I’ve been obsessing lately on magnificently muscled asses. You know the kind I’m talking about. The sort that takes more than two, big, eager hands to grab hold of entirely. That type that contracts into rock hard slabs of squared off granite that could grab hold with a grip like a vice. Of course, the finest specimens belong on the backside of handsome, hunky, athletic wrestlers. Sampling the new homoerotic wrestling releases is feeding my obsession nicely.
Mere hours are left for you to register your votes for the 2014 BG East Besties. The last 4 categories I have to reflect on are what I think of as the most dramatic and titillating. Like saving “best picture” and “best actor in a leading role,” I’ve held off on reflecting on these because these mean most to me in any ways. First up, let’s look at those who sold the most compelling characters this year, beginning with nominees for Top Heel.
Shockingly, the reigning Top Heel the past two years running, Jonny Firestorm, was absent from this year’s slate. Was Jonny’s work somehow less dominant, less dastardly, less sadistic? With him suspiciously out of the way, however, someone is definitely taking the crown for the first time. I’m leaning toward Guido because of both quantity and quality of his matches. His trash talk alone is terrifyingly hot, but his muscle domination and indy pro heel superiority are absolutely soul crushing. I’m guessing fans will break his way or possibly Morgan’s. I think Cage Thunder is a long shot this year solely because he didn’t put up more evidence of his heel mastery in 2014, but he very well could be the sentimental favorite of long-time fans.
Top Jobber is crazy competitive this year. I would argue a jobber is not someone who just gets squashed, but someone who sells that he whole heartedly believes he has a fighting chance, even mounts some offense and keeps the suspense building, but sooner or later, inevitably goes down in crushing defeat. A jobber isn’t a pushover. He’s not a joke. He inhabits a full story arc, even if the outcome is as certain as the sunrise. You and I know a jobber is doomed from the start, but he doesn’t. Let’s take a look at the contenders for this nuanced category.
Tough call, with a ton of blurry lines depending on exactly what you think and feel about jobbers in general. Two-time winner Rio Garza was not nominated this year, leaving the field open for a first-timer to be guaranteed the crown. With the fond memory of him out cold, stripped naked, and with his trunks stuffed down his throat in the middle of the ring after coming face to face with a certain blogger, though, I have to punch Drake Marcos’ ticket (once again) for Top Jobber. I think his biggest competition for this one is Ty, with the difference being, in my mind, mainly the certainty that Ty would love to be Top Jobber, while Drake would hate it. Paradoxically, I think that gives Drake the edge here. Long shot I think is JJ, mostly just because some people will vote for him regardless what the category is. He’s so complex, though, and you have to partition out his mat work to fully justify him as Top Jobber.
Hottest Liplock may not be a category others think of as the top tier choice to make, but I fucking LOVE this category. Like “Best Submissions in One Match,” the context isn’t entirely clear. A particular liplock? Perhaps not, since the nominees are just matches. I love wrestling liplocks, though, so however you slice it, I’m so into this category.
So many fantastic liplock moments that speak to the very heart of what moves me most about homoerotic wrestling! If I could vote for all of the nominees, I would, because they all rocked me dizzyingly hard. Just one, though? Fuck. It’s razor close between Babyface Brawl X and Gear Wars 4. My vote finally goes to the homoerotic jobber wonder twins, Drake & Ty, whose Babyface Brawl X was incredibly innovative and pushed the envelope in all the right directions. I have no idea what the majority will vote for in this category. I won’t be surprised for whoever wins, though I’m pulling for the jobber wonder twins.
Now for Best Overall Match of 2014…
I’m fascinated that all three ring match entries are squashes. That, along with Guido’s double entry, really fucks with my confidence in predicting a frontrunner. My vote is going to Mason and Drake because of several factors, including Mason’s gorgeous naked ass, Drake’s horrified whimpers, bitter trash talk, a gallon of sweat, and the ball rolling that would lead to me snapping Drake’s photo flat on his back under my foot about 9 months later. Extremely close 2nd place for me is Trey and Skrapper. Holy fuck that’s one over-the-top hot, hard fought, insanely sexy match. My barely better than a random guess for the majority on this one is Cameron and LJL, mostly because of Cam’s fan following. I think long odds are on Guido & Kirk.
