When I noticed that MDW has a recent release starring behemoth it-boy Mark Muscle and my long-standing infatuation, Matt Thrasher, I was instantly aroused.  So I tucked in to enjoy the marvelous sight of these two fantasy men going pec to pec (well, considering the height difference, it’s sort of like pec to forehead… or pec to navel). The quick spoiler is that I loved Oil Hunks 9, but before I say more, there’s a little more to the story I want to tell today. So, since Muscle Master Kevin takes my calls (at least 50% of the time), I felt compelled after watching Matt and Mark to reach out to let the MDW CEO know that this pairing and product was a super sweet treat. Halfway into the conversation, and suddenly I was offered the opportunity to chat briefly with Matt Thrasher, who happened to be handy to take a few questions.  So today, let me start with a brief review of Oil Hunks 9, and then conclude with my biggest thrill of 2017 so far, getting an off the cuff, but on the record interview with homoerotic wrestling’s reigning muscle daddy, Matt Thrasher.


“Wow,” Matt Thrasher says in his understated way, when Mark Muscle stands up and stares down at him. “Uh, yeah, you’re a pretty big boy,” Matt says. It’s faint praise for one of the most remarkably genetically gifted muscle boys to make a foray into our end of the homoerotic wrestling pool within the past year or so. My review of Mark’s W4H 2-on-1 match against the Ravaging Savages documented just how turned on I was by all of that lush, thick, juicy muscle hanging off of his 6’4″ frame. But whereas that W4H match tilted toward the gimmicky side, and, in the end, I found myself turned on hardest by the smallest man in the mix, MDW has centered the narrative on the most literal accounting of Mark’s assets for a homoerotic wrestling audience: muscle worship.

Look at that muscle!”

Matt is basically licking his lips as he lays down the challenge to the muscle freak towering over him.  “You’re big. You’ve got some size,” Matt concedes, “but do you know how to use it?” As unabashed a Mark Muscle devotee as I am, I have admit that Matt has put his finger on the most pertinent question. Mark is visually stunning. In still frame, Mark’s achingly pretty baby face perched on top of his gargantuan, outrageously massively built muscled body is almost too good to believe. But as Austin Cooper demonstrated in his W4H match against him, Mark’s believability is precisely in question when it comes to turning the crank of a wrestling fetishist like me. A pretty body, even one as remarkable as his, will only get your foot in the door as far as I’m concerned. You’ve got to know how to use all that muscle. You can’t just pose your way into homoerotic wrestling stardom. You’ve to wrestle, and walk that line between competition and carnal delight, and inhabit our imaginations with character and motivation and salesmanship to suck us into the psychodrama of professional wrestling.

Matt doesn’t mind this day’s work

It always helps a dazzling pretty rookie to have an opponent who knows the score. Frankly, it’s hard to get a rise out of Matt Thrasher. And that makes such total sense, because he’s a sensational muscle daddy. His whole thing is the unflappability that comes with maturity. So when Mark locks down a reverse bearhug with shiny, gritted teeth, the tension is thick as big Matt grimaces, then groans, then squirms in agony. In case you don’t get the premise here, Matt calls in his daddy dominant cred to spell it out for those of you who need to get hit over the head with it. Mid-bearhug, Matt stares straight into the camera, his huge, veiny forearms flexed in the futile effort to pry apart his opponent’s hands locked across his upper abdomen, and growls, “Damn, the boy’s a beast!”

Putting daddy on his knees

Still not sure how to approach Oil Hunks 9? Having demonstrated his superior strength, Mark announces that he needs to take off his America flag square cuts. There’s no strategic advantage to peeling down to the leopard print (!?!?) g-string, other than to pry more stubborn, clearly appreciative praise out of muscle daddy Matt, and continue to center this as entirely about Mark’s worship-ready physique. Mid-arm wrestling, Mark turns his baby blues and says straight into the camera, “Look at that muscle,” as he points at his gargantuan, flexed bicep.  They hammer on the theme repeatedly. “Yeah, you’re a strong mother…” Matt growls. Mark drives this daddy to his knees in a test of strength, showcasing the startling, striking contrast in size between them.

“You’re prettier than I am, I’ll give you that.”

“All right, you’re big. You’ve got some strength,” Matt gaspingly concedes again and again. That’s right, Mark mutters as he eye fucks his own hot body. “You’re prettier than I am, I’ll give you that,” Matt slips in a backhanded compliment that the rookie doesn’t even recognize. And younger, Mark chuckles, stroking his peaked biceps. “But that doesn’t mean shit,” Matt snarls, never, ever one to take an ageist insult without dishing out some muscle daddy punishment in reply.

Muscle on muscle

Truth be told, there are basically about 5 minutes of relatively straight forward wrestling. As you might imagine, it’s all about power. Bearhugs, sleepers, side headlocks. The explicit stakes are based on the agreement that the loser will have to oil down the victor’s hot muscles.

Dragging a big boy down to size

This is NOT a Daddy’s Home match, mind you, so don’t be surprised when this drama unfolds the same way every signal up to this point has implied. Daddy Matt isn’t exactly bitter about having to slide his oil soaked hands all over the expansive geography of Mark’s muscles. And he narrates the experience, voicing his awe over Mark’s ridiculous lat wing spread, delighting in feeling up the up-and-comer’s tight glutes. I get the feeling that Matt isn’t one bit unhappy with his duty as the ostensible “loser” in this confrontation. In fact, he enjoys himself so much, it leaves you wondering whether big Mark Muscle may very well be getting suckered into a rematch, only next time appearing in a Daddy’s Home scenario, where Matt bags and tags him along with all the rest.


Oil Hunks 9 is light on competitive professional wrestling, but abundantly gifted in breathtaking demonstrations of strength and displays of gorgeous muscle. As far as wrestle-worship products go, I’d like to have seen a more competitive tussle. Mark is, as far as I’m concerned, still unproven when it comes to his capacity to genuinely sell his side of a pro match. But that insanely pretty mug and muscle freak physique can carry a product pretty fucking far, and with an unapologetic homoerotic gladiator like Matt on the other end of the teeter-totter, Mark is guaranteed to top off any muscle freak or size queen. Size differences, open lust, and oil across every inch of a muscled phenom. Of course I fucking love this match!


So imagine my delight, fresh off of soaking in Oil Hunks 9, to get a quick exchange with top daddy Matt Thrasher. It went like this…

Bard: I am beyond thrilled to get a chance to talk with mighty Matt Thrasher! I’m a huge fan of your wrestling. And your body, for that matter. Tell me about the path that brought you into the homoerotic wrestling universe.
Matt: I’ve always been a fan of pro wrestling, Growing up I watched Ravishing Rick Rude and Randy Savage, Hulk Hogan, the Ultimate Warrior and all those guys. I’ve wrestled throughout my life, and one day I went with a fellow MDW champ to watch a match and just thought to myself, Yeah, I’m in!
Bard: It seems like I’ve heard at least 9 out of 10 opponents of yours disparagingly refer to you as an “old man.” I love the fact that it never gets a rise of you you, though. Do you mind me asking how old your are?
Matt: Not at all, I’m 51 now and will never hide it or lie about my age. How many guys my age can look as good as I do and work as hard as I do, and reap the rewards in and out of the ring.
Bard: A precious few, I’m certain! Personally, I’m on the far side of 45 years old, myself, so I get a vicarious thrill from watching you pick apart these young, cocky punks and devour them. Does maturity give you a leg up when it comes to facing off against a younger opponent?
Matt: Absolutely! These young kids with cocky attitudes are all over-confident. They all seem surprised when they fall. My experience and maturity gives me the ability to back up my confidence. 
thrash10Bard: I’ve been a fan of your wrestling work from first time I caught sight of you at MDW. But I must say, you’ve really come into your own in the Daddy’s Home franchise. I think you’ve made that series all your own. When Muscle Master Kevin first pitched you the concept of being a dominant, silver fox muscle daddy who conquers and collects hot young muscle cubs, what did you think about it?
Matt: Oh, I was all over that.  They say art imitates life, and being a dominant muscle daddy collecting and conquering young pups is kinda my thing outside the ring as well.
Bard: In their rush to try to psych you out with ageism, it seems like every opponent you face somehow overlooks (or willfully ignores) your sensationally strong, gorgeously muscled body. Have you always been a natural athlete, or is being a muscle daddy a recent development?
thrasherMatt: I was always athletic in high school. I was a swimmer and a track star. I started lifting in college and just got addicted to size. The older I got, the bigger and better I got!
Bard: Personally, I love every muscled inch of your body, but if I was tied up and tortured until I confessed which part of you I like most, I’d have to say its your legs. When you lock those tree trunks around an opponent and crush the fight right out of them, it’s absolutely magnificent. Is there any particular part of your magnificent physique that you’re most proud of?
Matt: My legs have always been big and responded well when I started training, so of course they are a feature. But i’d say I’m proudest of these big daddy pecs, because they took the most work to grow.
Bard: And they’re sensational! You’ve faced the biggest and baddest at MDW, from Muscle Master Kevin to Morgan Cruise to every muscle punk and skinny bon-bon on the roster. Do you have a favorite match, one that you think showcases your best work?
Matt: I like any of the ones that show a really good match, that show our solid wrestling skills. I loved my early match with Chace LaChance. He’s a great opponent, and a good friend, so the chemistry was all there! But clearly my best assets were shown against Morgan Cruise.
Bard: There was a collective gasp from every corner of the homoerotic wrestling world when you didn’t just beat Morgan, didn’t just score what oddsmakers would have to agree was the Upset of the Decade, but then you molded Morgan into a slack jawed, muscle worshipping daddy’s boy with his lips wrapped around your gorgeous cock. It was an epic moment in Morgan’s career and in the history of MDW, as far as I’m concerned. Will we get to see your impressive jack hammer again in future matches?
Matt: That was quite a satisfying moment to have Morgan brought down and call me his daddy! Will you see the jack hammer in action? I guess you’ll have to watch and see!
Bard: When you think about what gets you hardest, fastest, is it the heat of battle as you’re conquering some new, loudmouthed pup, or is it that moment that they bend to your overpowering will? Because I just want to know how much of a fight you really want when you wrestle your first blogger vs. wrestler match.
Matt: (Laughing) Daddy loves a good hard fought match, but what gets me hardest fastest is when I get this muscle punk that’s all talk and all attitude, but who drops to his knees right away.  They talk a big game, but they know who their Daddy is.
Bard: Duly noted.  If you could square off against a former opponent in a rematch, who would you like to take another run at, and what would you do differently?
Matt: I’d have to say Master Kevin of course! Someone has to bring him down, and eventually it’s going to be Matt Thrasher!
Bard: I want front row tickets to that!  Again, I want to thank you sincerely for taking the time, and being such a good sport, with all of my questions. To finish up, is there anything that more that you’d like to say to your devoted fans?
Matt: Hell, yeah, Daddy is just getting started! Bigger and better than ever at 230 pounds and growing! Check out my Instagram and follow me (@Matt_Thrasher_MDW).


