Having recently moved, I’m getting accustomed to a lot of new things. The weatherman keeps reporting on “thund-uh-stoams.” There are apparently 100 ticks for every human being in the region. And it’s fucking hot.
That last part makes me rethink my decision to ignore places with swimming pools in my housing search when I moved here a month and a half ago. I’ve always thought of pools as a pain in the ass. And, honestly, this climate calls for outdoor pools no more than about 25% of the year, so it seemed like a waste. But damn. It’s fucking hot.
I’m sure I’ve posted here about my ambivalence about the swimming pool genre in homoerotic wrestling, but I’m too lazy right now to look it up for you (did I mention how hot it is?). So let me just reiterate. On the con side, pool wrestling too often submerges more than half of the available eye candy. Upper bodies are privileged as the only thing we can see most of the time (and neglecting attention to hot legs is another, more global complaint I make often). There’s probably about 80% of wrestling holds that just don’t translate to a pool. A Boston crab would likely lead to manslaughter charges.
But on the other end of the ambivalent spectrum, I love wet muscles. On that point, sweat, shower scenes, and oil wrestling tweak the same kink in me that pool wrestling does. There’s also something inherently playful about pool wrestling. Watching homoerotic wrestlers do it, it certainly appears to take many of them back to the same days of juvenile, carefree summers getting yelled at for horsing around in and around the pool, playfully bullying chums by seeing who can dunk the other, games of chicken, perched on top of each others’ shoulders and seeing who can topple whom.
While I couldn’t stand an exclusive diet of homoerotic wrestling in the pool, like fresh corn on the cob and the sweetest of watermelons, it’s a seasonal treat that can work for me. Though I have to say I prefer it to conclude with bronzed bodies baking in the sun, making out naked poolside.
I recently commented that I’d trade most gay porn sex scenes for a mouthwatering over the knee backbreaker any day. This isn’t indicative of how I feel about sex, per se. I was pointing out that it’s the typical woodenness (not the good kind) and scriptedness of hardcore porn that I find less than fulfilling. However, it is indeed indicative of how I react to homoerotic wrestling, even when it’s sold with a pretty transparent script, and truth be told, the OTK backbreaker in particular works me every time. Even a poorly sold OTK makes my heart beat faster. But a truly exquisite OTK is a work of art that captures the essence of eroticism, domination, and combat that jerk my libido hard. When I think of the OTK backbreakers that have stuck with me, seared into my memory and making my pulse pound even in retrospect, here are few of the G-rated (well, let’s say PG-rated just for the extra prudish out there) examples that I’ve filed away for safe keeping and frequent consulting.
When I think about how I present myself online, I think about this blog. The depths of my confessionals in the well over 1,000 posts I’ve composed over the past 5 years pretty much leave me feeling naked (and hungry). So when someone approaches me in a different online format, who has clearly never read the pages of this blog, it’s always a little disorienting. “You into wrestling?” someone asks on Facebook. Seriously? I mention BG East or Can-Am on Twitter and someone asks, “What’s BG East?” Whaaaaa?
So today’s post explaining the do’s and don’t’s of chatting me up on Facebook and Twitter is probably pitched to the wrong audience (because, obviously, you’re reading this blog). However, after several cease and desists and “unfriending” (aka, “fuck off, bitch”), I thought I’d just clarify how I manage who I am and how I socialize in the most misnamed technology in history: social media. First of all, I am an unapologetic gay man. If you try to strike up conversation or ask me to accept you as a “friend,” but you appear to be presenting yourself as a straight man, into just women, with a total lack of style and a frequent use of homophobic slurs, I will ignore you. Some of my closest friends are straight guys, mind you, but my quota of token straights in my life is filled at the moment. Same goes for the boobulous women complementing me on my abs. Wrong tree.
Now, an overt nod to wrestling in your profile or chatter is a major plus. Assuming you’ve made it through the first round of exclusion criteria above, I almost universally acknowledge those who approach me with an explicit connection to wrestling. The gay guys who approach me who seem to hold no fascination for wrestling tend to have about a 0.50 probability of me ignoring them. Which side of that coin you fall on probably depends on whether I’m already inserting you into a wrestling fantasy of mine by looking at your profile photo. Yeah, it’s all about me.
