Tuesday Trunk Pulls

Am I the only one around here whose blood pumps a little faster when a wrestler yanks on his opponent’s trunks?  No, of course I’m not.  I bet I’m not even the only one who’s poured over stills of trunk pulling to catch a glimpse of what’s hidden on some of the demure hunks of homoerotic wrestling who otherwise have not (yet) put their junk on display in the ring. So here are some Tuesday Trunk Pulls to give you a little leverage on your work week.

Hottest trunk pull ever? Possibly. Hunky rookie (years later, now Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month) Brad Rochelle is firmly in the control of vicious heel Mikey Vee in BG East’s Fantasymen 17.
Aryx Quinn generously gives us just a glimpse of the monster (and his collar) that lurks beneath the trunks of Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) in BG East’s Ring Hunks 1.
Before I’d seen Mitch’s full monty, Cole Cassidy’s trunk pull had me apoplectic to see more and more of the gorgeous stud’s topography in BG East’s Ring Wars 15.
Jonny Firestorm demonstrates the mastery and beauty of a trunk pull from behind, showing off Austin Raine’s naked ass in BG East’s Wrestlefest 3.
Hunky, hairy, dangerous Dark Rogers appears awed by what he unwraps after destroying Jason Ward for stakes in BG East’s Private Bouts 117-120.
Come full circle, Dante Rosetti treats Mikey Vee’s insanely gorgeous, muscled ass to a humiliating trunk pull in BG East’s Fantasymen 14.

What are your favorite trunk pulls?

A Feast for the Senses

I’m coated in sweat at this moment. Normally, that might be a signal of something hot and thrilling going on for me. But at this moment, it’s just a symptom of my low tolerance for heat and humidity. However, it brings me back to the topic that I’ve expounded on many times before: my love of sweat-lubricated homoerotic wrestling.
Landon Mycles v Michael Vineland – Can-Am’s Pro Sex Fight 1
Yes, please! There’s something that much more intimate about two hunks wrestling lathered in sweat. The lubrication is itself part of the association with value-added arousal, I’m sure. Less friction, harder and hotter action. Just an application of lubricant can bring me to full attention, so an entire body coated in lubricating sweat is profoundly arousing.
Sweat-Pig Extraordinaire Bud Orton v Kevin Shea –
BG East’s Wrestleshack 6

It’s not just the physiology of a penile reflex to lubrication, though. Just the sight of sweat dripping off a wrestler’s nose or chin makes me light headed. There’s a deep, homoerotic masculinity about a sweat-soaked body engaged in combat. When the hair is plastered to the scalp, wringing with sweat, when beads are dripping off the brow like a leaky faucet, the wrestler becomes even more an object of primal, sexualized strength and domination than he was before. The smell of fresh sweat, still clinging to the body, is like vintage wine, stimulating all the senses at once.

Rio Garza v sweat-soaked Chris Bruce – BG East’s Undagear 17

I’m a fan of sweat-soaked gear, as well. The gear that allows you to trace the path of moisture pouring from the pores is extra goodness. Peeling off sweaty gear is even more erotic. The hollow sound of heavy, soaked gear slapping against skin or smacking the mat is over the top arousing for me.

Lickable Denny Cartier v Mikey Vee – BG East’s Mat Hunks 8

And, as I’ve mentioned before, in addition to a visual, tactile, olfactory and auditory arousal associated with sweat, there are some prize homoerotic wrestlers bodies that, when coated in a sheen of sweat, I find myself desperately fantasizing about licking. I’d like to see more licking in my homoerotic wrestling. The primal sensuality of tasting your opponent’s body, the pairing of domination and caressing as your tongue slides across the salty surface of a hunk’s muscles, is powerfully thrilling.


Recently, I’ve been feeding my growing infatuation with BG East wrestler Denny Cartier. I just saw Denny’s Mat Hunks 8 match against classic, classic (way classic) BG East veteran Mikey Vee from last spring. Because I love a through-story, I was delighted to discover that this match picks up immediately following Denny’s highly entertaining tussle of age/experience vs. youth/beauty, when he lowered the hammer on another very classic veteran, Chris Bruce in Backyard Brawls 6

Denny’s match with Mikey is absolutely awesome. No hedging on my part here. It was completely wrestling-kink satisfying. And no hedging on Denny or Mikey’s part, either. This is the highest quality of wrestling I’ve seen from two opponents in the same match for a long time. Somehow I don’t remember Mikey being quite the shoot expert that he clearly is in his schooling of Denny. They both work up a quick, hot sweat. Like two chess masters, they bring much more than just brawn to the mats (though I’m a major fan of all the brawn on display here).

