At any one time, I’m typically nursing a throbbing crush on around half a dozen wrestlers. All it takes is a glimpse of one of them, and my heart pounds and my cock grows hard. It’s a rotating stock of sexy studs commanding my infatuation, but there are just a few wrestlers who show up on my shortlist and stick around long and hard.
One of the first homoerotic wrestlers to instantly be elevated to crush status is BG East’s Scott Williams. I’ve written about my infatuation with Scott in the past, so I’ll just point out that if I were stranded on desert island and could only have 3 hunks with me for an endless round-robin of homoerotic wrestling, Scott is now, and almost always is, on that island.
My homoerotic wrestling imagination has really been the theme of this blog for over 10 years. My musings have flitted from pro wrestlers, to wrestling-for-gay, to Hollywood hunks and beefcake journalists I’d like to see wrestle. But the real subject is always how my erotic imagination possesses my thoughts and inspires my cock. It’s just a thought-exercise that you’re invited to join me along, exploring my homoerotic wrestling fantasies that, for the most part, are solely playing out in my mind’s eye. But then again, there was that time I obsessed relentlessly for months about my fierce ambivalence between settling on Mitch Colby or Rusty Stevens as my reigning favorite wrestler, only to discover Kid Leopard had made my fantasy come true by pitting them against one another in The Breaking Point: The Sexiest.
I’ll keep nursing my regression to magical thinking and silently hope that I, just wishing it and naming it out loud, can make a fantasy match-up come true. I have some fantasy matches in mind, but I want to carve out what I intend to be a recurring series here, namely picturing tasty twinks for man-of-my-dreams Scott Williams to devour.
Scott has commented in the pages of this blog that he likes getting his hands on new crops of young wrestling twinks. That acknowledgment alone sent me pouring through the catalogs of new releases to decide who it is Scott should get his hands on first, at least in my imagination. For the record, Scott has not endorsed this series, nor has he approved any of the opponents I have in mind for him. If Scott wants a rewrite, or even a retraction, of absolutely anything I write about him, I’m his to command. Like, literally, Scott. Anything I can do for you, let me know.
The first twink I’m picturing that Scott should demolish is stunningly pretty, doe-eyed sexy boy, winner of the Debut of the Year of 2018, Kenny Starr. Just sizing the two of them up turns me on, because numbers are sexy. At 6’2″ and 190 pounds, Scott would tower over little Kenny, who stands at 5’9″ and 175 pounds. Kenny wears a playful smirk on his boyish face at the start of every match, like he’s just here for the fun and games and the free drinks and ready sex that come with being a young, ripped, erotic wrestling starr.
So just picture Scott squaring off against Kenny in the BG East matroom, Kenny grinning and chuckling about “beating up grandpa,” and Scott staring back, deadly serious. Fuck, I love Scott’s game face. Glaring almost half a foot down at Kenny, his stone cold, humorless stare would visibly unnerve the cocky twink.
Kenny would take the initiative with a lightning quick lunge, taking a leg with a self-satisfied grin. Kenny’s plan would be to shock and awe the veteran with youthful speed and aggression. Scott would just watch, appraisingly. Even when Kenny sweeps the leg and slams the veteran to his back, I picture Scott just holding his hands out to his side, calmly, cooly studying the ankle biter quickly mounting his lightly hairy chest and sliding into a schoolboy pin. Kenny’s crotch dangling just over Scott’s face, the young stud would break out into that adorably exuberant shit-eating grin, flashing his baseball biceps and basically just waiting for Scott to admit that he’s outmatched.
I think Scott would indulge the moment a while, because he enjoys the view and he knows he’s winding up the kid’s flawed sense of invincibility. But mid-chuckle, little Kenny would get bucked off and tossed across the matroom. Kenny’s certainty in his own superior speed would be shattered when Scott beats him to his feet, and then just flat out beats him. Scott likes long, strength-sucking endurance holds, so he’d start with a vice-like side headlock, dragging the twink around a couple laps of the matroom while crushing Kenny’s skull between a bulging bicep and his ribcage. Dropping to one knee, I can see Scott turning the crank in that magnificent way he has, pumping the headlock like he’s working to pry the stubborn lid off of a jam jar. Kenny would whimper and wilt sagging lower and lower until Scott takes him all the way to the mat, still crushing his skull relentlessly.
Seriously, I can see Kenny tapping out to the patiently tantric headlock in the first 3 minutes of the match. It wouldn’t exactly surprise Scott, but it would sort of piss him off. The veteran relishes a test, and a cocky bro rolling over right out of the gate would inspire some serious punishment. Sure, he’d let go of the “submission” hold, but he’d give the kid exactly 1.5 seconds before sliding him into crotch-pillow headscissors and clamping down with his lovely, long, hairy legs. Little Kenny would writhe and whimper louder, struggling to pry the thighs away from his throbbing head.
Scott would slowly transition to a figure-4 choke, then an armbar, then a tautly strung bow-and-arrow, patiently milking each crush and stretch. The matwork would be masterful, burying the increasingly desperate kid under joint wrenching torture from head to toe. A weak-ass 2nd submission would squeak out of the pretty boy to an incidental half nelson that Scott was using to set up a camel clutch. Scott would throw him down in disgust, exasperated by the would-be tough guy crumbling before him. As little Kenny whimpers petulantly, nursing his battered ego, Scott would call him a crybaby, all talk and no substance. He’d spank the kid’s ass with loud, cracking slaps that would make Kenny spasm and cry out.
Scott’s patience would run out, waiting for his opponent to get up and fight like a man. Dragging him up by the back of his straining trunks, Scott would hook an arm between Kenny’s legs from behind, hoist him off is feet, and pound the gasping kid down in a gutbuster across his knee. You’d hear the air violently rush out of Kenny’s lungs, even as Scott would hoist him back up and slam him back down, again and again. When the kid doesn’t even squirm on the line, folded humiliatingly across Scott’s bent knee, the veteran would peel the back of Kenny’s sweat-soaked trunks down, exposing that lily white, perfectly round ass. I can see Scott squeeze the produce appreciatively for a while. It’s not like Kenny has any fight in him to complain. Until, that is, Scott starts spanking the naughty boy hard. Screams would punctuate the wet slaps, as the veteran hungrily studies the red palm prints he leaves behind. “Cry for me, crybaby,” Scott would growl. Kenny would weep in frustration.
Kenny’s pleading submissions would fall on deaf ears. Hell, I’d bet Scott would crack some senior citizen joke about needing new batteries for his hearing aids, and not being able to hear this wailing twink. Of course, the truth is that the veteran would be tickled by every yelp, savoring every tear. He’d drag the kid up, demanding that the weak-kneed punk leave his ass cheeks hanging out. When petulant Kenny stubbornly pulls his short pants back over his red hot glutes, Scott would violently shove him into the wall face-first, pinning his head to the wall with one hand while using the other to yank his opponent’s trunks halfway down his quivering legs. You could just hear the twink’s impotent sobs grow more frustrated, then more desperate, as Scott pins the kid’s wrists to the wall overhead and grinds his crotch into Kenny’s ass.
Kenny wouldn’t disobey when Scott demands, again, that he leave his trunks where they are. Even as the veteran throws him wall to wall and then body slams the kid to the mat, Kenny would leave his trunks awkwardly hanging mid-thigh. Scott would sit low and mean in the saddle across the kid’s bare butt in a Camel Clutch demanding that the kid cry, which he would. Loudly. Scott’s Boston Crab would be a little more work to cinch in place with Kenny’s trunks sliding most of the way to his knees, but all the easier for the veteran to transition to a single leg and reach down and squeeze the boy’s hanging balls.
Kenny would submit again. And again. And again. With his tormenter’s claws ripping apart his perky lean pecs, Kenny would give. In an abdominal stretch hanging like a cut of tenderized beef on the hook, he’d cry out in submission again. Twisted, tossed, and tortured, the twink’s trunks would slide lower and lower, until he’d be swaying, barely standing unassisted, his pale white beauty marked all over with red welts turning angry purple, and his prettyboy designer trunks mid-calf. Panting, heavy-lidded, half out of it, Kenny would self-conciously start to bend forward when his gear finally drops to his ankles. Scott would just have to “tut-tut,” and the demolished twink would jerk back to attention obediently, swaying on his feet, eyes on the floor in humiliated subjugation.
Scott would take one last stroll around his tamed trophy, offering light praise for the kid’s quick obedience, and promising to make a man out of him. Little Kenny wouldn’t say anything, because, really, what would there be to say? He’d just grunt in resignation when Scott shoves an arm between his thighs from behind and hoists the kid across his gorgeously muscled shoulders. If he pulled down on Kenny’s neck and legs, he’d wring more screams and tears out with a torture rack, but there’d really be no point to that any longer. Scott would just be wearing the kid like a wrap now, taking in the sight of himself in the mirror, soaked in sweat and in full possession of the adorable little muscle bro who’d been so filled with cocky overconfidence 20 minutes ago. With his conquest balanced across his wide shoulders, Scott would flex a little. He’d have earned the right to indulge in the self-congratulations, giving credit where it’s due, namely to his phenomenal physique and mat experience. Finally, he’d stride to the door and side-step through it, carrying his naked prize with him.
At least, that’s how I see it. It’s a lot more lopsided a match than we’ve seen Scott wrestle, but seriously, have you seen those huge, corded arms of his with veins popping out in his recent guest appearances at Wrestling with Pride? With the shape he’s in, and company he keeps, and boatload of experience to draw from, I just see tasty little Kenny demolished by the man-of-my-dreams!
It’s been about 16 months since I last posted, and I want to thank those of you who reached out to make sure I was doing okay. Indeed, I was fine, and am continuing to do fine. Circumstances of life overtook my best intentions to keep musing “aloud” with you here about our shared enjoyment of homoerotic wrestling.
Well, circumstances of life have once again overtaken me, and most of us, I’m sure. The demands of my work life have changed. Not exactly gone away, thank goodness. But changed. I’m following public health guidelines that keep me inside my home for all but essential trips out. While still employed, I suddenly no longer have the killer commute I did just a few weeks ago. Practically no social demands, which truth be told, isn’t so bad when you’re as introverted as I am. With so much time on my hands, you’d better believe I’ve been charging my engine watching homoerotic wrestling in unprecedented concentrations and quantities.
I wasn’t exactly planning a comeback here on the blog, until I received a sweet shout out in the comments from man-of-my-dreams Scott Williams, checking in on me. Just like that, I was fully erect, with my homoerotic wrestling imagination aflame, and my thoughts turned back to the value added to my erotic musings that comes from sharing them here.