Best of 2016

I had every intention of posting some more niche categories for you to chime in on as we look back on the best of homoerotic wrestling for 2016. But alas, time and tide await for no man. The clock has nearly run out on 2016, and probably not a second too soon. So instead of polling the readers, I’m just going to put forth a few of my own personal picks for the best in homoerotic wrestling in a few more categories almost certain not to show up in any official year end fan polls.


Best Back

Fuck, I love a big, broad, thickly muscled back. I suppose a lot of guys probably don’t think of the back as a particularly lust worthy. I, on the other hand, think a hot, sexy back is immense value added. It seems far too often neglected by the gym bunny crowd, making a truly gorgeous, crafted classic V and wide wing span that much more notable. Again, for my tastes, there are mechanics involved, like proportion, shape, and thickness, but that last, little, hard-to-articulate aesthetic comes down to whether a back makes me ache to slap down a massive load across the expanse of it. So, as with everything, it’s about what it inspires in me as much as any particular objective, measurable quality that we could all agree on.  My top three favorite backs in 2016, in reverse order, are as follows:

Lon Dumont

2nd runner up is Lon Dumont. So much has been said about Lon’s phenomenal abs, and deservedly so. But damn, that back is a work of art! I would love to see 2017 be the year that opponents climb into the ring with Lon and acknowledge what a hot, rocking body this magnificent muscleman possesses, and fuck, that back should be on the list of things for an opponent with taste to admire.

Van Skyler

1st runner up for me is BG East’s muscleboy Van Skyler. He’s a dizzyingly sexy fantasyman from the front, sure, but fuck, that gorgeous back could be more perfect only with a stream of cum painted across it.


I don’t have access to better pics, but trust me, Thunder’s Arena’s Scrappy has a magnificent back. His perfect V points like an arrow that supremely fuckable ass. He’s phenomenal to watch wrestle. The attitude, the power, the beauty from every angle. But my heart rate spikes every time I see his best side. Scrappy has his admirers, clearly, but I have think that he’s one of the most underrated athletes in the homoerotic wrestling industry. He’s a handsome fucker with some sweet mat skills, but I’m waiting for him to just turn around, extend that lat spread and flex those glutes, and bring the right opponent to his knees.


Best Tag Team.

There were precious few tag team matches in homoerotic wrestling in 2016. A producer once told me that tag team matches are few and far between because it’s just too much of a pain in the ass coordinating 4 different schedules (plus the production crew). So they’re a rare treat that I, personally, enjoy immensely. So here are my top 3 favorite tag teams in 2016, picked out of some inexact formula of ring skills, beauty, teamwork and chemistry, with just a little of that extra added allure of making we want to join them in a 3 way (and I’m not strictly talking wrestling now).

Zack Johnathan (aka Z-Man) and Austin Cooper

2nd runner ups for me were the fascinating pairing of two sensational, iconic figures in homoerotic wrestling, Z-Man and Austin Cooper, teaming up for Rock Hard Wrestling in All-Star Brawl. I’m not convinced that they have a ton of chemistry when working together, but two hot, sexy stars this big and this popular make a sensationally sexy pairing.

Raving Savages Zach Reno and Matt Blakewood

1st runner ups, and thus first in line for me to climb into a petite, muscle packed, loin clothed sandwich with, are Wrestle4Hire’s Ravaging Savages, namely Zach Reno and Matt Blakewood. These bearded badasses were a thrilling surprise for me in their magnificent take down of behemoth muscle giant Mark Muscle. Despite pulling off some fabulously coordinated double teaming, I think they are just a little unequally yoked, as evidenced by Matt having to turn alpha and order Zach around a bit to finally finish off their superhuman opponent. But holy fuck, these micro beasts were a sensational turn on for me in 2016.

Team All-Americans – Rookie Charlie Evans and veteran Christian Taylor

In what has to be the hottest, most entertaining tag team match in homoerotic wrestling this year (this decade?), ginger newbie Charlie Evans joined forces with fantasy veteran Christian Taylor to bring down the house in Tag Team Torture 19. Their opponents, newbie Chase Addams and Trophy Boy Ty Alexander, could have totally taken this award, if their out of control vanities hadn’t set them on a path to self-destruction from the start. What Team Vanity lacked in teamwork and coordination, Team All-Americans excelled at. This was such a fabulous narrative of earnest babyfaces versus narcissistic heels, with the juicy melodrama of the upstanding All-Americans suffering heaping loads of underhanded brutality, and yet enduring, having each others backs, and through raw skill, will, and teamwork staying in the fray long enough for their egomaniacal opponents to make one too many mistakes. I would pay a premium for those dick selfies they snapped with Team Vanity’s phones. And absolutely, if there’s a tag team I’d most want to join for a rip and strip, baby oiled menage a trois, in 2016, it’s Team Vanity.


Best Gear

I’ve had some extensive conversations with Ty Alexander about the dangerous waters of expressing strong opinions about gear. I’m no Joan Rivers, and I hardly claim any particular expertise in fashion. But I definitely know when a particular gear choice does NOT do it for me. And, occasionally, I think to myself, that hunk was made to wear that! As with everything, there are mechanical factors that go into my estimation of gear, like fit, color, and complexion. But in this case, that hard to describe, major component of what I like has to do with me deciding, at least momentarily, that a wrestler actually may be even sexier in this particular gear than out of it (trust me, that’s a rare conclusion for me). Well, at least I think to myself that I’d like to see him in it before ripping it off of him. In any case, what I think may be the most sensational gear choices of 2016 are as follows.

Ty Alexander

2nd runner up is Trophy Boy Ty Alexander. To say that a pair of trunks look like they were made to be worn by a wrestler is, quite literally, the truth when it comes to fashion-obsessed Ty. He has an immense collection of custom made wrestling outfits that he showed off in 2016. Possibly my favorite were the opal trunks he wore in his grudge match against fleeting tag team partner Chase Addams in Tag Team Torture 19. Lush fit, beautiful contrast with Ty’s all-over tan, and generously providing reading material for when he plants that ass on Chase’s face. They tell a story all on their own, which, considering Ty’s panache for storytelling in the ring, adds compelling nuance and subtext to a match.

Jobe Zander

I let my attention wander away from Jobe Zander for a while, but suddenly, in 2016, I took another look and discovered a whole new man. I’m assuming there was some nefarious transaction with Satan involved, or perhaps a genie in a bottle, to transform Jobe into the ripped sex god he suddenly is today. However it happened, I was blown away by the super-low-rise, sky blue banana hammock he wore this summer in Can-Am’s Decrotchery 14. His hot, rock hard glutes look insanely sensational, and Jobe’s masterpiece is framed like the work of art it is. The seaming, the gorgeously tight outline of his monster cock… everything about these trunks scream Jobe. A fashion critique would likely note that the pouch pulls away from his inner thigh just a fraction as a result of a fraction too little fabric to manage to cover his famously gargantuan python. But who the fuck are we kidding. That tiny gap, the shadowed space stretched too tight at the side of his crotch, is exactly what makes this gear perfection.


My choice for Best Gear in 2016 is Rafael Valmor from BG East’s Fan Fantasy 4. Honestly, Rafael had an unfair advantage, considering Kieran Dunne made him try out about half a dozen pairs of trunks before acknowledging the obvious truth that these baby blue square cut swim trunks achieved absolute perfection. The combination of that baby blue against his bronzed, Brazilian body is so fucking lovely! But it’s the cut that boggles my mind. I swear it looks like these trunks were sewn together right on his body. From the back, they dip exactly to the top of his ass crack, squeezing each gorgeous ass cheek like loving friend. From the front, they suck to his muscled, upper thighs, and then leave exactly enough acreage to let his mouthwatering bulge stick out just right. I know, I know, I keep using the word “perfection” too often in this category, but I can think of no other description for Rafael’s gear here. Kieran agrees with me here. Mouthwatering, aesthetic, masterful engineering, absolute perfection.