If you haven’t voted yet, this is your Bard approved final ballot to point your way to where my tastes take me:
Best Abs: Lon Dumont
Best Bulge: Pete Sharp
Best Butt: Kid Karisma
Best Body: Kid Karisma
Sexiest Match: Passion & Punishment 1 – Trey Dixon v Skrapper
Best Mat Match: Passion & Punishment 1 – Drake Marcos brought to whimpering tears by Mason Brooks
Best Ring Match: Tag Team Torture 17 – Dumont/Baynard v Reno/Walsh
Best Debut: Ty Alexander
Top Babyface: Denny Cartier
Best Squash: Jobberpaloozer 13 – Austin Cooper v Leo Tomasi
Best Submissions in One Match: Wet & Wild 7 – Trey Dixon’s face-to-crotch headscissors on Mason Brooks
Top Heel: Guido Genatto
Top Jobber: Drake “damn-it-I’m-not-a-JOBBER!” Marcos
Hottest Liplock: Babyface Brawl X – Drake Marcos v Ty Alexander (aka, the homoerotic jobber wonder twins)
Best Overall Match of 2014: Pain & Punishment 1 – Drake Marcos sniveling and choking like a jobber punk beneath Mason Brooks
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…
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!
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.
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!
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 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.
Ancient Roman melodrama never looked so good!
I recently commented that I’d trade most gay porn sex scenes for a mouthwatering over the knee backbreaker any day. This isn’t indicative of how I feel about sex, per se. I was pointing out that it’s the typical woodenness (not the good kind) and scriptedness of hardcore porn that I find less than fulfilling. However, it is indeed indicative of how I react to homoerotic wrestling, even when it’s sold with a pretty transparent script, and truth be told, the OTK backbreaker in particular works me every time. Even a poorly sold OTK makes my heart beat faster. But a truly exquisite OTK is a work of art that captures the essence of eroticism, domination, and combat that jerk my libido hard. When I think of the OTK backbreakers that have stuck with me, seared into my memory and making my pulse pound even in retrospect, here are few of the G-rated (well, let’s say PG-rated just for the extra prudish out there) examples that I’ve filed away for safe keeping and frequent consulting.
I’ve got a significant crush on Muscle Domination Wrestling’s Tidus. I’m not precisely sure why the stud grabs me so, so hard, but he does. He’s not the biggest or hardest. He sells okay, not outstanding, just okay. His gear lately has been annoying the hell out of me. But damn, he turns holds my attention with a vice grip! I hope he gets his fine ass back in the ring, preferably in a thong. Short of that, I’ll take what I can get, which is Tidus in a brutal squash, smart mouthing and trash talking to the bitter, tragic end in the Super Men season 2 episode 2. I’m getting wildly confused by the backstory to the Super Men series at this point, but Tidus’ scene involves him forgetting his sword and getting trounced by the prince of the planet, portrayed by Morgan Cruise. I’d love a plot I can sink my teeth into a bit more, but I won’t complain about getting to see more of my inexplicable infatuation: Tidus.
I know, I know. It’s Saturday, not Friday. But with time off work mid-week, my internal calendar is all screwed up, and today feels either like Friday or Sunday. Yesterday felt definitely like Saturday or, possibly, Thursday. Just put away the calendar, read this post in the voice of Joan Rivers, and enjoy this make-up Fashion Friday breakdown.
I think I’d have a psychotic break with reality should I ever see Eli Black and Lon Dumont square off in the ring, because my conflicting loyalties would rip me into pieces. However, when it comes to which of these hot hunks wore the POW!-in-the-ass trunks best, neverland readers have spoken, and they spoke decisively. By a vote of 68 to 44, you declared that it was Eli Black who wore them best. Eli will be the first to tell you that his ass is irresistibly sexy, so the graphic on these trunks just say what we’re all thinking. As for me and my divided loyalties, I’m withholding judgment until I get to see them both in, then out, of these trunks… in the ring… in an all-in naked battle for the gear.
Today’s Fashion Friday poll draws from the newest kids on the homoerotic wrestling production block, Muscle Domination Wrestling. I count three very different wrestling hunks who packed themselves inside a certain pair of red, white and black leatherish mid-rise trunks. Rodriguez Cortez slid his incredibly, hot, beefy, smooth bod in them twice in season 5 and once in season 6. Hunky twink Enrique then had the audacity to show up in the same trunks twice in season 6 and then twice again in season 7. And finally, the most recent and imposing character from MDW to wear this bad boys was none other than the Mastodon himself, Morgan Cruise, in season 7. These are three very different wrestlers with very different body types, so I’m guessing you should have a clear opinion one way or the other or the other. These are also three very different qualities of photography, so I hope that won’t sway your vote. My wishes for 2014 include MDW taking higher quality photographs and including a searchable wrestler roster with stats to better tease their wrestlers and matches. There’s a lot to consider here, but the real question you need to ask yourself is who wore it best?