Historically, what swamps me with keeping up with the blog is my complete lack of self-restraint when I start diving down the rabbit hole of one wrestling infatuation or another. Seriously, I dare not ever actually clock the time I invest in composing posts and pouring through photos to accompany them, because I think the reality might make me rethink if this is a “healthy” obsession I have. But in the interests of enjoying the ride again, and hopefully enjoying it for some time to come before burning out, I will endeavor to keep posts brief. Relatively speaking. I mean, if you’re new to the blog, you’re already thinking this post has gone on too long, but if you’ve surfed around these pages, you know the over-the-top lengths I can go to in chasing that dragon.
So this announcement of my comeback is illustrated by scenes of some of my favorite homoerotic wrestling comebacks. I pray to the homoerotic wrestling gods that good fortune will shine upon me, and my efforts will be even a fraction as sexually satisfying, as the return to wrestling glory of these magnificent stars.
There was a published gap of 6 years between the last time Joe Mazetti ripped an opponent limb from limb and when he showed up in 2015 to fuck over young buck Biff Farrell in The Comeback 2. Joe had one of the “worst” attitudes in wrestling in his storied career, but he was determined to turn over a new leaf and play it straight in his encore wrestling career. Fortunately for all of us (except Biff), Joe rediscovered his inner muscle heel, and the years did nothing but enable him to amass more mouthwatering muscle, the better to plow young Biff under. I always think of my truest self as a baby face waiting for my heel turn. Maybe this comeback of mine will see me take a brutally nasty turn to the dark side, with Joe as my patron saint.
Sometime around 2005, Christopher Bruce returned to BG East competition after a published hiatus of about 4 years. Sure, he got his ass handed to him HARD by the human buzzsaw of Cole Cassidy in Demolition 10, but what a gloriously magnificent ass it is! Yeah, he was exquisitely humiliated, but that was precisely what saved his seat in the pantheon of homoerotic wrestling gods in the first place. If global pandemics and renewed commutes and completely unreasonable work demands and my own lack of self-control make this comeback to blogging go down in flames, I hope it will be as erotically provocative and earnestly respectful of the sport and art and science that is homoerotic wrestling as Christopher Bruce’s spectacular defeat in his return to competition.
Surely the most anticipated comeback in homoerotic wrestling history was the return of legendary babyface beauty Brad Rochelle. There was a desperate drought after Brad headlined the The Contract series through it’s ninth iteration, until he showed up 7 years later to bring the bitter work stoppage to and end in The Contract 10. And what an end it was, as management and labor renegotiated their perpetually contested terms to the satisfaction of BGE fans. The reversal of fortunes made for such perfect story telling. The puppeteer boss manhandled and humiliated the handsome hunk horrifically, until the gorgeous talent battled back from the brink with, of all things, a kiss of death, using the master’s tools against him. It’s a spectacular climax to a story of epic proportions, tying up loose ends, savoring character development. There’s sweet, jaw dropping revenge as the Boss himself is abased like never before, the ultimate heel brought low by the perpetual underdog.
I can only hope my comeback is as successful at executing the long game as Brad Rochelle’s comeback was. Of course, how can I talk comebacks without extolling that of Shane McCall, or Brendan Byers, or Kieran Dunne, or… But no. I will not burn myself out just one post into my return to blogging. Thanks for reading and commenting.
A few years ago, I mentioned in a post that I have a particular fondness for candid glimpses of homoerotic wrestlers. I love seeing them when they aren’t “on,” when they’re obviously just being the beautiful men they are in those moments between climbing into the ring to rip each other apart. A few wrestlers have openly shared with me their private camera rolls from wrestling shoots, but BG East (the source of most of those), officially embargoed me before that could go on for long. My sources dried up, and rumor had it that some of the wrestlers involved were sorely and corporally punished for sharing the insider information with “the press.” And then, quietly and mysteriously, I received my first batch of smuggled contraband from an anonymous source who I have come to know only as OMI, Our Man Inside.
I always wonder if my latest batch of OMI treasure will be the last, and the Boss will sniff out the mole and squash him like a bug. I take it as testimony to the size of OMI’s balls and the apparent affection he must have for me that he tempts fate by feeding my adoring obsession with peaking behind the curtain.
I’ve posted precious little about the recent live wrestling show BG East produced for the Fort Lauderdale Pride event last month because, 1) I couldn’t get off work to go down and see it in person, and 2) I’m bitter about #1. Somehow, OMI knew how envious I am of all of the social media celebrations of that event, and like manna from heaven, again I’ve been fed some dizzyingly delightful snapshots from something other than the “official” camera.
Clearly, the event was a who’s who of BG East celebrities. I have no problem with acknowledging that even the pics of these gorgeous hunks fully clothed gets me hard. The fraternal camaraderie in their playful smiles and warm embraces highlights one thing I love about BG East: the “esprit de corps” as several wrestlers I’ve talked to have named it. Even when they do their best to rip each other’s balls off in competition, once egos and bodies have been tested and placed in their proper hierarchy, most of these wrestlers clearly enjoy the community formed by what unites them, namely, a passion for wrestling.
To be honest, I can sit on OMI caches way too long because I want to obsess about every single photo in detail. In order not to fall into that trap with this incredibly tasty OMI collection from the Pride event, I’ll post most of them without comment, but not without deep appreciation and arousal. But, of course, I will comment on a few that grab me by the balls just right.
First of all, look at the assembly of hotness! Fuck, so many names, so many muscles, so many immediate associations in my mind with wrestling matches that I’ve written about and gotten off on repeatedly. There are exactly 5 faces I don’t recognize. Identify everyone in this shot and you can be queen for a day here on the blog.
These assembled shots from the Pride event raise so many summary questions. Who is the guy in the front row snapping a photo of Ty’s sweaty ass as Jonny works him over outside the ring? What sadistic, sexy machinations is Kid Vicious working there in the shadows? Where can I get a leopard print suit!?
I have no doubt that OMI knows exactly what he’s doing to me by sending me shots like this of three of the sexiest wrestlers of all time who I have unapologetically fawned over repeatedly in the pages of this blog. Seeing Scott Williams, Shane McCall, and Brad Rochelle embracing and smiling brightly blows my mind. The time since these stunning wrestlers were last seen in the ring has done nothing but make them sexier. How is there not a Daddy Division at BGE, to scratch that itch, that I know for a fact I’m not the only one who has, to see classic wrestling stars like this back in action? Shane has been quite clear in his interview with me a couple of years back, as well as ongoing comments since then, that he’s still nursing an appreciative rivalry with hot daddy Scott. How is this not a thing!? Look at Scott’s bronzed, bulging deltoid muscle there and explain how the the fuck he isn’t starring in a Returning Classics Championship tournament or, at the very least, his own muscle daddy Wrestler Spotlight!?
Refraining from commenting at length on every one of these photos is killing me, but I know this post will never get published if I start. However, the questions that come to mind in this collection include how is there not an UltraFight 2.5 (The Rematch) in production right now? Exactly how did Brad and KL manage to bury the hatchet after Brad was last seen shoving the Boss’ head in a toilet!? And can someone please tell Shane that if he’s going to build pecs like that, he is morally obligated to get his hotness back into the ring, preferably starting by settling that score he has with Scott?
I sort of think that OMI may know me better than anyone I’ve never met. Not only does he satiate my lust for classic homoerotic wrestling stars, he knows how much I also adore catching those first glimpses of hot, young, aspiring beauties. This pic of assembled youthful hunks makes me desperately hopeful that the known wrestling stars there (Kayden, Ash, Noah, Tommy, Kieran) interspersed among ridiculously pretty young faces I’m not familiar with, hints at some fresh, meaty newbies on the horizon. The backward baseball cap duo have GOT to be the most mouthwatering tag team I’ve never seen in action. Blond Ambition there on the left, the one with the lips, looks ripe for a beating. And holy fuck, Kayden , with those arms, wearing those glasses, is making me swoon. I’d like to order up a 2-on-1 battle in which Tommy and Noah team up to take on Kayden, and, for the record, I’m putting all my money on Kayden.
Again, how NOT to comment for the next 3 months about each and everyone of these hot shots? I know from the poster that Elite Eliot was on the card for the Pride event, but fuck me, those lickable legs of his make me ready to beg to see him in the BG East ring for myself (please tell me this is true!). Is it possible that Ace Aarons got his crack at rubbing the shit-eating grin off of Kirk Donahue’s face? Who in the hell are the too achingly pretty young hotties that Kirk has his arm around, and how long did it take for them to get annoyed by Kirk and double-team his better-than-mediocre ass? Why am I NEVER around to be invited to join in the sexy pool parties!?
As always, OMI, I owe you more than I will ever be able to repay. Keep the smiles, and the dimples, and the beautiful men who make homoerotic wrestling what it is, coming!
I thought I’d better post something before someone prematurely starts writing my obituary. I’m still adjusting to offline changes in my life, but I’m also happily carving out stolen moments here and there to enjoy watching hot wrestling. My thanks to those who periodically check-in when you notice I’m quiet for a while. It’s always nice to be missed. And a big word of humble gratitude to man-of-my-dreams Scott Williams who not only noticed my absence, not only dropped a comment on the blog asking how I’m doing, but also let me know that he’s thinking about arranging an opportunity for me to see him wrestle in person.
Fuck, that’ll bring me back from death’s doorstep anytime. Honestly, if you ever find me in cardiac arrest, skip the CPR and just get Scott Williams on the line letting me know when and where I can get a live show of him making Ty Alexander cry and beg. I guarantee you that’ll be an instant miracle cure.
If you know me, you know I’ve got opinions piling up about the best and brightest new releases that have come out over the past couple of months. While I’m assembling my thoughts and trying to sort through a backlog of reviews, this post is mostly just to let you know I’m still kicking. And in that spirit, here are some hot, decisive kicks that make my heart beat harder.
I know of wrestlers who nearly lost their balls getting caught smuggling behind-the-scenes pics out of BG East shoots, so I continue to applaud Our Man Inside (OMI) who once again has dropped a manilla envelope full of random, unpublished BGE candids on my doorstep. This envelope was huge, so I’ll try to refrain from taking up too much space with my comments or speculations. Though, who am I kidding? I can’t restrain myself from speculating. In any case, OMI, you are my hero!
First up, we’ve got a whole bevy of poolside hotness. I have not appreciated Mad Mykel’s magnificent ass nearly enough until now. On the other hand, Ty Alexander and Richie Douglas’ asses have been on my radar for years. Honestly, who do I need to fuck to get to see more of Richie Douglas incredibly tasty body!? And ever a safety nut, I hope Mykel, Ty and Richie know that I’ve got to hands and a bottle of sunscreen at the ready. Anytime.
