Thank Your Lucky Stars Boys

I’m sure I was probably too harsh a couple of days ago when I took poor twink Hunter James to task for not enjoying his muscle worship session with Braden Charron nearly enough in Muscle Domination Wrestling’s Oil Hunks 2. Muscle Master Kevin himself had to comment that I probably got the wrong end of the stick, mistaking Hunter’s deer-in-the-headlights-nervousness with a lack of enthusiasm. Fair enough. It got me thinking about point-of-view. POV in a well-told story typically takes the reader into the scenario in some relatable way. The character from who’s POV the story unfolds is identifiable and comprehensible to the reader. We may not exactly embrace them, but sometimes the truly masterful story is the one that sucks us into the POV of someone we might otherwise think is incomprehensibly other to us (hello, Dexter).  Like Hunter James in OH2, there’s a play on POV in many homoerotic wrestling products that pit a man of pure fantasy, ripped from the cover of a physique mag, unattainable like a star in the heavens, and pits him against an opponent who is relatable to the average Joe wrestling fan. The drama unfolds with the majority of viewers squarely in the back pocket of the average Joe, the Everyman. He may win or lose, compete or cave, but the story unfolds with us securely experiencing the scene from the POV of the boy who’s got to be thanking his lucky stars to get thrown into the deep end of the pool to swim with the gods for a brief moment in time.

Okay that’s certainly a look of pleasure on Hunter’s face when he obediently peels Braden out of his trunks.

Hunter James being dominated and “forced” to oil up and admire a naked Braden Charron is a case in point. Hunter is not a physique star. I’m not saying he’s not a handsome little piece of meat, but the contrast between his lean, undefined, attainable body and the bulging, tanned, impeccably groomed beauty of Braden is a contrast that seems to almost inevitably shove most of us into the POV of Hunter. That’s probably why I’m so harsh on him. I think of myself, briefly, vicariously, as him. I’d dig my fingers deep into those glutes when Braden demands that I spread baby oil across his ass, so when Hunter demurely paints on a paper thin coat by barely making contact with that ass, I want to slap the twink around. That’s NOT my POV, damn it. Enjoy it! Play with it. Thank your lucky stars and then dive in with both feet and celebrate the phenomenal physique standing there naked in front of you demanding your adoration.

Randy Dowell looks like he’s staring into the face of a Greek god as he kneels at the feet of Mark Merino.

I’m overemphasizing the attainability aspect of the Everyman, I’m sure. I’m not saying that a wrestler can’t look hot and still carry off the role of selling the average Joe thanking his lucky stars. Take Randy Dowell, for example, who in Wrestle Worship 2 had the stunning good luck to not only worship both Mark Merino and Stan Greer, but to watch, in awe, as Mark and Stan battled with one another over who’s hunky body Randy should worship last. The plain, cold truth is that Randy Dowell is a hot, handsome hunk in his own right. He’s not nearly as massive as Mark or Stan, but he’s fit, hard, and handsome as hell. But its context and sell that make him work as our eyes and ears (and mouth and nose and especially hands) in the ring, with the DVD promo letting us know that Randy is a fanboy who pelted BG East with a flood of pleas to get to meet gorgeous Mark in person. And Randy is thanking his lucky stars over and over, enthralled, enraptured, turned on like a light switch and hitting every mark that a muscle fan would insist on hitting when faced with the smorgasbord of beef set in front him.

Randy Stanton may not take possession of Mr. Joshua, but on behalf of us all, he gets an appreciative, lingering grope in of Mr. J’s amazingly hot bod.

Another Randy, Randy Stanton, similarly is in possession of a hot, fit, lean bod all his own, but the handsome hunk is absolutely salivating when he strolls into the BG East mat room behind none other than Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!). Again, context builds this narrative every bit as effectively as Randy’s awestruck and truly awesome sell. The match description explains that Mr. J is playing with fire, letting himself get picked up by star-struck Randy and offering up full possession of Mr. J’s phenomenal physique should Randy have what it takes to own it. Holy hell, what a concept! What a cocky sell both of Mr. J’s gargantuan, mammoth, oversized, mouthwatering massive ego (you thought I was going to say something else), as well as transforming hottie Randy S. into, well, you and me, another guy dizzied by Mr. J’s gorgeousness and slack jawed at the wide open opportunity to get his adoring hands all over that body, heart pumping with the possibility of tagging Mr. J’s ass and, more importantly, unleashing the beast that Mr. J infamously smuggles down the front of his drawers.