What’s the instant frontrunner in the competition for my favorite moment of 2013? My dinner last night with Lon Dumont.
In real life, Lon looks exactly like he does on camera. He just went in for a haircut a few days ago, so picture his coif from Tag Team Torture 15. He’s right in the thick of bodybuilding competition prep, so incredibly lean, tiny waist, angular facial features, slightly hollow-cheeked from months of extreme dieting. This was his first “re-feed” day in a while, meaning that after enduring on significantly low calories to carve out those hot muscles of his, yesterday was an “anything goes” eat anything and everything in sight day. In fact, by the time we met for dinner, he was looking a little green at the prospect of a full dinner. So he limited himself to a massive hunk of chocolate cake instead.
Me, I was just trying not to quiver with excitement the entire time. Look cool. Don’t say something stupid. Wipe that bit of drool from the corner of your mouth! I had a boatload of questions prepared, alternative lines of conversation plotted in case of awkward silences. However, nearly all of my planning went out the window when he not only reached out and shook my hand, but gave me a generous, firm, smiling hug of a greeting. I was instantly reduced to a gaping, wide-eyed Lon-fanatic, mentally trying to sear into my long-term memory the sensation of his hot bod pressing tightly against mine. Fortunately, my instant amnesia regarding all of the witty conversation points I’d prepared was negligible, because Lon is just so fantastically personable!
Our conversation ranged from wrestling and the people we know in common behind the cameras at BG East to politics to life goals to the minefield of negotiating romantic relationships. Happily, Lon and I appear socio-politically closely aligned, so commiserating about particular assholes in office kept us entertained a while. We discovered several unexpected things in common, like we were both history majors in college, and we’ve both had jobs working with older adults. Sure, there were occasional moments when the conversation dropped off and I found myself grinning like a dumbass, thinking to myself, “I’m sitting here chatting with Lon Dumont, for god’s sake!” But I think he took my star-struck fumbling in stride. Of course, I knew much more to expect about him than he did about me. He confessed that he’d had some moments of wondering what he’d find when he showed up for dinner. I’m happy to report that I was not what he expected, apparently in a good way, and that the potential creepiness of sitting down with your #1 homoerotic wrestling fan for the first time face-to-face was apparently a pleasantly enjoyable surprise for him as well.
Of course, I would have enjoyed milking this momentary brush-with-fame for hours on end, but soon enough the night was clearly starting to wrap up. I finally remembered my agenda, and a little sheepishly asked if he’d consent to give me an autograph. “Sure!” he said in that same big, booming, enthusiastic voice he has in the ring. “How about a few autographs?” I asked, with a hint of pleading in my voice as I pulled out my stack of BG East DVD covers and the choice half a dozen or so photos I was able to whittle down from my favorite hundred of mouthwatering Lon pics. He laughed, and said, “Of course!,” explaining that he hadn’t expected to be giving out autographs on his trip. I gave him my most incredulous look (you know, one eyebrow arched), and told him that he certainly should have expected it! We agreed that being plied for autographs ought to be something he faces everyday.
Having Lon lend his signature to my pics of him was this awesomely intimate moment for me. Showing the object of my infatuation the particular shots, angles, and looks of his that rise to the top of my cherished images felt so fantastically intense! He chuckled and agreed with my choice of a particular shot that’s also one of his favorite images from his BG East work. When he got to the g-g-g-g-g-gorgeous pic of him from behind in Rookie Wreckers, as he’s nearly cutting Morgan Cruise in half with his breath-stealing bodyscissors, Lon laughed out loud. Yep, there’s no disguising precisely why I love that shot: the bulging tricep, that stunningly sculpted back, those beautiful hamstrings flexed like a vice around his suffering opponent… and of course, perfectly centered in this shot, Lon’s hot, flexed glutes!