Next up, we get a sensationally rare treat of unpublished photos from the BG East ring. I’m instantly titillated by the site of an as-yet-unreleased match pitting papa Shane McCall ripping my long-time infatuation, Drake Marcos, limb from limb. The double team by Kayden Keller and Jonny Firestorm Camel-Crabbing flyweight phenom Charlie Evans is instantly huge drama making my mouth water. But holy fuck, I need to send OMI a gift basket as gratuity for a couple of extremely rare action pics of Kayden working over the stunningly handsome, hot as fuck classic hunk and declared man-of-my-dreams, a contemporary Scott Williams. Please, homoerotic wrestling gods, hear my prayer that this foreshadows new releases starring the Man of My Dreams!!!
So it appears OMI may be a creeper with sensationally good taste, because this next batch has a ton of BGE stars in various states of sleeping, waking, or possibly just cuddling in bed. Such intimate vulnerability. So many slack, supine, defenseless hunks on display. I have an incredibly strong urge to slide under the covers with Kayden and spoon him awake.
This next batch I’ve filed under “letting their hair down.” As I’ve said often, there’s something potently sexy about seeing the ring warriors of my homoerotic fantasies with their guards down, relaxed, happy, and as is evident in these stolen shots, abundantly goofy. And the goof-in-chief most definitely appears to be The Boss himself, who I hope to the homoerotic wrestling gods never finds out who dished me these cutting room floor shots of him hamming it up. This also reminds me, why haven’t we seen more of sensationally hot boybander, Baby Boy Nino Leone?
Finally, this last batch of relatively random shots I’ve compiled under the heading of BGE boys doing what they do best, namely, looking gorgeous. Reigning HWOTMChase Addams eats shirtless, Drake rehydrates after that match with Papa Shane, and KL, Kayden and Charlie prove how devastatingly handsome they look all cleaned up. And then there’s Ty, Kayden and Jonny looking like they’re acting a Shakespearean scene. Shirtless, of course.
Again, OMI, my deepest gratitude and promise of pseudo-journalistic integrity when it comes to never, ever, under any circumstances up to and including corporal torture, will I disclose anything I know about your true identity. Keep the good times and behind the scenes goodies coming. And all of you BGE boys outed for your handsome smiles and adorability in stolen moments of candid life, keep looking gorgeous. Don’t change a thing.
When I started blogging nearly 8 years ago, I had no idea it would come to this. There are a few moving parts to this little melodrama being played out in my life, so bear with me as I write some expository to try to set up the remarkable circumstances within which I find myself. I know that you’re used to me writing homoerotic wrestling fiction, but at the risk of ripping off the Cohen Brothers, let me just assure you that while I have skipped over some of the more trivial points in the story, the rest of what I’m about to tell you is described exactly as it occurred.
First of all, as I say often, I have my favorites. Even casual readers can name the hunks who reliably, predictably, inevitably get me hard every time I watch them in action. From Chris Cuomo to Mitch Colby to Rusty Stevens, there are a few names that recur with such frequency on these pages that I’ve been known to provoke irritation from some readers who tire of my infatuations. However, as I also say often, this blog has always been about me, so suck it up or move on. One of my longstanding fan infatuations that I’ve held for long before I started blogging is for The Classic, Scott Williams.
I swoon every time I watch Scott snap on headscissors, flex his glutes, and press his hips forward, threatening to crush some lucky son of a bitch’s skull. In an interview I did with another classic infatuation, Shane McCall, I referred to Scott as “the man of my dreams.” It’s not an exaggeration. Scott’s devastatingly handsome hotness has always made him fantasyman material for me. Everything about him makes me weak in the knees. The square jaw, the bald head, the ripped muscles, the scorching intensity. His published work for BG East is comprised of merely 4 matches, and yet his presence in my homoerotic wrestling infatuations is so much more huge than that. When I recently learned that Scott still wrestles privately and in custom matches arranged through Jonny Firestorm, I started saving pennies immediately for another chance to crush on Scott’s hotness. I’m still saving (it takes a lot more pennies than I typically have on hand), but in the mean time, I regularly sift through the social media feeds of other wrestlers that I know also do similar work for Jonny, panning for that priceless glimpse of Scott’s gorgeous, hairy pecs.
Now, let me shift my attention just a little, with the promise that, I swear, these various subplots will all collide before this post is done with. Another familiar infatuation that readers know well is my fandom for The Cheshire Cat, Drake Marcos. I was crushing on Drake’s handsome hotness since, literally, before I ever saw him wrestle. About four and a half years ago, Kid Karisma smuggled some behind the scenes snaps out of a BG East shoot. This was before The Boss started requiring non-disclosure agreements and my sources of up and coming BGE gosssip dried up, except for my very deeply embedded, super secret smuggler of back stage pic, known to me only as OMI (our man inside). In any case, I was already groovin’ on a candid, fully clothed shot of Drake at his very first BG East taping, before we even knew his name. My fan relationship with the Cheshire Cat has taken several abrupt and unexpected turns. Drake reached out to me, turning up the charm even before his first match was released. Every time he wrestles, I repeatedly get off on his intensely erotic approach to the genre. I was thrilled to get to do a tandem interview with both Drake and Mason Brooks, soon after Mason crushed the Cheshire Cat like grapes and laid formal claim to his ass in Passion and Punishment 1. In that interview, in my sincerest effort to applaud Drake for looking so delicious getting pounded to pulp, he took umbrage at me suggesting that he’s an outstanding jobber. Words were spoken. Challenges made. And about 10 months later, there I was, getting a tour of BG East’s South Campus from none other than Drake.
The tour was capped off with a settling of that brewing tension between us. Having no pro wrestling experience, I was unceremoniously tossed into the ring by my tour guide and worked over harshly, with that handsome, taunting grin beaming down at me every step of the way. Well, the grin sort of disappeared around the time that this “mere blogger” strung his tasty little meat sandwich up in the ropes, and then exploited his vulnerability in a tree of woe. And then stripped him naked, laid out flat on his back in the middle of the ring, snapping pics to document the priceless moment. There’ve been more words. Accusations of cheating and presenting “alternative facts.” I think Drake has simmered back down and finally acknowledges that in this blogger vs. wrestler battle, he was, in the end, my compliant plaything. I still pop my cork just knowing when there’s a new Drake match out (like now, so watch for my review of X-Fights 42).
And now, for the 3rd tine of this complicated fork, let me just remind you of my ongoing enjoyment when watching the homoerotic wrestling career of Ty Alexander. Like Drake, my fandom for Ty began before we even got to see him wrestle. An OMI snap captured Ty’s hotness when he was all promise and potential and anticipation. In the intervening 3 years, the Trophy Boy has made quite a name for himself, owning social media, selling his sensational brand of fashion-forward wrestling narcissism, and managing to snag the Jobber of the Year title while demonstrating repeatedly that he is no pushover.
And so here’s where all three of these strands of story start to entwine. I had the temerity to let it be known that I did not vote for Ty to win the Best Butt title this year. Regular readers were completely unsurprised that I, once again, threw my full support behind Kid Karisma’s behind. For some reason, this provoked Ty to take aim at making me pay for my “mistake” … corporally. I’ve since received challenges from Ty to face him in the ring, so that he can work out his frustrations all over my body. He’s promised to beat my blogger ass for the perceived slight toward his.
At first, I didn’t take this all that seriously. This is Ty Alexander, we’re talking about. Jobber of the Year. When a notorious jobber tries to pick a fight, it’s just because he’s aching to get owned, right? It’s not like I need to jump when Ty snaps his fingers, because a young stud as gagging to be dominated as Ty is in 90% of his matches is surely going to still be on the line whenever I get around to pick up. Right?
Well, the whole surprising heat from the Trophy Boy took a sudden and unexpected turn for the dark side about a week ago. I got a notice that I had a video from him waiting for me in my inbox. Now, Ty has sent me (and I’m not exaggerating), hundreds of pics and clips of him. He knows I like the look of his body, and he’s every bit the narcissist to get off on knowing it, so he scratches both of our itches. Often. So I clicked on this latest video expecting to see him showing off his 2nd place ass in the tanning both or in the gym locker room again. But no. This was unlike anything I’ve ever received before.
It was Ty, mounted across Scott Williams’ back, wrenching the man of my dreams in a totally fucked up, nasty ass, vile as shit camel clutch. Of course, my dick snapped to attention immediately. I thought, for a brief moment, this was just a little stolen snippet from another Jonny custom bout. But again, no. Ty was shoving Scott’s gorgeous face (mostly covered by Ty’s hands) into the camera and sending a very personal, very specific message, to no one else but me.
“Hey Bard,” Ty says, like we were old chums picking up in the middle of a conversation we’ve had for years. “I just wanted to show you our friend, Mr. Scott in my camel clutch.” Uuuuuuuugh, Scott groans in obvious pain, Fuck you!, he snarls furiously, wailing and choking on the torture. There in a pro ring somewhere. “This is what’s in store when you face me, when you finally man up,” Ty continues, staring at the camera and smiling even as he wrenches that much harder on Scott’s neck, making The Classic whimper.
Fuck you, fuck you, shut the fuck up! Scott shouts, his voice muffled through Ty’s hands clamped around his leading man chin. “Last time I checked,” Ty smirks, “I pretty much fucked him today. Are you going to give now, Scott?” Fuck you, you fucking fuck, God damn it! Scott wails. Ty pulls back on his neck another 3 inches and Scott’s voice rises about 10 decibels and half an octave, God damn it, God damn it! No, fuck off!!!! “Give!” Ty demands cooly, almost quietly, leaning back another 2 inches. I GIVE, YOU FUCKER! Scott screams in exquisite agony.
“Sorry, Bard,” Ty says to me, staring into the camera as he climbs off, revealing he’s been working that vicious camel clutch on Scott’s entirely naked ass. “Just look what’s in store when you finally face me,” Ty concludes, stretching out on top of Scott’s muscled back.
At this point, let me pause the narrative to make a couple of points. First of all, no. I won’t post the video. One reason is that I don’t have permission from all parties involved to publish it further. But an even bigger reason is that I am a greedy fucker, and knowing that this steaming hot 60 second vignette was made for my eyes only has made me get off on it repeatedly in the past week or so, and I’m savoring it as my own, my precious.
But further, can I just say what a mind fuck it is to watch Scott Williams, the man of my dreams, one of my longest standing homoerotic wrestling infatuations, get punished for no other reason than the fact that Ty knows I crush like crazy on Scott!? Scott’s whimpers and wails, his bald head flushing beet red, his bitter, tortured, agonizing profanity and naked humiliation have occurred for one reason only: for Ty to get at me.
So, there’s that. Fuck me sideways, this has got to be the sexiest call out in the history of professional wrestling. Well, it was the sexiest call out until just yesterday when I found a second video in my inbox.
This one is 3 minutes long. As it opens, Ty (completely naked) is climbing onto a hot, naked ass belonging to someone lying face down on a bed in front of the camera. Ty grabs this lucky loser by the hair and wrenches his face up and toward the camera, so that I can see…. that it’s Drake Marcos.