Mikey is bound and determined to smack the young pup down in retribution for his humiliation of Mikey’s peer, Chris. With sweat pouring off of him in streams, Denny looks astonishingly sexy as Mikey puts him out cold on his feet. This is fantastic, hard, hot, technical, powerful wrestling that builds into commanding domination and humiliation: lesson learned.

And now I’m watching over and over Denny’s newest release taming the rookie Attila Dynasty (have I mentioned how much I love that name?). Attila looks like a gymnast who’s recently tackled combat sport. He has astonishing balance and body awareness, and he’s got the build of a muscle twink pornstar. This match isn’t as technical or ferocious as Denny’s fight with Mikey Vee, but Atilla has a surprisingly deep arsenal for a rosie cheeked rookie. Personally, I think he’s got the asset portfolio to be successful with BGE, perhaps as a pretty boy sadist (maybe it’s the name).

But it’s Denny who particularly gets me all hot and bothered in this match. When the board shorts are still on (should be a law against that), the thought occurs to me that next time I’m in an actual fight, I want Denny at my back. He’s awesomely intense and powerful, and he fights both hard and smart. Every angle, every shift in his center of gravity is calculated to be ready to spring. And when the board shorts come off, Denny in relatively demure mid-rise briefs just screams SEX at me. His pale, hairy legs wrapped around Atilla, making the rookie squirm, have an authenticity that I know I’ve mentioned before.  Not only would I want him at my back in a fight, I could imagine him as one of my (above average, devastatingly handsome, cool as ice) hunky friends ready to watch my back. He’s somehow knowable, relatable, in a way that most of my homoerotic wrestling fantasymen obsessions are just pure fantasy.

Denny’s rookie-taming of Attila speaks particularly to the wrestling kinked among us, not just those in search of hot bods in underwear. There is that, too, of course, but if you’re into the erotic pleasure of witnessing wrestling skill, fierce determination and stamina, culminating in one man undeniably bested by another, this (and all of Denny’s matches) is a cut above your average homoerotic wrestling fare.

At this rate, I could imagine Denny mounting a surprise attack on Lon Dumont to climb upward in my favorite non-pornboy homoerotic wrestling ranks. Now THAT’S a match that I’d have to take time off of work for.

Never Had a Chance

The Canadian women’s hockey team has been criticized for beating their first round opponents 18 – 0. It’s not in the spirit of the Olympics, so the story goes, to humiliate your opponents. Just beat them. What is it that goes into deciding to score those 5 goals in the 3rd period? It’s simply not about winning anymore. It’s about statement. Frankly, it’s not really about making a statement to your opponent, really. It’s about making a statement to potential opponents who might be considering taking you on. Show no mercy in utterly humiliating your outclassed opponent and tell the world you’ll fuck up anyone else who dares to go toe to toe with you, too.