The night took a tragic turn right after Lon reminded me that we simply had to get a photo of the two of us with my iphone (as if I’d have to be convinced!). I grabbed my phone, turned the camera to selfie, leaned in for a close up of the two of our grinning faces, and pushed click. And my phone instantly ran out of batteries. Seriously, I was nearly brought to tears. If it hadn’t been too humiliating to weep in front of my #1 homoerotic wrestling infatuation, I’d have been reduced to bawling. Lon suggested that this was certainly proof that if there is a god or gods, they’re cruel bastards. His clear understanding of the magnitude of this tragedy consoled me.
There’s a reason that Kid Leopard refers to Lon as “one of my favorite people in the world.” Lon is just a delightful guy, smart and thoughtful, kind and generous. Honestly, there’s something almost unsettling about getting to know a bit about the person who has been such a long-time object of lustful infatuation. Knowing what a complex and insightful human being he is almost makes me wonder if I may struggle when it comes to continuing to lustfully objectify him.
Trust me. I’ll cope.
My thanks to those of you that gave me some last minute advice yesterday before I headed to my dinner with Dumont. For those of you who offered suggestions regarding what I should ask him, let me give you the quick answers. He wore a hot, tight, beige, 3-button crew t-shirt that nicely stretched across his shoulders and pecs. I’m pretty sure he was on a carbohydrate-induced high from a day of sucking down food, so although he wasn’t actually drunk on alcohol, I suspect he was riding at least a little sugar-buzz. Like I said, I went with a modest stack of photos and DVD covers for his autograph, and fortunately he was game to sign them all. And Alex Miller, Lon had no words of wisdom about your household sponges, that itch of yours, or your water pressure. Sorry!
I’m hoping to convince Lon to forward some new photos of his rocking hot body as he approaches peak conditioning for his upcoming competitions. And I’ve made him promise that we’re doing this whole thing again next time he comes through this way, and I’m bringing 5 cameras and 2 dozen back-up batteries with me!
I’m calling yesterday’s face off as another decisive victory. As of this post, Rusty Stevens’ liplock on Kevin Crowes easily buries catchweight face sucking between Drake Wild and Tyler St. James. The vote was a conclusive 35 – 19, and Rusty and Kevin move on to the semis along with Lorenzo Lowe’s liplock on Steven Ponce. Two more spots are still open to join the next round, so let’s get right down to this 3rd quarter-final match-up.
First is a second drink from the well for Lorenzo “Jake” Lowe who can’t seem to keep his luscious lips off his opponents. Wrestle Shack 16 pitted bubble-butted Jake against a veteran opponent this time, angelic babyface muscle brute Gabriel Ross. Gabriel stuns with his mammoth pecs and cherubic face, but Jake seems to seriously go limp (except for his crotch) right around the time that Gabriel plants a wet one on him.
The next contenders to move on from the quarterfinals are a unique threesome, pulled from Tag Team Torture 16: Boyfriend Beatdown. Jobber extraordinaire Skip Vance and his real life lover, Christian Taylor, get more than they can handle when they both climb into the ring against single-handed Mason “the Mastodon” Cruise. Morgan milks the humiliation of boyfriends having to watch each other be crushed, and then squeezes out still more sweet pathos by forcing the boys to exchange intimacies at his command while he makes the both of them his tandem bitch. A unique kissing moment in a novel homoerotic wrestling match vies for your vote!
It’s your civic duty to vote, so get to clicking on the kiss that’s hottest!
Bard: Thanks for making time to chat with me today, Morgan. You seem like a busy guy. I’m seeing you in a lot of wrestling products!
Bard: You all are already producing season 6!? Season 5 just came out! Damn, you are busy! I’ve been seriously enjoying some of that new talent MDW has been getting their hands on lately. Tidus, Rodriguez, beefy boys in need of getting a beatdown. What do you do to “orient” fresh meat?
Morgan: Glad you like the new boys. These guys did not need much of a training session; they got in the ring ready to wrestle! Rodriguez in particular is going to be a damn fine talent. When a new guy comes in, though, the procedure is to have them spend time watching myself or Muscle Master Kevin wrestle a couple of matches so there are noquestions as to what is off limits. [laughing] All reservations quickly fly out the window using this method. Once they feel comfortable in that regard we set ’em loose.
Bard: Voyeur first, then climb in and go at it? I like it. I like it a lot. I want to ask you more about other wrestlers and about the companies you’ve wrestled for, but first let me ask more about Morgan the Mastodon Cruise. It seems to me like you’ve gone from a rookie to a seasoned heel in the blink of an eye. To what do you owe your success as a terrifying force ofdestruction in the homoerotic wrestling universe?