“Hey Bard,” Ty chats with me again through the camera. “I just put Drake through the ringer. I’ve kind of owed him a little bit of a beatdown for a while, because of all the shit he talks about me.” Ty muscles Drake into a camel clutch, again shoving his prey’s agony-contorted face into the camera for me to watch up close. Drake is wailing like a wounded animal. Ty suddenly drops him and flings him to his back, saddling up naked on Drake’s gut and throttling his throat with both hands. The Cheshire Cat is choking and spitting and struggling to shove Ty away, but Ty grabs my boy’s wrists and pins them to the bed.
“I think it’s time to finish up little Drake here,” Ty says, leaning back. Drake immediately lands a cracking punch to Ty’s left pec. A half second later, Ty slaps the fuck out of Drake’s face. I mean, fuck, it hurts just watching it! Then Ty stretches across Drake’s chest and wraps him up in a Kiss of Death, locking down a sleeper while smothering Drake’s mouth and nose to speed things up. Drake flails and bucks in a panic. Ty just keeps riding until his mount goes limp underneath him.
“See Bard, you’re missing out on all of the fun here,” Ty smirks into the camera. “So I hope you’re ready for whatever’s going to come Drake’s way, ’cause I’ll just do the same to you whenever I wrestle you.”
So, I’m both titillated beyond belief to see if a new ransom video shows up in my inbox, and a little worried for all of the favorite wrestlers I’ve gushed about over the years (Mitch, Mason, Brad, Kayden, Rusty… watch your backs!). I had no idea Jobber of the Year Ty had this level of sadistic cunning. He’s picking off my favorites, one by one, and video documenting their humiliation as a means of provoking me to accept his challenge and show up for Blogger vs. Wrestler, The Sequel. There’s something downright diabolical about it. It manages to inspire adolescent rescue fantasies, me the superhero breaking down the door to save the day for these hot slices of beefcake getting stacked like cordwood by this supervillain. And, on the other hand, it piques my curiosity as to just how far the Trophy Boy will take this, and will he dig himself in too deep and bite off more than he can chew before I’ve finally had enough and show up to redeem the heartthrobs whose only offense has been to get me hard and inspire me to write about them?
I’m sure you’ve got advice for me, so let me have it in the comments below. I repeat, no, I won’t share the videos with you. But I will, most certainly, let you know how this twisted plot of suffering and shocking torture continues to play out.
A few months ago, I sent an email to Bard asking if perhaps he would like to be interviewed for his website. To see if we could get a deeper glimpse into the man who has provided us with such great blogging material since 2009. A way for him to express himself in an entirely new way – where perhaps he is not totally in control. An innocuous request, which I thought might pique Bard’s interest. It did. – AH.
AH: You have been blogging since 2009, and you’re still going strong. Congratulations! What do you think has been the secret to your success and longevity?
Bard: Thanks, AH. My focus and productivity with Neverland has waxed and waned in the nearly 6 years I’ve been blogging. I think the biggest factor in my longevity is that this is a labor of love. Homoerotic wrestling is honestly something I enjoy immensely. I’m thinking about and talking about it a lot, so putting some of those thoughts into print for the blog doesn’t feel exactly like work. I also think that I’ve kept churning out posts by switching things up every so often. From my “what turned me gay” series to “name that ass” games and wrestler interviews, I’ve tried to keep things fresh and fun for me. Hopefully that comes across to readers, and hopefully it’s fun for them, as well.
AH: You keeping your blog fresh and fun definitely comes across to me, and I hope to all your other readers as well. I have especially enjoyed when you have had polls included in your posts. Do you have a favorite recurring post that you’ve enjoyed the most?
Bard: I’m glad it’s stayed fresh for readers. Particularly early on, I really didn’t know who my audience was, and even still, I’m not always sure how my stuff is received. So it’s nice to hear when it’s clicking for folks. One of the series that I think I enjoyed more than anyone else did was the “Guess that…” games. It started with “Guess that Ass,” but there were also some “Guess that Tat” and “Guess that Cock” episodes. I love puzzles, so putting those together was probably way more fun for me than for readers. I think my other favorite recurring series was the “What Turned Me Gay” sequence I did in the first couple of years of blogging. It was autobiographical and an honest examination of what I’ve found erotic over the years, with a heavy hit of social commentary and sarcasm. If I had to sum up my blog in one sentence,that would probably be the sentence.
AH: When you are watching a match that you plan on reviewing, what is the process that you go through?
Bard: Well, first of all, I grab the lube. But, that’s probably not what you meant. I sit down with my iPad in front of me and push play. I typically watch for purely descriptive stuff to start with. What are they wearing? What’s the setting? Then I spend some time listening closely. Regular readers know what a sucker I am for compelling dialogue in the ring, so I listen for the story that the wrestlers tell when they first encounter each other. Are they appreciating each other’s physiques? Are they trash talking? How do they make sense of this familiar moment when two ripped hunks climb into a ring and throw everything they’ve got at beating and dominating one another? What’s in it for them: ego strokes, erotic attraction, an honest lust for competition? I try to take notes on the the highlights of the action, particularly the parts that impress or surprise me. But, sooner or later, inevitably, I put the iPad down and pull out that lube. It’s an extremely rare homoerotic wrestling match that doesn’t make me need to get off if I spend enough time watching it.
AH: I think I need to be invited to a viewing party at Bard’s house! I’ll bring the lube! I tend to look over pictures and see if there are moves that grab my attention. Gear is definitely a big plus in my book, too. I go back and forth on the dialogue; sometimes I think it enhances a match, sometimes I think it hinders it. Is there one type of match that is your “default” for watching, or does it depend on the mood? Seems like you’re big into the muscle worshiping and eroticism of matches more than the moves/wrestlers themselves
Bard: Fascinating that your impression is that I’m less into the moves and wrestlers and more into eroticism! I wouldn’t necessarily have said that. For example, I’m like a dog with a bone when it comes to an OTK backbreaker, or to a hot wrestler getting trapped in the ropes. A flying dropkick, relatively rare in homoerotic wrestling circles, is a sensational turn on for me. My moods swing me toward ring matches more often that mat matches, so the ring would probably be a “default” setting for me. My moods also tilt me toward matches with some back and forth momentum and at least a pretense of competitiveness about it. So, while I occasionally get a hankering for a sweet, crushing, humiliating squash, a competitive match would be my default setting for what I’m typically looking for. All that said, I get bored pretty fast on a complete diet of relatively straightforward, G-rated wrestling with no explicit and very little implicit erotic content. I can tune into mainstream pro for that. So even if it doesn’t have nudity or making out or fuck stakes involved, I’m very partial to wrestling that gives at least a nod to the homoerotic sensibilities of our audience.
AH: Perhaps my impression was on purpose, Bard….to get a rise out of you! You’ll never know! My go-to move for any match is any variation on the sleeper. Pass the lube if that occurs. You mentioned mainstream pro wrestling; to the best of my knowledge, you’ve never mentioned any pro wrestlers/pro wrestling on your blog. Is that again because of your audience, or is it because like you say in the about me portion of your blog, “devoted to contemplating in excruciating detail the world of homoerotic wrestling”?
Bard: You provocateur! I heartily approve. Early on in my blogging I talked about my complicated relationship with mainstream pro wrestling. I’ve posted about my major, youthful crush on muscle hunk Billy Jack Haynes in my “What Turned Me Gay” series. And I think I have some early posts about the classic vintage Brit pro Keith Hawarth. And, hell, the banner for Neverland is the fantasyman himself, Tommy Zenk. But I grew disenchanted with watching contemporary mainstream pro over a decade ago when it kept striking me as blatantly homophobic. Throughout most of my blogging, I’ve enjoyed reading other bloggers who keep their eyes on straight up pro, like Beefcake’s of Wrestling, Ringside at Skull Island and Inner Jobber. But I find wrestling explicitly for gay eyes to be just as entertaining, more titillating, and much less of a moral dilemma to enjoy, so I spend most of my viewing and blogging time on the more gay-forward homoerotic wrestling companies.
AH: I’m sorry. Obviously I didn’t do my research. Since you mentioned other bloggers there have many multiple blogs and bloggers on the subject of homoerotic and underground wrestling pop up in the ensuing years since 2009. How do you feel about that?
Bard: Hell, I forget half of what I’ve written, so I certainly don’t expect anyone else to have my entire 6 years of blogging memorized. I think it’s fabulous that there are a number of homoerotic wrestling blogs. The old Rants, Roids & Wrestling blog was just shutting down as I was starting up. I loved the artwork and storytelling there. Joe started Ringside at Skull Island about 6 months before my blog, and I’ve always enjoyed Joe’s take on the scene. And of course Wrestling Arsenal is a classic that’s been around forever and has a fantastic, unique voice and angle all his own. There have been times when I’ve been just about to post something when I discover someone else (usually Joe) has already reviewed it, said it, asked it. But honestly, I think it’s fantastic that there are several voices out there, a lot of different perspectives and tastes reflecting much more of the diversity of homoerotic wrestling than any one of us could by ourselves.
AH: What do you think of wrestlers having more of a Social Media presence than ever before?
Bard: I think it’s the future of entertainment of any kind, including the homoerotic wrestling business. Pro wrestling is as much driven by personality as it is by athleticism or hot bodies. We have more access to interact with and know about the people in our lives, and social media has given us the opportunity to build the illusion that public personalities are “people in our lives.” So, anonymous guys with hot bodies showing up in a ring, wrestling with more or less skill, and then disappearing from view is much less compelling these days than wrestlers turning us on in action and then populating our Twitter and Facebook feeds with photos and attitude and the illusion that their professional character is part of our social network. Wrestlers like Ty Alexander, Kayden Keller, Ethan Andrews and Cameron Matthews have done great work at the sell in and out of the ring. I know fans enjoy seeing them in social media, and I strongly suspect that those who exploit that fan experience beyond the confines of a particular wrestling product will only literally sell more products. And have you seen the number of photos that Ty posts of his ass!? Fuck, that guy is working it with a vengeance!
AH: True. There have been plenty of wrestlers, through all of the homoerotic sites that have been “one and done” – they have the great bodies, but if the personality is not there or they don’t sell for the camera and draw the audience in, they are not featured again. It does give us a kind of “behind the scenes” look at some wrestlers. However, don’t you also think that there could also be some fatigue with specific wrestlers who appear over and over again combined with their increasing online presence?
