It’s been a long time since I composed a post devoted solely to admiring a particular wrestling hold. I’ve been recently obsessing once again over my favorite wrestling hold, the over-the-knee backbreaker.
It’s such a massively dominating move. The pitcher often literally cradles the catcher like a child in his arms, clutching him across his chest, and then drops to one knee, pounding his opponent’s back across his thigh. I love the geography of this hold. The victim splayed out, his vulnerable core stretched wide, legs and upper body pressed backward such that he can’t assume the instinctive duck and cover defensive position to protect his internal organs.
I catch myself gasping in awe at high impact OTKs. There’s a raw, primal, intensely arousing aspect to watching a dominant hunk seriously pound his opponent down with authority, his knee driving viciously into the helpless stud’s spine. It’s magnificent drama when he scoops him directly back up across his chest, standing tall and hoisting the victim high to repeat the move again. And again. Total domination.
I also also love an OTK punisher with big, bulging pecs flexing powerfully, his face hovering so close to his opponent’s muscled torso and quivering crotch. Stretched out on his back, the victim of an OTK is flattened, the topography of his physique stretched out and impotent, in contrast to the flaring shoulders and pumped pecs of his tormentor.
Then there are the subtle variations and innovations that dial up the inherent eroticism of this hold in a homoerotic context. The stolen moments to take advantage of the victim’s helplessness, sadistically brutalizing muscled abs and pecs. Not content to just torture his spine, the man in charge pounds fists, drives in elbows, perhaps digs his finger tips into defenseless muscle and wear him out from every angle.
Ace Aarons handles Richie’s rocks
Richie’s balls demand Mason’s attention as well.
An OTK seems paradigmatically gay (or at least bicurious) when the dominant hunk pays serious attention to that tempting bulge at the apex of his opponent’s bridge. Frankly it doesn’t often go there even in homoerotic wrestling, but every OTK seems like a head nod to those sensational moments when a wrestler leans forward and sucks his opponent’s nipple, seductively slides the palm of his hand possessively across his lower abs, and appreciatively throttles and fondles his arching cock. That’s the heart of homoerotic wrestling for me, with the purpose of the battle to determine who gets to take possession of whose body.
Calvin’s muscle melt
Mitch stiff and in agony
I’m fascinated watching muscled hunks sell this hold. Clearly some wrestlers are built a lot more for strength than flexibility. A stiff, tabletop OTK actually works for me because it looks like it hurts just that much more. When a muscle laden stud doesn’t really have much of a lower back arch to bend across his opponent’s thigh, it also just seems that much more humiliating. But there’s nothing quite as arousing as watching a flexible hunk melt into the hold, bridging dramatically, as if his muscles are draped across a hanger. The submissiveness, the giving himself over blindly to man who’s claimed his body, is golden.
My gratitude to all of the homoerotic wrestlers who have recently fed my craving for OTK hotness. For those moments when you’ve reached through your opponents legs and cupped his beefy ass in the palm of your hand, I salute you. For your graceful bridge and packed, quivering bulge gasping in anticipation of whatever is to come at the mercy of your opponent, I applaud you. I realize this hold is not exactly intuitive to pull off, and for many of you it’s downright awkward as fuck to sell, so I appreciate the gorgeous erotic art of your human sculpture just that much more.
Congratulations to the winners of the BG East Besties for 2017! It was a fabulous year in homoerotic wrestling, and all of the nominees demonstrated the deep bench that BG East can rightfully boast. Some of my picks earned the most votes overall. Some didn’t. They all (but one) get nothing but respect from me. It’s certainly not the first time I’ve seen evidence that my tastes intersect and diverge with other homoerotic wrestling fans. Happily, there’s plenty for all of us to enjoy, and awards or not, my sincere thanks go out to the beautiful men in front of and behind the camera that make BG East a leader in wrestling for a gay audience.
