The Next Morning

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I cannot possibly pay more attention to Russell Tovey because I’ve been completely obsessed for years.

A friend re-posted this completely unnecessary BuzzFeed homage to convince us that we ought to be infatuated with Russell Tovey. That ship sailed years ago. He’s appeared in two homoerotic wrestling fantasy pieces of fiction of mine, and countless more in my imagination. He’s also looking buffer and buffer lately, as if he needed to increase his raw, dorky, intense sexiness.  I’d donate a kidney to wake up in the morning and see that sexiness staring back at me.  Which made me think, who else would I both want to wrestle, fuck, AND wake up in the morning next to?

Fortunately, the selfie craze provides a lot of material to try out. Here are few of my homoerotic wrestling fantasymen who have shared exactly what it would look like to roll over in the morning after a night of full throttle erotic wrestling and see what’s left in the dawn-kissed light of day.

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Possibly my pick for the sexiest man on the planet who I have not seen wrestle, Eliad Cohen looks like he’d be ready for the rematch the morning after.
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John Magnum made a HUGE impression on me by making a HUGE impression all over poor Philip Aubrey’s lean body in John’s one appearance on Naked Kombat. The boy can wrestle and fuck, and waking up next to that gorgeous ass would make all that punishment he dished out the night before totally worth it.
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Friend of neverland and former homoerotic wrestler of the month Aryx Quinn is already sexy as hell, but with a dog sleeping on his shoulder as the morning light filters through the window, Aryx is a vision.
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Regular readers know my theory about hot wrestlers and dogs, proven yet again by the view of former homoerotic wrestler of the month Austin Wolf rousing in bed next to you with the pup snuggled in between.
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Naked Kombatant Landon Conrad is devastatingly handsome and built like a comic book superhero, but waking up with the dog under one arm and his bedroom eyes for nobody but you is icing on the cake after that night of fuck-stakes wrestling.
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Yet another homoerotic wrestler of the month and comic book superhero porn star fighter, Marcu Ruhl’s massively muscled sexiness is insanely alluring relaxed in bed and looking over at you as you slowly rouse in the morning.
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Just picture waking up next to BG East rookie Logan Vaughn, still stripped naked like you left him after you conquered that hot ass the night before in the ring.

Anglophilia

Some people report feeling as if they were born in the wrong era. I was born in the wrong country. I’ve said it before, and I’ll almost certainly say it again: my heart belongs to the UK. Well, perhaps not my heart. The politics there lately are looking more and more like they’ve torn pages out of the US Republican Party playbook. But they do have same-as-marriage civil unions. Much, much more importantly, as far as I’m concerned, they have fantastic eye-candy entertainment.

I’ve finished watching season 3 of Being Human, and I’ve put the box up on my shelf in a place of honor.  It illustrates why I wasn’t quite right in my first inclination that the American/Canadian version of Being Human was innovating on the original. It just turns out that the version this side of the pond was poaching concepts from the third season that I hadn’t yet seen. The pregnancy. The dog fights. The “old ones.” But one thing that the version over here simply can’t quite pull off is the priceless treasure that is Russell Tovey’s naked ass.

Truthfully, Russell is incredibly entertaining for more than his frequent nudity. He’s a fantastic actor with comedic timing that slays me constantly, especially when I least expect it. But equally as truthfully, if BBC ever decides that they can pull off a new season of Being Human without at least a couple scenes of Russell waking up in the morning after a full moon with a full moon, someone needs to slap them upside the head. My sense of loyalty made me ache for the climactic ending of season 3, but Russell is clearly on board should there be a season 4 (yes, please). However, should the American/Canadian version try the plot twist that is the season 3 jaw dropper from the BBC, hang it up, because the one thing that keeps me tuning into SyFy will have been lost.

But back to my Anglophile theme. In addition to feeling bitter that I have to wait for the most excellent BBC shows that I love more than ANYTHING on US basic cable, there’s mounting evidence that I was simply born in the wrong country. There’s adorable Ashley Ryder’s Grapple 101 that I am forced to miss every week due to being several thousand miles away. There’s Chris Geary’s go-go boys that never, ever show up at my local Pride parade. And then there’s Ben Cohen leading a flash mob of strippers across the Thames as a publicity stunt (thanks, AfterElton).

These things simply don’t happen where I live. We did see Ben cruise through these parts not long ago promoting his anti-homo-bullying campaign (you rock, Ben… just wish macho bullies over here had a clue what Rugby is). But we did not see him engage in public stripping.