Speaking of which, regular readers of this blog know well that I’m a major fan and booster of hot asses and succulent dicks. Honestly, I’ve dragged you all along on quite a few rounds of “Name that Ass” and “Name that Cock,” so it should come as no surprise that I love asses and dicks. I’m still planning a revival of the “Name that…” games at some point, because, let me repeat, I love asses and I love dicks.
That said, metaphorical asses and dicks frequently make it through my initial two rounds of exclusion criteria above, and then get my boot later on. What qualifies one as a metaphorical ass who I don’t have time for? Rabid, right wing, Tea Party, misogynist, internalized homophobic, guns in every hand but save fetuses at all costs, racist, anti-immigrant bullshit qualifies one instantly as the sort of ass that I have no time for. That’s right. You may be gay and a wrestling freak, but if you shove your politics in my face and I find them abhorrent, I’ve moved on. I’m fine with you believing your wing-nuttery, but I’m not about to see it in my feed on a regular basis.
What qualifies one as a metaphorical dick that I can’t stand? There are a few signals to me that someone is a dick. “Hey fucker, I’m going to beat your ass and you’re going to take it,” is a pick up line that does not work for me in the sphere of social media. Buy me a couple of drinks, strip your rock hard body down to a jock strap, and serve up some sweet trash talk and sure, you’re back to being the sort of dick I love. Come on way too strong and insist on dominating without a basis of consensual amiability, and you’re coming across to me as the sort of dick I don’t have time for. Another signal of a distasteful dick is trashing people I care about and respect. Bitchy take downs and critiques of the bodies of homoerotic wrestlers in the business, for example, merits a “see ya,” from me. Thoughtful critiques of the homoerotic wrestling industry are lovely, but one-dimensional flaming of a particular company or product is just dickish.
I don’t tend to respond much to “hey, stud, let’s cyber wrestle.” That doesn’t usually merit a delete from me, but I’ve said way too often that my dance card is full up at the moment. It comes close, but typically doesn’t quite cross the line when someone asks to share pirated homoerotic wrestling products. Again, if you read the pages of this blog, you know that I’m a big, big booster of the industry and want it to thrive and prosper. Intentionally pirating copyrighted material is awfully damn close to dickishness that I don’t have time for. You probably won’t get deleted, but I’ll try to pretend you didn’t just ask me that.
Want to chat about your favorite homoerotic wrestler? Want to comment on dicks and asses (the good kind)? Want to steer me to a new company or product because you’re fucking love it to pieces and think I will too? Let’s virtually socialize! Care to offer a different opinion or take me to task because you think I’ve missed some essential hotness in my meanderings and musings? Love it. Be classy, gay, and within the brotherhood of homoerotic wrestling fans, and let’s connect. The other type of asses and dicks, keep moving.
Out of the blue, I received a cold call message from none other than the homoerotic wrestling classic giant, Clint Morgan. I’ve mentioned before that I’m a fan of this classic heel from the early days of the homoerotic wrestling industry. Like so many wrestlers I’ve chatted with, Clint appreciates the kind word and sincere appreciation of his work. I, of course, asked for an interview. It took us a while to sort out the logistics, but we finally started. It took a little while for the conversation to warm up (as you’ll see), which I owe to my perpetually picturing big Clint beating the hell out of me if I said something irksome. Things did, indeed, start to warm up, though, and in fact I was surprised by the quantity of heat we tapped into. I probably shouldn’t have been, though. Have you seen this stud wrestle!? Talk about heat! Anyway, this should surprise absolutely no one that Clint Morgan has opinions, big, strong, ballsy opinions that he’s not shy about sharing. So settle in, put on your acid wash jeans, and remember the mullet as I sit down for a chat with one of the sexiest things to emerge from the 1980s.
Bard: Clint Morgan! Holy crap, this is such an honor to get to talk with you! You’ve haunted my wrestling fantasies ever since I first came across some of your matches for BG East. Are you still wrestling today?
Clint: Thank you. Only occasionally, private matches.
Bard: What wrestling experience did you have before wrestling for BG East?
Clint: I wrestled a friend many times while in high school. These were private and clad only in jockey briefs. Later I was studying martial arts when I saw an ad for BG Wrestling. I became a member, began receiving literature and pictures. Saw a solicitation for wrestlers and signed up. This was 1987.
Bard: Wow, BG East just opened up the mail and found Clint Morgan ready to wrestle?! Jackpot! What are some of your memories from when you were just starting to wrestle with BG East? Were you nervous? Excited? Turned on?