Sexiest Match: Sexiest Match – Ty Alexander vs. Bruno LaBestia (Ringwars 28)
Best Mat Battle: Austin Cooper vs. Christian Taylor (Undagear 28)
Best Ring Match: Cole Cassidy vs. Joshua Goodman (Ringwars 26)
Oy, just now finding a window of opportunity to write down some of my latest thoughts about my favorite topic. I’m still backfilling the Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month awards. But it’s time for someone to unseat the magnificent mountain of muscle that is Mark Muscle and take the title for my favorite wrestler in a new release in the month of August. Sometimes these choices are harder than others, and this was one of those times. But speaking of harder, at the risk of irking the other worthy contenders, I have to admit that one hot wrestling hunk made me harder than all the rest. For his new release appearance in the month of August, my new HWOTM is…
While I’ve long been infatuated with Mason, somehow he has never before taken the HWOTM title. His opponent in Bedroom Brawls 3, Christian Taylor, is a member of the rarified ranks of HWOTM 3-peats. But despite my open adoration of Mason’s nipples, my longstanding fantasy to pound one out across his luscious, thick pecs, and my deep appreciation for his wickedly sharp, intellectual approach to the carnal delights of homoerotic wrestling, this “thinking man’s wrestler” has failed to wrestle his way to the top of my monthly tallies. That oversight is officially and decisively over, because Bedroom Brawls 3 was the hottest thing I’ve seen in a long time, and Mason is unquestionably the leading man, despite facing off with Hollywood handsome Christian.
The story is novel and enchantingly entertaining. Mason and Christian are bunking side by side in the mat room during one of those insanely busy week’s of BG East recording, where dozens of hot hunks are stacked like wood, awaiting the myriad delights of squaring off against one fine opponent after another. In the wee hours of the morning, Christian rouses first, looks at the sleeping beauty next to him, and does what any one of us would want to do: he coyly pulls up the cover to take a peak at the beautifully muscled stud still unconscious next to him. Mason comes-to trying to decide if getting exploited by the likes of BG East’s champion babyface kisser really just happened, or if it was one of those magnificently sexy dreams you don’t ever want to wake up from.
Like Christian, I often find myself eyefucking Mason’s gorgeous body. Mason is no clone. He defies easy classification. He’s not a bodybuilder, but he’s sweetly, thickly muscled. He’s nobody’s twink, but he’s certainly lean and lovely with a leaning-toward-babyface beauty. Although I haven’t had an opportunity to post about it yet, I immensely enjoyed the opportunity to meet Mason when I visited BG East this summer, and in the midst of my interview with him (still to be published), I felt the persistent urge to palm his broad, powerful, aesthetic pecs. We’ve seen Mason go full monty in past matches, and so I have no problem at all reading Christian’s mind as he pulls the cover down and hungrily examines the tasty bulge in the front of Mason’s briefs, wondering if he might catch a tantalizing glimpse of early morning wood. So many of Christian’s matches revolve around the gravitational pull that Christian has on countless BG East wrestlers chasing this Prince Charming, but there’s a super sexy authenticity about the erotic gaze Christian turns on sampling the goods (greats) that Mason puts on the table.
There’s a clear fun-and-games vibe about the action as Mason confronts Christian for trying to take advantage of him as he slept. Mason makes it clear that he’s abundantly ready to return the amorous attention, but coyly, Christian tries to deny what the camera objectively documented. “Just be a man and own up to it,” Mason demands. “You were totally checking me out.” Perhaps because Christian is so often the object of lustful attention, he’s apparently embarrassed and out and out lies. “No one’s looking at your dick, Mason.” But of course Christian was looking at his dick. And I’m looking as his dick. And you’re looking at his dick. And tickled both by the attention and Christian’s embarrassment, Mason insists that no one is going back to sleep until Christian confesses that he just couldn’t keep his hands and eyes off of Brooks’ beef.