Best Wrestling Character

I think of this last category like picking Miss Congeniality, only most of the time, the most compelling, sexiest wrestling personalities in homoerotic wrestling are decidedly uncongenial. As a fan, I talk about this aspect of wrestling often, the sell, not just of any particular move or hold, but of the wrestling story as a whole. There are plenty of homoerotic wrestling matches that seem to pop up out of nowhere, with the combatants’ motivation for stripping down to their barest essentials and beating the living fuck out of each other remaining mostly a mystery. But there are some sensationally entertaining hunks on the scene who absolutely emote. They set the table for us, sometimes with dialogue and explicit backstory, but often with just a smirk and a sneer. I love wrestlers who can convince me that they aren’t just waiting to clock out, but that they’re motivated and passionate about working up a sweat and settling some score. This is less about being a heel or a babyface or a jobber, but about conveying the virtual world in which hot hunks in the briefest of trunks defy gravity, obliterate the conventions of common decency, and pit nothing but their bodies and cunning against one another for a reason. That’s fucking sexy as hell for me. So here are my top 3 wrestling personalities who did all of that the best in 2016.

Aryx Quinn

I’ve missed seeing more of Aryx Quinn in homoerotic wrestling lately, but even showing up relatively rarely, he tears apart the competition in body and soul. As my 2nd runner up for best wrestling character, Aryx could easily drive fans wild with just that rocking body and those incredibly devastating wresting skills. And yet, every time he shows up, he brings that sexy as fuck, sneering, domineering, trash talking attitude that typically conveys a crystal clear motivation to rip an opponent apart in order to fuck them senseless in victory. I’d argue there’s no other wrestler in competition today who inhabits quite the wrestling character that he does with such supreme success.

Kid Karisma

My 2nd runner up for Best Wrestling Character is Kid Karisma. Kid K consistently conveys a transparent motivation for throwing down, built on several interlocking factors. He loves the way he looks, glistening with sweat and showing off his magnificent muscles, having beaten an opponent to submission and flexing over top of him. He clearly loves the way it feels, possessing another man, bending and breaking him, milking whimpers and screams out of him. Kid K sells a particularly sweet vintage of sadism without a hint of maleficence about it that’s incredibly novel and compelling. And, at least 2 times out of 3, he wrestles because it turns him on. So often, after ripping a lucky bastard apart piece by piece, you’ll catch Kid Karisma climbing on top, saddling up, and smacking down a lusty, passionate kiss. Both in his wrestling work and in conversation, he consistently comes across as a hearty partier, a prankster and a smart ass, who wrestles for the sheer pleasure of it.

Matt Thrasher

Best Wrestling Character in 2016 for my tastes was Matt Thrasher. Again, like Aryx and Kid Karisma, Matt inhabits a relatively unique persona in the business, I think. Particularly in his work for Muscle Domination Wrestling, Matt is the Daddy’s Home franchise. He’s gorgeous, of course, but he absolutely owns the salt ‘n’ pepper daddy beat in today’s industry. Youngsters of all shapes and sizes keep throwing themselves in his way, calling him old, calling him grandpa. And with patience born of experience, Matt chuckles, and then turns the ageist bullshit on its head by beating the living fuck out of every ankle biter he meets. He’s bulging and hairy and sweats like a Margarita in August, but its the way he carries that off in his seasoned, savory picking apart of young bucks that makes him such a phenomenal character. He’s never impulsive. He’s deliberate and decisive. And he persistently possesses the sexy, compelling character motivation of crushing the dreams of youth as he turns cocky kids into his sniveling bitches.

So those are my picks for some of the aspects of homoerotic wrestling that I, personally, key off of, but which don’t tend to find their way into end of year fan polls. Feel free to praise any wrestlers who you’d have picked for these (or any other) category in the comments below.  And happy new year, people. Here’s to a hope and prayer to the homoerotic wrestling gods that we all survive 2017 with a few civil liberties left.

Finally, Daddy’s Really Home

Morgan Cruise is, as always, an Alpha Male

“Another day in this fabulous facility, and once again, I’m going to crush someone,” Morgan Cruise crows as usual as the scene opens on Muscle Domination Wrestling’s Daddy’s Home 7. “Dominate them, really.” He flexes, looking seriously fucking good with aesthetically cropped body hair and a magnificent cheetah print thong. “Make them understand what a true alpha male I am.”

Uuuggggghhhhh.  The infamous alpha male script. I’m just going to get something off my chest here and now. I fucking hate hearing homoerotic wrestlers utter the words “alpha male.” I have some ambivalence about whether there may be some inherent internalized homophobia behind the alpha male banter, but honestly, it isn’t that. It’s just too fucking overdone. And I’m just going to put it out there at the risk of offending someone: Muscle Domination Wrestling in particular has overdone the alpha male shtick. It’s typically a set up for a squash, with the self-declared alpha male crushing an opponent without the suspense or contest that really gets at the heart of my gay wrestling fetish. Morgan is probably the biggest offender of slipping too easily, too formulaically into the alpha male song and dance. I see his hot, hot body and hypnotically beautiful eyes (I mean, fuck, those babies literally glow!). Then he opens his mouth and utters the words, “alpha male,” and I want to slap him. Hard.

Morgan thinks Matt may be too old to keep it up

In strolls Matt Thrasher. There’s a reason Matt is my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month. Actually, there are a lot of reasons. Muscle daddy Matt is also instantly arousing to me. The grey hairs peppered into his beard make him stand out from the crowded field of young, juicy cuts of veal in homoerotic wrestling. His mammoth pecs drive me fucking nuts. I longly wait for the day an opponent uses the massive, sweaty crevice between those mountains of chest muscle to grind out an explosive pec frottage satisfaction. A hairy ass typically gets you docked points on my scorecard, yet somehow, muscle daddy Matt works the look to perfection. And there’s something “real” about his wrestling persona. His cockiness is tempered by maturity. His high appraisal of his strength and wrestling never stretch far too far away from the raw, bulging, beautiful facts. When younger opponents (they all are) chide him about his age, he never overreacts, as if his magnificent physique paired with wisdom and experience are somehow a bad thing. And I can’t remember him ever, ever using the phrase “alpha male.”

“How long can you keep up before you have to get back to that rocking chair?”

“You’re pretty big,” Morgan smirks, stating what is plainly obvious as if we were all waiting for him to make it true by saying so. “But how long can you keep up before you have to get back to that rocking chair?” Another dig at the age differential. Morgan flexes his impressive guns in Matt’s face to intimidate him. Textbook Morgan Cruise. Cue the unstoppable squash scenario. Morgan’s about to tease his muscle worship YouTube fans with another domineering beat down.

“Um, that’s a little surprising, yeah.”

Matt pulls off his t-shirt and flexes his huge biceps. He crunches his massive pecs (making my cock quiver). “Does that surprise you?” Matt asks, pumping his own gargantuan guns in the Mastodon’s face. Morgan seems unable to restrain himself. He reaches out and palms the mammoth peaks. “That’s a little surprising, yeah,” he admits to being impressed by Matt’s rocking muscle daddy bod.

Matt has age, strength and experience on his side

“I’m undefeated,” Morgan points out, still working the psychological assault. “I’ve had hundreds of matches,” he explains. “I don’t know if you’ve seen them, but I kick a lot of ass.” Now, it probably should be pointed out that this match takes place in one particular homoerotic wrestling universe. If you follow the scene, you may have seen Morgan ultimately conquer and take possession of Matt in an ancient Rome period fantasy piece based on gladiator slave combat. This match does not take place in that universe. This match also does not take place in the homoerotic wrestling universe in which Morgan and Matt squared off on opposing tag teams in BG East’s Tag Team Torture 19. In that universe, Morgan has most definitely already seen Matt’s mouthwatering body, and not only was Morgan unimpressed, but he also completely had his way with Matt as a flat footed, completely green rookie.

Morgan comes face to pec with Matt’s overwhelming daddy muscles

No, this is the homoerotic wrestling universe in which Morgan chews up and spits out opponents, big and little, endlessly monologuing and ultimately appeasing the fans who never get enough of watching him dominate. So you’ll forgive me when, in that universe, he and Matt lock hands for an opening test of strength, and my eyes almost pop out when Matt almost instantly and commandingly goes over the top, driving Morgan to his knees, and making the Mastodon whimper in pain. Holy fuck, did that just happen!?

“I think you’re going to be my bitch today.”

“I think you’re going to be my bitch today,” Matt growls in that sexy, back of the throat baritone of his. He let’s Morgan get back up to his feet. Morgan takes a solid swing, jabbing at the most massive target within reach, that huge, huge chest on Matt.  The stunning strike often makes Morgan’s opponents shatter at his feet. But not this time. Matt literally catches the fist in one hand and stops it cold. “Nice try,” the muscle daddy smirks, cranking that arm into a hammerlock, driving Morgan to his knees, and mounting a gorgeous standing surfboard that looks like it could pry Morgan apart at the shoulders.

“You are going to learn a lesson today, you little shit!”

