Tag: Stoney Hooker

Diverse Tastes – Guest Contributor Joe

wrestlebard4 Comments

A couple of weeks ago I invited several wrestling bloggers and regular neverland readers to author contributions to a summer series on the topic of “diverse tastes.” Readers frequently write to let me know how their opinions, tastes and turn-ons differ in small and big ways from how I describe my own wrestling kinks here on the pages of this blog.  My hope is that bringing together a chorus of voices from homoerotic wrestling fans will help celebrate our diverse tastes.


Kicking off this series, my friend and colleague Joe at Ringside at Skull Island pens the following fantastic insight into not only what turns him on, but his reflections on from where homoerotic wrestling tastes may emerge and how his tastes have evolved. I’ve added the pics and captions, but the rest of the text is 100% Joe’s brilliance. Thanks, Joe!    ~Bard
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DIFFERENT STROKES
A bit of trivia.  The first celebrity to give me wood was Mighty Mouse.  Yeah, the cartoon character.  I was maybe eight years old.  Weird, huh?
Bard asked me to write on the topic of diverse tastes partly because (I think) we both blog, and through these blogs we came to know each other and, early on, recognize that we have some mutual tastes, tastes we had once thought were ours all alone.  As bloggers, too, we get comments from readers who, like us, are intrigued that others share what they assumed were one-of-a-kind kinks.  These points of mutuality are fun to discover, especially if in the past we were led to feel weird because of them. 
News Anchor Chris Cuomo:
Wrestling Kink Inspiration?

But we also hear from readers who point out differences in taste, which are amusing but not surprising.  For instance, Bard has a taste for television anchormen that I do not get.  Bard and I acknowledge such differences and move on.  But occasionally, rarely, we are called to task because of our tastes.  We are told that we must like what we like because we are not right.  Because our tastes are wrong. 
Responders to my wrestling blog have accused me of being prejudiced towards beautiful young men … and prejudiced against them.  I can’t explain why different readers perceive my tastes so differently. I am strongly in favor of beautiful young men.  Not to be strikes me as phony-baloney smugness.  You might as well say you are against fresh, flavorful fruit.
Of course, individual tastes differ.  It took me a while to recognize and develop my tastes.  My opinion is that all my tastes were acquired through experience, although I was probably born with certain propensities. Years and maturity brought me closer to myself, away from received opinion and peer pressure and the influence of advertising.
Stoney Hooker – One of Joe’s Favorites

What I resent is somebody trying to make me feel guilty about what attracts me.  It’s not as if I choose what makes my cock stiff.  If I am mainly attracted to men, am I a sexist?  If I am mainly attracted to men of European descent, am I a racist?  If I am attracted to young men, am I an ageist?  If I am attracted to men who behave in traditionally masculine ways, am I a self-loathing homophobe?  I don’t think so.  Not necessarily, anyway.  Sexism, racism, ageism, and homophobia are about treating people differently because of their outward appearance or natural propensities.  Sexual attraction is a part of who I am, as an individual.  It says more about me than about those to whom I’m attracted.  It is not about bigotry or treating other people as anything less than free and equal individuals.
If I were attracted to the kind of person I am “supposed” to be attracted to, I’d be into middle-aged white women, exclusively.  Sure, you might say that my tastes are superficial, narrow, and unimaginative, even self-destructive, and I might even agree to a certain extent.  How much better and easier my world would be if I were attracted to (and attractive to) all kinds of people, not just a select few.  With different tastes, I might even like Brussels sprouts and chicken livers, but for the life of me I cannot even guess why it would be anyone else’s business what I do or do not like. 
Adam’s Apples, Firm Convex Bellies,
and Strong Shoulders
Where did my tastes come from?  Early childhood experience seems a plausible explanation.  Why do my tastes change over time?  They do change, fairly frequently.  I guess they change because I acquire new experiences.  I had a boyfriend for several years who was not at all what I had previously thought “my type” was.  How I became attracted to him is an utter mystery.  But he broke the mold and changed my type from that point on. 
I like, and have always liked, tall men more than short, though short can be fun too.  Dark more than fair, though fair is what I’m in the mood for sometimes.  (I’m fickle.)  Irish, Jewish, Italian, yes.  I like strong backs, strong shoulders, strong limbs.  Six-pack abs do little for me anymore, if they ever did.  I even prefer a firm convex belly, just not too convex and not too soft.  Adam’s apples delight me.  I like hairy chests.  I like big noses and small ears.  I’m not particular about penis size, but let’s say no shorter than my thumb and no longer than my foot.  I like arrogance, but I prefer strong, silent types. I am turned off by fussiness, pretentiousness, and anal retentiveness.  I like men I can laugh with. Bright but not necessarily intellectual men.  I hate whiners.  I hate yes men.  I hate men dressed for success.  I like men who are at ease in their bodies, whatever those bodies look like.  The acid test is whether a man will strip to naked without apologies.  The acid test is whether he wrestles.
What turns me on now is not what turned me on years ago.  I can’t explain it.  But it’s a good thing, or else I’d still be waiting for Mighty Mouse.