So it starts playful. Christian doesn’t initially put up a lot of fight, still feigning as if it was Mason who rudely interrupted his beauty sleep. Early going I get a sense that at any moment these two may just abandon the battle for physical domination and just start fucking their pent up morning energies away. I wouldn’t have blamed them. The sexual tension is perfectly balanced and sensationally thick. But in addition to both being sexy as fuck, Mason and Christian have also abundantly demonstrated that they are fierce, competitive, accomplished wrestlers. So the wrestling fan in me is turned on that much harder as they veer right past giving in too soon to their mutual attraction and, instead, start seriously punishing one another.
Playing it coy digs Christian a deep hole that Mason is eager to fill. As Christian claims that he just wants to go back to sleep (liar), Mason twist ties him into knots. It’s intense and quickly sweat soaked as they scramble atop and often get tied up in the bedding. Mason keeps twisting, keeps prying, driving his gasping, whimpering increasingly humiliated hottie opponent to the edge of being forced to admit the obvious, that he (on behalf of all of us) wants to see a lot more of Mason. With studied skill and patience and more than an able hand with the driving whip, Mason demonstrates that he can dish out a whole lot more humiliation than just having Christian confess his transgressions. Finally Christian grudgingly barks it out. “Yes! I was checking you out,” Christian snarls. “I was checking out the goods!” The sweetly satisfied smile across Mason’s face alone could get me off. “I hope it was good for you,” he coos, softening up his grip and starting to stroke Christian’s sweat soaked washboard. “‘Cause it’s good for me.”
Before I inadvertently convince you that this is a squash, let me assure you that the battle is far from over, and Christian is abundantly equipped to hold his own and grab hold of Mason’s as well. What starts as a fun-and-games romp, evolving into an ego punishing confession-submission, charges headlong into a back and forth battle as Christian seeks, and ultimately gets, some dominating satisfaction of his own. As erotically oriented as he is to Mason’s body, he’s not shy at all about abusing it with abandon. Mason is tough as fuck, of course. We know that. So there’s that much more pleasure at watching Christian insist on cranking on holds past the point of Mason’s tolerances, twist that much farther, squeeze that much harder, demanding some face-saving respect after having the stuffing and dignity wrung out of him earlier. Mason is certainly not the first opponent to be forcefully convinced that Christian is far from just a pretty face and rocking body.
Despite Christian more than holding his own in the middle third of this tussle, Mason makes this match all his own as he controls the pace in the backstretch. It’s a game of libido chicken. Both clearly turned on to the point of distraction, they repeatedly start to melt into each other. Famished kissing breaks out. Muscles go slack as blood is redirected to their crotches. Just when one gagging stud is ready to get down to business, the other exploits his open lust to lock down ever more vulnerable holds, ever more brutal punishment. Christian plays this game well, but Mason is the master of it. Time and again, Mason savors the moment of watching Christian’s gasping lust twisted into bitter frustration as Mason denies his amorous advances and laughs at his agony twisted, handsome face. Christian’s cock doesn’t know which way to turn, but it’s doing all of his thinking as Mason plays him like a pipe organ, making him sing, making him groan, making him whine to get his lips on that tasty morsel that he woke with a craving for.
Is it too early for us to discuss the Liplock of the Year award? These two suck on their mutual excitement for each other with a passion that I simply can’t believe is put on for the cameras. The more Mason takes the reins, the more he peppers his punishment of Christian with tantalizing, teasing tastes of what is obviously motivating both of them.
It continues to careen at breakneck speed into that blurred boundary between erotic wrestling and rough fucking. Christian takes the brunt end of the stick, but he’s not fooling anyone. He wanted exactly this all along. He wanted every inch of his beautiful body to feel every inch of Mason’s. He wanted Mason’s morning wood in his face, pressed between his cheeks, grinding relentlessly into him.
I don’t know why Christian didn’t just come out and admit it from the start. But I’m thrilled that he didn’t. I’m ecstatic that he played coy, forcing Mason to force him to admit to the obvious magnetic attraction between them. Mason is never better than when he’s taking control, owning an opponent, breaking through all defenses and dictating the sensationally sexy terms of surrender. And in this case, there are no winners or losers, just two insanely sexy hunks, soaked in sweat, their sexual cravings completely exposed, crawling back under the covers to do anything but sleep.