“You are going to learn a lesson today, you little shit,” Matt snarls, stomping on Morgan’s muscled back. “You’re going to be daddy’s bitch.” Ohmygodohmygodohmygod! Is Morgan Cruise about to slapped silly and humiliated by, let’s face it, a hot piece of ass with a seriously inconsistent match record?!

“Mr. Undefeated? Is that what you said?”

He grabs him by that FUCKING pony tail and pries Morgan’s head backward. Oh my god, I hate that pony tail so much. When it shows up on “alpha male” Morgan, I typically scream at the screen the entire time for his opponent to drag his hot, muscle ass around the ring by it, but they never do. But fuck, yes, yes, yes, Matt does. “Mr. Undefeated?” Matt whispers in Morgan’s ear. “Is that what you said?!”

Morgan’s got no answer to this

So the Daddy’s Home franchise has been an enticing genre at MDW. Inaugurated by Matt, it has often, but not always been a sweet mash up of one-sided wrestling, muscle worship, and bear daddy cub training. I’ve always thought there was a kernel of brilliance in the Daddy’s Home formula that has yet to be fully realized. I’m saying here and now, Daddy’s Home 7 has fully realized that wildly sexy, intense, terrifying, will-bending potential that the genre has been promising all along.

Matt takes the cub training task in hand

While I can totally get off to a smaller guy upending a bigger dude, I’ve often felt a little cheated when Morgan has accomplished this without the barest acknowledgement that he was playing catch up to physically bigger, more massively muscled opponents. So when that formula starts to completely fall apart for him in this match, it’s like watching the end of an era. In the new MDW universe, Morgan Cruise is mortal. And I, for one, am turned on by him about 27 times harder than I ever have been before because of it.

Morgan can’t move this mountain of muscle

The odds are stacked against him. Matt’s bigger, stronger, more experienced. So when he bodyslams the Mastodon like pounding down bread dough, there’s something so shockingly right about it. Big Matt stomps on the hairy beast viciously. He schoolboy pins Morgan, his big, jock strap pouch dangling in Morgan’s face as the muscle daddy flexes his quickly sweat covered chest and arms over top of Mr. Undefeated. Morgan strains, grunting, working to somehow magically toss his rising muscle daddy’s 225 pounds of glistening marble like he probably could have in every other single match he’s every wrestled (in this homoerotic wrestling universe). And Morgan can’t move daddy Matt an inch, mother fuckers!

“Feel those legs?  I can stay here all day.”

Matt grabs Morgan’s throat in a one-handed choke and muscles the gasping hunk into sweaty, swallowing bodyscissors. “Feel those legs? I could stay here all day,” Matt smirks, leaning on one elbow, propping his head leisurely on his hand like a Play Girl centerfold. Morgan starts to squirm and squeal in panicked agony. “Fight it, fight it,” Matt coaches, letting Morgan suck on the pain until just before the kid looks like he’s going to cry.

“I… I can’t win!!?!!!!”

The pace is persistently catch and release, catch and release, which, frankly, is the way I prefer my squashes. Matt is almost compassionately teaching the cocky young punk a lesson he’s needed for far too long. He buttons him up with body slams, chokes, scissors, demonstrating that he can take Morgan’s muscled ass at will. Any fucking day. Any fucking hour. He spanks that ass ferociously. You can see the raised, bright red welting hand prints on Morgan’s cheeks. Matt explains again and again that he’s bigger, badder, and destined to make Morgan his bitch. Then he releases him again to prove the point all over. “I… I can’t win!!!” Morgan gasps, shocked at the sound of these words coming from his mouth for the first time in his life. Matt crushes him with total command in spinal adjustment bodyscissors, toying with Morgan’s nipples, playing him like a piano. “Wait, wait, I thought you were Mr. Undefeated,” Matt taunts, dialing him in like a ham radio. “Oh… oh, fuuuuuck!” Morgan groans in that particularly intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure.

“That’s 225 pounds of daddy muscle.”

“Feel my weight on you?,” Matt asks, whispering in Morgan’s ear as he stretches out on top of his back, grinding him into the mat. “That’s 225 pounds of daddy muscle,” Matt explains, flexing his hairy ass, swiveling his hips forward, grinding his hungry cock between Morgan’s vulnerable cheeks. “You though you could take me?,” Matt asks, more like a statement, just letting the absurdity of it marinade as he humps the muscle kid’s ass. “You thought you would leave here undefeated?” Matt climbs to his feet, his gorgeous cock stretching a good 2 inches over the top of his jock. “And yet here I stand, you below me, and you’re my bitch.”

Like a fucking muscle baby!

Morgan sells this match body and soul. I have never been so completely taken in by what Morgan is putting out there as when he’s fucking weeping, terrorized, and then suddenly, almost shyly, reaching up and stroking his muscle daddy’s superior muscles. I totally believe Morgan’s sincerity as he kneels at his master’s feet, hungrily sucking at Matt’s nipples. I believe he wants it so, fucking, much well before the eager head of Morgan’s cock pokes over the top of his thong almost shyly asking to come out play. Morgan has totally bought and sold me that he’s gagging for it well before Matt face fucks him furiously, sweat pouring off Matt’s chest, grunting with pleasure as he holds the back of Morgan’s head and pounds his hips forward, again and again.

“I own you.”

This is by far the most sexually explicit work that I’ve seen at MDW, and it plays like a masterpiece. The “competition” is over well before both hunks are naked, but the suspense remains as to just how far daddy will go with the crushed, cocky phenom. He makes Morgan oil his already glistening muscles. He rolls him up and mounts his vulnerable, naked ass, pounding his daddy maker into the base of Morgan’s balls. Prying open Morgan’s knees, muscle daddy Matt kneels between his legs and grabs hold of both rods in his big hand and molds them together into one pulsing, hot, rock hard mass. “You want daddy’s load?” As if he needed to ask.  “Yes!” Morgan gasps, gagging for it.  “You get a nice big load from daddy, then you’ll really be my bitch, yeah? I own you!” Matt face fucks him until he cums, Morgan deep throating him like a champ.

Morgan dives in face first

I was NOT expecting any of this.  From MDW. From Morgan. From Matt (well, maybe from Matt). This is epic level shit, taking one of the untouchables from the MDW shelf, one of the franchise players who built the brand by being unstoppable, by being irrepressible, by being an alpha male ad nauseum, and turning him into a hot pile of vulnerable muscle hunk getting owned, but good.

Fuck and yes!

I feel the need to repeat myself. This is epic level shit.  MDW doesn’t just stretch their boundaries. They rip them to shreds. And they don’t just do something that I find completely unexpected. They do it really, really well.

Daddy’s right at home

Personally, Morgan, Matt and MDW’s stocks are skyrocketing for me. If this is a one off and Morgan is slingshotted back into being Mr. Undefeated, pretending this never happened, bulldozing opponents twice his size like a super villain and monologuing about alpha males, I’ll be disappointed. But damn it all, let’s see more of what the Daddy’s Home franchise has been dabbling with all along. A big, mature, gorgeous muscle daddy bending, breaking, and molding a hot, hard, shocked muscle boy into his groveling, chastened bitch.

Who’s your daddy!?

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

August seems like it flew by. I’m slowly starting to climb back on top of my typical homoerotic wrestling viewing schedule, so I feel like I’ve got a relatively good handle on the field from which to pick a homoerotic wrestler of the month from among the new releases in August. I’ve crushed on this particular fantasyman before, awarding his first HWOTM title almost exactly 2 years ago. Maybe it’s something in the air this time of year. Or maybe the circadian rhythms of my libido make me crave a hot, sexy, salt and pepper  muscle daddy in the ring right about now. Whatever the reason, I was deeply moved by the new homoerotic wrestler of the month around these parts…






Matt Thrasher.

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Matt catches Tank with his pants down.

I’m infatuated with Matt’s anchoring of Muscle Domination Wrestling’s Daddy’s Home series (currently on sale when you bundle all of Matt’s appearances in the series). In Daddy’s Home 6 released in August, Matt once again arrives at the MDW ring in street clothes to find his next opponent to make into his new boy.  I was just recently writing about the curious kink I have for mismatched gear, and the opening scene here captures exactly what I’m talking about.  Rookie tank is nearly naked in his jock strap and nothing else. Matt looks like he just walked off the street in a baggy t-shirt and khaki walking shorts. And the side by side makes me instantly hard. Big Tank somehow looks vulnerable, exposed. I suppose, he’s literally caught with his pants down, and by doing nothing but wearing clothes, Matt immediately possesses the upper hand.

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Speaking of possession…

Not that I’m unhappy when Matt soon strips out of his street clothes and starts to mold Tank into a Daddy’s boy. Matt has come a long way in wrestling skill and storytelling since I started licking my lips at my first sight of him years ago. In Daddy’s Home 6, he is the steady, mature hand constructing the narrative tension, controlling the pace, pushing the story forward. Of course, I’d be happy to pour chocolate sauce all over Tank’s smooth, massive muscles and lick him clean, but he’s so fucking raw. He’s flat footed and slow. His balance is shit, and he’s got zero offense, unless you count the insistent allure of his muscled glutes demanding so much of Daddy’s attention. So it’s a relatively heavy burden Matt has to carry, crafting this into both a wrestling contest and a cub collaring.

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It takes a steady, mature hand.