Bard: My thinking has evolved on that question over my time blogging. Early on, I was pretty harsh on wrestlers who seemed to show up everywhere at the same time. I took some swipes at Cameron Matthews and Rio Garza a few years ago when both of them were showing up in simultaneous new releases across two, sometimes three different companies, sometimes even wrestling the same opponents across promotions. I still think that repackaging the same match-ups across promotions is bad for consumers, and my hunch is that there’s probably some corporate intrigue about the choice of a producer to tape and release copycat matches at the same time. Like, what’s the wisdom of releasing at the same time Rio and Jobe wrestling each other in the ring in two different matches? But I think instant downloads and social media are sensitizing us to a faster pace of information and exposure to wrestlers. And, frankly, I’ve simply found myself charmed and titillated by popular wrestlers like Cameron, Jonny, Drake and Ethan inhabiting multiple platforms, giving us long-form text, photos, and videos alongside of snapshot status updates to construct 3-dimensional characters in and out of the ring. Getting more access to these sensational wrestling characters has actually increased my anticipation and excitement for their new releases. There may be fan-fatigue for some wrestling consumers, but these days I see multi-platform promotion for wrestlers to be compelling. Now if we could just get Drake to update his fucking blog [laughing].
AH: Haha, there you go bashing Drake again. Can’t you leave the poor guy alone? Are you trying to get fans to sympathize with poor Drake? I didn’t want to name names earlier (cough Austin/Frey cough) about showing up across different companies and multiple matches a month, but hey, he must be doing something right in the eyes of the people producing and shelling out the products. And he is not the only one. It does seem to make it harder for a rookie to get noticed and make a lasting impression, although I have to say that 2015 was a particularly strong year for them (at least for me.) with Chet, Biff, Van Skyler, etc.
Bard: I do like the increased social media presence of some of the wrestlers you mentioned, although like new releases, they are updated rather infrequently. I think that actually works in their favor, as it keeps the audience salivating until there is a new post, a new video, new pictures.
AH: Since we’re talking about wrestlers populating social media, what are your thoughts on all the bloggers talking about homoerotic wrestling
Bard: Oh, can’t forget Austin Cooper! His heel work at BG East in particular is crazy good. But regarding other bloggers, I have tons of respect and take a lot of enjoyment in all of them. There was a period where I was diligently reading everybody and intentionally cross promoting other blogs, but I just ran out of time to stay on top of that. I still visit Beefcakes of Wrestling several times a week to check the mainstream pros I ought to be looking up on Youtube. I check in on Ringside frequently, now that Joe’s back at it again, particularly for a glimpse at some of the promotions that I don’t really follow. Alex is always sensational, and his work at The Cave is a great mix of sensational writing and inspiring reviews. I think each of the bloggers with an eye on homoerotic wrestling have unique perspectives, different things that draw their attention or spark their interest. And that’s what I like about blogging as a format. It lets us step inside someone else’s head for a moment and recognize the arousing and provocative things that we may not see on our own.
AH: Seems like each blog has a corner of the homoerotic wrestling scene all to themselves. I love it when multiple bloggers discuss and dissect the same match as it leads to differing views and makes me want to watch the match again trying to hopefully see it through a new lens. Before finding all of these blogs, I never thought that all of these posts would be so arousing!! I just thought the videos and pictures would turn me on. Glad to be proven wrong. So you have your avatar on your blog that shows off that chest and gives a glimpse of your abs. You’ve let your audience into your mind – but you have left the rest of your body and self, vague. Is that intentional on your part?
Bard: When I started blogging, I didn’t have a clear picture of exactly what I wanted the blog to be. But I did feel committed to make it relatively confessional as a gay man strongly turned on by wrestling. With an interest in a frank discussion of eroticism, I decided that I’d feel freer to be blunt and honest about my sexual turn-ons if I were relatively anonymous otherwise. One of the greatest things about blogging has been hearing from guys who say, “I’ve had the same experiences, but thought I must be the only one!” But I don’t know if I’d ever have had the balls to dig down to those moments of homoerotic confessional truth, to talk about some of those things that many of us experience but may seldom discuss with friends and family that don’t get it, if I thought that my mom or my boss might stumble across my words. These days, I think of that avatar I use like a wrestling mask in the pro ring. There’s something that it hides, but there’s something that it frees to be seen, to be more open and passionately me as well. And, quite honestly, over time I’ve discovered that there are some relatively unhinged people in the webosphere who take all of this way, way too seriously, who I really wouldn’t want to know me in any more detail than what I share on the blog.
AH: Very well said. I was quite late to the game in finding homoerotic wrestling sites and blogs dedicated to it. But once I did, I had that “Aha” moment, where I was like I am not the only one who likes this stuff! And we thank you for digging down deep, through your anonymity, to bring us your fresh take on these subjects that so strongly turn you on. I hope this interview does not provoke any unhinged people out there to search either of us out.
Bard: Some guys are extremely… passionate… about their opinions about homoerotic wrestling. It’s a fine line between passionate/playful and unhinged, but there is a line, I think.
AH:Rock Hard dabbled in luche style masks I believe once in their history (although it was obvious who the combatants were) and BG East has had masked wrestlers as well. Do you ever watch lucha wrestling videos on youtbube or know that history, or were you just using the wrestling mask as a metaphor to prove your point?
Bard: I am familiar with lucha wrestling and some of the standard parts of the lucha mystique as it relates to masks and unmasking. Mostly, I was speaking metaphorically, though.
AH: So, 2016 is a momentous year. We have a Presidential election as well as the Olympics. Who would you put on the Mount Rushmore of homoerotic wrestling?
Bard: Yowza, that’s a challenging question. Coincidentally I traveled to Mr. Rushmore just last summer. I found it oddly underwhelming. But if I were to select 4 faces to get carved into stone as pivotal people in homoerotic history, I’d definitely start with Kid Leopard. I think BG East has been uniquely shaped by his vision and commitment to homoerotic wrestling, and I think BG East has, in turn, uniquely shaped the entire industry. Honestly, I think if anyone else’s face was carved next to him, Kid Leopard’s visage would pummel him. Who else is as iconic? Maybe Ron Sexton of Can-Am. I have no idea what he looks like, though, so I’m not sure if anyone would recognize him. But I think of him as, perhaps more than anyone else, bringing together the two worlds of wrestling and porn in ways that completely laid the groundwork for the likes of Naked Kombat. If pressed, I think perhaps a third face to carve into the Mr. Rushmore of homoerotic wrestling might be Steve Sterling. Bodybuilders in homoerotic wrestling are a mainstay these days, but I think of Steve as one of the first, if not the first, legitimate, incredibly muscled, competition bodybuilders to bring serious, aesthetic, massive physiques into the homoerotic wrestling fan’s immediate gaze. As for a fourth “founding father,” I’m sort of stumped. I think I’ll put Scott Williams’ face in that final spot. Not because he fundamentally shaped the industry at all. Just because I think he’s fucking handsome as hell, and I’d pay the price of admission to get to see that sensational jawline literally carved in stone.
AH: Shit, I am getting into my car and driving directly to your Mt Rushmore of homoerotic wrestling! Where do you think this art form goes from here? There has definitely been an evolution, one you know better than me, about homoerotic wrestling. Now, you don’t need to wait a period of time for that “package” to arrive in the mail – you can instantly stream/download a match from just about any wrestler, any promotion, at any moment (and get a shock when you get your credit card statement too). Mr. Firestorm has dabbled in newer matches (with the google-glasses bird’s eye view, and his choose your own adventure style match against your personal friend Drake); do you think that is the way to go – where it seems the audience has more of a say in what goes on in matches, or should we leave it to the people behind the scenes who have crafted gold into our memories for so long
Bard: I think there’s value added in both consumer directed products as well as the fare that established wrestling producers know how to put together so well. The custom and fan-choice matches scratch that great, postmodern itch of breaking down some of the barriers between viewers and the action, which I think is sensational. It’s also why I love behind the scenes glimpses and the online presence of some homoerotic wrestling personalities these days. It pokes holes in that wall that divides the passive viewing fan from the extremely active, intense, visceral nature of wrestling. However, 9 times out of 10, I’d let Kid Leopard pick a sexy hot pairing for a sweaty, high flying, low down ring match drama and be confident I’d be 100% entertained. I love the unexpected. I love to be surprised and shocked by how a match turns or by the depths to which wrestlers will go to dominate. So I certainly wouldn’t want everything to be a Chinese menu of homoerotic wrestling choices. Some producers have a fantastic eye and taste for this that takes me places I’d never know that I need to go.
AH: Once again Bard, fantastic analysis; That’s the great thing about this subject and others like it – it’s so open for discussion and debate. Do you have any last rumblings and grumblings you’d like to share that perhaps you haven’t yet voiced in your blog yet?
Bard: I think the only other thing I’d pontificate about today is one that many readers have heard before from me and from others. I regularly get comments to my blog with pointed, often personal, frequently crass criticisms of wrestlers. Most often the ones that really trigger me are the personal attacks on wrestlers’ bodies, like someone is too fat, too skinny, too ugly, too whatever and so somehow deserves disrespect. On the one hand, I’m at the front of the line when it comes to loving and leaning into the fantasy of professional wrestling. When wrestlers belittle each other and heap trash talking contempt upon one another’s physiques and appearance, I can understand why fans would turn to social media and comment logs to participate in the same sort of posturing. However, as many can probably attest to, I do my best to censor those types of comments out of the comment pages on my blog. I know this pisses some readers off. But I just have to say, again here today, that this practice of trashing wrestlers with personal attacks feels a lot like me inviting a whole bunch of friends over, and having one of the guests in my own home trashing and attacking another of my guests. I know you’ve got your opinions, and I know many of you aren’t shy about expressing the highly critical ones. But no. Not in my house. Not aimed at my friends.
Because that’s what’s happened as I’ve been blogging over the years. I’ve had the great privilege of meeting many of the wrestlers who I’m completely infatuated with. And it’s a mind fuck to actually sit down and talk with a stud puppy who, perhaps just the day before, I was pounding out a screaming climax to while watching him wrestle on my screen. And while I have zero problem getting off again and again to the wrestling work of these hunks I’ve got to meet in person, I just can’t behave as if these wrestlers are somehow not real people who deserve common human decency and respect. A few of them I’m particularly privileged to count among my friends, and I take that seriously. So not liking a match they’re in, or offering the critique about something they wear, or what you wish they’d done to a particular opponent is fantastic by me. But body shaming them, or calling them losers, or questioning their intelligence, or assessing them as worthless is crossing a line.
So, like I said, readers have heard this from me before, but in closing, I’d just say it again. Keep it classy. This little corner of the world inhabited by gay guys with a particular thing for getting off on wrestling is probably bigger than most of us might have originally thought it was, but we shouldn’t take for granted the balls it takes for wrestlers to strip down, gear up, and put their bodies on the line for this community of ours. I know for a fact that there are homoerotic wrestlers who have been shamed and punished when they’ve had friends, family or coworkers discover they’ve wrestled for a gay audience. That’s shitty. But the last thing they should also face is that very audience shaming or harassing them out of petty cattiness.