Morgan: I take full credit for in my in ring prowess! [laughing] But in all seriousness, I have been a wrestling fan for as long as I can remember, and when I got to BG East for the first time it was like a dream. I learned a lot from my first match with Lon Dumont – it was kind of like, “Oh, this is what I am going to be doing? Hell, yeah!”
Bard: That was a monumental match with Lon. I’m a huge, huge, huge fan of his, and I go back to that match often. I had a strong feeling even then that with a little “orienting” from an indy pro veteran like Lon, you were going to be a force to be reckoned with. What would you say is the most devastating hold in your arsenal at this point in your career?
Morgan: Interesting, well that match was all about the bearhug; I bearhugged Lon; he bearhugged me; and I definitely have to put that one high up on the list. But as far as my most devastating hold, the torture rack has to take the cake
Bard: Fuck. Yes. Hoist an opponent up across those big broad shoulders of yours and make them scream. I’ll be in the front row every time. I know what a move like that does for me as I watch you completely dominate a sorry bastard totally off his feet and under your control. What’s the experience like for you?
Morgan: I am always surprised at how easy it is to throw an opponent up there and secure them by their neck and balls. Once they are on my shoulders and I am cranking down, they have no choice but to submit. It is the perfect chance to run my mouth, make them say whatever I want. It is complete control.
Bard: Complete control. That’s what it looks like on this end, too. I hope you don’t mind if I ask about your body, because I’d swear it’s straight out of some of my fondest erotic fantasies from watching old school 1980’s pro wrestling on television. Big, solid muscles, unapologetically hairy, liberally dowsed in sweat, built for function. How would you describe your physique?
Morgan: I am THE hairy he-man. When my opponent comes to the ring and sees me standing across from them, they know what’s going down. My chest is the kryptonite of all men. When I wrestle, I sweat all over guys – always was a heavy perspirer. My bi’s are built tall and peaked; my back is the thickest out of any other wrestler; and I am secretly extremely athletic. Obviously you are not going to see me doing any dop-kicks or high flying moves, much too methodical for that, but letting everyone know now that I can bust any move out. I was built to wrestle.
Bard: Built to wrestle. Excellent summary, and I can’t agree more. So tell me some numbers, because I get off on numbers. What’s your height and weight right now?
Morgan: I’m 5’8, 175 pounds – had been dealing with a shoulder injury and was forced to lean out for quite some time, but now finally am back to my usual bulky self and packing on more muscle than ever.
Bard: How big are those mountainous peaks you call your upper arms?
Morgan: Last I measured, they were in the realm of 18.
Bard: Sweet. How far does the tape measure have to go to get around your pecs and that thickest-of-all-upper-backs?
Morgan: [Laughing] Have not taken that measurement, but let me just say I have ripped a few shirts on the way on and off.
Bard: Damn, you need to get Kevin to grab that measurement… and send me a photo of him doing it. Waist?
Morgan: [Laughing] Good luck getting that photo. The boss is a busy man. My waist is 28 inches.
Bard: Thighs (including copious hair)?
Morgan: Measuring now…
Bard: Damn, I wish I were there to lend a hand with that….
Morgan: You are not the first. 26 inches.
Bard: But I promise, I’d be the best. Fantastic. No wonder opponent’s are weeping when you get those tree trunks wrapped around them. So in the “real” world, when guys are hittingon you, ’cause I know guys are hitting on you all the time, what’s the first compliment they’re giving you to start flirting?
Morgan: They try and guess the color of my eyes – first they say grey, then green, sometimes blue, ultimately concluding they are hazel. Either way it has always been my gaze that draws people in that is invariably where they start – then the bicep compliments start.
Bard: I could totally see that, though if you had your shirt unbuttoned, I’d have to make a comment about those hot hairy pecs. Coincidentally, I put “hazel” as my eye color on my driver’s license, just because no one can tell me a better description for my eye color, either. So back to wrestling, I’m of the opinion that you’ve moved the bar wherever you’ve wrestled. For example, at BG East, you’ve done some amazing work blending old school pro wrestling style with incredibly sexy, trunks off eroticism. And at Muscle Domination Wrestling, it seems to me you’ve been on the envelope pushing the explicit, full-frontal homoerotic combat angle. Do you think of yourself as a trailblazer?
