In honor of Labor Day, I’m posting a few more of the photos I recently received from OMI, these featuring a couple of the young studs at BG East working. Or is that “werkin'”? Either way, if I’m not mistaken (I frequently am), rookies Kayden Keller and Ty Alexander are pictured here playing grounds crew for the BG East North compound. I believe Ty’s head may be swollen beyond recognition as a result of his recent split decision with Drake Marcos in the Friday Fashion poll, although if you listen to Ty, he only seems to register that he won. So let me start my comments focused on Kayden Keller. Ooo. Baby! Kayden has been posting physique update photos on FB, so seeing him putting on muscle is not exactly a surprise. However, a hot, bearded, shirtless hunk in jeans will always make me perk up and take notice (you may want to remember that if you’re trying to get my attention). As for Ty, it looks like for a while he was actually getting down and dirty there, but the fashion plate couldn’t help himself but pull out his hot stuff lounging shorts and then pull them down far enough to show off his matching pink speedo underneath. When the camera comes out, it seems, Ty’s got to look his best! Thanks, again, OMI!
Tag: Ty Alexander
Lacroix of Homoerotic Wrestling

I’ve said it before, and I predict I’ll say it again: the boys at BG East better keep an eye on lovely ingenue Ty Alexander. Fresh off of his success in the Friday Fashion poll a few days ago, the adorable babyface sent me a big batch of photos to demonstrate just how fashion forward he is. I keep trying to point out to the rook that his battle for who wore it best actually ended in a draw, with both he and Drake Marcos scoring simultaneous victories in the polls. But Ty seems to stubbornly ignore my corrections, instead charging ahead exuberantly staking his claim to being the resident fashionista of homoerotic wrestling. Young Ty is a perverse combination of angelic loveliness mixed with passionate certainty in his superior fashion tastes. I suspect he may have the fashion label “jobber” stamped indelibly across his bubble butt, but somehow I think BG East, from the back office boys to the deep bench of top notch wrestlers, may have their hands full with the lovely Ty’s absolute certainty in his destiny to outshine any opponent.

Mind you, I’m not complaining. Anything that inspires an adorable stud to keep sending me photos of himself showing off his closets full of wrestling gear is A-OK with me. The rising Christian Lacroix of the homoerotic wrestling scene has had his ass spanked repeatedly so far in competition (though again, he’ll argue he won an emission-victory to spoil Drake’s first-ever win). But in the court of high fashion and public opinion, as last Friday’s votes amply testify, Ty has never failed to look good doing it!

Enjoy the rest of Ty’s portfolio below. I hope we see him wrestling in each and every one of these gear choices, particularly the last one, soon!












Friday Fashion
Now I understand why they have “observers” at polling places. Earlier this morning when I checked, the votes for last week’s Friday Fashion polls went one way, but as I sit down to officially tabulate and announce the winners, the decision has narrowly swung differently. What shenanigans have been going on between then and now!? Well, check that, they have observers at polling places to intimidate historically disenfranchised voters. I don’t know whether intimidation was involved this time around, but whatever the reason, I’m calling both races as of this moment. The voting was insanely dramatic over the week. Both Ty Alexander and Drake Marcos hit social media to rally their fans to vote for them for their gear choices in Babyface Brawl X. They exchanged leads multiple times in both polls, for who wore the lime green briefs best and who wore the pink square cuts best. All-About-Ty had both fashion votes running his way this morning, but at the last moment, this one turned into a split decision. First up, let’s take a look at who wore the green briefs best. And keep reading to vote in this week’s Friday Fashion poll below!
It was deceptively angelic babyface Ty Alexander who pulled off the commanding victory for having worn the lime green Calvin Klein briefs best. With a vote of 100 to 85, fashion judges gave this one to the adorable ingenue. One voter commented that it was Ty’s tan that worked best with the fluorescent briefs. In social media sniping, I overheard young Ty taunt Drake for his pale complexion, so perhaps sweet Ty is banking on his all over bronzing to literally make the competition pale in comparison. Being cute as a button with a beautiful tan, however, isn’t something to bank on when it comes to wrestling victory, of course. Whatever the formula, it was the babiest of babyface rooks who pulled it off (or, more literally, was pulled off of him), and Ty Alexander wore it best.