That average Joe Drake Wild is about to live the fantasy of so many of us, climbing to the top of Tyler St. James and planting his flag for all mere mortal homoerotic wrestling fans everywhere.

Can-Am pulled off a similar motif in their recent release of Pro Sex Fight 10.  In this case, it’s much less about the context and the narrative off camera, and built almost entirely on the stunning, striking contrast between the two sex fighters, Drake Wild and Tyler St. James.  Tyler is a fantasyman like few others. Tanned, impeccably toned, beautifully blue-eyed Tyler is posted at 6’2″ and around 247 pounds, while lithe, lean, pale Drake is reported to be somewhere in the vicinity of 5’4″ and a buck and a quarter or so. That alone sucks me into that ring irresistibly entranced by the David v Goliath implications, but even more so by the fantasyman v lean, brooding mini-twink. Visually, I’ve seen Drake’s sort out at the bars on plenty of occasions, including the attitude and the Napolean-complex-will-fuck-you-up-for-real stance. I can’t say I’ve ever seen a heavenly vision quite like Tyler in real life, much less had the opportunity to climb into the ring, call him on his shit, and both figuratively and quite literally fuck him up.

Mark Nelson gets exactly what he wants from Brooklyn Bodywrecker, including the slap on the face as he kneels at the feet of one of the most notorious heel daddies to have entered the ring.

My final example of a thank-your-lucky-stars boy who pulls this motif off persuasively is Mark Nelson’s fanboy meets his worst nightmare/fondest fantasy Brooklyn Bodywrecker in Demolition 3. Another fanboy granted his fondest fantasy, Mark is sucking down the humiliation and punishment of BBW like a parched bedouin in the desert. The tension of physical domination, of terror, of the battle of bodies and wills is no less present, and Mark is another hunky hottie, but the sell is all about the point of view of the average Joe who comes face to face with a real, life, towering homoerotic wrestling god.

Who’s your favorite Everyman wrestler and in what match?

Thank Your Lucky Stars

It’s the day designated for expressing thanks. I certainly have a boatload of things, people, and moments to be thankful for.  But as a departure from always talking about what I like, I think today I’ll just share some choice pics of homoerotic wrestlers who give every impression of being caught right at the moment of thanking their lucky stars. Happy day, y’all.

Randy Stanton was the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet when Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) gave him the chance to wrestle for the greatly coveted secret look at what Mr. J is packing in his trunks! BG East’s Matmen 21.
Sebastian Rios worships at the feet, the cock, the ass… well, everything of oiled and insanely luscious Rafe Sanchez (mmmmm…. Rafe….). BG East’s X-Fights 32: Caribbean Oil.
Peter Stallion similarly looks like he may be thanking a higher power for his all access pass to Rafe (mmmmm…. Rafe….). BG East’s Wrestle Worship 1.
Two musclemen battle for the adoration of muscle worshipper Randy Dowell, who cannot believe his luck! Wrestle Worship 2: Triple Emission.
When is Canadian Thanksgiving? I think it’s right around the moment that Ben Monaco gets his hands on the furry, massive pecs of newbie Alain LeClair. BG East’s Mat Scraps 2.
Rookie Frank Daly is in for a marathon of brutality and viscousness, and you can tell from the look on his face that he wouldn’t have it any other way! BG East’s X-Fights 27.
What’s LJL to do when he finds himself commanded to worship Damien Rush’s muscles? Thank his lucky stars! BG East’s Backyard Brawls 8.
Paul Lasalle gets to freeze frame the ring action in real life, so he gets down on his knees, strips frozen Buck Wyld of his trunks, squeezes that incredible ass, and thanks the homoerotic wrestling gods! Can-Am’s Fantasy Pro Wrestling.
Win? Lose? What the fuck ever! Landon Mycles drops to one knee and silently prays a word of thanks for the chance to get his hands all over Michael Vineland. Can-Am’s Pro Sex Fight 1.
On his knees and worshiping the physique of Kevin Crowes, Rusty Stevens is one thankful homoerotic wrestler! Can-Am’s Pro Sex Fight 4.Buck