However, Matt is more than up to the task.  He masterfully manipulates the punk ass newbie.  Tank comes across as dead weight quite a bit of the match, making me that much more in awe of the variety of humiliating positions Daddy Matt muscles him into. Ostensibly, what Matt wants from this match is respect. Tank smirks at the beginning, wondering if an “old guy” like Matt can really teach a young, virile muscle beast like him anything of use.  So, on one level, the parade of sexually vulnerable, brutally humiliating positions Matt marches him through is an object lesson.

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Look at how much Matt has to teach you, boy!

But at a deeper level, the story is about Matt getting turned on and determined to add this new muscle punk to his growing collection of daddy’s boys. This part of the story is slightly more subtle. Slightly. At no point does Matt say, for example, I’m going to beat you into submission, boy, and fuck that prime beef ass today, tomorrow, and anytime I damn well please. But watching Matt climb on top of his back, press his big, sweat stained pouch down between Tank’s cheeks, and then flex his hips, grinding with a breathless groan, the message is delivered loud and clear.

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Do not mess with Daddy!

In an industry that seems to me to follow so much of gay male culture in overemphasizing youth and still frame beauty, Matt Thrasher is a delightful breath of fresh air, as far as I’m concerned. I can count on one hand the number of homoerotic wrestlers old enough to take pride in a few grey hairs, currently competing. Frankly, I’d donate a kidney to see Matt tag team with another devastatingly sexy muscle daddy. If I were his agent, I’d have Shane McCall or Scott Williams, or perhaps Brendan Cage or Mitch Colby on the phone to line up a Daddy Team to spank the virgin asses of a couple of young gym bunnies drowning on their on testosterone and sense of invincibility.

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Right at home!

In the mean time, Daddy’s home. So all you tough, hot boys too young to know what’s good for you step right up. ‘Cause there’s nothing quite like getting owned by someone old enough to be your father, and there’s nothing sexier than getting your ass pounded by a reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month.

Matt Thrasher – August 2016 Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

“What’s Not to Like!?”

MDW’s Tank is a naughty, naughty boy. When silver fox muscle daddy Matt Thrasher shows up, having accepted the job of showing Tank a few things about wrestling, the bulging rookie is anything but gracious. “You look like my father,” Tank sneers at Matt’s salt and pepper whiskers. “You know what? ‘Father’ was too good. You could be my grandfather!”

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“You look like my father!”

If there’s a bulging young rookie in need of some humbling respect at the hands of a magnificent, more mature, more experienced muscle daddy like Matt, I’m all in. Daddy’s Home 6 is not the first time my heart has started pounding to see Matt Thrasher climb into the ring in street clothes. Fuck, I love the look of him so much. I’d be thrilled to see a masters competition among the rare breed of homoerotic wrestler old enough to be the average industry competitor’s father. But what I’d really lose my shit over would be to see daddy Matt team up with some other seasoned beefsteak like Shane McCall (or the elusive man of my dreams, Scott Williams!) to tag team terrorize pretty boys two at a time.

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“…show you how to respect!”

Anyhow.  As I try to reel my homoerotic imagination back in, let me just appreciate Matt’s stone cold reply to Tank’s ageist taunts.  “So?” Matt asks, flexing his mountainous bicep in Tank’s face and owning the fact that he’s aged to absolute perfection. “I might just not want to train you after all,” Matt mutters, slowly pacing around his “trainee” and giving those gargantuan glutes a long, lingering stare. “I might just want to give you a beat down and show you how to respect.” The shit eating, self-conscious grin on Tank evaporates as he gets up in Matt’s face. With total seriousness, he snarls, “I’d love to see that happen.”


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Rookie desire

And the genius of Daddy’s Home 6 is that I believe him. There’s a transparent cellophane wrapping of aggressive ego defense and intentions to measure up whose is bigger, but what I’m really getting off on is how much I buy that this big, bulging meathead who is clearly completely ill prepared to pull off anything of note by way of wrestling, deep down (somewhere around that pendulous package of his) wants a muscle daddy to take him by the scruff of the neck. Not that he’ll just roll over and take it.  Not by a long shot. He doesn’t want to give. He wants to have a muscle daddy milk the submission out of him. It’s not that he wants to be owned. It’s that he wants to be conquered.

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The ring trips them up.

I’m not sure what is up with a couple of production aspects of Daddy’s Home that I feel like I have to mention. First, the mat. There’s about 4 inches of foam tucked underneath a black cloth that continually trips the wrestlers. From start to finish, speed plays absolutely no part of this match because the boys have to step gingerly just to avoid getting tied up by the odd ring cover.  The other notable production detail that distracted me was the camerawork.  On the one hand, there are some fabulous close ups. The camera lingers long and hard on ass cheeks and bouncing pouches. The lens brings a sensational sexual tension to the bout, adoringly framing Matt climbing onto Tank’s prone body and pounding his crotch deeper and deeper between Tank’s mountainous ass cheeks.  Love that. Then, as if camera guy is suddenly using his free hand to whip out his dick and start jacking off (not that I’d blame him), the camerawork suddenly goes still. The wrestlers shift position, but the camera doesn’t, leaving an awkwardly long shot of Matt’s knee, and nothing else, before the camera suddenly points toward the ceiling a couple of seconds and then comes back to its senses. Not sure what the fuck was up with that

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Get used to this position, Tank.

But there are some truly fantastic elements to Daddy’s Home 6 that make up for the odd missteps mentioned above. I’ve already alluded to Daddy Matt’s propensity for dry(ish) humping Tank’s virginal ass cheeks. A lot. And fuck me, it never gets old. Tank may have big bulging muscles, but he’s got the stamina of a tsetse fly. So when he repeatedly finds himself face down, ass up, and mounted from behind, his tanks are on empty and the muscle daddy beatdown completely has it’s way with him.

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“What’s not to like!?”

At one point, Matt’s mounted him just right, and starts slamming his crotch down over and over into Tank’s vulnerable cheeks. “I bet you like that, don’t you!?,” Tank attempts a weak ass, borderline homophobic verbal defense, as if liking pounding a muscled ass like Tank’s is a bad thing. And then here’s another element of this match that thrills me. Matt replies, “What’s not to like?  A big, dumb kid with a pretty little ass, crying from my beating? What’s not to like?” Every varsity football star should get his ass spanked blood red and humped relentlessly, just so a homoerotic wrestling muscle daddy like Matt can pop that machismo balloon just like that and put it right there on the table. Yep, Tank. Beating your fine ass, humiliating you 5 ways to Sunday, and repeatedly simulating/practicing power fucking you senseless is, indeed, something Matt Thrasher likes. A lot. And so do I.

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That ass is angry red!

The last bit I’ll mention about this match is the spanking. I’ve talked about spanking before, and I’m on the record as being slightly dubious of it as a sellable wrestling offense. Humiliation? Icing on the cake?  Sure, I love it, mind you. But the use of spanking as a debilitating offensive maneuver stretches even my larger-than-normal homoerotic wrestling imagination.

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Matt digs deep

Until now. Holy fuck, two thwacks into it, and there’s a bright red welt exactly in the shape of Matt Thrasher’s big, meaty hand rising like a blood moon across Tank’s lily white cheeks. And the spanks keep coming, and fuck, I can’t help myself but flinch at the deeper, darker shade of red, beginning to turn a bruised blue, imprinted on the rookie’s ass. Matt spanks him for days, interspersed with occasional deep tissue massage as the veteran digs his fingers deep into that ass just screaming for it. About 9 minutes in, once again flat on his stomach and getting swatted incredibly hard across his butt, Tank is flinching and writhing, and he whimpers, “No… more… no more!” And holy shit, I believe every word of it.

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“Who’s your daddy!?!?”

And, happily for you and me and Matt, there are 11 more minutes to go in this rookie beatdown. The drama starts to hinge on the ultimate Daddy victory, as Matt insists that Tank must say the words, “You’re my daddy!” Like I said, Tank isn’t giving the milk away free. He spits out profanities and insults instead. Even in a single leg cradle, with Matt’s big, bulging crotch pressed provocatively against the rookie’s lightly hairy hole, Tank growls, “Fuck you, old man!”

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Tank takes it like the manboy he is

Frankly, I was prepared to be underwhelmed by Tank.  But there’s something incredibly sexy about his deep bass voice, and juxtaposed against (and all wrapped up within) Matt’s hot, sweaty, hairy muscles, Tank’s baby smooth body has me hungry for more. But the superstar of this match, and the very best Daddy’s Home matches I’ve seen, is muscle daddy Matt Thrasher. One of these days, I want to see one of Daddy’s boys show up to his next match with big Matt holding the leash, giving orders, coaching him through mastering his own muscle boys.

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Daddy’s home!

“You’re mine now,” Matt crows near the end of Daddy’s Home 6. “And you’re pretty excited by the prospect, aren’t ya?” The question is purely rhetorical.

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“You’re pretty excited by the prospect, aren’t ya?”