If I ever do get to spend more substantial time in the UK (this is a possibility), I will insist on a few things. First, Ben Cohen must take off his clothes in public in front of me once a month, at a minimum. Second, Russell Tovey simply has to take me on a date to the Tate, where, if we see Ben Cohen stripping on the Millennium Bridge out front again, all the better. Third, I need a personal tutoring session from Ashley Ryder in the fine art of sock-wrestling. Fourth, Daniel Craig must emerge from the surf in those sensational square cuts (you know which one’s I’m talking about) every time I go to the beach.

These things happen all the time in the UK, right? Can I apply for some sort of reverse-immigration status that undoes what my ancestors did three generations ago?

Being Human Battle

All right, Being Human SyFy season one is over, and I’m hooked. Despite fully anticipating disappointment, the remake of BBC awesomeness is different enough to keep me interested.

Ah, who the hell am I kidding? The man meat is hot enough to keep me interested, and the story isn’t getting in the way of hot angles of the boys from Boston. First and foremost, Sam Witwer is haunting my dreams. Shirtless. Getting wrestled out of the rest of his clothes.

Outside my dreams, SyFy is being relatively generous with regular shots of him shirtless. He’s one very fit vampire hunk in desperate need of a pec claw.

In that head-to-head competition in my mind between Sam W. and Aidan Turner from the BBC production, I’m shocked to say that Sam very well might out-sexy the hairy Irishman afterall. In a one-on-one rip-n-strip wrestling match in the ring (all of those details would be absolutely essential and non-negotiable), I’d have to guess that Sam’s advantage in muscle and strength would eventually end him up schoolboy pinning Aidan and pummeling his face with his cock.

Not to say that Aidan wouldn’t certainly make it competitive. I picture the Irishman working a “crazy as a shit house rat” angle, going as nasty as he can from go. All that humiliating face beating by Sam’s cock would only come well after Aidan has crushed the American’s balls repeatedly, pounded on his abs while he’s trapped in the ropes, and thrown Sam over the ropes for a nasty spill outside the ring as a prelude to pounding his gorgeous face relentlessly into the ringposts. By the time Sam’s turned the tide and has the Irishman helplessly enduring a cock whipping, it’s going to mean something to the both of them.

Of course, the thing is, a 1-on-1 match would fail to settle anything at all really. Being Human is a homoerotically charged buddy story, if nothing else. Mitchell/Sam always has George/Josh’s back, and vice versa, so a tag team match is as inevitable as me turning any hard bodied celebrity hunk into an over the top homoerotic wrestling master. And it’s there, my friends, in the 2-on-2 ring, that things really get interesting in my imagination. Because despite Sam Huntington pulling off some genuinely impressive surprise skin shots for SyFy, in this bout, he is the weakest link.

It’s hardly any surprise that, while Sam H. played the conscience-tormented nerd admirably, Russell Tovey would still kick his ass coming and going, as far as I’m concerned. Moreover, in my imagination, he’d really, really enjoy it. So, while Aidan might singlehandedly be destined for a cock whipping from Witwer, the chemistry would be so complex and unpredictable with the foursome in the throes together. I’m picturing Sam W. tied into a corner at some point, forced to watch his co-star get double teamed into oblivion, with a potential force-fed finale, a la Tag Team Torture 2, match 2.

The again, with Sam W.’s physique indisputably the most impressive in the bunch, perhaps he could carry his teammate the distance. Perhaps it’s Russell who’d find himself tied in the corner helplessly watching as Aidan (the actor) takes a brutal and humiliating double team from the Sams.

One way or another, no one’s left with gear on by the time this barn burner is over with. I’ll keep you posted how it turns out.

Being Being Human

So we’re 3 episodes into Being Human – American Redux. I’ve sat with this, because I don’t want to be impulsive (I’m trying something new). Here’s my take. Sally is the weakest link, here. I didn’t find Annie anywhere near as annoying as I find Sally.

The next-to-the-weakest link is Josh. Of course Sam Huntington was doomed to be compared to Russell Tovey, and as could be predicted, Sam doesn’t have the timing or cuteness or sexiness of Russell. In fact, to paraphrase myself, I didn’t find George anywhere near as annoying as I find Josh.
The strongest link, by far, is Aidan. I have no trouble at all believing that everyone he encounters wants to throw him to the floor and suck his cock, which is pretty much what the vampire mystique is about. 
He’s got sweet, sexy pecs and a sultry face with pouty lips. In some ways, he’s the least like his BBC counterpart, and perhaps that’s the key to why I’m liking him the most. I may even find his tormented addict on the wagon pathos perhaps even a tad more meaningful from Sam W. than from Aidan Turner. But don’t worry, Aidan (the actor, not the character), a hot Irish accent will always tip the balance Aidan’s way though in determining who I’d prefer to be bit by.