Fuck, I loved this match. I’m jealous of both wrestlers. But I’m mostly captivated with Mason for seizing the opportunity (and every last inch of Christian Taylor) to pound that sexy alarm clock into completely dominated submission. This is easily and art house edition of classic BG East wrestling. It’s erotic-forward. It’s wrestling forward. And it compels me to finally award a belated recognition to Mason Brooks as HWOTM.
I admit to having quickly developed an infatuation with Chase Addams. I’ve indulged that infatuation with conducting now three interviews, all for a rookie wrestler with just that same number of published matches. There are many elements to what intrigues and seduces me about the Charming One. Of course there’s the hot, lean body and those oft-mentioned nipples. You don’t have to scratch beneath my surface far to know that any openly gay wrestler who seriously loves professional wrestling will hold my attention. He wrestles an excellent story, too. But there’s still more that keeps me coming back for more. So little wonder, given the opportunity, I sat Charming Chase down at BG East during my visit this summer and put him on the record and on audio this time.
In the first portion of our conversation, I learned a little about what a typical day of wrestling for BG East looks like for Chase. He discussed that breakout moment when wrestlers he’s crushed on from afar have returned the respect and interest. And Chase and I discuss which newbie BG East wrestler he and I (and apparently a broad swath of fans) currently hate on most.
Chase Addams Interview – Part 1:
As our conversation continued, Chase offered his take on what it’s like to be surrounded by smoking hot gay wrestlers roaming the grounds of BG East all at one time (from which the title of this post comes). And Chase gives some insight into what it’s like to go all out to pry an opponent apart piece by piece, and then find yourself hanging out between the matches at a later date.
Chase Addams Interview – Part 2:
Finally, Chase gave me a glimpse into the headspace it takes for him to prepare for a match. We speculate on which merit badges you can earn at a taping as we explore an extended metaphor of BG East to summer camp. We conclude with attempting to speculate how it could be possible to oversell the promise, potential, and pure wrestling entertainment value of Chase Addams.
As I mentioned, on my last pilgrimage to BG East North this summer I was given the thrilling opportunity to sit down, face to face, and interview several BG East wrestlers in those moments between them taping matches. Ty Alexander seemed particularly keen to cozy up to my mic, and it is no surprise to me in the least that my interview with the Trophy Boy was long, intense, and peppered with several unexpected twists and turns. If you listen to our interview below, you’ll hear what I mean when I say that Ty is the master of the inside joke. I’ll do my best to let you in on the jokes, but honestly, with Ty, I always feel like there’s another layer of meaning I have yet to discover. It may help (or not) for you to know ahead of time that Ty has repeatedly called me out to kick my ass, and the more muscular he gets, the more actively I’ve tried to steer clear of a Trophy Boy ass kicking (judge me if you will). It also may, or may not, provide helpful context to know that a little while ago, Ty gifted me with the pair of Calvin Kleins that he and Drake fought so bitterly over in Babyface Brawl X. As with my interview with Kayden, Ty’s tightly toned body was distracting, and I don’t believe that’s by accident. Ty wore the least amount of clothing of any of my interviewees, and he drew attention to his tanned muscles repeatedly. On the one hand, if you know Ty, you know it’s always about Ty. On the other hand, I strongly suspect that there was considerable method to the Trophy Boy’s madness in showing up to his interview in his green Nike compression briefs and pretty much nothing else.
In this first portion of the interview, we learn about the ongoing evolution of Ty, both physically and his prospects to dig himself out of the deep jobber hole he’s been in. Ty discusses what fans really long to see, and what the chances may be of there ever being a Ty heel-turn. Learn about Ty’s big weakness, and his impression of how BG East is living into the age of social media.