Clint: Not exactly BG East. It was BG Wrestling. Bill George contacted me, requested pics of me, forwarded them to Kid Leopard in Boston who contacted me. KL flew me up and did my first matches. Got paid well to do something I loved, and all the emotions you asked were there.
Bard: Oh sure! That portion of history where BG and BG East separated is fuzzy in my mind. You got your hands on some amazingly hot guys. Bryan, Scott Rogers, PJ, Shane McCall… Are there any memories on the mats or in the ring that stick out for you, good, bad, or ugly?
Clint: Oh yeah. I actually wrestled Bryan twice. Great guy and wrestler. Learned a lot from him technically. McCall was the toughest pro match and one of the hottest private matches in my life. All BG wrestlers were really cool guys.
Bard: I’ve heard from several BG wrestlers past and present that they felt a powerful camaraderie with the other wrestlers. It sounds like that was the case for you, too. Was there a closeness off camera that you think made the action on camera that much more intense? And is there any photographic or video evidence left of that hottest private match ever with hotty Shane?!
Clint: It was a fraternal environment. Sadly, no video.
Bard: So I think of Clint Morgan, and I think 6’4″, stunningly sexy, devastatingly powerful, more than a hint of cruel sadist about him, take shit from no one, relishing an opponent’s screams of panicked submission, and making it all hurt a little longer than really necessary to get the point across. How much of that jives with your impression of who you were in front of the camera, and how much of it coincides with who you are off camera?
Clint: Your descriptive narrative is directly on point. Clint is only a character created from my own laughingly twisted psyche. Although if genuinely angered, as has happened in the past, he tends to show up and take over. A form of an alter ego. Thanks for the compliments, by the way.
Bard: Trust me, it’s my pleasure to get to tell you in person what a delight it is to watch you terrorize a wrestling opponent! You still have extremely loyal fans of your catalog. Were there any particular reasons you stopped showing up on camera?
Clint: In life there are unavoidable challenges like the devastating loss of my hero and best friend: my father. Then I, for many years just wandered aimlessly. Still worked but lost purpose. Suffered depression and drug addiction but beat all of it without professional help and now 11 years clean. Going back to the gym and rebuilding my body.
Bard: All the respect in the world for the rough road you’ve traveled. So sorry for the loss of your father, but congratulations on your 11 years. I’m just going to assume you’re heading for the biggest comeback in BG East history, so who are some of the current wrestlers who you’d like to get your hands on first?
Clint: Tyrell Tomsen. Is that his name? [laughing] Big black stud who wrestled Braden Charron.
Bard: Hell yes! Tyrell is a fantastic choice to start with! Damn that body is incredible. Any ideas where you’d start when introducing him to the brutal world of Clint Morgan?
Clint: Abs, pecs, throat.
Bard: Yes. Yes. And Yes! Tyrell has faced some awesome competition, but I feel like he has yet to really encounter a full on session with a true heel. Would you like to face him in the ring? On the mats? In a back alley? In my living room?
Clint: Name it. But I want an all out rip ‘n’ strip match, no rules, winner take all.
Bard: In that case, I definitely want to see that happen in my living room! And by “all” I hope you’re referring to that stellar ass of Tyrell’s. He’s a stunning combination of being painfully pretty and incredible meaty. Is that a particular combo you like in an opponent?
Clint: I absolutely crave it. I like black, white, anybody built with a nice ass.
Bard: Hell yes, now we’re talking! Again, Tyrell has had his ass stripped a couple of times, but never by someone who seems to really appreciate it the way it deserves. Any other current wrestlers with asses you’d like to take possession of?
Bard: Holy crap, Dick Rick meets Clint Morgan in the ring, no rules, anything goes!? I’m swooning as we speak. And when it comes to Cameron, he’s grown into quite the beautiful specimen of beef lately. I’d also like to recommend Kid Karisma get on your short list. Two-time best butt winner? That irrepressible attitude? I’d give a kidney to see Kid K face the epic reboot of Clint Morgan!
Clint: I know Karisma from Colorado. Met him a couple years ago at a bar named Charlies, where I was a bouncer.
Bard: I think he’s packed on muscle mass in the past couple of years. Cute as a button and lives to bully. I think he definitely deserves a session with the bouncer. Can we talk numbers? Your BG East profile says you’re 6’4″. Is that an exaggeration, or are you seriously that tall?
Clint: 6’3” barefoot. Boots add an inch.