Bard’s Pilgrim Way – Journey’s End (Part 2)

A prominent piece in the BG East collection of wrestling art and memorabilia.
My pilgrimage to the BG East compound was nothing if not a spiritual experience! Having toured the grounds and been awed at the sight of the outdoor settings in which some of my favorite homoerotic wrestling inspiration has been taped, the Boss led me back inside to continue the tour.
I was conscious of a sudden spike in my arousal. I’d never thought about it before, but there’s something about the interior BG East matches that stroke my wrestling kink more powerfully than just about anything else. Downstairs, we walked past the home gym that I’ve seen many times before in the prelude to so many BG East matches. No one was working out that day, but in that library of homoerotic wrestling I treasure in my mind’s eye, I could see golden boy Troy Baker at the pec deck, muscle bruiser Jed Jamison doing bicep curls, bilingual Chris Bruce pumping out incline presses.
Alexi Adamov talks trash as Christopher Bruce pumps iron in
BG East’s Mat Hunks 8
When Kid Leopard led me into the matroom, I experienced another spike in my homoerotic wrestling arousal. I’ve enjoyed watching so much powerfully sexy wrestling inside those 4 grey walls. It struck me that it’s a bigger space than it seems on camera. Even still, picturing two sweaty wrestlers throwing each other around with a cameraman trying to stay out of the way (while capturing the perfect angle on the action), made me appreciate both the artistry and mechanical expertise of the BG East mat matches that much more. It was just a few weeks ago I was renewing my arousing fascination with Skrapper, watching his rude awakening  at the hands (and legs and lips) of AJ Lyle for Undagear 17 on those very same black mats. I was fascinated staring at the wall just to the right of the door, where rookie Randy Stanton momentarily clawed Joshua Goodman’s pecs (that’s Mr. Joshua Goodman’s pecs to you!), until the pendulously hung muscle stud screamed.
Rookie Randy Stanton makes Mr. Joshua scream in the
mat room for BG East’s Matmen 21
It was the journey upstairs, however, that made my heart beat the fastest. Climbing the spiral staircase (you’ve seen it), we reached the door to what felt to me like the holy of holies: the BG East pro wrestling ring.

Rock hard Brad Rochelle uses every inch of the BG East ring
to humiliate jobber Patrick Donovan in BG East’s Wrestlefest 2
I was stunned by how familiar it was! The wrestling memorabilia all over the walls, the ringside mirror, the iconic wrestling ring tucked tightly into the corner. So much of my homoerotic wrestling inspiration set in this space made visions literally appear in front of my eyes… of sweat-soaked Brad Rochelle squeezing lean Patrick Donovan’s head between his rock hard thighs while the jobber suffered helplessly tied in the ropes… of towering Mitch Colby in a Mexican Ceiling Hold, suspended so gorgeously and vulnerably in the air by ripped heel Cole Cassidy… and merciless Kid Leopard himself, standing there right next to me, but simultaneously there inside the ring with his arm locked across Wade Cutler’s throat as the stripped muscle hunk obediently jerked off for KL’s pleasure.
“The Professor Winthrop Fitzgerald Arena
James McCartin, Builder 1993
Kid Leopard, Proprietor”
The Boss pointed out the plaque on the outside of the ring post facing the door. I’ve seen the ring a thousand times (at least), but never noticed the plaque before: The Professor Winthrop Fitzgerald Arena.  “Professor Winthrop Fitzgerald designed the ring. He also appeared…” I finished the sentence at the same time the Boss did, “… in Live at Campus!” The professor was Scott Rogers’ “manager and mentor,” appearing as his corner man in Roger’s unsuccessful title match against Kid Leopard himself. The Boss told me that the professor once hosted gatherings of wrestlers at his own Florida compound.