I cringe a little when SyFy promotional ads refer to this as “as original series.” I cringe a lot when I’m trolling for caps, watching the episodes online, and a straight Christian dating website is the primary advertiser (WTF?). But I’m firmly a fan of Being Human SyFy for a few reasons (beyond a desperate craving to see more of Sam W. naked). They American redux is already cleaning up some of the odd plot inconsistencies that the first run with BBC apparently didn’t notice (like Annie can pick up objects and move them around in BBC). They’re taking the time to bring the audience along, explaining carefully and conscientiously what we need to know about this version of vampires, werewolves, and ghosts that we might not have known from other iterations of them. They’re already working in more characters and more tension, even as they follow remarkably closely to the BBC script.

All told, and more to the point of this blog, this is absolutely heading to a Being Human Smackdown in a homoerotic wrestling universe near you. Russell and Aidan will be, without a doubt, climbing back into the ring together to face off with their wannabes-mini-me’s. I honestly don’t know how this will all turn out, but I predict that there will definitely be ear pulling, ass slapping, cock and pec clawing, and the sexual tension that both versions of this show effectively draw between the boys simply must be consummated. Stay tuned.

I’ve Got It Hard for BBC

Once again, I curse the fates that landed me on this side of the Atlantic when BBC is premiering the third season of Being Human on the other side. I like this show… a lot. I know, this isn’t news to regular readers. But seeing caps of the 3rd season premier at superherofan reminds me once again. I need to move to the UK for 1) first run enjoyment of Being Human (and other superior shows), and 2) a crack at attending Ashley Ryder’s Grapple 101 in London.

Via superherofan, we see that Being Human 3 delivers precisely the goods that have made me such a loyal fanatic: namely, Russell Tovey’s naked ass. Russell haunts my dreams and fantasies (particularly the wrestling ones) in a way that’s completely out of proportion to his objective stats, I’ll admit. He’s not a hard, Hollywood muscle hunk. In fact, he’s pretty soft around the middle. He’s just so ridiculously adorable in a way that runs counter to characterizing him as “handsome.” And those ears were, undoubtedly, a source of teasing at least at some point in his life. And I think he’s one sexy-as-hell mother fucker (to put a fine point on it).

Being Human SyFy-style isn’t measuring up so far. I’ll say more later, but for now I’m busy skimming through job postings for American ex-pats in Great Britain. How long would my dogs have to be in quarantine?

Being Being Human

The “American version” of Being Human debuts tonight on the SyFy channel. I’m of two minds about this. On the one hand, it really is a clever story that explicitly interrogates what it is that is essentially human about humanity. On that same hand, let me also count the delightful excuse that this premise offers for plenty of skin, including the requirement that the werewolf character wake up naked the morning after each full moon. I’m a big fan of the BBC original, so it’s entirely possible that I may become a big fan of the American knock-off (this has happened before… definitely not with Queer as Folk, but yes to both versions of The Office).

On the other hand, I’m a big fan of the BBC original, and, let’s face it, most American knock-offs suck. And as for the opportunities for fine male skin, I think it may be a close call as to whether the Americans can titillate me to the extent that BBC does. Case in point, the explicitly sexy, seductive vampire character, known in the BBC series as Mitchell and apparently called Aidan for the American version (which is the name of the BBC actor who plays the character, getting me all confused). BBC features the fine, fine Irish beauty of Aidan Turner, with a shaggy head and a carpet of hair across his chest that would mislead one to guess he’s the werewolf in the bunch.

The Americans have cast the perky pecs and cleft chin of Sam Witwer for the part. I’ll just have to see this to say definitively, but my initial take is that the Brits (or, more accurately in this case, the Irish) have put up the sexier, self-tormented vampire. Sam has a harder body, no doubt. He may even have a more classically handsome face. But Aidan Turner oozes effortless sexuality. In a head-to-head competition (and you know where my mind jumps), Aidan embodies the dark, violent, primal lust of a self-denying vampire better than the casting of Sam. I will happily correct the record should I be proven wrong.

Turning to the aforementioned werewolf, it’s no secret that I have a major crush on Russell Tovey of the BBC production. Russell (who has the most entertaining Twitter feed of all time) has shown up in two of my fictional wrestling matches, not to mention hundreds more private fantasies that play through my imagination. He’s got a fantastic ass that gets featured often in Being Human as he wakes, dazed and confused, naked from a night of werewolfing in the woods. Russell is not a muscleboy. He’s more adorable than classically handsome. But he turns… me… on… period. He has an incredible timing and wit that comes through in his acting. True, sometimes I just want to smack “George” upside the head for yet another bout of self-pitying whining. But as soon as I’ve smacked him (and perhaps after a body slam and a head scissor), I want nothing more than to climb into that S&M cage in his bedroom with him and do it doggie style.