-Joe at Ringside at Skull Island

Jo FX: Tall, Dark, and Hairy-Chested

False Modesty

wrestlebard4 Comments
Purportedly, the ancient Greeks wrestled naked. Somewhere between then and now, modesty set in and wrestlers found the need for gear. So the point of gear is modesty, covering up the “private parts,” keeping the swinging ball and chain in check. So when a wrestler finds his gear yanked, there’s something delightfully transgressive about it.
It’s generally the hard hunks like Marcus Bagwell getting some serious exposure with a trunk pull. Anyone might find a handful of nylon helpful in the ring, but somehow it’s the gorgeous muscle studs with fantastic bubble butts who seem to find themselves on the receiving end of trunk pull overexposure. I’m not complaining.

Wrestling Arsenal points out that some pros particularly proud of their posteriors clearly work in getting bare assed as part of the routine. Eddie Atlas here is captured in a moment of overacting, but it’s not like we’re critiquing him for an Oscar, now is it? We’re focused with a tunnel vision thrill on Eddie’s naked, very round ass. Dude on his back could almost certainly have found a more effective way to power-bottom, but again, I’m not complaining.

There’s undoubtedly utility in a trunk grab in many cases. In what is theoretically a pure man-vs-man competition where your only weapons are your bodies and your brains, gear can be an effective illicit addition to the arsenal. But even more satisfying in my book is the trunk pull for no purpose other than humiliation. Stoney Hooker draped across his opponent’s knee finds his trunks wedged up to his kidneys, all the better to slap his sweet white ass like the man-child his is. This hardly moves the match any closer to a pinfall… not complaining…

Sprinkle some homoeroticism into your wrestling kink, and the gear grab moves from the implicit sexuality of wrestling to explicit sexuality. Kid Leopard models complete ownership of his opponent with one hand yanking him up by his hair and the other hand lifting him by his jobber-white trunks. By the look on his face, this jobber is ready to cry out his submission. Knowing KL, the jobber’s humiliating defeat will not come one second sooner than it absolutely needs to.

In the over the top homoerotic scenario, playing with the modesty of the wrestling gear is like foreplay. It’s the glimpse of what’s hidden, the hint of things to come. BG East classic brawler, Jose, packed a cock that defied belief. When he (frequently) battled naked, his flailing python was jaw dropping (which is the appropriate position). In TagTeam Torture 1, with one my favorite finishers of all time, Jose and Cruze are thrilled sadists relishing every second of their humiliation of earnest babyface skinny boys, Patrick and Sean. When Jose backs Sean into the ropes and yanks his trunks to get better leverage on some ab pounding, Sean’s modesty is momentarily defied. It’s all foreplay, though. Just wait a few minutes, and the teasing trunk pull will be revealed as downright demure compared to what await Patrick and Sean. Again I say, one of my favorite finishers…

I really resent the muscleboy cockteasers. I’ve mentioned before how my unrequited lust for Joshua Goodman’s opened package irritates me. At least the powers that be give us glimpses of all that we’re missing with the talent that clearly doesn’t want to share (selfish bastards). Despite some nice, hard nudes of Justin Pierce available on the net, he never shares his full glory with us in the ring. Bulldog Barzini thoughtfully treats us to a glimpse of the goods, though, yanking so hard on Justin’s trunks they look like they’re about to snap (if only). It’s hardly as if Bulldog needs to resort to dirty tricks. He’s on his way to decimating the prettyboy hardbody without really needing to break a sweat. But Bulldog is a true, thoughtful gentleman who keeps us in mind as he not only beats the crap out of Justin, but humiliates him and ridicules the false modesty of his wrestling trunks.
One of the worst muscleboy cockteasers has got to be Brad Rochelle. Again, there are nudes of Brad to be had, but in the ring he guards his bits and baubles fiercely. That doesn’t stop his brutalizers from reminding us all that despite remaining covered up, there are wonders just under the covers. Sid takes a play out of KL’s book, dragging suffering Brad up by a handful of hair and a fistful of trunks, giving us the unsatisfying hint of Brad’s beautiful bare butt. So now I’m complaining… but I’ll take what I can get (particularly if it’s more Brad, please).

Gear is about modesty. It’s a concession to the repressed, body-hating culture that’s constantly trying to convince us that very specific geography of exposed skin is distasteful. Certain square footage of the human anatomy must be disguised and covered in order to make the rest of the human anatomy socially acceptable, we’re taught. So the tug at the trunks, the yank of the tights, the fistful of gear that exposes the naughty bits is a sweet moment of transgression, when particularly those of us who love the male body can flip the bird at every attempt to take the erotic out of the gorgeous male form.