A recent addition to the extensive wrestling art collection in
the ring room and throughout the BG East compound
The Boss pointed some more choice, up close details of the ring room. The extensive collection of wrestling art throughout the entire BG East compound includes some wonderful works ringside. He pointed out the cabinet in the corner that we almost never see, with notebooks full of details on BG East wrestlers, including their signature moves and training goals. There was the clock on the wall, a piece of wrestling memorabilia itself, which didn’t actually work any longer, which resulted in many a wrestling session going longer than anticipated as everyone lost track of time.

Pro wrestling collectibles lining the walls of the BG East ring room
I was standing at the altar of my homoerotic wrestling kink, an awed pilgrim soaking it in. I associate the BG East wrestling ring with some of my most ecstatic, intimate, private moments, so to be standing there in the light of day next to Kid Leopard himself left me feeling almost raw.  I’d traveled a long way from home to find myself journeying deep within myself, treasuring that library of homoerotic wrestling inspiration that emerged from this very spot.

Giving It a Shot

I haven’t talked about it much, but it’s not exactly a secret that I’ve occasionally been invited to write text for new releases on the BG East website.  I’ve felt incredibly privileged to be given the opportunity to contribute a small piece to the industry that has inspired, provoked, and aroused me for so long.  I had to think about it carefully the first time I was asked, though. My primary relationship to homoerotic wrestling is as a consumer and fan. I have incredible respect for the hard working hunks in front of and behind the camera making this business fly, but I’m very conscious of the fact that my investment in each new release is very different from those who climb into the ring, slam one another down to the mat, or busily work the booking, payroll, production and delivery of the wrestling entertainment that shows up like magic in my mailbox. I wrestled (metaphorically) with feelings of insecurity, concerned that my text might not do justice to the intimate athleticism, artistry, and livelihoods wrapped up in each match. In the end, I conceded to “give it a shot,” seeing whether I could bridge the distance between my wrestling fantasy consumption and my relatively mechanical skills in stringing together words and metaphors (you know how I love my metaphors), and manage to contribute materially to the production of homoerotic wrestling. 

Giving it “a shot” has continued with some frequency since that first match I wrote. With each new copy I generate, I feel a profound humility. I’m not just being modest. While I’ve received affirmation of my writing skills from many different corners of my life, I grapple with deep down feelings of inadequacy each and every time I write marketing materials. Happily, BG East edits my text to smooth out the rough edges, accentuate the particular appeal of each match, and correct my grammar and spelling. Despite my moments of anxiety, I’ve never had text returned to me as unworthy. When it’s polished and published, I inevitably assess the final product better than I thought it was when it was fresh on the page. As of very recently, I’ve continued to be invited to participate in generating copy for BG East new releases. And  each time, I think carefully, gauging the distance between my investment as a homoerotic wrestling consumer and the blood, sweat and tears (I like the tears… more tears in homoerotic wrestling, please!) that go into the painstaking work of producing hot, hard, high quality wrestling.

Aside from what it is I’ve been able to contribute to the homoerotic wrestling industry, writing copy for the BG East website has also had an impact on me. I sweat out every dot and tittle, so whenever I’m handed a new release to write, everything else (blog posts, my original homoerotic wrestling fiction, my “real life” work) gets sidelined for a while. However, it’s also afforded me the opportunity to review some truly awesome wrestling matches before almost anyone else has, and it’s introduced me to some incredibly skilled and arousing wrestlers who might not have otherwise caught my eye and commanded my attention. It’s also sensitized me (even more than I was already) to the hot copy that other authors write for homoerotic wrestling marketing materials, and I’m certain that it’s made me a better writer (every time I share text under any circumstances, I learn more about the art). I’ve been delighted to virtually meet a few of the creative minds behind the scenes, who, I am delighted to report, have been remarkably gracious and generous to work with.
I consider myself as someone still trying this gig out. I continue to think carefully about what I’m able to contribute and how writing marketing copy impacts my enjoyment of my homoerotic wrestling fantasies.  Perhaps the time will come when the invitations to write stop coming my way. Maybe I’ll hit the wall someday, and decide that I just don’t have it in me to write marketing text any longer. But for now, when the invitations come my way, I still experience a thrill that I may have something worthwhile to offer, that my words might be of value to the industry from which I receive so much pleasure. I suspect that the next time I’m asked, I’ll probably feel that familiar wave of excitement laced with pangs of insecurity, and I’ll say once again, “Sure, I’ll give it a shot.”

