, after all).

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Jeff Timmons is screaming for a face-sitting pec claw!

I’m lighting some sage and placing a shot of JD at an altar to the gods of homoerotic wrestling, praying for Men of the Strip to morph into a reality television series in which the strippers compete in a single elimination tournament of professional style homoerotic rip n’ strip wrestling in front of a live audience of unbuttoned gay men (I’ve got my seat reserved in the front row).  It’s my wrestling fantasy, so I get to make the rules, and they’re simple. Single elimination, pinfall or submission, the eight d-listers pound it out in quarter finals, semis, and then finals to decide which hardbodied fantasyman gets to face Timmon’s nipples for the grand prize of being a backup dancer for a Timberlake music video.  Please, oh please gods of homoerotic wrestling, hear my plea…

Which also-ran do you think would pound his way to the top of the heap, and could he take Sweet as Sugar Timmons for his shot working Timberlake from behind?  Here are the Men of the Strip that caught my eye as contenders…

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Joel Sajion is said to be a Latin soap star… I say he’s got the ammo for a fantastically brutal side headlock.
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Nate Estimada is billed as a pro wrestler wannabe, meaning he’s got the inside track on a potential pec-to-pec bearhug contest with Timmons.
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Chris Boudreaux is said to be a former football star (don’t ask me) who looks so, so pretty… but I think he’d have strong potential for a nasty, narcissistic heel.
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Dwayne Baldwin is apparently a fitness trainer, but those bedroom eyes convince me he’d be a serious contender for distracting an opponent with a come-and-fuck-me gaze.
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UFC fighter Charles Dera could easily bring the goods to blow the competition clean out of the ring with high impact strikes and stomps.
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Kyle Efthemes is described simply as a veteran Vegas stage performer, but I’m having a hard time picturing any homoerotic opponent not popping his cork the moment he gets his hands on Kyle’s insanely proportioned fantasy physique!

…So Let’s Keep Rocking and Rolling

Not long after my recent post describing exactly what Blaine Janus and Mason Brooks did to me in their intensely sexy Gazebo Grapplers 14 throw down, I found this snapshot in my inbox along with this adorable note:
“Just wanted to say thanks for the nice write-up
 and I’m glad you enjoyed watching the match
as much as I enjoyed filming it! – Mason”
After licking my computer screen a few times, I quickly replied, and using my famous powers of persuasion (which admittedly involve a whole lot of sincere flattery), I got Mason to agree to chat with me a bit about being one of the new kids on the BG East block.  In some ways, the interview that follows picks up right where my interview with Ben Monaco left off yesterday.  Young Mason had me rolling on the floor in laughter one minute and then needing to rearrange my crotch the next minute with his razor sharp wit and extremely sexy insights into how he approaches launching an on-camera homoerotic wrestling career.  So let me be the first to introduce you to this sultry, sexy, suprisingly sinister Southern boy who, I predict, very well could take BG East by storm.
Bard: Fantastic to hear from you, Mason! And damn, boy, really, really thanks for the photo! If you enjoyed filming that match even half as much as I enjoyed watching it, I hope you had a few days to rehydrate because you and Blaine certainly wore me out. Can I share your pic on the blog? And can I start peppering you with questions “on the record?”

Mason Brooks: 5’9″, 150 lbs.

Mason: [Laughing] Please, feel free to share. I am getting in touch with my inner exhibitionist. And I’d be happy to answer your questions.

Bard: You’ve definitely got to let that inner exhibitionist out. A lot! Consider us on the record, and talk to me about your nipples (which is something I’ve never said in an interview before!). Blaine cannot keep his hands off of them. Ben Monaco privately commented to me that your nipples are “to die for.” Ben’s words were, “I know it. He knows it. That’s where he’s going to get his fans.” And I have to tell you, you’ve got seriously hot nips! What sort of “gay wrestling catnip” do you use on them to turn us all on like that!?