The Americans have cast Sam Huntington for this role. George is now Josh, and they’ve clearly played up the “unlikely wild man” angle in casting Sam here. I vaguely remember him as Jimmy Olsen in the last Superman flick. He’s doing very little for me so far. He’s “cute,” not so much handsome to my tastes. He’s in no better physical shape than Russell. And he’ll have to seriously turn on the charm and acting chops to put him anywhere in the same ballpark, and he’ll have the added disadvantage of more prudish censorship of cracks and crevices on American television.

I will be watching tonight, and I’m preparing myself to be disappointed and bitter (just telling the truth). I’m suspicious that this imitation will sink like the Titanic, in which case all that may be left to compare will be these boys relative wrestling prowess in my imagination (you knew that’s where this was headed). Russell and Aidan fought hard and only had their fine asses handed to them in their debut tag team match in my imagination thanks to a dirty (sexy beast) ref on the take. I could see why the American knock-offs might think that they have a shot at bullying their way to success by stepping on the faces of their English/Irish counterparts. I strongly suspect that Sam-squared will run into a brutally rude awakening.

Holiday Spirit




Is it the holiday spirit? Whatever it is, suddenly I have an abundance of wrestling fiction to post. This past week Bearhugs and I finished off a short story over at Sidelineland featuring four hunks, a playroom, and plenty of morally questionable wrestling-sex play. In light of my comments on simulated rape in gay porn last Friday, this particular piece of fiction may seem a little… inconsistent. The less charitable among us might even call it hypocritical. I remind you of a point I’ve made consistently and repeatedly throughout the year and a half that I’ve been building neverland: I see no moral virtue in consistency, and I happily and regretlessly permit myself to contradict myself at will… and I copyright the word “regretlessly.”



Next up, from out of the blue, robeboy dropped in my lap his write up of a sweetly sexy boxing match between pro-football heart throbs, Brady Quinn and Tim Tebow. I mentioned over at the discussion list for Sidelineland that this story takes me by surprise. I don’t follow football, and boxing seems somehow… demure to me. Yet, robeboy’s set up and description of the fight are a complete turn on for me. This is another reminder that reading other people’s fight/wrestling fiction is invariably a major turn on for me. I’m hoping for more generosity from the imaginations over at Sidelineland.



Yesterday, I managed to post, at long last, the Werewolf Rumble. I started working on that project forever ago. I received a lot of encouragement, prodding, and poking to get it done. Most of the anticipation seemed to come from those looking to see Taylor Lautner’s debut in the Producer’s Ring. Coming in a close second in the pre-match hype, Joe Manganiello’s Producer’s Ring debut also had several readers holding their breaths. As I mentioned on the Producer’s Ring discussion list, I actually find beautiful Britboy Russell Tovey probably the most motivating character for me in this threesome. With so many competing interests, I suspect that the match was doomed to disappoint many from the start (since one can never please everyone). Still, finally wrapping up the match and polishing it off, the Werewolf Rumble managed to sort itself (and me) out just fine for my own tastes. Two submissions and one decisive victor claiming the spoils of battle equals a happy Bard.



So I’m already halfway through another collaboration in the BGE Fantasy genre, and as soon as I’m done with that piece, I think I’ve got the missing piece of the plot that’s been holding up my chapter 3 in the superheroes saga over at Sidelineland. I also finally found my visual inspiration for a key character I want to write up for chapter 3, modeled on the stunning beauty of Jay Byars. Lot’s of juices are flowing, including the creative ones, and I for one am eagerly anticipating a happily erotic SolsticeChristmasKwanzaHappyNewYear! Here’s hoping the same for you!

Ranging Tastes


Despite what you may have concluded, I am not a body fascist. True enough, I wear out the keys on my keyboard that spell “m-u-s-c-l-e-g-o-d.” It’s also true that nine times out of ten the men who appear (naked) in my erotic fantasies are ripped and toned, with huge shoulders, mounding pecs, narrow waists, muscled asses and thick, powerful thighs. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that formula.