On the other hand, it was the Cheshire Cat who was fashion forward in the pink and white square cuts, a victory pulled off by the skin of his teeth. Turning the corner sometime this morning with a vote of 74 to 73, like the more seasoned stud he is, Drake cooly snatched the sure thing from Ty in dramatic fashion. If you follow these boys online, you know that even the seemingly decisive nature of the victory in Babyface Brawl X remains contested by these two stubborn studs, with both of them laying claim to having owned his opponent and the winner’s circle in one form or another. With this split decision in the fashion realm, I suspect the bitter feud may be merely fueled further. And it isn’t like I can argue that this all needs to be settled by the boys strip-wrestling for who gets to wear the choicest gear. Already done that! Since The Boss seems loathe to produce rematches, perhaps these two need to find tag team partners to get another crack at settling, once and for all, who’s the babyface on top.
For today’s Friday Fashion poll, I’m nominating another rare occurrence at BG East. Within the same catalog, to different wrestlers in different matches sported the same gear. While repeat fashion are no uncommon (as evidenced by the raison d’être of Friday Fashion polls), I think it’s quite unusual for two hunks to be featured in the same catalog this way. So finding both Dr. Cooper and Ray Naylor filling out so nicely the same pair of gun-metal grey designer square cuts seems like it’s just begging for a Friday Fashion showdown. Take a look at the nominees and you decide. Who wore it best?


Friday Fashion
It looks like Polldaddy is back and playing nice with my blogsite, so let me return to the Friday Fashion poll that I attempted to post a couple of weeks ago. In June there was a lot of indirect attention paid to fashion in homoerotic wrestling new releases. In addition to the extensive fashion showdown posed by Chace LaChance and Mutant in MDW’s Oil Hunks 3 (in which Mutant won the match, but Chace won the runaway decision for he who wore it best), over at BG East hot gear was the very point of the viciously sexy battle between Drake Marcos and Ty Alexander in Babyface Brawl X. Prior to the match, Drake was apparently running his mouth (as he has a tendency to do, you have to admit), including bragging about the sexy lime green trunks he’d found to wrestle Ty in. Larcenous Ty, however, managed to sneak into the mat room when Drake’s back was turned and steal said trunks. Not only did he steal him, he had the audacity to wear them for their match, protesting that they were his all along and forcing Drake to don florescent pink and white trunks to start the battle for repatriation. Before all is said and done, both babyface studs have worn both pair of trunks (and nothing). In the mat competition, it’s Drake who manages to score his very first ever victory over a real live opponent, but in the battle for fashion, first for the lime green and then the pink and white trunks, who wore it best?




Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month
I neglected to anoint a homoerotic wrestler of the month last month, but it’s not because there weren’t outstanding and eligible candidates. It was entirely do to my neglect (and ass-kicking travel schedule). To rectify the situation, I’m widening the field for the new reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month to include all of the new releases for the past 2 months. That makes this the homoerotic wrestler of the months, I suppose. Or of the summer. Whatever. Fuck semantics. Let me get down to business. I wrestled about twice as long comparing and contrasting twice the new releases, but I kept finding myself drawn back to what I found to be a surprising conclusion. This is a first-time HWOTM and someone I haven’t spent a ton of time writing about. But for reasons I’ll explain below, I decided that my new homoerotic wrestler of the month(s, summer) is…


Somehow it feels to me like Trey has been around the scene for ages, but that’s just not the case. He’s wrestled a total of 3 times in BG East releases, and those have all been out less than a year. I’d consider him part of the sophomore class, but like I said, there’s a quiet confidence and maturity about the stunningly ripped stud that belies his relatively brief known (to me) wrestling resume. So seeing him in the ensemble cast of BG East’s early summer release Wet & Wild 7: Pool Tournament, I’m a little surprised to find myself so taken with him. Standing out among the crowd of contenders across all June/July wrestling releases is tough enough, but also standing out among 5 other sophomore class hunks seems like even more of an achievement.