Mason: Well, gee, this is a first for me as well. It’s funny, aside from the piercing, which obviously gets a fair amount of attention, I’ve never thought of my nipples as a standout attribute of mine. I mean, maybe my hair, my smile, my eyes–the list goes on, as you might imagine. I guess all those dips and push-ups while watching Honey Boo Boo this summer paid off. Seriously, though, if everyone is as taken with them as Mr. Monaco, I think I’m set. He really couldn’t help himself all weekend. Not that I’m complaining, of course. If a little nipple-tweaking was my BG East initiation, I guess I got off easy. It is strange, though, that they seem to have such an effect on Canadians. It was chilly that weekend, and the cold air does seem to perk those boys up. Sort of like my nips.  Not sure about the gay wrestling catnip (although that sounds like something I need in my stocking this Christmas). Actually, just a little neosporin now and then to keep the piercing in working order, especially if someone’s had his, umm, hands all over it.

Blaine had his… hands… all over Mason’s nips.

Bard: There’s just so much material there in your answer that I’m almost speechless. Almost. So yes, let me just confirm that I’m in a growing line of guys who clearly find your nipples extremely alluring. Next, please let me also confirm that your hair, smile, and eyes are also very, very attractive, but I’ll be damned if there’s a BG East fan who’ll rip his eyes away from your hot pecs to say much more about your eyes. And finally, I’m profoundly disturbed to recognize within myself that the image of you doing dips and push-ups while watching Honey Boo Boo just completely gave me wood. My therapist and I are going to have a lot to talk about next week…. But dragging myself back on topic… as I mentioned in my review of your match with Blaine, you certainly caught me off guard. I was totally expecting to see an earnest, babyface-in-wrestling-singlet bound to be another naive rook about to be awakened to the dark truth of homoerotic wrestling at the hands of a master. Then like a cruise missile you almost instantly locked Blaine down, completely immobilized him, and went straight for a crotch claw. There’s no way in hell you’ll convince me that that was your first dance, Mason! That was an accomplished hand that so confidently, simultaneously crushed Blaine’s testicles and worked him into a drooling lather. Where have you wrestled before, and how much will I pay to see your rip-n-strip archives?

Mason sees what’s he wants and goes for it.

Mason: Okay, I must confess, this was not my first dance. I’ve done my fair share of wrestling, in and out of a singlet, and learned the ropes, as they say. None on video, unfortunately. As far as I know….  But maybe, just maybe, I enjoy it when people see my cute, innocent face and underestimate me. I think it gives me an advantage when I surprise them with my skills.  More than that, though, I’m the kind of guy who sees what he wants and goes for it. You saw him, parading his freckled cheeks around in that little see-through number.  how could I not pounce on that? Yeah, if anyone thought I was a pushover, they were in for a rude awakening.

Bard: You, my new friend, are one seriously devious little devil! I’d love to get Blaine’s take on this, but my impression is just that: he completely underestimated you. I strongly suspect that your (now) obviously misleading shy grin and a strong resemblance to Edward Norton could throw plenty of opponents off stride right around the time that you rip them apart at the crotch and claw their balls with abandon. In light of the horrific tragedy that your earlier wrestling in/out of a singlet was not captured on video, I hope BG East signed you up for many more matches to come. Having toyed, dangerously, with fluorescent blue-eyed, freckle faced, horny-toad Blaine, have you seen anything else at BG East that you hope to “go for” in the future?

“Gabriel Ross is lucky I had a plane to catch…”

Mason: You know, I’ll gladly take on (and take down) whomever they want to throw at me. Christian, Skip, Len, Lorenzo–I think all those boys need to get a taste, and I’m ready to give it to ’em, any time. The big muscleboys–gosh, I can never keep all their names straight–they don’t scare me either. And Gabriel Ross is lucky I had a plane to catch, or he would have been next on my list. I don’t care how much he bulked up, that little wanker would have ended up with a faceful of my balls. Though I’m not sure how mean I could be to him–that smile is pretty killer. As it happens, all I got to do was hug him goodbye. And cop a feel, of course.