Anyway, I officially step back off my soap box and thank you, AH, for turning the tables on me and interviewing me for a change. It was a fascinating experience to be on the other side of the questions!
AH: No, thank you very much, Bard. The honor was all mine, and thank you for agreeing to do this!
With 2015 coming to a close, it’s time to reminisce. I published 100 posts this year, and readers added up an astonishing 493,000 page views in 2015. Most readers (by far) find their way to the home page of neverland, tracking the most recently published posts from day to day. Fascinatingly, the second most viewed page was the About neverland page, which sort of warms my heart because it’s text intensive (so you weren’t just chasing pics) and, well, all about me and my philosophy of blogging. By far the most popular pic clicked on this year was of hot, hairy chested Damien Rush crunching out a most-muscular pose with his masked undoing hovering ominously in the background.
Readers also clicked most on my review of the Gazebo Grapplers 17 match pitting jungle boy Lorenzo Lowe against hot jobber Tim Messina. You also seemed to be as infatuated with the pulse pounding 2015 debut of big, bulging, beautiful, blond, blue-eyed beefcake Biff Farrell, clicking directly through to my adoring review of his introduction to the homoerotic wrestling audience in Lon Dumont’s Wrestler Spotlight DVD. Of course, these stats are systematically biased toward older posts (you’ve had less time to rack up clicks on December posts, for example). Which makes me think that my September review of Hunkbash 15, although only the 3rd most viewed blog post of the year, may actually turn out to be the hotttest click over time. And I can certainly understand why. I’ve nearly worn out my DVD of Logan Vaughn’s divine, titanic thighs squeezing every ounce of resistance out of every inch of supplicant-in-training Trey Dixon. There are tastes du jour and then there are exquisite, timeless dishes that we’ll be savoring for years to come, and I have to believe that Trey crushed into sweaty, slack jawed worship at the bare feet of Logan is going to be a keeper.
Neverland readers originate from across the globe. English-speaking United States, the United Kingdom, and Canada are, in order, the top ranking origins of the most readers. Germany comes in fourth place with over 13,000 page views, edging out Australia. France, Japan and Mexico round out the top 8 countries of origin of homoerotic wrestling fans checking out the latest here at neverland.
Those of you using search engines to find your way to these pages typically know what you’re looking for, most of the time using keywords “sidelineland” or “neverland wrestling.” Fascinating me to no end, the next most common search engine keyword earning a click to neverland is “David Muir shirtless.” Google it, and sure enough, neverland is ranked #1. Again, consider my heart strangely warmed by the newsboy love that clearly many of you share with me. Those of you searching for a particular wrestling crush sending you this way were most likely to be seeking out Lane Hartley or Lon Dumont.
As for my favorite moments of 2015, one of the most fabulous reveals that I celebrated on the pages of this blog was my current top newsboy crush, Gio Benitez, coming out to his adoring public via Instagram photos of sunning his magnificent muscles next to his then-boyfriend Tommy DiDario. When he then documented his Paris marriage proposal via social media, getting down on one knee (Tommy said yes, of course!), a newsboy homoerotic wrestling lover champion tag team was born in my imagination. Every time I see Gio’s gargantuan biceps straining the seams of his suit coats as he reports on GMA, I no longer need to imagine what those hot, bulging muscles look like shirtless, thanks to Gio sharing the wealth and proudly showing off his, and his fiancee’s fabulous muscles in 2015. I’m still waiting for my wedding invitation.
One of those little moments that probably blew right past most readers but tickled my crotch just right this year was a snarky little exchange I had with none other than BG East Boss himself, Kid Leopard back in February. In my relentless pouring over and critiquing the nominees for BG East’s 2014 Bestie Awards, I adamantly announced that Kirk Donahue did not deserve to be in the running for Best Ass. You know what a smart ass I am, so of course I poured it on thick, speculating that the eventual winner of the category ought to bend Kirk over his knee and spank that adorable, yet not outstanding ass until he confesses who he fucked to get the nomination. Well, my smart assedness earned me a firm, slighty chiding message from Kid Leopard, who I assume is nominator in chief, explaining that I was completely off base in my disregard of Kirk’s award worthy butt. Getting a virtual slap on the wrist from the Boss both tickled and aroused me so much that I promptly published a public service announcement clarifying that, with additional persuasive evidence offered by the Boss, Kirk’s ass is totally nominatible. Of course, I was still a smart ass. And I still say Kirk’s ass is sensationally fuckable, but nowhere near deserving of a top 5 ranking in the exceedingly hot field of BG East butts. But anytime Kid Leopard calls me into his office to slap me around a bit, it’s going to be on my list of favorite moments.
My third favorite moment of 2015 was a little self-generated pride and joy I felt in getting my ass back to what really started neverland in the first place: writing homoerotic wrestling fiction. In August I took the flimsy excuse of Details Magazine identifying their top 31 male models, to write up a first round of homoerotic pretty boy wrestling fiction. I have yet to complete the tournament, though Sean O’Pry, John Halls, and Jarrod Scott more than ably earned their way into the semi-finals. What may not have been as apparent on your side of the screen was the pleasure I had in getting back to exercising my homoerotic wrestling imagination. I’ve gotten back to the keyboard several times this fall, and I anticipate 2016 getting me back to the online homoerotic wrestling fiction publishing business again. I’ll keep you updated.
My second most favorite moment in blogging this year was the feast of homoerotic wrestler Halloween costumes I got to enjoy, and share, in early November. Ty Alexander, Kayden Keller and Drake “Don’t-Call-Me-Jobber” Marcos partied hearty on Halloween this year and gifted you and me some hot shots of their sensationally sexy superhero costumes. By way of introducing himself to me, and by extension, you, adorably hot red-headed rookie twink Charlie Evans also sent some shots my way of his Iceman costume for Halloween this year. As soon as homoerotic wrestling studs send me unsolicited (or at least, lightly solicited) photos of themselves roaming the real world, I’m aroused and the moment is indelibly etched onto the list of most memorable moments.
My top, very most favorite moment in blogging for 2015 took place in the comments section. Casual readers may not think to check the comments, but you do so at the risk of missing hot gems every so often. Such was the case when I posted one of my long, adoring, full throttle fanboy infatuation pieces on my long-time homoerotic wrestler crush, Scott Williams. Scott shared his appreciation that his fans are still gagging for it, assuring us that he is “still keeping in shape and wrestling privately here in Boston and when I travel…always will love it and will always make you proud on the mats or in the ring!” He signed his comment “Sending bearhugs – Scott Williams.” I have since seen glimpses and snippets of evidence (follow the likes of Ty Alexander on FB, and you’ll see what I mean) that Scott is, indeed, still climbing into the ring, and he remains incredibly, profoundly, astonishingly sexy fit still today. I think it’s a crime against homoerotic wrestling fandom that Scott is keeping his wrestling work out of the publicly consumable sphere these days, and I think you should, at this very moment, send an email to BG East pleading with them to convince this classic hunk to cum out in a new release in 2016. In the meantime, that virtual bearhug from one of my longest running wrestling crushes still keeps me warm at night.
So, 2016. I’m hoping it’s a year for getting back to what has been the most fun for me over the past 6 years. Be it resolved that I will publish homoerotic wrestling fiction in the coming year. Be it also resolved that I will snag some fresh new wrestler interviews, because the lack of interviews in 2015 was, in retrospect, tragic from my perspective. I’ve also been not-so-subtly angling for an opportunity to be your Every-Joe-Fan at an honest-to-the-homoerotic-wrestling-gods taping of a match, and I see no reason why 2016 shouldn’t be the year that that invitation doesn’t show up in my mailbox. Those are a few of my hopes and dreams for the New Year. Hope yours is hot, sweaty, and includes some OTK backbreakers.
Someone reminded me this weekend of my simmering wrestling crush on BG East classic hunk Scott Williams. Similar to how I recently mentioned that I have this distorted perception of Kayden Keller’s height (he always seems smaller in my mind), I think of Scott has having a much longer wrestling CV than he actually does. He stars in just 5 products between catalogs 14 and 25, including his ensemble appearance in the spotlight feature on Philly’s gay amateur wrestling club, Meet theSpartans.
When I had the titillating pleasure of interviewing and being provoked by classic hunk Shane McCall, I mentioned my slackjawed crush on Scott, knowing that the 2 of them horsed around together in the Spartans. My reference to “Scott man-of-my-dreams Williams” got quite a rise out of Shane, who couldn’t resist dishing out some trash talk for his former rival. But I stand by the statement of fact that I have held, for quite a long time, and continue to hold a fanatical infatuation with the beauty, power, and wrestling style of hotty Scotty.
Having been sent down memory lane, I’ve been browsing clips and pics of Scott and instantly getting that swelling feeling in my crotch. Aesthetically, physically speaking, there’s something both classically handsome and atypically tantalizing about his appearance. I say classically handsome because of his gorgeous proportions, his thick, ultra lean muscle mass, the jaw and chin of a Hollywood leading man and the nose of a toga clad Roman aristocrat. My tendency (certainly not 100%) to prefer smooth, lickable muscle men notwithstanding, there’s an effortless, masculine perfection about Scott’s thorougly coated, impeccably groomed hairy torso.
At the same time, I say Scott speaks to me as an atypical wrestlng fantasyman mostly because of his bare pate, which is a downright novelty in homoerotic wrestling circles. There’s something effortless and real about a sizzling hot wrestling hunk with a bald head. Scott’s calm, sneering, underspoken confidence translates into over the top hypermasculinity, not just because of his rocking hot muscled body, but also because of that unapologetically muscledaddy smooth scalp. My hunch is that Scott isn’t all that much older than I am, but premature baldness made him always, from my earliest introduction to his wrestling, a mature, wise, worldly fantasyman that has always and will continue to make me infatuated with any “seasoned coach” wrestling character (hello, Mitch Colby).
I’m sure I’ve mentioned Scott’s sell before, but fuck, I’m on a roll now, so I’m mentioning it again. I absolutely love the way he milks a hold. There are a lot of wrestlers (or at least guys wrestling) for whom I struggle to suspend disbelief. They apply an armbar or wristlock and we can all plainly see there’s no actual pressure on the joint. I never had to suspend anything other than my impulse to pull my hair trigger watching Scott Williams wrestle. He puts his opponents’ joints through their range of motion, so that when abruptly the lucky stud in his clutches goes from halfheartedly groaning to suddenly choking out a cry of pain an octave higher and 20 decibels louder, you can believe that shit just hurt. When any part of some fortunate fuck gets trapped between his wiry, crushing thighs, Scott works every inch of his body into screwing down those crushing scissors as tight as humanly possible. His hips twist to add pressure, he transitions his upper body from angle to angle to dig his legs as deep as possible into every available inch of flesh and muscle.