It’s taken a few weeks, but I’m thrilled to report that I’ve relocated chez Bard to greener pastures. My life is still mostly in boxes, but internet is up an running, so all is right with the world again. I’ve had the opportunity to watch just a little homoerotic wrestling during the transition, and I’ve got some exciting features and interviews in the pipeline. For today, though, I’ll just call out the eye catching new release teasers that have been making me salivate.  As I’ve mused about before, there’s something a little magical about that liminal time between the first glimpse of marketing of new homoerotic wrestling matches and the moment of putting eyes on the product itself.  I’m still consuming about 75% of my wrestling in DVD format, so that enticing moment of promise and anticipation can stretch at least a few days as the US Postal Service makes its way to my door (happily, that distance is considerably shorter for most of my favorite wrestling producers after this last move). Sometimes the marketing inspires my imagination in ways that the actual product never quite matches, but sometimes I’m particularly pleased to be caught by surprise, thrown a twist, or simply served up exactly the titillating, provocative wrestling fare that my heart desired.  In the last couple of weeks, the following new releases have been tweaking my fantasies, and being between addresses has meant the opportunity to suck down that gratification has been even more delayed.  What follows are the tried and true favorites of mine, and every match mentioned below features a hunk I’ve named homoerotic wrestler of the month in the past. I’m sure you’ll see reviews of at least some of these in the coming weeks as I settle into my new home and new routine, but for now, just the first glimpses catching my eye.

Christian Taylor and Charlie Evans tag up in Tag Team Torture 19

First of all, this tag team in the opening match of Tag Team Torture 19 is spinning me right round.  I haven’t felt a good scratching of my ongoing itch for hot, erotic tag team wrestling in a long time, and the pairing of sensationally handsome and ripped veteran Christian Taylor (former homoerotic wrestler of the month around here) with lovely, lithe newbie and fan of neverland, Charlie Evans, could be just what the doctor ordered.

Team Vanity: Ty Alexander & Charlie Evans

Increasing my anticipation of this Tag Team Torture 19 match are Christian and Charlie’s opponents. Of course, I sit up and take notice when one of my boybanders, Ty Alexander, climbs into the ring, looking fitter and finer than ever. But his fan-turned-tag partner Chase Addams could very well need to join the band. Newbie heels are are a hard sell for me, though, so the jury is out as to whether the new kid’s marketed phenomenal attitude and ring skills will make me want to throw my underwear at him.

Matt Thrasher debuts as tag team partner for Brute Baynard

Sticking with TTT19 for just a tad longer, don’t think it escaped my notice that daddy-of-my-dreams and former HWOTM Matt Thrasher has made his BG East debut!  I’ve fallen deep for daddy Matt since the first glimpse I got of him at MDW. I’m rigid with anticipation of what BGE might make of this salt and pepper muscleman.


Two boybanders in one match!?  Ah, hell yes! You’d think Ring Releases 4 was a custom match I ordered, featuring my long time infatuation Drake Marcos and heel pup Kayden Keller. Drake keeps begging for another shot at taking me on in the ring, so I’m always keenly interested in watching the endless ways that his opponents break him apart piece by piece. I have high expectations that Kayden’s work here will be inspiring and devastating.

Denny Cartier can do no wrong!

I’m also a Denny Cartier fanatic. I’ve named him homoerotic wrestler of the month at least twice that I can remember off the top of my head. There’s something raw and real about Denny, with a look that makes me weak in the knees and mat wrestling skills that bring me at full attention every fucking time. I don’t know if Chace LaChance is too much muscle and ego to handle, but damn, I’m eager to see Denny give it a go.

JJ’s got the goods.

Also from Chace’s Spotlight, Jake Jenkins. Need I say more? I’ve been on team Jake from the start, and I’ve never failed to be fully satisfied and completely exhausted with every match I’ve seen of his. He has a dismal record in the BG East ring, making me worry about his prospects against Chace is this match, but his size and acrobatics combined with Chace’s muscle mass, leaves me anticipating a lot of gasping, awe and orgasms.

Eagle can land on me anytime!

I’ve been off the Thunder’s Arena rotation for a while now, but the tempting teaser of another look at drop-dead gorgeous Eagle stomping the living shit out of Z-Man is one of a couple of strong motivators for climbing back into the arena again. Eagle was one of the rare newbies to convince me to make him homoerotic wrestler of the month, and I’m wanting to see what the sophomore year has in store for the beefcake.


The other motivator is the prospect of sampling Thunder’s new babyface bodybuilder Steel up against fitter than ever (how is that even possible!?) Marco, yet another HWOTM. Guys built as magnificently as Steel have a dismal track record when it comes to homoerotic wrestling, in my book at least. I still hold out hope for a second coming of Steve Sterling, a juicy, impeccably crafted bodybuilder who really takes to the genre with enthusiasm and promise. Even if he’s just eye candy, he’s in phenomenal hands in this match.

Can’t wait to dig in, and of course I’ll let you know what I think (as if you could stop me). It’ll probably still be a little while of unpacking and settling in before I hit my stride here again, but I’m looking forward to comparing notes with you soon.

The Gods have Landed

I confess that Steel Muscle God (SMG) continues to be a sentimental favorite of mine. I remember the first time I caught glimpse of him. Someone had captured a brief clip for YouTube of SMG doing a private cam show, dressed in a sensationally tight wrestling singlet and glasses (I swoon).  In his eastern European accent, he flexed and snarled and promised to dominate and destroy any wrestling opponent with his godlike muscles. I wasn’t the only one to discover him and click “like.” His fan following grew, motivating a personality driven SMG muscle worship site. Oh, yes, and inspiring a series of fictional wrestling scenes that I wrote for this blog, featuring him in a magnificent muscle battle against another European cocktease muscle man.

Steel Muscle God has landed!

Back near the beginning of my SMG infatuation, I offered to pitch in to buy him a plane ticket to the US to hook up with one of our domestic producers of homoerotic wrestling products to really polish him to a blinding shine. Muscle Domination Wrestling teased just that a while back, producing and publishing MDW stamped wrestling videos starring SMG. But they were contract pieces. SMG was still in eastern Europe, facing, albeit sensationally sexy, local talent there.  But my way back fantasy of SMG hopping a plane and landing in the US for an all-American welcome to homoerotic wrestling stardom just came true. MDW brought him here (and I didn’t even have to pay for his plane ticket!), and he’s now available for viewing in Super Men 5.

Bat Stud promises justice all over bulging beefcake Riddle Man

“That prick will definitely get what he deserves,” and angry Batman Super Bat Stud murmurs to himself, his sense of justice tweaked. SMG is cast as the dark knight, driven with a passion for justice that frequently shoves him right over the edge of vigilantism. He’s in the MDW garage ring, in painted-on black trunks and boots. He flexes and monologues, like any good self-righteous superhero does, before donning his Bat Stud cowl and sucking down a little liquid courage to really pump himself up for facing the reigning bad boy in Gotham Boston, the Riddler Riddle Man.

I’m guessing Red Bull and vodka.

“Looking for me, Bat Stud?” Riddleman arrives, laughing ominously, as if he knows something the impressive Bat Stud doesn’t. Morgan Cruise has managed to yank the Riddler tights onto his massively muscled frame without ripping it to shreds, which I think proves that he is, indeed, superhuman. The last Riddle Man to don that suit was somewhere around half the man Morgan is. The sheer mass of Morgan’s out of control curly locks could probably pin Charlie Evans for a 3-count. I’m bitter that Morgan’s hairy body stays entirely suited throughout this match, but fans of muscle-stretched lycra will probably find this value added.

SMG thrills me from behind

“You’ve been doing your shenanigans for a long time, but you need to be brought to justice!” Bat Stud snarls threateningly. Bat Stud with an eastern European accent instantly grabs me right at the base of my balls. That mouthwatering ass of his squeezing out here and there from the confines of his too tight trunks doesn’t hurt matters, either.

Making muscle domination wrestling an art form!

I argue that MDW is the leading company in producing narrative-driven homoerotic wrestling, and particularly for that distinction, they keep me on the line. In this case, Riddle Man has spiked Bat Stud’s shot of courage that he downed moments before donning his mask (SMG fans will appreciate the homage to his muscle worship site gimmick of sucking down tonics that do all sorts of things like turning him into a giant). Bat Stud is weak, helplessly bullied by the boy in green.

“This is NOT happening!!!”

“I’m going to drain you!” Riddle Man promises, manhandling the masked muscle man with relish.  “I’m going to suck out all of your power, all of your strength, and I’m going to make it mine. And I’m going to get my hands all over that body!” Here’s the other strong suit that MDW brings to the table lately.  Some (not all) of MDW’s roster unflinchingly charge headlong into the explicitly homoerotic text that their audience enjoys. Some other companies are still producing matches as if the homoeroticism, the muscles dominated, the implications of physical intimacy and sexual foreplay aren’t on our minds. Of course, some other companies are specializing in wrestling-as-sexual-foreplay, with seemingly every wrestling narrative rushed through in order to set up two hot pornboys fucking each other’s brains out. MDW is one of just a couple that I can think of that charts a middle way, dabbling here and there in explicitly sexual content, but for the most part, dialing up the homoeroticism by simply overtly acknowledging erotic lust as a factor in the wrestling narrative. Not that I don’t get off on some g-rated fratboy, mainstream pro imitation hot bodied wrestling matches. And not that I don’t saddle up frequently for enjoying full, fuck stakes pornboy grappling foreplay (I usually don’t linger on the fucking). But I really appreciate the respect MDW (and BGE) are giving their audiences, at least at times, by just treating our lust as something other than their dirty little secret.

Suck on that pain, SMG!

“This is NOT happening!” Bat Stud groans in shock. Our superhero is accustomed to outmuscling his opponents. The vigilante hunk is used to flexing and sneering in the faces of rule breakers on the way to manhandling them right to jail. But his spiked tonic is making him raw meat for Riddle Man to torture mercilessly.