Ty Alexander Interview – Part 1:
In the next portion of our interview, talks about his favorite classic BGE wrestlers, and exactly what it’s like to meet your gay wrestling hero in person (and get your ass kicked by him). He explores some of the differences between Ty the wrestler and Ty in the rest of his life. Hear Ty’s response to my direct question of whether he is Our Man Inside. We bond over the prototype of the wrestling nerd hunk. And as further evidence that he is the master of the inside joke, delve into the mystery of who Ty may, or may not, be roommates with.
Ty Alexander Interview – Part 2:
In the final portion of the interview, learn about the likelihood of seeing Ty naked in a future match (hint: it’s really, really high). Discover how this post got its title, and how that relates to a description of Ty covered in cum strolling around BG East after a particularly explosive match. I give a shout out to Kid Leopard for my next invitation to visit BGE (Ty is involved). Ty answers the question of which BGE wrestlers are hooking up with each other (“who isn’t!?”). And finally, listen to how this particular interview ended with Ty’s hands down my pants. No kidding.
This summer I received the golden ticket I’ve been dreaming of for pretty much my entire adult life. BG East Boss Kid Leopard extended the invitation for me to be on site during a week of recording new matches. I was able to take a day for this latest pilgrimage to the BG East compound outside of Boston, and it was everything I’d hoped for and significantly more. Gorgeous, hot hunks were arriving throughout the day. The Boss was there (of course). Pretty much every formal member of Bard’s homoerotic wrestling boyband was on hand, as well as several honorary inductees. In other words, I was in heaven.
I have a lot of reflections I’ll share about my latest BG East pilgrimage in the coming weeks, about the business, about wrestlers, about fans, about me. But to kick off my debriefing of this epic experience, I want to jump right into the most enjoyable part of the visit: the interviews. I charmed several of these gorgeous men into agreeing to sit down with me at the lakeshore and answer some questions. They were generous, playful, flirtatious even. And several of them were open to letting me record our interviews and make the audio file available here on the blog.
The first interview I want to share was with stunningly sexy Kayden Keller. I tend to think of Kayden as relatively reticent in action, so it was a deeply pleasant surprise to discover that he is, in person, downright loquacious. Take a listen and learn a little bit about what pushes Kayden’s buttons, and how Kayden pushes mine. And just listen to his deep, sexy, ominous laughter throughout, as he muses about taking control, losing control, and his current record of how many men he’s had sex with at one time in the BG East ring. To start off, we talked about Kayden’s experience of these intense days of wrestling multiple matches on camera, his philosophy on the eroticism of being in control and, occasionally, being under the control of someone else, and how becoming a homoerotic wrestling heel has changed him.
Kayden Keller Interview – Part 1:
Next, we talked about what pushes Kayden’s buttons, the difference between a bully and a heel, and how completely distracted I was by Kayden’s gorgeous, long, muscled legs. What you can’t tell from the audio is that as soon as I disclosed to Kayden the effect his legs were having on me, he began flexing them and rubbing them, pulling up his shorts and quite intentionally pushing my buttons.
Kayden Keller Interview – Part 2:
As our interview came to its conclusion, we were briefly interrupted by Nino Leone looking for his lighter (and, I suspect, also drawn by the sight of Kayden showing off his flexed quads). We also hear about a particular unpublished opponent of Kayden’s who found exactly what buttons to push, and we learn the truth behind our fan fantasies about massive orgies breaking out with all of these gorgeous wrestlers being in the same place.
A recurring theme here has been my perpetual self-reflection on what it is about homoerotic wrestling that speaks to me. A regular point of perseveration has been what makes a wrestling match particularly “homoerotic.” I can get off on mainstream straight pro wrestling probably almost as much as the next guy, but my bread and butter continues to be this particular industry marketed specifically to gay men. And I know that within this industry, there are straight wrestlers, and the erotic heat that emanates from a lot of matches is what I’m bringing to it as a viewer. And I’m okay with that, as long as the whole interaction effect isn’t cloaked in a closeted wink-wink, where the producer and we know that this is marketed with a gay eye in mind, but the whole thing is kept strictly on the straight side of the fence so that a fan can exercise plausible deniability if they’re caught with an incriminating browser history (“I was just checking out some underground pro, bro”). Yawn.