Wet & Wild 7 is a king-of-the-pool competition, so that at least makes sense to me as grabbing my attention. I love the drama of wins and losses and eliminations and best 2-out-of-3 to the title moments, and all of these are part of this fun romp. All 6 studs get their hands on each other at some point or another, but early going its clear that the hunk to beat is either going to be Trey or Mason Brooks. In the initial single elimination round robin, in fact, they’re the two left standing, but along the way, everyone has gotten into the act. Initially, the action is pulled directly from summer pool fights from my childhood, with the scramble taking place in the middle of the pool, punctuated repeatedly by humiliating dunks and long, slow, overpowering submissions.

In the initial one-and-out impromptu tournament, it’s the freshest man in the pool, Mason, who overcomes long, lean, tanned, beautiful Trey for the victory. Nobody, and I mean NOBODY is satisfied with smart-mouthed Mason simply taking the crown and walking away with it. Regular readers know that I’m more than a little infatuated with Mason, and though BG East doesn’t ask, I unilaterally award him Best Nipples of the Year every year. Mason is smart and quick witted and when victory goes to his head, no one around that pool is happy to concede he’s king of the pool.

What follows is a very fun fuck-the-rules free for all as the boys go to town on each other. Double teams batter every cocky stud, including Mason, down a notch or two. Mastered muscles are paraded around the pool for the combatants at poolside to indulge in some gratuitous slaps and punches and trash talk. There are sweet subplots of revenge enacted after earlier slights and humiliations. Personally, I’m struck by the stunningly hot contrasts when Trey returns to wolverinish, pale, hairy heel-in-training Kayden Keller to teach the babyheel a thing or two.

The moment in this match that haunts my dreams is after Trey has milked out a submission from Kayden. He turns to the rest of the boys sitting on the pool deck, and with supreme confidence he holds his arms out wide, inviting any and all to deny that he’s the fucking stud to beat. Trey says precious little in his matches, at least as far as verbal communication goes, but his non-verbals raise trash talk to new heights! His arms held out silently to his sides light a fire in my crotch that’s still burning a month and a half later!

Ultimately, Mason is as worn out as everyone else, and with the field a little more even, he and Trey agree to go 2 more falls to determine whether Mason truly is the pool bully of the day, or whether tanned beauty Trey is the rightful title holder.

They’ve both tasted victory. They’ve both choked on humiliation. Absolutely having to win a fall or face the humiliation of going down 2 in a row, Trey turns into a wild animal. He swarms all over Mason, exploiting his long limbs and superior height to take advantage of the smart mouthed stud puppy. More and more the action spills out of the pool and onto the pool deck, which for someone like me who resents pool wrestling for how much remains unseen underwater, is a blessing.

Trey takes the equalizer, and the fierce look of determination on his face drives me nuts! Okay, that look along with his stunningly flexed muscles. And that hot bulge in his trunks. And the momentary desperation playing across Mason’s normally cocky face. The buzz cut, the all-over tan, the pump, the squeeze, the veins popping to the surface… Trey is picture perfect as the Lord of the Summer, the Poolside Bully Extraordinaire, the muscle-punk tamer, the champ.

There are depths to Mason Brooks, however, that we have yet to plumb. With the momentum heading Trey’s way, Mason finds gears that no one has ever even heard of. Trey spends days languishing between Mason’s gorgeous thighs. He throws his own offense, but finds the chess master Mason two steps ahead of him every time.

Slowly, it’s Mason’s fall to lose. Even the superhuman conditioning on Trey can’t stave off exhaustion as he battles the water weighing him down and his opponent gradually taking possession of his smoking hot body. Here’s where the real competition happens for today’s question, because this could be Mason’s HWOTM title for his part in this work of art. But what lingers in my mind’s eye is Trey selling the story of the poolside bully worn out, beat at his own game, and hung out to dry. Once a finely tuned muscle machine patrolling his waters like the primordial shark, Trey melts helplessly cracked across Mason’s knee, in the Virginian’s total control as Mason crushes his balls.