Morgan: I ama stickler for wrestling logic. That is where the old school style comes in. If a move in a sequence is out of place it really bothers me. I religiously watch back all my matches to fill in the gaps, always thinking about what I could have done here or there. I own a very raw wrestling style which goes hand in hand with baring skin. My main objective at MDW was to incorporate skillful wrestling within the sub-dom framework. Originally Muscle Domination Wrestling utilized wrestling as a medium to explore different facets of domination. My job is bringing the product to a level where wrestling assumes its natural artful position while MDW expands its vision for alpha male conquest. Season 5 marks the first huge strides towards this goal.
Bard: I’m thrilled to hear about that continuing evolution at MDW. And I like the word “raw” for your wrestling style. It’s raw, hardcore, in your face wrestling without losing an ounce of respect for the art and science of it. And I’m here to confess that watching you pound the shit out of some pretty, pretty boy turns me on… a lot. Is wrestling a turn on for you?
Morgan: Turn on, fulfillment, gratification… all those words are appropriate.
Bard: Nice to know that it works that way on your end. Speaking of you pounding the shit out of pretty boys, name some names for me. Do you have a favorite match so far in your career?
Morgan: Ah, always a tough question, picking my favorite, but to name a couple… One from BGE, one from MDW. I loved wrestling Diego Diaz. He was a really naturally talented guy. We had a great back and forth before I crushed my way to victory. Chemistry is just one of those things – until you are in the ring working off one another you just never know how a match will turn out, but right when we started and he responded to my shit-talk I knew we would have a good scrap. As for MDW, it has given me many chances to wrestle Tony Law. My first filmed match with him was also at BGE, but since then we have faced each other more times than I can count, so we work very well together – no punches pulled, just intense grit. The most recent match we had was a celebration of our “rivalry,” the culmination of our many bouts – Tony’s final chance to get one over on a 60 minute straight-through Iron Man match. We filmed it all in one shot, non-stop action, and boy did it get sweaty – my favorite match from the new season 5 for sure.
Bard: Again, I’m a big fan of big, big, big Diego Diaz, and that chemistry you describe definitely comes through when watching that match. And I’m not surprised to hear Tony Law’s name pop up. By the law of averages, since you’ve beaten him so many times, it makes sense one of those times might be on your favorites list. I’ve seen your match with Tony over at BG East, and again, the word “raw” comes to mind. The match description for this Iron Man match for MDW’s season 5 makes it sound as if Tony may have finally turned the tables on you this time around, which I for one find hard to believe. Anything more you can say about Iron Man and how you left Tony’s meaty ass when the 60 minutes were up?
Morgan: Well, the Iron Man contest allows for multiple pins and submissions (not that any heel is going to stop at the first tap out anyway), so I will say that Tony had a lot of chance to make up for lost time. The man that walks away with the most victories at the hour’s end is declared the ultimate winner of the contest, so either we exchanged a few wins in a closely contested bout, or I kicked his ass for an hour straight, but you will have to watch it to find out.
Bard: Nicely teased. Damien Rush is another hot stud you’ve brutalized over and over from MDW to BG East and back again. The level of brutality and humiliation you’ve dragged him through is an astonishing body of work all on it’s own. I’ve got to hand it to the handsome hunk that he’s got some serious nerve climbing back into the ring again and again with you. You look like you could just about eat him for lunch, but I wonder if, at the end of the day, you walk away with respect for even the mewling, weeping opponents you leave crushed in the ring behind you, like hot hunk Damien.
Morgan: Damien is a hot-headed talent, and I do respect him, but at the end of the day I have job to do and that is putting everyone in their proper place beneath me the one true wrestling god. Now, if Mr. Rush wanted to admit that I am and always will be better than him in every way and wanted to form a tag team with me then I could really respect him.
Bard: Message sounds loud and clear to me. By the way, if you find yourself ripping Mr. Rush’s sweat-soaked trunks off his hot bod again, keep me in mind. I’ve got a trophy case with a spot reserved. Your most recent release for BG East featured you taking on both Christian Taylor and his notorious jobber boyfriend, Skip Vance at the same time in Tag Team Torture 16. I’ve only seen previews of the match so far, but it looks like you fucking own the both of them in body and soul. A boyfriend tag team beatdown is a long-standing pet erotic fantasy of mine. What was it like for you to not just work over another pretty boy like Christian, but to crush him in front of his anguished lover and then humiliate the both of them at the same time?