“… I must confess, I’m pretty excited.”

“Getting my hands all over these muscles, I must confess, I’m pretty excited,” Riddle Man confesses, again cementing my allegiance in the match to the forces of evil and injustice.  He strokes SMG’s torso. He slaps his ass. At this rate, whether on camera or off, I’m pretty sure Bat Stud is going to be getting his hot ass fucked for days just like Super Stud did to a red-headed twink Riddle Man not so long ago. SMG suffering long!? SMG dominated and humiliated, provoked and possessed!?! Oh, fuck, yes.


This is SMG, after all…

Long-time fans of SMG will not be surprised when I reveal the spoiler that Bat Stud miraculously, inexplicably (okay, so plot holes abound in MDW’s enthusiastic efforts to produce narrative-driven homoerotic wrestling) regains his super strength. Riddle Man’s punches to SMG’s rock hard core bounce off harmlessly (except for bruising Riddle Man’s knuckles).  Bat Stud spends the last third of the match bullying and preening. He backs Riddle Man into a corner and beats him to his knees.

“Wh-wh-what are you!”

“Wh-wh-what are you!” Riddle Man stutters, in a direct quote from the 1989 Batman movie, proving yet again, as if we needed further proof, that MDW is masterminded by the sexiest pack of muscle nerds to dabble in gay wrestling.  What he is is a decent nod to the dark side of the Batman franchise, the vigilante who starts to get a kick out of not just bringing badboys to justice, but bullying them first, dominating and terrifying them. This is a superhero who clearly is starting to get off on the highlight reel he’s recording in his head of making a hot, beefy, (too) hairy muscle hunk like Morgan Cruise cower and quiver and beg.

SMG glistens in total control of Morgan Cruise.

“You win, Bat Stud!  Send me to prison!” Riddle Man pleads for reprieve, begs for straight up justice under threat of the boundary crossing vigilante who’s starting to enjoy this delivery of corporal punishment too much.  How far might a steel muscle god in black go, with revenge on his mind and a growing sexual taste for turning muscle bullies into fuck puppets?

Really rub that victory in, SMG!

Okay, that last bit is mostly me extrapolating the juicy homoerotic wrestling narrative that Super Men 5 seeds. And, of course, that’s a skill I’ve learned after decades of enjoying the homoeroticism of wrestling, having learned how to take the barest thread of a storyline and add all the sexual heat and lustful intent that I need to to feed my homoerotic wrestling kink.  MDW doesn’t make me work so hard, though. They know it’s me (and you) tuning in and getting turned on, and they aren’t embarrassed to appreciate their audience for exactly who we are.j

I think SMG needs to find a daddy like Matt Thrasher.

Now, if I may make a request, let’s see SMG face Matt Thrasher in a Daddy’s Home episode, because I’ve been waiting to see SMG bent over some muscle daddy’s knee and spanked into weeping submission for years!

Who’s Your Daddy?!

I think Muscle Master Kevin at Muscle Domination Wrestling may have taken it personally when I mentioned in the past my predilection for seeing more mature muscle daddies beat down cocky young bucks (hello, Mitch Colby, let me introduce you to Alexi Adamov). Not to mention my fawning adoration of muscle daddy Matt Thrasher who became an instant infatuation starring in Daddy’s Home.

“Daddy’s got some big guns here!”

Well, daddy’s back in ZZZZZ 6, and he loves his gorgeous, big, beautiful muscles almost as much as I do. “Yeah, look at that,” Matt says, flexing for the camera. “Daddy’s got some big guns here! Daddy’s the Man!” True on all points, as far as I’m concerned. Fuck, I’m into this hunk hard. Salt-and-pepper hair across his chest and ass. Sensationally thick legs, meaty pecs. Deep, gravely baritone with a hint of kicking a bad smoking habit a couple of years ago. I’ve never really wanted to be anyone’s daddy or anyone’s boy, but I’d donate a kidney (I’ve got a spare, right?) to get in the ring with Big Daddy Matt with a bottle of baby oil and a certainty that that jock strap is coming off.

Big Daddy Matt Thrasher has grabbed the attention of Muscle Master Kevin.

Perhaps too much fawning attention from a blogger attracted a little too much of the wrong sort of attention at MDW. Muscle Master Kevin slips into the ring and steals up from behind big Matt. Silently he observes the gun show, smirking, studying. Then BOOM, he’s got his massive, bulging bicep wrapped around big Matt’s throat like an anaconda.

“Oh, yeah, you’re looking pretty good…”

“Oh yeah, you are looking pretty good,” Kevin acknowledges. “Do you know what’s going to look a lot better, though? My meaty arms wrapped around your neck.” I have to admit, the pathos of watching my erotic champ get subdued is intensely provocative. I’m breathless, wanting Big Daddy Matt to rally. I want him to smother Kev’s ridiculously pretty babyface between his hairy pecs. I want Matt to grunt and growl and trap Kev’s head in a face-to-crotch headscissors and be forced to watch his big daddy yank out his meat and pound one out in victory.

“You’re a big boy!”

But alas, this is MDW. This is Muscle Master Kevin’s kingdom, and there’s more than a whiff of inevitability about big Matt turning to jelly, a fraction too quickly, once Kev’s got him in his sights and, more to the point, in his sleeper. “You are a big boy,” Kevin concedes, “but all the big boys here need to get taught a lesson by Master Kevin.” While my heart is breaking watching my sex gladiator champ get owned, I’m happily surprised by the attention that MMK gives to Matt’s beautiful body. “All these big muscles right here,” Kevin slaps Matt’s bulging pecs. “All of them being manhandled by me!” Sometimes in the more sub-dom-forward scenarios as MDW, I’m left a little cold with the lack of explicit acknowledgement that these are two hot, muscled bodies locked together. MMK hands out praise by the eye dropper full, typically. So there’s something even more pleasurable that he acknowledges repeatedly what a fucking big, powerful, hunk of a mature man Mattie is.

“These biceps are mine!”

Kevin also acknowledges he’s followed Matt’s career at MDW. He knows what a dominant muscle daddy he’s been. He knows how he’s not just crushed the ankle biter competition, but shoved his big, fat cock down their throats. And the humbled pups have loved every second. “Thing is, Big Daddy Matt, I’m not just any young muscle,” Kevin warns him, rousing him once again for more muscle humiliation.  “I’m The Young Muscle!” He flexes in his face, but Matt’s too groggy to appreciate the view. “How does it feel to be dominated by that young muscle?” Matt’s too fucked up already to answer. So it sort of feels like MMKevin is really taunting me and my stated crush on watching big muscle daddyies like Matt take young studs to school and back. He isn’t just dethroning my sex gladiator champ, he’s rubbing my face in it.  “I can do whatever I want with you now,” Kevin snarls.  “I can do whatever the fuck I please!” He grabs Matt’s massive biceps and squeezes possessively. “These biceps are mine. Your body is MINE!”

Maturity and experience go down for the count. Damn it.

Matt Thrasher’s fall from my sex gladiator champ podium to getting ground under MMK’s boot is sublime. It’s a squash, of course (did I mention this was MDW?). There’s precious little reason for this to happen in a ring, because battered Matt doesn’t move more than about 6 inches in any direction from the middle of the ring. Kevin’s army of fans, and I know they are legion, will love the relentless monologuing, but fuck, I’m wanting him to shut the fuck up long enough for me to hear big Matt’s groans and whimpers. But the scene tells the story of power and muscle spoiled, confidence shattered. It’s a crippling salvo in the ages old battle of youth and audacity against maturity and experience.

“Who’s your Daddy!?”

“Who’s your fucking daddy?” Kevin demands as Matt teeters on the edge of unconsciousness once again.  “You are,” Matt mutters thickly.

“Who’s your fucking master!?”
Youth wins the day.

“Who’s your fucking master!?”  Kevin barks.  “You’re my master,” my conquered sex gladiator champ mumbles in heart wrenching honesty.

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

We’re well into the month, so it’s about time I settled down and made the tough call as to who should be the new homoerotic wrestler of the month around here. For those of you just tuning in, I pick the wrestler who, appearing in a homoerotic wrestling match over the prior month, turned me on most. As always, this could go in many directions this time around, but based on recurring roles in my sweat soaked erotic dreams, there’s one particular hunk who worked me hardest and stayed with me longest.  The new reigning HWOTM is…







Matt “Marcus the Gladiator” Thrasher.


In Muscle Domination Wrestling’s September Release “Gladiator,” Thrasher makes his sophomore appearance with the company and, as far as I know, in the world of homoerotic wrestling. Similar to his debut role as the stern disciplinarian bear daddy in Daddy’s Home, Thrasher’s role as Marcus the Gladiator is that of a hyper masculine, scorching hot, fiercely dangerous muscle fighter. Unlike in Daddy’s Home, however, in Gladiator Marcus is chattel to the upper class elite who buy and sell him.  His reputation in the arena is as unconquerable champion, but when a rich boy purchases him and gets his hands all over that hot body, Marcus’ bitter, barely contained contempt pulses off of the screen.


I’ve already reviewed Gladiator, so I’ll try not to retrace my steps, but I will say that this scenario captures in a novel way the power and beauty of erotic seduction wedding intimately with muscle combat. Hunky Matt plays the raging warrior boiling just beneath the surface in a delightfully engaging way.  As he permits his more diminutive title holder to dominate him, push him around, feel him up and down and up again, the champion of the arena bristles and flexes, but submits his hotly muscled body to his owner’s whims.  The subtext is clearly that hardbodied Matt could pummel the aristocratic youngster into dust, but he knows his place, he knows the consequences of open disobedience, and he permits the hungry young blue blood to quite literally walk all over him.