Bard: I really, really like the sound of hotties like Lorenzo Lowe getting “thrown” at you. It makes me picture you in the ring with boys flying off the ropes, and I hope we see you in the ring soon. And as for muscleboys, I suspect that with the performance you posted against Blaine and the smack talk you’re laying down here, there could be some big muscleboys eager to get their hands on your pecs and/or your balls in their face. Personally, I’d like to take up a collection to buy Gabriel a ticket back just to see how “that little wanker” would fare in the matroom against you. It would be like a battle of the angelic babyface badboys, which sounds like a fantastic theme for a collection of matches! So if you were ever to find yourself sleepered out cold at the end of another sweaty, raunchy barnburner like you suffered at the hands of Blaine Janus, who would you prefer to wake up with his tongue shoved down your throat: Lorenzo Lowe, Ben Monaco, or Kid Karisma? In other words, twink, hunk, or muscleboy?

“Lorenzo sounds mighty nice.”

Mason: Hmmm, twink, hunk or muscleboy.  Is that like boff, marry, kill? It all depends on my mood, I suppose. (Sometimes you feel like a nut, and all that, right?) I wouldn’t kick any of those boys out of the ring for eating crackers, but right now I must be in a twink mood, because Lorenzo sounds mighty nice. Of course, he’d be the one getting sleepered out and waking up to me on top of him…

Lorenzo’s tongue ALSO seems irresistibly drawn toward Mason’s pecs (photo courtesy of Ben Monaco).

Bard: Well I saw a certain behind the scenes shot from Ben where you were sitting next to Lorenzo sans any pants, and you were sporting an awfully pleased grin on your face. I’m now officially advocating to see that grin on your face in a match with Lorenzo as he groggily rouses from your sleeper finisher to find your lips descending over his. Speaking of boff, marry, kill: Justin Bieber, Justin Theroux, and Justin Timberlake?

Boff. Marry. Kill.

Mason: Oh fun! Okay, first of all, my well-documented affection for Canadian boys notwithstanding, I would kill Justin Bieber, no question. Although I suspect that in a couple years, once the screaming girls have moved on and he’s still spindly and pale and the wrong side of 25, some combination of drugs and alcohol will do the job for me. Justin Timberlake’s never done that much for me, personally, but I guess I’d give him a whirl in bed. Don’t think I could marry him, though. His fashion sense irks me too much. (Ooh, you’re wearing a tweed vest and a fedora? Neato.) So that leaves Justin Theroux to marry, which sounds about right. I mean, if he’s good enough for the co-star of “Leprechaun,” he’s good enough for me. Nah, I’m kidding, he’s hot, I think we’d hit it off. As long as he’s into wrestling, that is. He seems like an interesting guy, but very serious. Eventually I’d get tired of exploring our feelings and I’d need to give those abs a working over. Wouldn’t that make a great tabloid headline? “Jen’s Heartbreak: Justin Caught with Wrestling Boy-toy.” Oh well, a boy-toy can dream….

Another wicked smart wrestling hunk:
Lon Dumont

Bard: I couldn’t agree with you more on all counts. And I can start that Justin Theroux rumor and see where it leads… never know. Damn, he’s hot. So you’ve got good hair, gorgeous pecs, magical nipples, AND insanely insightful taste in men? Damn, you’re going far! Did you have the opportunity to meet a long-standing favorite infatuation of mine when you were in Pembroke: Lon Dumont? I think you two would hit it off. You both seem particularly quick-witted and self-reflective. And he’s a god in the wrestling ring, so you can’t go wrong chumming up to Lon! Wrestling + smarts = Bard-is-infatuated. What haven’t you done yet in homoerotic wrestling that you’re itching to try out? Any particular moves, venues, gear, etc?