Game Changer

I’ve been worshipping Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you) for many years now. Ever since he followed Brad Rochelle into the BG East matroom, he’s had a starring role in many a sexual and wrestling fantasy in my imagination. Unlike his actual wrestling matches, though, all of my imagined wrestling fantasies with Mr. Joshua have included a liberal dose of body worship. No, I’m not referring to Mr. Joshua’s self-worship, because that has, indeed, been a staple in every one of his for-purchase performances. No, I’m talking about his opponent (frequently me) pausing before, during, and after the action to marvel with my eyes, hands, nose and tongue at the sculpted piece of erotic art that is Mr. Joshua’s physique.

Finally, at long last, Mr. Joshua has found an opponent nearly as awestruck by Mr. Joshua’s body as is Mr. Joshua. Randy Stanton is hot for teacher from the moment he sets foot in the mat room. Something has already happened between them, clearly, and the online description of the match suggests that Randy made a pass at Mr. Joshua at the gym, “promising to worship Mr. Joshua’s physique like he’d never been worshipped before.” Randy, you read my mind.

We’ve all known for a long time that this is what Mr. Joshua needs, now haven’t we? This is the story that Mr. Joshua has been asking for, begging for, from day one. He’s been aching for someone to give him the abundance of slack-jawed respect he deserves and demands, not only because he can kick ass, but because he has crafted his muscles to the brink of divinity. Randy may just have been in the right place at the right time, but I suspect he’s a homoerotic genius who discovered precisely the buttons to push to work his way into the enviable position of being commanded by Mr. Joshua to worship him. That’s right. You heard me. Mr. Joshua demands that Randy cop a feel.

He doesn’t have to tell Randy twice. Well, honestly, he doesn’t actually have to tell him even once. Regardless, this match features the spot-on elements of deeply appreciative body worship, a supremely confident narcissist, and an explicitly lustful opponent. Mr. Joshua has been circling this plot for ages. I’ve been aching for this plot for ages. Watching Randy saddle up behind Mr. Joshua, reach around to squeeze and caress his biceps, pressing their bodies together… well, I’ll just say that I had to push pause within the first minute of this match. After a little while to rehydrate and let my heart rate slow down, I eagerly pushed play once again.

As the story goes, Randy didn’t have wrestling on his mind at all when he followed Mr. Joshua out of the gym, but he’s game when the BG East veteran suggests that they take to the mats to see if Randy can earn some more body worship rewards. Mr. Joshua has all the earmarks of a pool shark reeling in another sucker. Randy hasn’t cottoned on, but it’s clear that Mr. Joshua’s narcissist/sadist personality combo has played this whole scenario out in his mind before the two of them lock up. He’s planning on taking the rookie to school, destroying and humiliating the lustful hunk in order to preen and flex overtop of Randy’s crushed body as evidence of his own, indisputable superiority. This must be what Mr. Joshua sees when he closes his eyes and is almost ready to orgasm: his own stunning image on cocky display atop a crushed hunk. For what I believe to be the first time, Mr. Joshua is literally putting his own ass on the line, upping the stakes against a hard and hot and aroused opponent. Before the jeans are off, though, Randy sends a clear message that he’s not going to just roll over. Taking the veteran by surprise, he locks his knees around Mr. Joshua’s ears, shoving the veteran’s nose into the mat. And then Randy leans forward, plants the palms of his hands on Mr. Joshua’s fantastic ass, and claws lustfully at those glorious glutes. Never before have I encountered a more sympathetic character than Randy in that moment. I’m thinking Randy’s thoughts. His hands are my hands. His delight is coursing through my body. He’s embracing this moment of unexpected opportunity with precisely the fervor and abandon that comes from my fondest personal fantasies involving Mr. Joshua and his vulnerable ass.