And then that face. Holy fuck, that face. When he purses his lips in concentration and effort, I’ve got a ravenous need to lock lips with the handsome hunk. He’s not the most demonstrative in his sell. There’s a slow simmer about him that doesn’t rely on a bullhorn to convey his emotional state. Rather, steering with such an even keel, every subtle smirk or gasp, every gutteral grunt speaks louder than most wrestlers’ screams and incessant monologues. You can see every fucking muscle fiber on his fabulous body because he’s just that amazingly lean, so Scott doesn’t need to growl like the Incredible Hulk to signal with complete clarity that he’s flexing, squeezing, pressing, or crushing.
And then that smile knocks my knees out from underneath me. Completely disarming. The kind of face that young, ambitious bucks would bust a nut to get the chance to see deliver an approving look, a nod of respect, a seriously appraising eye.
I’ve heard from the grapevine that Scott continues to wrestle in private, or in front of custom cameras in command performances only these days. Which is a crying shame, as far as I’m concerned. Because I’ve so many Scott Williams wrestling fantasies, and he’s got such an abridged catalog. So, yeah, I’m a big, big fan (getting bigger by the second just thinking about him). In a 2nd golden age of homoerotic wrestling, with classic comebacks like that of Christopher Bruce and Shane McCall, and the long-rumored return of the likes of Liam Ryan to competition, this fanatic will always carry a torch for one of my first, longest lasting, and instantly provocative classic wrestling infatuations, Scott man-of-my-dreams Williams.
I’m close to being able to die a happy man, because not only did Shane McCall drop me a note to thank me for my recent review of his Catch Weight 6 match, he went on to agree to grant me an interview. Talk about a bucket list item! Shane resides right around the foundation of my homoerotic wrestling fantasies as an object of lust from my very early days of discovering BG East. He’s one of my wrestling crushes who left me in awe that I had this thing in common with such a beautifully handsome, deeply masculine man with such a gorgeous body. His early career matches are bedrock to my prized homoerotic wrestling collection, and his return to the ring these 18 years after he first wrestled for BG East was simply epic. And then I found myself with Shane’s undivided attention, answering my questions, throwing them right back at me and igniting all new homoerotic wrestling fantasies. I hope you enjoy this chat with the legendary Shane McCall, but as you’ll see, it really doesn’t matter that much to me, because it was one of the most pleasurable experiences I’ve ever had in my five and a half years of blogging about homoerotic wrestling.
Bard: Thanks for connecting with me on Facebook, Shane. I needed to take a little time to work on some questions so I don’t sound too, too much like a fanboy dork.
Shane: Ha! Sounds good, boy. Is that your tight lean bod in that profile pic?
Bard: My abs aren’t quite that ripped anymore, but happily the bod is still tight and lean.
Shane: Works for me. I always enjoy working lean muscle.
Bard: Oh, damn. This is going to be quite an interview! I’m going to have to work hard to stay focused if you insist on speculating about working over my body! I am extremely thrilled and a bit intimidated to get this chance to talk with the famous Shane McCall. Can I just start by asking about your stunning return to the ring in BGE’s Catch Weight 6? How did it feel stepping through those ropes again?
Shane: I can smell your intimidation, and love the smell of it in the morning. That and a cup of coffee, and I am ready to start the day. Thanks, Bard. It felt great lacing up my wrestling shoes and pulling the straps up on my singlet. Some things your body never forgets. I knew I was ready to take on anyone. My head was in the game. Keeping my body healthy with good diet and working out paid off, too. Stepping up onto the ring and standing at the ropes felt as natural as it did when I was 32 as it does at 50. What I saw waiting for me inside the ring, well, was downright comical. Lady Gaga in wrestling gear.
Bard: It certainly looked to me like you didn’t skip a beat from the last time we saw you there. You completely owned it. And since you mention Lady Gaga in wrestling gear, what do you make of young Ty Alexander not knowing who you are? I mean, you’re basically royalty to anyone with even a passing familiarity with homoerotic wrestling. What the hell has the world come to when a wet-behind-the ears babyface trying to establish a career in this business doesn’t even know the hunks who helped build this industry?
Shane: Thanks again, Bard. Your kind words and praise are spot-on and appreciated. Ty-ersome knew exactly who I was. I think that was his lame attempt to get under my skin. I’ve grown a thick layer over the years, and that shit just rolls off my back. These little pretty things, it is more about cosplay and dressing up in shiny erotic gear and looking pretty for themselves in the mirror than it is the sport of domination. Even though I gave him an ass whooping he will not soon forget, I doubt he learned anything. He’s probably now scouring the web for his next pair of shiny pink nut smugglers. But back to your comment about me being a force that helped build the homoerotic wrestling industry. I’m humbled. I owe it all and learned from the best in the business with Kid Leopard and Kid Vicious’ ring training and Energy and Zen training with Sailor Rob.
Bard: Well, no one can say you didn’t deliver a first rate education to darling Ty, but I suppose you can only lead a horse to water. If I remember correctly, you were BGE’s first rookie of the year. What was your learning curve like? What were some of those lessons you learned from KL, KV and Sailor Rob?
Shane: You have a keen memory. Yes, I was the first recipient of Rookie of the Year. 1996? I remember that weekend well. It was a fun time meeting a lot of the other BG East wrestlers and tons of hot matches throughout that weekend. Flo and I connected right off, and I learned a lot from him. Wrestling, being a devastating heel, being an outstanding jobber and the art of selling both.
Shane: Oh, Flo is my nickname for Kid Leopard. Short for Florenz Ziegfeld. In return he calls me Shanney. I told him when I first arrived at BG East that I felt a little like the Fanny Brice of the BG East’s beautiful Schwanns. He laughed and said, “That’s ridiculous! You’re GORGEOUS. But I love it!” And so started the beautiful relationship of Flo and Shanney.
Bard: (laughing) That’s adorable!
Shane: During this past summer’s visit and taping, Flo was giving me a tour of his art collection. We both love art, especially wrestling art. The tour ended up in his office filled with photos of wrestlers of old and new and wrestling related artifacts. It truly is an amazing collection including DVDs, dolls and anything wrestling. Tucked on a shelf I saw the first photo I sent to Flo via the old Gillespie directory. I had sent it to Flo back in 1994. I had written a note on the back introducing myself and stating I hope to meet someday and would enjoy making a wrestling video for BG East. I was so deeply honored and touched that he kept that photo in a special place that he could see every day.
Bard: I’ve seen that art collection and it’s incredible! So much to look at everywhere. I’m not surprised KL keeps that photo nearby. Damn, now that’s what I call selling a resume!
Shane: I spent a lot of time working in the ring with Kid Vicious, too, who told me “the only way you’ll be a good heel is to be an outstanding jobber.” KV went above and beyond in showing me what a ruthless prick heel is like and how to totally dominate and even humiliate a jobber. Some sessions were so devastating that you had to peel me off the ring apron at the end. I would never know what the lesson plan would be for the day. He just instructed me to show up and find out. Today is gut punishment day, or pec torture day, or my personal favorite, bumps, slams and stomps day. KV’s Heel Philosophy is, if you are not enjoying every moment tearing a jobber apart piece by piece then your fans are not going to enjoy watching it. KV takes much pride in his work and a lot of joy too, I can certainly attest to that. Sailor Rob is my Energy and Zen coach and advisor. Staying focused and centered in key when working in the ring. Much of the work is done outside in nature. Becoming connected with the Earth is the best way to become grounded and centered, he tells me. I found it also helps keep the gardens beautiful and fruits and vegetables harvested.
Bard: I’m entranced by this body-mind meld approach to training with KV and Sailor Rob in tandem.
Shane: Mind, body and soul healing is applied to everyday life and not just working for BG East. A healthy life is all about the balance of life and energy.
Bard: I think BGE has long produced wrestling that goes a lot deeper than pretty boys with pink nut smugglers, and I suspect that multi-focused training you received speaks a lot to that special, hot recipe they cook up.
Bard: Do I remember correctly that you had a solid amateur wrestling background when you showed up? How do you think amateur wrestling skills contribute to the rough and rowdy world of BGE wrestling?
Shane: Yeah, I’ve been wrestling all my life. Tons of garage and basement battles growing up with buds in the neighborhood and school. My self-esteem was pretty low in high school and being teased everyday on the bus didn’t help with that. Like most young men being gay at that age and time was a rough period. I was also too nervous to try out for wrestling since it was a huge turn on for me. I mentioned the Gillespie Directory earlier. That was a hardcopy listing of wrestlers from all over the world. It cost like $20 a year, and the catalogue was delivered via US Postal with tons and tons of listings with photos of hot wrestlers around the world. That is the directory I met Kid Leopard and many other of my wrestling friends I keep in touch with today. The first guy I met in Philly was John, aka RomanGodPa, in the Gillespie directory. He was one of three men that started the Spartan Wrestling Club in Philadelphia, and I was the seventh member to join that club. John, Dennis and Andy Bailey were my first coaches to freestyle wrestling. I competed in the 1994 Gay Games in NYC and later become a coach of the Spartans. Andy Bailey brought me up to BG East training camp for my first of many trips.
Bard: So many connections to so many hunks!
Shane: Freestyle and the mat training that I learned from the Spartans was my strong suit, and I loved the contact and learned as much submission as I could privately with other sub wrestlers. I had mats in the small apartment in Philly and learned submission wrestling the hard way: trial and error. When visiting BG East and seeing the ring I knew that was something I really wanted to do. Shit, it was something I’d fantasized about since I was a kid. I asked and begged Kid Leopard to put me in the ring several times, and he said I was not ready. I can be persuasive, and he finally caved. Bryan Walsh was my first match. Squash. Clint Morgan. Total devastation. Chris Denver. Splat.
Bard: However even as you were getting squashed by Clint Morgan, you were also winning Rookie of the Year. We’ve both given Ty Alexander a hard time in this conversation, but clearly there’s a time-honored place in the hearts of fans for the beautiful hot stud who gets trampled and crushed brutally. As someone who appreciates the erotic allure of wrestling from the inside out, what do you think it is that arouses so many of us about witnessing a devastatingly handsome hottie brutalized and humiliated like you were at the hands of Bryan Walsh, for example? What does a bubble butted jobber rising like Ty need to do to engender not pity, but arousal in being crushed?
Shane: You have to be hard on guys like Ty, otherwise their heads get too big. I am just trying to keep Ty’s head in proportion with his ass – especially in those small shiny trunks. As many muscled wrestling stars and diverse fans that BG East has cultivated over the years, there are just as many wrestling erotic buttons to push and scenes to play out. The box is endless, and for me the turn-ons change with my age and physical stature. I’ve grown from young athletic stud to big muscle bear daddy. I’m still wrestling young muscle studs and men of my age and size and even smaller. It all depends on my challenger and my mood.
Bard: Tell me more about that.