There’s this fantastic symmetry as Mason hoists Try up across his shoulders. Almost as if in cruel mockery of himself, Trey’s arms hang to his sides, palms up, the pool Messiah crucified in the same position with which he had summoned all challengers earlier in the afternoon to soak in the sight of his awesomeness and tremble at his taunting challenge.

Mason parades the once-mighty hunk around the perimeter of the pool for everyone who Trey had bullied to slap around and taunt. He is Mason’s possession to do with what he wills. That gorgeous tan. Those ripped muscles. That devastatingly handsome face. It all belongs to Mason. And everyone, even a begrudging Skrapper, has to admit that this day, this pool, this vanquished hunk, belongs to Mason.

All six sun-kissed studs are torqued beyond tolerances by the extremely erotic action, and they all retire to the middle of the pool to luxuriate in the pumping adrenaline and hard bodies all around them. Again, Trey let’s his body do the talking, leaping into Ty Alexander’s arms as if Trey has been ravishingly hungry for a taste of adorable Ty all afternoon. Ty’s hands grab Trey’s ass underwater. Trey cradles the back of Ty’s head in his hands and locks lips, sucking face with a ferocity to match his wrestling performance.

I repeat, this is an ensemble piece and all six of these summer studs tell the story. But among all of the boys of summer, for the body, the beauty, and the balls, for everything he’s packing inside those trunks, for his unspoken trash talk, and for his perfect telling of power and domination spoiled and broken, my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month is Trey Dixon.

All About Ty

Have you seen the Bette Davis movie All About Eve? If not, do so immediately or else your gay card may be revoked. If so, you’ll understand when I say that I think there’s a hit of Eve Harrington about young BG East rookie Ty Alexander. The doe-eyed young babyface has been at BG East what, half a day or so, but somehow he seems to have aw-shucked his way into a going concern at the company. In my interview with Ty, and in subsequent chats off the record since, he’s been unfailingly adorable, eager, giving off a perpetual air of being just honored to be a subject of conversation. The babyfaced tiger is perpetually self-deprecating, always first to bring up his inexperience. But if you know the Eve Harrington reference, you know that I’m suspecting there’s a lot more not quite right under the surface with young Ty. Did you see the flurry of high flying, high impact pro moves he pulled out of his ass in the opening moments of his debut in Raunchy Rookies 7!? For just a few seconds there’s a look on that dimple cheeked babyface as he’s making a stunned Kayden Keller wail in shock, when Ty smirks, gives just a barely perceptible lift of his chin in a cocky, I-love-it-when-a-plan-comes-together nod of satisfaction. On the surface, the kid is all about how he’s toning his body to raise his game. He’s all about how he’s learning from the upperclassmen and just thanking his lucky stars that The Boss is giving him a chance. He’s all about humility and insecurity and open-hearted ambition. But just beneath the surface, I’m starting to suspect he’s All About Ty.

So if you know All About Eve, then you know that I’m suspecting young Ty has a Margo Channing set in his crosshairs. If his babyface sincerity is, indeed, a masterfully executed veneer overtop of an ice-cold scheme to ascend to fortune and fame with his boot heel planted squarely across the shoulder blades of a headliner in front of him, then I’m suspecting that said Margo Channing is Drake Marcos. Regular readers of this blog know that I’ve had my eye on pretty young Drake since even before he made his BG East debut. That irrepressible grin made me be the first to dub him the Cheshire Cat of homoerotic wrestling. There’s no mystery at all about the fact that Drake instantly also had The Boss’ eye, earning the handsome stud a whole lot of leading roles under what is rumored to be the private and personal tutelage of Kid Leopard himself. He was a Debut of the Year nominee in 2012, and through quite literally a bucket full of blood, sweat, and mostly tears, Drake captured his share of the coveted title of Best Squash of 2013 (of course, being the one squashed by the masterful muscles of Jonny Firestorm). Drake has earned his way into the business, getting his ass handed to him over and over and over (and over) again, by what is now a long string of smirking, self-congratulatory victors. Honestly, I thought that referring to Drake as a jobber-rising was a compliment, because in less than 2 years the stud has settled into the role of one of the most sweetly suffering slices of meat being served by BG East. I thought I was offering some well-deserved flattery when I said that ingenue Drake was unquestionably an accomplished jobber who sells anguish like few others currently in competition. However, Drake seems to have taken my assertion that he’s a world class “loser” the wrong way, and not only has the Cheshire Cat promised me that he’s learning the lessons he needs to learn to eventually actually beat an opponent, he’s even promised that he’s got a little “present” for a certain blogger-critic who’s been too quick to relegate him to the ranks of starlet jobbers and deserving of an ass kicking.