But it’s not like anything less is mincemeat. In fact, there are a lot of beautiful male bodies that can rev my engine in a heartbeat that have nothing to do with bouncing pecs. Russell Tovey is a case in point. I’ve gushed about tasty morsel Russell before. Superherofan just capped some tasty pics of my favorite werewolf. This is not a gym bunny body. He’s not shredded or vascular. And he’s spot-on erotic-fantasy gold, exactly as he is (well, particularly when he is naked).
The boyish face on a hot, manly body is particularly hot. There’s a sense of superficial vulnerability that makes me imagine him a pretty boy battler with a wicked sadistic streak. I enjoyed tossing Russell and his co-star Aidan Turner into a pro-ring to settle a score with a couple of the boys from True Blood in my homoerotic celebrity wrestling fiction. It’s a match-up to determine who’s got the goods to sell another werewolf and vampire production in a world crowded with them these days. It’s an ugly fight in which Russell’s fantastically prominent ears are put to good use on several occasions.
True enough. I love some thick, pumped meat bulging in all the right places. But musclegods are far from the only men who populate my erotic fantasies. A big eared, boyishly dimpled Britboy can buy and sell me just about any day, particularly in union jack wrestling trunks getting double-teamed in the corner with a dirty ref not paying attention.

A Love/Hate Thing


I’m feeling fiercely ambivalent. On the one hand, I’m bitter that
BBC Three has premiered season 2 of Being Human without any definite plans yet to air it in the US. I know, I know. US shows almost always have a delayed release outside the US. Still, these captures of Russell Tovey stark naked, coated in mud, and holding his bits are making me raging jealous of the Brits.

On the other hand, the sight of beautiful Russell Tovey naked makes melt some things (my heart, for instance) and hardens others (come on, you know what I’m talking about!). Just between you and me (don’t tell Russell), I’m so much more into vampires than werewolves. Aidan Turner and Alexander Skarsgård can bite and suck pretty much any part of me that they’d like… preferably together… absolutely essentially, with all three of us naked. There are so many hot vampires to fantasize about: Aiden, Alexander, Brad Pitt, Stuart Townsend, Antonio Banderas, Tom Cruise. Well, alright, the only fantasy that I’ve had involving Tom Cruise lately has been a fictional bout in which Will Smith beats Tom Cruise naked and leaves him hogtied (good times).

But I really like the insider-outsider, provocatively philosophical story of Being Human, and Russell Tovey frequently naked pre- or post- getting furry makes the whole thing awfully sexy. Russell plays the antithesis of his primal, animal-like alter-ego. He’s insecure, indecisive, easily whipped and burning with angst. What better character is there to see fall to his hands and knees, screaming and snarling, as he becomes an animal insatiable for sex, food and violent conquest. The story isn’t really so much about a werewolf, a vampire and a ghost, but much more about their humanity (thus, the title).

Perhaps another thing about vampires is that they seem to usually be quite clean. I’m just itching to take a wash cloth to sweet Russell when he’s all coated in mud like this. There’s nothing here that a whole lot of scrubbing (and perhaps a little spanking… I’m just saying…) couldn’t make all better. I hate the Brits. I love the Brits. I’m so jealous. I’m so turned on.

What’s Wrong With This Picture?

I don’t quite get Twilight. I’m not proud of it. I’m not trying to convince anyone how cool I am because I’m more evolved than the mass of fans (including more than a few gay ones) wetting themselves in anticipation of the next movie.

The meat selection is entirely decent. Robert Pattinson (painted on abs or not), is a looker. Someone needs to either give him a serious haircut or throw him around by a couple fistfuls of those locks before power slamming him to a wrestling mat (frankly, either option is okay with me), but still, he’s clearly got the hot-if-perhaps-overexposed factor.
Taylor Lautner tips the scales in at gorgeous. His eagerness to display his ever-increasing bulges is sexy, in that way that screams for someone to lay a beat down on him and torture him in the ropes until he screams “I give.”
Kellan Lutz also clearly has all the pieces lined up nicely. Pretty, round pecs and full lips can’t steer you too wrong. And it’s a vampire and werewolf storyline, for God’s sake! I get weak in the knees when I see Alexander Skarsgård’s fangs pop out in True Blood, and Russell Tovey stripping off his shirt just before he does it doggy-style quite literally makes me salivate.

But I just can’t get myself to be seriously into Twilight. John Savage has the Twilight boys mixing it up in the ring in his Arena Island Celebrity Wrestling group, and those matches are hands down hot. But I just can’t generate any genuine passion for the boys of Twilight.

I’m happy to have more shirtless, hottie hunks coming up the ranks as media darlings. Perhaps someday I’ll catch the Twilight bug and awake from this malaise. But for now, for me, I’m leaving the dudes of Forks to the pre-teen girls (and to you). You can enjoy my share.