Shane: Let’s take you for instance Bard. With those tight abs you’ve been showing off, you’re just the kind of guy I would love to whip into the turnbuckle and keep you there while I drive my fists, knees, shoulder and boots deep into your abs until you are slumped into the corner pleading for mercy. Then grab you by your hair and set you up in the corner and whip you to the opposite turnbuckle for another round of ab abuse. Does that arouse you? It does me. Why does that arouse me? It doesn’t only arouse me erotically, it goes deeper than that. Wrestling for me isn’t only about being competitive or dominating or being dominated. It becomes a bond, a deep visceral connection with another man. It is about playing out creative fantasies and making sure my challenger is also getting something out of it too. The bond is only as strong as the two men who play it out. Be creative and have fun or go home. That is what makes BG East the top of the erotic wrestling business. A hot stable of wrestlers with amazing talent and thoughtfully creative production crew who only expect the best from everyone. They deliver.
Bard: Um, excuse me while I adjust myself, because yes, yes indeed, that just aroused me profoundly. You’ll have trouble grabbing me by my hair, but my abs are open for business for Shane McCall’s attention!
Shane: Bald, huh? That’s ok. I’ll just pull you up like I do with Scott Williams, by your ears or hooking your nostrils with two fingers.
Bard: As I sit here with this rising pressure in my pants, two questions come to mind. 1) How are your knees these days, because I’d pop my cork to see how long my core holds out in your over-the-knee backbreaker, and 2) with the scorching hot heat that wrestlers like you generate, wrestlers who wrestle from inside the homoerotic wrestling community, how is it we don’t see more erections? I’m being completely serious here when I ask how the inherent intimacy and erotic imagination of two hot, wrestling kinked hunks doesn’t generate more raging hard-ons in the matches we see on camera. Does the camera itself have cold shower effect? Does the sexual tension… protrude more prominently in truly private matches? Are there industry regulations governing the full throttle phallus from appearing more often than it does in even such an overtly erotic context?
Shane: How are my knees? Ask Ty. He received a few devastating knee drops in our match. I love delivering over the knee backbreakers multiple times with authority. A nicely executed over the knee backbreaker shows off the recipients beautiful abdominals, which are then open and ready for more abuse. The knee driven deep softens and weakens the lower lumbar getting the jobber ready for my rib and spine crushing bear hug. So, you’re popping some wood, huh? Good. I thought the smell of intimidation dissipated and another scent filled the air. That will make my bear hug on you that much more , well, stimulating. Having it trapped between your tight abs and my big solid belly, well, something has to blow, either your lower lumbar vertebrae or the other.
Bard: Holy shit, this interview is going places I hadn’t planned on! See, just talking about this is busting my zipper!
Shane: Mat wrestling is more conducive to hot steamy matches with full on raging erections since the action is mostly on the ground. The space is smaller, more intimate if you will, and the wrestling holds are more about full-on body contact. Sweaty muscle on sweaty muscle really gets the blood and juices flowing. I’ve seen and been in plenty of those matches in the BG East mat room and hotel matches too. With ring and arena matches, there is more muscle exertion and large muscle work, too. Back muscles, quads, glutes and hamstrings are on full throttle when working a hard match in the ring. Blood flow of the body goes to them before going elsewhere. Not having a full on erection does not mean I’m not turned on. Erotic and sensual energy is flowing full on when I am wrestling a guy I am into. Seeing a hot jobber sell a body slam or tied up in the ropes is very sexy to me. As the match goes on and the sweat pours down a deflated, hardbody muscle jobber, and the breathing is heavier and deeper, getting closer to a pin or tap-out… that’s sexy shit.
Bard: I just have to repeat the truest words ever spoken: that’s sexy shit! I’ve been working hard to keep my inner fanboy in check this whole time, but picturing me being cracked across your knee with my abs tested just busted down that door. And mentioning the likes of Bryan and Clint Morgan and Scott-man-of-my-dreams Williams is leaving me helpless to control myself. Get ready for some star-struck fan worship now, and just remember you brought this on yourself! To start, I’m dying to say that the sexiest tag team match in history has got to be you and BBW laying waste to adorable Liam Ryan and his doomed bear daddy Brian Powers. There are several moments in that match that intrude into my thoughts on a regular basis and make me weak in the knees. The overt sexual engagement of both teams for their teammates and for devouring your opponents remains pretty much the ideal form of a homoerotic wrestling match to me. Can I just thank you right now for being part of the genius and provocation of that match? I mean, there’s probably a question I could ask, but I really just desperately want to say, good god man that was unbelievably hot and has never been bested in my extensive watching of tag team wrestling ever since!
Shane: Wow, Bard, you did pop a cork with that one! You fan-gushed all over my face and pecs with that (laughing)! Thank you for your praise and the enthusiasm in which it was delivered. Now, may I have towel please?
Bard: Don’t towel off too soon, because I’m notoriously fast at recovery!
Shane: That tag team match with BBW, Brian Powers and Liam Ryan was an epic match and one of my personal favorites, too. The chemistry and the action was spot on, and as much as the fans enjoyed viewing it we had a blast making it… and, oh, did you really say “Scott man-of-my-dreams Williams?” I just threw up in my mouth.
Bard: Well, yes, I did, acid-reflux aside. I just don’t have words to say how formative and liberating it was for me to discover fantasy men like you (and Scott) taking it to each other in those truly classic BG East wrestling releases from almost 2 decades ago. Your hairy pecs and gorgeous face opened up doors for plenty of us to tap into some deep reservoirs of pleasure inside of us.
Shane: I really am humbled when I hear from fans, and they thank me for the work, or ask about a BG East match. Sometimes I just get flustered and not really know how to respond to a fan who extends compliments. I do appreciate the kind words nonetheless. I have really enjoyed hearing the favorable response from BG East fans regarding my match with Ty. That makes me feel really good and I am truly touched that fans are happy to see me back.
Bard: Okay, I’m beating back my inner fanboy to ask a more critical question now. I’m fascinated about your comments about mind, body and soul healing being woven into your life and wrestling. The explicit text of a pro wrestling match is pretty damn violent. How do you see that balance of Zen and energy mindfulness with the thump and grind text of a homoerotic wrestling match?
Shane: Energy work and healing happen in all forms. Pro wrestling is an art form, whether it’s the homoerotic industry, small indies, or the big time pro wrestling circuit. It is all based on taking the viewers on a journey outside of their everyday humdrum lives. That is what the viewers expect and look forward too. BG East takes their viewers on a journey that Dorothy and her friends of Oz could only dream. My training at BG East included body, mind and soul development, and can be explained like this. Kid Vicious’ training is Klingon training: brutal and only one winner (me). Sailor Rob’s energy and meditation is basically Jedi training: opening my mind and seeing my optimal potential and reaching it. Kid Leopard (aka Flo), well, we already know he is the Florenz Ziegfeld of the pro wrestling world. Make it and make it BIG and do everything you can to be sure it sells. Eye on the target and BAM!
Bard: Jedi Klingon theatre impresario?! No wonder there’s such an awesome complexity to BGE that speaks to me. Not to mention how a Star Wars-Star Trek-Broadway mash-up completely engages my sexy nerd side (which, trust me, is way sexy). And I’m loving the notion of wholeheartedly selling the fantasies that move you from the inside out. Go big and own it or go home. My final question I want to ask is about that body component of the mind-body-soul connection. I periodically get assailed by wrestling fans complaining that some featured wrestler that turns me on hard is “too old” or too beefy or what-the-fuck-ever. This tires me the hell out, frankly, because like you’ve said, there’s this deep bench and awesome diversity of hot bodies and personalities that makes wrestling so engaging for so many people. But as someone who owns your age and sexy bear daddy belly and brought that all explicitly into the ring to crush young Ty with, what would you like to say (or do) to those fans that seem to only be able to bear seeing 20 year old underwear models in their wrestling fare?
Shane: I don’t think I would have much to say to them. If that is what they like, they should enjoy it. If they are throwing negative comments to you and your selection of hot picks or wrestlers you interview, tell them to write their own fucking blog. They continue to give you any more shit, send them my way. I’ll straighten them the fuck out. You can watch too if you like.
Bard: You don’t need to ask if I’d enjoy a front row seat to that!
Shane: I get it though. I’ve popped in a few BG East DVDs and sat back on the couch and cranked a few out watching two little hot muscle boys going at it. Kid Karisma and Christian Taylor are hot examples. Christian is just so beautiful and I love to see him get worked over and punished. Karisma is a looker too, and not half bad as a wrestler. He could use some Shane training though. He’s taken on some season wrestlers too like Red Baron and Cage Thunder. Those two men are beefy and muscled and that was a hot three-way match. I am guessing Cage and Baron have some grey hairs and crow’s feet under those masks. Only one way to find out, of course, and unmask those men in the ring.
Bard: Again, I call dibs on front row seats to your training session with Kid Karisma and to the clash of the titans that would be you setting out to unmask Cage Thunder and Red Baron!
Shane: And Catchweight 6 also features Mitch Colby and young Billy Lodi, which is another hot seasoned daddy vs rookie-boy match. Looks like Mitch had his hands full with that little scrapper. I love that too though, seeing a boy get some licks on the bigger, older daddy…Boing! And the match with Eli and Rio looks smoking hot too. I do find it stimulating seeing a big sexy muscle stud like Rio getting worked over by the smaller, but much more skilled Eli.
Bard: Yes, yes, yes. All of that again for me, too! Well, I fully expected this to be a pleasure, but I can’t tell you how unexpectedly provocative this has been for a barely-contained fanboy like me to get to talk with you, Shane.
Shane: Bard, I’d like to take this time and say I have really enjoyed our exchange during this interview and delighted our paths have crossed. It is nice to hear from a fan and how my matches and work with BG East have made an impact on you and many other fans. Enjoying a fetish like wrestling in a healthy and safe outlet is extremely important to living a healthy life, physically, mentally and emotionally. I really think if you hold fantasies and fetishes inside and not play them out you are not only cheating yourself, but it will probably play out in an unhealthy way. That can result in harming yourself or others. Playing out your fantasy by wrestling, writing, painting or any other expressive ways can be a wonderful thing. Just remember to play safe, smart and respect yourself and your challengers.
Bard: Sage words to celebrate wrestling by. Anything else you’d like to say before I let you go?
Shane: Keep on writing these juicy wrestling blogs and fun interviews, Bard. You are doing an outstanding job and your writing talent and passion for erotic wrestling will keep your fan base returning and strong. Hopefully one day our paths will cross and we can meet face to face and pec to pec. Until then keep those ripped abs tight and solid so I can enjoy pounding on them with your back over my knee.
Bard: And with that, my fanboy cork is officially re-popped! The pleasure has been all mine, Shane, and I look forward to taking that ride across your knee someday!