Morgan: Let me first say if you want Damien’s trunks you will have to peel them off his throat, but it is fine by me. Someone needs to do him the favor after my many mean encounters with him. Boyfriend Beatdown was exhilarating. While I owned Christian in the ring, Skip cheers on moral support from the much safer exterior of the ring. For the first time I was able to bash one hunk while taunting another. My game plan was of course to get both in the ring at once because obviously alone they are both squash material. Skip and I went back and forth for a good while before I got underneath his skin playing with his boyfriend in whichever way I wanted. Christian was no match for me and failed to save any face even with his boyfriend there cheering him on. I felt badly for him so it was only natural to provoke skip so his boyfriend could see that no one stands a chance against the Mastodon. Squashing both together was like playing god I was the ruler of their relationship; I was the master of all things private to them, it was Morgan Cruise who determined when and where they kissed along with other things.
Bard: Holy shit, that’s hot. That match is officially next on my BG East order form. So here are a few stream of consciousness questions for you. Don’t think too long… just answer what comes first into your head. Okay?
Bard: Steak or seafood?
Bard: Boxers or briefs?
Bard: [Laughing] Perfect. Legs or chest?
Bard: Scissor or bearhug?
Bard: Top or bottom?
Bard: Of course. Country or rock?
Bard: Nice. So you’ve got a lot of fans, I’m sure you know. Watching you in the ring, however, you seem completely focused, like you don’t give a shit about anyone else, what anyone else thinks or wants. What do you make of the legions of Mastodon fans out there who can’t get enough of the magic that you make in the wrestling ring?
Morgan: The truth is that my namesake the Mastodon went extinct, but I am the perfect breed – an ever-evolving specimen, and that means listening to feedback and taking direction and criticism. I keep in close contact with my die hard fans, and they tell me what they like and what they do not. Luckily there is very little to not like. When I am in the ring I tap into the primal force that is the Mastodon, and everything else dissolves. My focus becomes how I want to break my opponent down and how to do it with precise logic and incomparable style.
Bard: Good to hear. You are a crowd pleaser, it’s impossible to deny. What’s something that Mastodon fans don’t know about you that they should?
Morgan: I am very quiet outside the ring. [Laughing] I hardly speak. I meticulously dissect the way in which others communicate so that I never misunderstand anyone. Everyone has a different method or nuance to the way in whcih they articulate the idea they want to get across, so attention to detail is key. As a result, I do not own a cell phone. I heavily prefer direct contact
Bard: Fascinating… and suddenly I’m second guessing what I’ve said this whole interview. Just a couple more questions for you. Is there any particular wrestler currently competing that you haven’t wrestled yet that needs to trampled by the Mastodon?
Morgan: Kid Karisma.
Bard: Holy hell, yes! I’d pay for a front row seat for that one! Hell, the image of all of those muscles locked with muscles is making me a little dizzy right now. Speaking of muscles, if you found yourself climbing into the ring again with Lon Dumont, with considerably more experience and practice under your belt now than when you first wrestled, do you think things would turn out differently this time around?
Morgan: I have been waiting for that question. He can come to MDW, or we can meet back up in the BG East ring any time, any place. I am there. This time around, you can bet your “firstborn,” The Mastodon is walking away victorious.
Bard: Sweet. I’m hoping to sit down for face-to-face interview with Mr. Muscles in the not-too-distant future, so I’ll be sure to let him know. You’ve been a delight to chat with, Morgan, and for someone who typically hardly speaks outside the ring, you’ve been an awesome conversationalist. Is there any last word you’d like to pass along to Mastodon fans out there before I let you go?
Morgan: The Mastodon is watching over the works at MDW, and would like to encourage my fans to check Muscle Domination Wrestling out as I am making sure my in-ring work extends beyond my own matches. The landscape has changed, and the wrestling has come to the forefront. And thank you for the interview it was a pleasure to have this experience. I have learned a good few things from your blog. And do be sure to let good old Lonny Dumont that he can come to me, or I am coming for him [laughing].
Bard: You are a one of a kind, hot, sweaty, raw, old school mass of muscle wrestler, and I cannot wait to catch up on your newest releases now, and to check out the evolving landscape at MDW. I hope we can chat again sometime, perhaps after I can get Lon back on the record. Thanks again, Morgan. You’re awesome!