Enough about me. This post is actually about Drake and Ty. If you haven’t seen Babyface Brawl X, I highly recommend you get your hands on a copy. It goes much farther down the path of homoerotic wrestling fantasies than 95% of products out there. The plot is thick with intrigue and a touch of melodrama from the opening credits. Dimpled, adorable Ty is captured on camera sneaking into the mat room early to rifle through Drake’s gym bag. The larcenous little cherub fishes out a particular pair of fetching, designer underwear and slips out again with the loot. What we quickly discover, right around the time that Drake is discovering his been robbed, is that Drake has been crowing about these fluorescent lime green trunks to Ty for weeks as they’ve been planning this match. Drake’s been so excited to show off his hot ass in these square cuts, that his jaw just about drops to the floor when young Ty saunters back in, halo in place, and peels down to the very same pair of trunks he just stole from Drake. The balls on this kid! “Aw-shucks I’m just happy to be here” my ass!!!

Drake slips into a pink pair of almost as flattering trunks and promptly opens up a can of revenge-whoop-ass on a stunned Eve Ty. There’s just no question that young Drake, despite his abysmal win-loss record thus far, has been learning a thing or two since his debut. Honestly, he swarms all over Ty, leaving the kid simply unclear as to which end is up. Despite Drake’s certainty that I’ve unfairly persecuted him in the past, I’m happy to admit that he is incredible to watch as he patiently, with complete mastery, ties Ty up in knots before the rookie has any idea what just hit him. The intensity in this action is palpable. There’s a throbbing, sweating heat to the tumbles and slams that’s captivating to watch. There’s a moment there where I’m thinking young Ty may not actually be scheming, but rather perhaps he’s just plain stupid, because the upperclassman solidly humiliates the pretty newbie like there’s no tomorrow.

But when Drake moves in to reclaim his property, you can just about see the switch get thrown inside of Ty. I swear to god, you can watch his face change from awed and shocked and overwhelmed into a vicious little viper in a heartbeat. All of that commanding domination from Drake dissipates as the upperclassman starts to melt, like he has so many times before, under the rage and ruin raining down from another surprisingly accomplished opponent. With the lime green square cuts still halfway down his ass where he interrupted Drake’s attempt to rip them off, Ty folds the stunned stud up and plants his bodacious bubble butt right across Drake’s face. The more the newbie crushes and squeezes, the more we get to enjoy watching that familiar look of despair and agony contort the Cheshire Cat’s handsome face. Only this time, the humiliation is being doled out by one of the babiest-faced newbies on the planet! Oh, the humanity!

Again, credit where due, after assuming his accustomed position and making me think Drake is going to remain the undisputed jobber king, the Cheshire Cat stems the tide, turns the tables and assembles a beautiful succession of debilitating submission holds that make the domineering schemer melt away from Ty’s dimpled cheeks. Unquestionably, decisively, this is the moment Drake promised me months ago. Believe it or not, Drake Marcos genuinely and convincingly beats someone!

I’m sure you’re as shocked as I. Trunks are forcibly traded, then stripped again as the two young bucks are worked into a genuine lather of lust by all of that heat and intensity. The wrong righted, Drake drags his naked prey out of the mat room. Scene fades to black.