But here’s where the drama gets really interesting, because the rich boy who possesses his papers and fondles every inch of luscious Matt Thrasher intentionally provokes and prods the muscled gladiator.  He lords over the beast of burden with relish, but he weaves an intoxicating spell of physical domination, erotic manipulation, and a good old fashion mind fuck that makes the massively muscled gladiator vacillate between preening cockily and stewing furiously, spilling over with blood lust but then just spilling over with astonished, pure lust.


The young/old, big/bigger, blue collar/aristocrat contrasts are played as skillfully as masked Morgan pumps Matt’s organ to a sweat soaked, climactic crescendo. Matt sells his genuine surprise at being manhandled by the little rich boy, and that big, juicy cock sells even more convincingly just how aroused this muscle domination session is for him.  With that salt-and-pepper beard and big, juicy pecs, I get a strong whiff of Joe Manganiello, and regular readers of this blog and my wrestling fiction know just how mind-blowing that comparison is for me. Whatever you think of the likeness, I argue that big Matt has a look and a persona that make him one of the most unique and, for my money, engaging athletes in the homoerotic wrestling scene today.



Masked Morgan casts his spell so subtly, so seductively, that hardbodied Matt doesn’t quite realize the point at which he crosses the line from indulging his audacious new master to being truly and completely owned, body and soul, by the erotic master who works him into a pliant mountain of glistening muscle stroking his rod like a marathon runner. Honestly, the jack off scene lasts for ages, not because Matt is having any trouble whatsoever keeping it up, not because there are awkward editing cuts and camera angles, but just because Matt Thrasher is quite obviously a thoroughbred, aged to perfection, with a phenomenal endurance to milk every groaning ounce of ecstasy from being molded like clay in the hands of an erotic master. Spread eagled there in the middle of the ring, Morgan cranking on those nipples, grinding his crotch into Matt’s back from behind, whispering sweet words of total domination in his ear, Matt cums.


And as Morgan flexes in victory from behind, the look of shocked pleasure that washes across Matt’s handsome face is priceless. “You are definitely my master,” the champion of the arena gasps, stating what is obvious for everyone to see. He’s been tamed and turned and there’s no turning back now.  Kudos to Morgan for more than ably selling this story on his end, but it’s the conquered gladiator, the handsome alpha male erotically convinced to fall into line, the beauty and muscles of Matt Thrasher become consumed by the master that haunts my fantasies now.  Nice work, Matt. Hope to see much, much more of you!


High Drama

Morgan Cruise is “looking for someone who can entertain both physically and erotically” in Muscle Domination Wrestling’s new release Gladiators. I instantly find myself irritated that the seductive tease of Damien Rush in a toga is window dressing.  Handsome stud Damien isn’t a combatant in this wrestle-erotic melodrama, damn it.  I forgive MDW, however, when I learn that masked Morgan’s co-star is none other than salt-and-pepper stud puppy Matt Thrasher who so captured my imagination in MDW’s last catalog release (and I mean RELEASE), Daddy’s Home.

Damien Rush has “treated and trained” his wares in precisely the physical and erotic arts that Morgan is looking for.

Mysterious Morgan is, in this ancient Roman period piece, in the market to buy a slave with skills both in physical combat and erotic pleasure.  Holy shit, I was born in the wrong era.  Damien’s brief role is as a purveyor of precisely the sort of man meat that Morgan is in the market to purchase.  At least Damien swears he has “treated and trained” his slaves in precisely the science and arts that masked Morgan is looking for, namely deadly combat and erotic pleasure.  Now that’s a training school I’d like to enroll in!

All hail the champion of the Colosseum, Marcus!

Enter “Marcus,” the barely clad gladiator who instantly catches Morgan’s eye.  Jumpin’ Jupiter, Matt Thrasher is a fine, fine looking man! Morgan clearly agrees with me.  “I saw what you did in the arena today,” Morgan says, licking his lips and examining Matt from head to toe.  Slapping his meaty right pec, Morgan concludes, “I think this package might work.”  Morgan commands “Marcus” to flex his mammoth biceps for him.  Obediently, the arena gladiator obeys, more than a little pride in his face as he shows off for his appreciative new owner.  “Nice,” masked Morgan mutters hungrily, palming the softball-sized biceps of his high quality property.

Morgan sizes up his new acquisition.

Morgan explains that he has purchased Marcus for the week to give as a present to the emperor, to float Morgan’s stock higher in the esteem and political machinations of the hardcore, conniving, flattering, favors-for-hire world of decadent modern day US ancient Rome.  You can just about see Marcus’ ego swelling, but sneering Morgan has to break the news to him that “you weren’t all that expensive.”  The gladiator’s inflated ego is bruised around the edges.  His pride flinches defensively. He’s irritated, both at the news and it’s deliverer.  Morgan’s sliding seductively underneath the skin of the hero of the Colosseum.  Marcus refuses to accept either his low stock price or his subservient position to his new owner. “At the end of the day,” Morgan announces, hands on hips, “you’re going to have to remember that I’m the master, and you’re the slave.”  They butt pecs, Marcus staring down from his height advantage into the eyes of his young deed holder. “I don’t think so,” the big stud mutters defiantly.

The gladiator has an ego proportionate to his bulging muscles.

Morgan commands the gladiator to strip out of his leather cock cover.  Marcus refuses. Morgan doesn’t exactly appear displeased when he announces, “I’m going to have to show you you’re fucking place.”  Erotically charged combat ensues, with the physically superior and arena-honed gladiator finding his hands more than full with the deceptively dangerous masked nobleman.

Now who’s the master!?

The pretense of Gladiator could turn some away. The backstory, the costumes, the slowly revealed backstory and subterfuges are considerably more involved than typical homoerotic wrestling fare. But I have to say that what could appear as pretentious completely sucks me in.  I’m always provoked most by the homoerotic wrestling matches than have a context, that tell a story.  That’s why I’m so often rattling my cage for a tournament, or a lovers’ tag team, or more through story tracking the adventures/misadventures of my favorite wrestlers across matches.  MDW has been working harder than most to invest in the drama and take seriously the context, giving us a lot of options that move well beyond just having two barely clad hunks climb into a ring and wordlessly go at it.  It takes imagination to suspend disbelief sufficiently to really immerse ourselves in the ritual of two hot studs battering each other in a wrestling ring. I’m happy and aroused to see MDW digging deeper into their own range and my imagination to construct a compelling, very hot scenario beyond just hottie Morgan Cruise and hottie Matt Thrasher throwing some wrestling moves together and then calling it a day.

Matt Thrasher is big and beautiful all over!

The drama in Gladiator appeals to me on many levels.  I hold a special place for contrasts, such as Matt towering over his shorter opponent, of Morgan mysteriously masked in front of his raw, naked, handsome conquest.  I particularly enjoy an age differential, particularly the way it’s stacked up in this scene with more mature musclestud Matt being physically bigger and more experienced than his upperclass tamer.  There are hills and valleys in the plot that make the destination just a little mysterious, making Gladiator something far from a phoned-in, contextless homoerotic wrestling feature.

Master Morgan begins to take full possession.

Dastardly Morgan overcomes the gladiator’s superior strength with a full on ball claw that drops the warrior to the mat. Matt becomes more compliant once he’s been stripped, his thick, meaty cock already flying at half mast. The flag runs all the way up the pole within seconds of the master giving Matt’s cock the appreciative attention is so richly deserves.  Morgan strokes and squeezes it. “Look at that,” Morgan coos, “looks like our gladiator is fucking pretty impressive!”  That’s right, Matt crows proudly, refueling his mojo with Morgan’s obvious appreciation.

Vertical head scissors with a cock claw chaser. Even when he’s on the bottom, Morgan’s on top!

MDW walks a fine line in Gladiator between their strictly domination fare and the wrestling that I particularly enjoy.  The psychological drama places this squarely in their muscle domination catalog, but there’s enough classic wrestling involved to keep me on board.  A test of strength, an OTK backbreaker with a cock claw topper, pec punching, bearhug, ass slapping body scissors… the recipe is complex enough to appeal to my palate, even after Matt loses all pretense that he doesn’t want to be conquered and fucked by his sexy new owner.

Morgan starts playing Matt’s hotly muscled body like a maestro.

Morgan plays Matt’s body like a concert cellist, stroking and strumming and plucking the big, handsome hunk into a quivering mass of muscled submission.  Working Matt’s nipples furiously from behind, forcing him to kiss his biceps, Morgan positions the bearded gladiator just right for us to watch Matt melt into nothing but a raging hard on getting stroked slowly, suspense rising harder and harder until the muscleman explodes, spread eagled in front of our eyes. “Yeah, oh, MASTER!” Matt groans adoringly even as he cums, his big pecs glistening with sweat.  The look on the gladiator’s face says it all. It wasn’t the exchange of denarii or a signature on a deed of ownership that made big Matt the prized possession of Morgan.  It was being physically and erotically conquered in the ring that binds him in obedience and gratitude to his handsome, hunky young master.

No one is unsatisfied with the new roles they now play.

Ancient Roman melodrama never looked so good!