A recent conversation at Ringside at Skull Island made me think some more about the wrestling squash match. Some folks just aren’t into the squash. Seeing one man completely outclass his opponent on the way to devastating humiliation doesn’t turn everyone crank.
Most often, though, it turns mine. For me, it isn’t that there’s no competitive spirit in a squash. The competition just isn’t all happening in the ring. The humiliating squash is the message sent to the arrogant punks sizing you up back in the locker room later on. When Billyboy took a jab at Brad Rochelle’s balls, Brad completely demolished the doe-eyed hunk. Brad tortured the punk far past the point of necessity as a message to the next piece of shit that might think it was worth a stab to use Brad’s testicles like a speed bag. The testosterone laced kink is the sneering challenge to the hot shot who thinks they’re ready to take you on next. Just try me, and you’ll see me unleash the merciless destruction on your ass that I’m unleashing on this piece of shit.
It’s a fascinating, titillating sight to see an eager/dumbass young hopeful climb into the ring when the rest of us know that he’s got no chance. It doesn’t have to be a mystery to be hot in my book. When Jeff Phoenix showed up without his partner for his tag team match against Jose and Cruze, the hardbody hunk was all mouth. He boasted he could beat both heels by himself. You knew and I knew that Jeff was in for complete destruction. Jose knew it. Cruze knew it. Hell, for all his bluster, Jeff knew it. The heels took their time in systematically double teaming Jeff’s muscle ass like artists, illustrating that it’s not the science of the knowing that always matters, just like it isn’t strictly the competition that tells the story in the ring. Sometimes, it’s the artful execution and merciless thrill that makes it worth it.
The demolition as art can be a beautiful thing that revs my engine. Kid Leopard’s skills have always been awe inspiring. It’s not like we can’t tell when he steps into the ring with another eager/dumbass musclehead destined for humiliation. We watch because we want to see just how he’ll go about it this time. In what way will he twist and torture the stud? What gravity defying position will he force the unsuspecting blowhard into, and how long will he toy with his victim before forcing him to finally scream in submission? How will he make us gasp and his victim cry?
Kid Vicious is the same sort of battler. The smile on his face as he crushes Joe Driver’s hhhhhuge package under his boot makes me a little lightheaded. KV sells his sadism with such mastery. His inevitable dismantling of the fresh meat dangled in front of his face is never seriously in doubt. It’s his style, his savagery, and the systematic ownership of his opponents that keeps me coming back for more. Like several voices at the BG East listserv, I’m all for a long overdue KV spotlight. I just vote to throw him at least a couple bright-eyed, hardbodied rookies who actually think that they have a chance when they step in the ring. Their shock will be my happy ending.
Finally, Mitch’s motel match against Jeremy Burk comes to mind as one more squash done right, in my book. The reigning champion for my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy title, Mitch is relentless. Jeremy is his plaything from the moment he steps into the room. Mitch overpowers him and completely owns him just about every step of the way. And I turn every page eagerly, not because the climax is somehow in doubt, not because the “what” of the plot keeps me guessing, but because the how is so delightful to see unfold. Spank that punk’s ass with his own shoe, Mitch! Suspend him upside down with his head squeezed between your knees. Do those push ups on top of him, grinding your crotch into his face over and over again. I knew you could do it. I just wanted to watch. It may not be the spirit of competition, but it gets me off.

If You Just Smile

I’m in a mood. There’s too much bad news and too many scowling faces right now. I’m feeling sour and cynical and ready to snap at someone who probably doesn’t deserve it. I need a mood-lightener.
Gorgeous hunks who snarl and scowl while pounding on other gorgeous hunks invariably make me hard. When those same hunks, like beautifully beasty Mikey Vee, are captured in a moment of spontaneous happiness, it gives me a special kind of joy. Mikey is much more typically on camera in a perpetual state of being pissed off. So a full on near-laughter smile across his face is quite a treasure.
It’s probably urban legend, but I’ve heard it said that smiling actually has a physiological effect that alters our mood. To smile, regardless of how you feel, makes you happier (so I’ve heard). Jimmy Dean with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye on the shoot of his double team match with two poundable beauties makes me smile and, true enough, I feel my mood lighten (that’s just anecdotal evidence, though… results may vary).
Three of the Von Erichs side-by-side (well, if you count Lance), can always make my mouth water. But the juxtaposition of their overcompensatingly massive championship belts, their sweaty, sexy bodies, and the “can I take a photo?”-nearly- genuine smiles leave me breathing a little deeper and feeling a little more at peace.

Tyrell Tomsen invariably makes me breathe a little faster and my heart start to pound. The heft of that package he’s toting around is a little dizzying. But he has such a sweet smile that I can almost manage to tear my eyes away from his stunning musculature to get a little lost in his face.

A smile is more than the contortion of the lips. The cocky smile is a good example of what I mean. Josh Goodman here is smiling with his mouth. The corners of his lips are upturned and he’s flashing some teeth. But he isn’t smiling with the rest of his face. He’s displaying his truly incredible body, probably concentrating a little on maintaining that beautiful flex, and communicating cocky self-confidence, not happiness.
But catch Mr. Joshua’s cheerful smile on set in his battle with Troy Baker. Both Troy and Joshua are captured here in a moment of genuine light-heartedness. Not just their mouths are smiling, but also their eyes. The fact that moments later the match was likely rejoined and they were taunting and punishing each other makes this stolen moment of genuine happiness that much more of a mood-lifter for me today.

So perhaps it’s urban legend, but I’m already feeling a little lighter for having reflected on some smiling, gorgeous faces this morning. I realize that light-heartedness isn’t always necessarily socially appropriate, but I think I’ve established pretty conclusively that I am often outside the bounds of social appropriateness. When things are seeming particularly heavy, I’m a little happier thanks to the sight of beautiful men with hard bodies cracking a delighted, unguarded smile.