How many homoerotic wrestling matches leave us hanging right at that point? Billions? The real shocker (satisfyingly so) is scene 2. The camera opens on a television where Sunshine Shooters 5 is playing. You know the one, where Kid Vicious and Skrapper are beating the hell out of one another, cock slapping each other’s faces, absolutely brutalizing each other’s naked bodies. The camera turns to the nearby bed, where Drake and Ty have now retired to cap off their wrestling with full on amorous lust. The boys are fully aroused. The bed play is aggressive. Drake clearly has a fetish for getting off to being choked, and young Ty has no problem sliding the upperclassman’s throat inside his arms and toying with Drake’s carotid flow. The boys give the impression that they haven’t gotten off for weeks and haven’t eaten for days, as they consume one another with fantastic ferocity. In one of several cock-inspiring chokeholds, Drake explodes with a grunt of ecstasy that sounds almost like agony. There’s a subtle return of the smirk across Ty’s face as he settles in, finally blowing his own load.

Passionate kissing, stroking. It all ends on such a sweet note… until Ty points out that although Drake won in the mat room, when it comes to homoerotic wrestling, the last to cum gets bragging rights as well. Was that the scheme all along?! Ty both rises in his jobber-on-the-rise stock by losing brutally to the formerly can’t-win jobber-on-top, then slaps down a little ding to Drake’s ego by making sure the upperclassmen was the first to cum!? Drake goes into a rage, scooping up Ty’s wad from across his tanned torso and cum-slaps the climber with an audible, vicious, wet slap across the face.

So, yes. Drake finally… finally scored a legitimate victory over an opponent. He “won,” as he’s been promising for ages that he would, sooner or later. But if the rookie’s plan was in fact, all along, to unseat the jobberiest jobber in competition and add a little erotic insult to injury to boot, Babyface X was never about whether Drake could pull of a victory. It was never about those lime green trunks. It was never about revenge or passion or getting off. Perhaps, just maybe, all along it was All About Ty.

Wet & Wild Meets Wrestlefest

Congratulations to Rudolph for correctly fingering the mystery ass in yesterday’s post as belonging to Wade Cutler. I’ll consult with Rudolph about what topic he’d like some attention devoted to on the blog. In the mean time, I’d like to take a moment to consider fluid.

Water, specifically. BG East’s newest catalog features a Wet & Wild release (#7, for those counting) that is unlike any I’ve seen before. This has the feel of Wet & Wild meets Wrestlefest, which, in my estimation, dials up the hotness of a Wet & Wild release about 34.6 times. We saw preview shots of these shenanigans smuggled out from OMI (Our Man Inside) last fall. I thought it was probably just the hot boys of BG East blowing off some steam (perhaps each other) in between matches. Little did I realize the fun in the pool would become it’s own full length feature.

Specifically featured are Mason Brooks, Trey Dixon, Ty Alexander, Kayden Keller, Drake Marcos and Skrapper. Three of these hot numbers have graced the pages of this blog with interviews, and I’d donate a redundant internal organ to nail interviews with the other three. The combat side of the poolside fun starts with a game of “chicken” (at least, that’s what we called it when we played it in the pool as kids). Ty Alexander mounts Kayden Keller(‘s shoulders) and Drake Marcos mounts Mason Brooks(‘ shoulders) to see who can unseat whom. Play turns to elimination submission wrestling, with head-to-heads featuring Kayden v Ty, Kayden v Skrapper, Skrapper v Drake, Skrapper v Trey, and Trey v Mason.

I’ve gone on the record about being lukewarm about pool wrestling productions in the past, mostly due to so much fine skin remaining unseen underwater. The boys of Wet & Wild 7 largely take care of that problem by taking the action above the surface, including writhing racks, OTK backbreakers kneeling on the pool steps, and a whole lot of humiliating head scissors perched on the pool deck. This Wrestlefest version of W&W also features a delightful display of personalities that I sometimes find missing among the sputtering and splashing of pool matches. Kayden’s predator face cuts straight to the bone as he eats rookie Ty alive (yum!). Drake’s ever-present smile is beaming as he ambushes Trey from behind (only to be erased as Trey humiliates him later), and Mason’s supremely confident smirk nearly makes all competition wither by itself. Like all pool shenanigans, there are egos displacing more water than bodies, and I adore both the bodies and the personalities getting dunked and crushed equally.