Mason: I did meet Lon Dumont, but just briefly. I think he was pretty busy in the ring, and I may have been headed to wash Blaine out of my hair (figuratively speaking, of course). Sounds like I should get to know him, though. I could always use a few pointers in the ring to add to my skills on the mat. What am I itching to try? You know, I’m always open to new things, especially if they make my butt look good. So, I dunno…rip and strip, oil, mud, jello? See, now I’m getting hungry. Oh, and I probably shouldn’t say too much, but it’s possible that in my next match we’ll get a little…wet?

Mail your boxes of Jello c/o Mason Brooks to:
BG East, PO Box 172, Pembroke, MA 02359

Bard: I hope you had help in the shower! Yeah, I think you and Lon could make for a very dangerous combination. If you two got your heads together, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that there’s been a major coup at BG East with you two running the show. And as for what we should expect next from you, I LOVE the sound of “wet!” And I’m even crazier for the words “oil, mud, and jello.” How incredibly old school sexy of you! I know a whole lot of wrestling fans who would blow a gasket for a rip-n-strip jello wrestling match, or a classic oil wrestling throw down. I think the time has come for those vintage genres to come back in vogue as retro-chic, and I love that you’re ready to be at the front of that line. But really, is there anything that doesn’t make your butt look good? So I think you know that I’ve also recently interviewed Ben Monaco, and Ben referred to you as “quiet and polite” to the point of being eligible to be an honorary Canadian. Has he ever actually met you?! I mean, sure, maybe you’re a little more reserved in person that you have been during this interview, but seriously… honorary Canadian!? Are you stringing him along, playing coy, in order to blow him away on the mats? Is this some sinister master plan building off of that dimple in your cheek and twinkle in your eye to lull another potential opponent into underestimating you?

Has Ben even met Mason!?

Mason: Honorary Canadian, huh? That would be quite an honor. I like hockey, beer, and flannel, and I know “O Canada” in English and French–still working on Inuktitut–so I think I’m halfway there already. I just hope the initiation ceremony involves Tyler Seguin shirtless and lots of maple syrup. As for quiet and polite, I can see how people assume that when they first meet me. I like to size up a room first, see who I’m dealing with. And hey, if people assume I’m innocent and harmless, that’s their problem. Plus I’m from the south, so yeah, probably I do have some manners deep down inside, along with a knack for making killer fried chicken. But I’m not so polite on the mat, as Mr. Monaco ought to know by now.

Bard: I’m adding “maple syrup” to the list of media within which you should wrestle. And it sounds like you’re more than halfway to Canuck-hood, eh? What part of the South are you from, and what percentage of the time that you wrestled with Ben did he spend sucking on your nipples?

Just like wrestling the pig farmer’s son!

Mason: I’m from a rural part of Virginia, where I’m pretty sure some folks are still fighting the Civil War. Very pretty country, but not much to do, unless you wanna wrestle a pig. On the other hand, sometimes you get into the Wild Turkey and end up wreslin’ the pig farmer’s son behind the barn. And that ain’t so bad. What else? Oh, right, nipples. Always with the nipples. As I recall, there was more pinching and tweaking going on than sucking, but it’s all a blur. A thoroughly enjoyable blur. Perhaps Mr. Monaco has a more vivid recollection, or maybe he was just daydreaming about the things he’d like to do with my sweaty chest.

Bard: You make pig farmer wrestling sound hotter than I’d ever have guessed! Ben was entirely mum about any activities you may have gotten up to. The nipple sucking was just my wishful thinking, though perhaps I’ve seeded the ground for future opponents you might face. I can hope. Well, Mr. Brooks, I’m convinced that we will be seeing a lot more of you in the future, based on your debut in Gazebo Grapplers 14 and your readiness to face all comers and all viscous substances. I predict that you’re going to have a big fan club, starting with nipple-obsessed Canadians and jello wrestling fans, but quickly branching out from there. Is there anything else you’d like to say to BG East fans who are about to discover that they’re Mason Brooks fanatics?

Quiet, polite, Southern boys:
probably nastier than you think.