Full disclosure, this match isn’t all body worship, and the body worship doesn’t involve tongues (next time, Randy). The wrestling is primarily a series of long-held squeezes and body-wrenching endurance holds, punctuated irregularly with a few blows and slams. The wrestling, I think, matches the stakes, with an emphasis on claws and clutches driving home the point that what’s on the line is the consummation of Randy’s lustful intentions. In gasping lulls between submissions, both boys tease one another as Randy worships Mr. Joshua’s fantastic physique. I absolutely love the moment when Randy cups Mr. Joshua’s pec in his hand, feeling the weight of the slab of muscle. And although Randy somewhat demurely fails to give Mr. Joshua’s legendary package equally adoring treatment, I confess to feeling small moments of orgasmic ecstasy when Randy is stroking Mr. Joshua’s abs, hips, and legs, and his hand repeatedly presses “inadvertently” against the unavoidable obstacle course posed by Mr. J’s stuffed-to-the-brim crotch.

This match is all sorts of wonderful for me. This is something new in Mr. Joshua’s delightful portfolio of appearances with BG East. I’m a big fan of something new, just like I’m a crazed fan of Mr. Joshua as an object of body worship. Personally, I vote for this to be the inception of a new series, with Mr. Joshua’s ass on the line against amorous admirers willing to fight for the opportunity to conquer and take full ownership of the promises posed by Mr. J’s physique. And as much as I’m over-identifying with randy rookie Randy, Mr. Joshua’s venture into this new territory is sufficient to upset the rankings of my favorite homoerotic wrestlers – non-pornboy division. Yes, Mr. Joshua has toppled my previous #1 object of trunks-on lust, Lon Dumont. Mr. J has thrown him to his back and slapped his pendulous package down across Lon’s chin (metaphorically… I’d pay money to see that literally….). Lon is still well within striking distance as the new #1 contender, but I have the attention span of a midge, and Lon has not been in a new release in just too long to ward off the surging homoerotic appeal of Mr. Joshua Goodman in Matmen 21. So I’m offering a standing ovation to Mr. Joshua and his crotch, for clawing his way to the top of the heap and inviting all comers to take a shot at fully appreciating the homoerotic prize that is his wrestling body.

Kneeling at the Altar

“To worship: 1) to honor or reverence as a divine being or supernatural power; 2) to regard with great or extravagant respect, honor, or devotion.”

Okay, somehow Merriam-Webster doesn’t quite capture it. Worship as an element in homoerotic wrestling has to be defined with the word “awe” in it…. to be awed and breathless at the sight, touch, smell, and taste of another’s body. That’s gets a little closer, I think.

The preview pics of upcoming releases by BG East, available in the Arena, are getting me all excited, in particular for what looks to be some tasty body worship of Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you). It’s about time! 

To fail to be awed by Mr. Joshua’s body simply defies belief. The hot mat boy he’s facing off against in the upcoming Matmen 21 can be seen stroking Mr. Joshua’s washboard abs and feeling his big biceps. I’m filled with envy and at least a little twinge of bitterness toward the new guy.

To watch body worship is another entirely homo aspect of homoerotic wrestling that makes it a cut above straight up or innuendo-only wrestling (in my opinion, of course). To dominate and control is hot, erotic stuff, but to enjoy a visceral appreciation of your opponent’s body is just fantastically entertaining. Even for the non-pornboy division, to worship or to be worshipped connects more of the dots for me than otherwise. Mr. Joshua getting worshipped in his upcoming release could very well be what he needs to body slam Lon Dumont out of first place in my rankings of my favorite homoerotic wrestlers – non-pornboy division. Of course Lon and Joshua in a mutual body worship wrestling scenario would be nearly too much for me to handle… but I’d be very, very willing to give it a try.