The epiphany in this match for me personally is Trey. I’ve admired his incredibly sexy bod plenty before now. His Passion and Punishment mat match with Skrapper (for which, I’m assuming, their head-to-head in the pool must have been mere foreplay) gives me a fever just thinking of his ripped glutes flexing and covered in sweat under Skrapper’s relentless waves of offense. But when Trey manages to eliminate Skrapper from the impromptu king of the pool tournament, I’m genuinely shocked. But when Trey stretches out his arms, showing off his ripped muscles and glaring with icy cockiness, daring Mason to take his best shot, I am completely, entirely, knees-buckling sold.

The Mason v Trey head-to-head turns into a best of three falls, interrupted by a melee of double-teaming brutality in which every boy at poolside gets into the action. I love a gloves-off, rules-be-damned moment when a cocky hunk pushes his luck too far and gets teamed up on and humiliated, so I’ve got so much love for Wet & Wild 7! In this lean and luscious weight class of BG East, nobody is quite dominant enough to defend against a pack of hungry contenders, so watching these studs gang up on and humble the pack leaders is sweetly satisfying. But eventually, Trey and Mason are left standing, and Trey insists on riding the wave to a best of 3 come from behind victory.

It goes all three falls, happily. I feast for days on the sight of either Mason’s pumped pecs or Trey’s mouthwatering abs so masterfully displayed by each one’s opponent. The combination of back and forth dominance, however, is glorious! I’ve got to push rewind and watch it all over again when Mason is completely at Trey’s mercy, staring face/mouth first at Trey’s package in a spectacular face-to-crotch headscissors with Trey’s beautiful, tanned, toned body stretched out across the pool deck. Then again, I require an instant replay when Mason latches on a figure-4 choke on the deck, simultaneously showing off his own beautiful ass and his opponent’s hotly muscled, completely owned body. Hot damn!



There’s a winner, though Skrapper is, not surprisingly, ready to fight it out all over again to contest the victory. But then again, everyone’s a winner as the boys top the hill of hot competition and coast headlong into full on passion in the middle of the pool. The affection is absolutely genuine, without a doubt. The open lust is obvious and needs little sell to deliver. Poolside Wrestlefest turns into full on orgy!? Okay, okay, okay! I’m duly chastised. Wet & Wild 7 absolutely convinces me that pool wrestling can be outstandingly sexy!

Hot off the presses!
The weekend I leave home for vacation, BG East goes live with Catalog 104.1! Damn! There’s a lot of eye candy I’m already enjoying on the website. I’ve had a chance to enjoy a couple of the new releases already, but I’m not sure if I’ll be able to give any of these fine offerings a fuller treatment before I get back. Damn, damn, damn! There’s some fine temptations here!








The Tease

I love/hate a hot tease. I think the best/worst tease in homoerotic wrestling continues to be Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!), for constantly calling attention to his gargantuan package but never giving a glimpse of the monster beneath. I used to place Jobe Zander up there in the rankings of most heartless tease in homoerotic wrestling until a helpful reader pointed out to me his “masterpiece” is unveiled in a solo jerk off appearance in Can-Am’s Hard Heroes title Troubled Tights (which I still need to see). There are plenty of other homoerotic wrestlers who milk me/the suspense viciously with a cruel tease. Among them I count dreamy Rio Garza for that luxuriously hot body getting pummeled to a pulp repeatedly, but somehow never losing his trunks, and pendulous Pretty Pete Sharp who, like Mr. J, sports a mammoth bulge that screams, SCREAMS for someone to grab hold with both hands (it’s a two fister, for sure), but somehow, unbelievably, no one has.