Mason: Yeah, in the immortal words of Dirk Diggler, I’ll keep trying if you keep trying so let’s keep rocking and rolling. (Sweet jeebus, I loved that movie.) Seriously, though, I just hope the fans out there enjoy watching my matches as much as I enjoy making them, ’cause the whole experience was a blast, and I can’t wait to do it again. Oh, and watch out for quiet, polite, Southern boys–they’re probably nastier than you think.

Bard: True story: Boogie Nights is one of Lon Dumont’s favorite flicks. I kid you not. I’ve already seen quite a bit of chatter that fans are lining up for more of Mason Brooks, so we’re going to do our part. And personally, I’m hoping that there are plenty of hunks at BG East who will decidedly not take your advice about watching out for polite, quiet Southern boys, because I can’t wait to see the look of shock on their faces when you let loose. This was a true pleasure getting to chat with you! Thanks for your time, and I hope we can do this again. I’m strongly convinced that you could go very, very far in this business, and I’m not just saying that because of your entrancing nipples.

Mason: The pleasure was mine, and thank you so much for the kind words. The nipples and I are flattered.

Mason Brooks and his nipples.

Alpha Dogs

I’m venturing into a highly controversial topic today, I realize. I fully expect the hating to begin the moment after many of you read this. But it’s on my mind, and I simply have to name it.
A beautiful man who loves his dog is incredibly hot. A hunk with other animals simply doesn’t do it for me. George Clooney and a pot-bellied pig is more creepy than sexy to me. And don’t get me started on cats. But a gorgeous man with a dog gets his sexy-quotient (SQ) multiplied by at least 10. If he’s shirtless as he’s walking his dog, like Orlando Bloom here, his SQ is multiplied by 20. If it’s a terrier, I have to adjust myself.
The dog-factor in the SQ is pretty indiscriminate. Just love a dog, and a hunk get’s an SQ boost. But some hunks are seriously into their dogs. David Duchovny, the voice of Pedigree, takes pet companionship extremely seriously. He can be bundled up in his puffy coat and skull cap, but seeing him patiently walking his dog down the sidewalk makes him as irresistible as if he was naked. I know he’s a recovering sex-addict, but I’ve got to admit I’d throw that in a restroom stall and loiter till I’m exhausted (not that I ever do that…).
Justin Theroux, who is far, far more talented and beautiful than his credits would suggest, is a dog advocate and hardbody hunk who makes me sit up and bark. He’s already appeared in my wrestling fantasies, but with his dog stretched across his lap, I’m feeling desperate for some obedience training. My fantasy wrestling match between Justin and Michael C. Hall is one of my favorites for the overlap of wrestling, body worship, and the fight for dominance.
Some gorgeous men hardly need the extra push to put them over the lust-line. As if Hugh Jackman could get any more desirable, his family dog clutched under one arm makes me swoon. In my wrestling fiction, I’ve featured Hugh getting ripped apart by Daniel Craig, but finding no evidence that Daniel is a dog-guy, I’m thinking Hugh could have an edge in a rematch. Any man who’s had to learn how to be alpha dog in his own home has to have an edge in a fight over one who hasn’t learned the art of canine dominance training.


Some hunks are definitely pushed across the line of lustworthiness for me by knowing that a dog loves them. I go back and forth with
Zachary Quinto. Some days, his round, round ass and long lean body make me pant. Some days, not so much. These days, knowing that he walks his Irish Wolfhound in flip flops, and I’m entirely in the fan category. He’s simply got to make an appearance in my wrestling fiction soon. Not that he’ll necessarily win, but win or lose, he’s the stuff of my fantasies.

Jake Gyllenhaal, Justin Timberlake… the list goes on and on. Not every hunk of my dreams is a dog person. But those that are dog lovers turn me on even more than they otherwise would. To have a dog in your life suggests to me a maturity, a patience, and a deep understanding of what it means to have to prove your dominance by putting someone else on their back until they submit. And that is what it’s all about.