But it also isn’t just an issue of wrestlers pulling out their porn-ready cocks and wrestling hard and naked. Though there’s nothing wrong with that, as far as I’m concerned. In fact, I’m advocating for more straight forward naked wrestling, not just the last 2 minutes of a match before it devolves into out of control face sucking (not that I have any problem with that, either!). But what I key off of isn’t just the explicit homoeroticism of naked bodies, by any means. There’s this sweet spot right in the middle of straight-up pro with me supplying all of the erotic subtext, and hardcore porn with a clumsy grapple as appetizer.
It’s sexy because of intention and attention. Like when a wrestler acknowledges that his opponent looks hot. The phrase, “Nice ass,” or “sweet pecs,” is pure gold when it comes to dialing a match squarely into the territory that grabs me hard. Of course a “no-homo” disavowal will totally kill that buzz, but happily I see less and less of that in the wrestling I watch these days. They don’t have to get their dicks out. Just notice, appraise the obvious assets of an opponent, and you’ve drawn me into the match. I’m invested 10 times more if the wrestlers state the obvious fact that they are both gorgeous specimens. I never see this in straight-up pro (not that I watch it much anymore), and I think it’s an angle that’s probably even more disruptive of heteronormativity than even getting your gear ripped off. Guys look at guys. Guys appreciate guys. Guys can be turned on by getting their hands on guys. The eroticism peaks long before (and even in the absence of) any cum being added to the recipe.
I’ve mentioned before that I regularly push rewind around the time I get to more explicit sexual content at the end of harder-core matches. Like when I was following Naked Kombat, I would skim over the sex round to see if anyone comes close to Rusty Stevens’ perfect mix of corporal punishment, humiliation, and wrestling domination (naked pony rides, leg scissor armbars used like an accelerator pedal to taunt, tease, and torment a loser by commanding them to jack off just shy of orgasm again and again). The fucking itself, even the acrobatic, artistic fucking of professional porn stars who somehow are able to stretch and maneuver into positions that I’m pretty sure would dislocate multiple joints if I attempted them, comes across as downright pedestrian to me. The erotic heat is the sweat-inducing wrestling competition. It’s the suspense and the battle. It’s the passion to dominate knowing that the loser is going to get fucked, rather than the loser getting fucked, in and of itself.
So I love the story of a wrestler having to battle with his own lust to stay focused on beating his opponent. The erotic offense of one hunk destroying his opponent’s defenses with a nibble of the ear or a stroke of his hot body strikes me as the height of homoerotic. There’s a fantastic, frustrating, intensely provocative tease near the end of some matches where the lines between competition and giving in to total lust get so blurred that I can’t tell what’s an openly erotic trap and what’s just mutual submitting to the intimate passion of bodies grinding into bodies. So when one wrestler is ready to just get down to hooking up, and the other is just playing along long enough to snap shut a sleeper, or pound out a finishing OTK, or slip on a knee-breaking figure-4 leglock for the final, screaming, totally vulnerable submission, fuck that puts me over. Whipping out cocks and sucking and fucking at that point is totally vanilla, as far as I’m concerned. I’m pushing rewind to watch that look of shock wash across the loser’s face when he realizes his lust just walked him by the nose into becoming the property of his new master.
My tastes are broad and varied. I can get off on a wide spectrum of homoerotic content, from barely implied by the copyright holder to blistering hot fuck stakes consummated. But that sweet spot that I crave most in the middle of the normal distribution is unmistakable, and yet resists the easy out of sliding too quickly into hardcore porn. It’s an open nod to me, the audience, and an intentional grappling with the erotic potential between two smoking hot hunks hell bent on dominating one another. It’s a look, a groan, a nibble, a slap, a gasping grope, an unfocused reverie. It’s stating the obvious, that two barely clad studs pounding, grinding, and crushing into one another is potently intimate and powerfully arousing. Guys like guys. Wrestling ensues….