When it comes to the heartless tease, of course there are entire homoerotic companies that choose to wear that mantle by marketing primarily to the gay wrestling kink audience without ever explicitly acknowledging the homoeroticism they invoke. I keep a candle lit that one day Rock Hard Wrestling and Thunder’s Arena, for example, will openly dive into the kink they tease, and I suppose the unrequited, underground wrestling tease is a marketing device for building and holding the tension, as we wait and wonder if they’ll step over the line finally. From an entirely different angle, Our Man Inside (OMI) at BG East has been working the tease like no other for the past 6 months or so, sneaking out behind-the-scenes photos of BGE boys between matches, including previewing never-before-seen newbies yet to see the light of day in official release. You may remember that’s how we “met” beautiful bon-bon Ty Alexander and smoldering heel-at-conception Kayden Keller. Kid Leopard himself gave neverland an exclusive tease of BG East’s new Florida campus and, at the same time, previewed now established monster-muscle heel Lane Hartley and go-go boy extraordinaire, Kip Sorell. Stroking the buzz ahead of release is a sweet moment in sex, and I for one think it has the potential to translate most excellently to the PR of homoerotic wrestling promotion as well.

New kids on the block, Muscle Domination Wrestling, have lubed up and are rubbing out an exquisitely tantalizing tease of a new addition to their roster, Mutant. MDW’s VIP lounge members can peruse this incredible specimen of a muscle hunk in detail, and I’ve provided a few examples of Mutant’s beauty here as well. Mutant is about 5’11” and 225 pounds of insanely hot, hard, low hanging muscle with lickable ink on his left pec, right upper arm, and right obliques. Where do these stats come from, you might ask? MDW hasn’t told us anything about Mutant yet. But this isn’t Mutant’s first toe-dip into homoerotic wrestling. He’s also battled down in Florida for Thunder’s Arena nearly ripping fantasy twink Tak’s head off in Battlespace 69 (which for the numbering, I was hoping for something much more explicit).

I think there’s most definitely a place for tease-marketing, because I love getting my appetite whetted just enough to make me drool like a Mastiff every second until I can match up the reality to where my imagination has taken me. I’m not so much a fan of entire tease companies walking the line, but a sweet preview to get our blood boiling like these shots from MDW are tons of fun. Please, oh please tell me that Mutant is about to meet hairy he-man Chace LaChance in a rip, strip, and oil barnburner. Once Chace has made Mutant his bitch, please let’s see a daddy/boy tag team against just about anyone, but I’d give my left nut for it to be Muscle Master Kevin and an obedient Damien Rush. Just the thought of what might be is getting me very hot and bothered. See what a skillful tease can do!?

It’s Political
My interest in professional football has primarily centered on a three-way ring wrestling fantasy in which Aaron Rodgers, Jordy Nelson, and Clay Matthews beat the living shit out of each other (obviously including extensive double-teaming by Aaron and Jordy), until they’ve all been stripped out of their trunks and the winner gets a blow job from one loser while he racks the other across his gargantuan shoulders (yep, you can pretty much guess who’s who). Actually following a season has been outside of my frame of reference for well over a decade, and actually paying attention to draft day has frankly never been on my radar. But it was hard not to notice Michael Sam getting drafted by the Rams and sucking face with his boyfriend in celebration. The kiss seemed a tad forced and uncomfortably choreographed to me. Nevertheless, it was hot. For me. Others were clearly offended. There were apparently the predictable junior high level “ewwwwws” from the un-self-reflected narcissists privileged to remain far too long in angst-ridden adolescent ignorance and knee jerk self-defensiveness around their own secret same-sex fantasies. There was the wildly hypocritical “shield my baby’s eyes” indignation from the same mothers who blissfully see no irony in wanting more guns in their children’s schools while earnestly believing that witnessing g-rated affection between consenting adults will scar their offspring permanently. And there’s the “homosexual agendaists” who whip themselves in sackcloth because of the “politicization” of sport, and sports television, and masculinity itself. Whatever it means for football or football fans or sports television, the kerfuffle highlights the simple truth that persists regardless of where you stand: the personal is political. Oh, and two men kissing is sexy.