Bard: 6’3″ barefoot sounds pretty perfect to me. That’s a lot of real estate that I’ve seen you use to devastating effect. Are there holds that you feel make the most of that long body? Any particular moves that a whimpering Tyrell would find himself in?
Clint: Rack is my favorite, but I have many including abdominal stretch, Boston crab, surfboard, and the list goes on and on.
Bard: A rack from that height is a fantastic thing to see. Is there anything that you think is missing from today’s homoerotic wrestling industry that was there when you were taping? There’s a lot of “nostalgia” wafting around among wrestling fans, but I’m not sure if it’s really about what’s showing up on camera, or if it’s more about changing times, changing tastes, and rose-colored glasses about the early days.
Clint: Glad you brought that up. To some, what I and others did years ago seems primitive. Today what I see is pretty, gay, and gay-for-pay boys (like Rio Garza) who either don’t know how to wrestle or aren’t convincing attempting it. It is sad, but older, heavier guy don’t sell videos like young pretty boys do, and the proprietors of these video companies have sold out literally in my view. The days of good old school pro wrestling are pretty much gone. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good private sexfight/cockfight as much as anyone, but only with two guys who know how to dish and sell.
Bard: Tough words, which I’d expect no less from Clint Morgan! So if you were master of the universe for a day, you’d make more old school pro bouts happen, with better dish and sell? I’m with you. And including more mature bodies and skills alongside of the pretty young things? Absolutely. Anything else you’d make happen?
Clint: No gay-for-pay allowed. Reason: they won’t in most cases seal the deal if it got to that. And all would be properly schooled and instructed then totally rehearsed before ever appearing on video. I’m tired of this ridiculous and repugnant garbage these companies are putting out there. At least Van Darkholme’s guys can, for the most part, wrestle. Sadly not pro, but you get the idea.
Bard: You’re talking about Naked Kombat? I go back and forth with them. There’s a sweet intensity about their format, but the pornboys often are more heart than substance. And the sex round is often pretty rote and oddly formulaic for a pretty unscripted sense of the combat.
Clint: Agreed, but I didn’t mean to indicate they were perfect. Just in my view on average better than the others.
Bard: Any guys there that you’d like to get a good hold of and score points?
Bard: I completely agree about DJ. He was incredibly athletic and incredibly intense. So lean, downright skinny even, but kicked ass way above his weight class (not that NK has weight classes). If you could hand pick two lightweights to try to handle you, any particular duo (NK, BGE, whoever) you’d like to crush two at a time?
Bard: Tasty treat! Very, very nice lightweight combo. How would that one finish off, would you imagine? And please tell me it involves that Ken doll Kip gagging on his own trunks.
Clint: Yeah and Gil ‘s naked bod draped across Kip’s, with Gil’s cock in Kip’s open mouth.
Bard: Perfection! Damn, I want to see your comeback. Your brutally honest critique of the state of the industry notwithstanding, I hope you don’t mind me putting this angle out there: Clint “the Bouncer” Morgan returns to clean house and bounce any pretty boy who can’t sell out of the business. Terrorize the gay-for-pay class. Brutalize the twinks who just want to look pretty. The Bouncer tosses the riff raff and becomes the antihero of 85% of homoerotic wrestling fans. What do you think?
Clint: LOVE IT!
Bard: Awesome. It’d sell huge among the fans I talk with. You get your 6’3″ body into the shape you need to pop Tyrell’s cork, and I’ll work on the buzz. I have to say, Clint, how pleased I am to get this glimpse of you. You are as engaging and provocative in your reflections as you are terrifying in action. And that’s saying a lot! Anything you’d like to say to your fans who are instantly lighting a torch for the dream to see you on camera again? Any words for the Clint Morgan devotees that think the industry was never quite as thrilling as when you where staring way, way down at a quaking opponent?
Clint: I am grateful to all of my fans. Grateful for their adulation and appreciation of my work. Without them I am nothing more than a vaudeville style freak show. So thank you all. Oh, and one last thing. Better watch your back, Tyrell!
Bard: Hell yes! Will you keep me posted on how the training is going, what piece of fluff finds his way onto your bouncer list, etc?
Clint: Absolutely, Bard.
Bard: Fantastic! Well, I’ll say it again, this has been an outstanding pleasure. On behalf of a ton of fans I know, thanks for taking the time to let is know what you’re up to. All the very best for what lies ahead for you, and I’m desperately hoping that includes your return to the ring to clean house!
Never one to fail to jump on a bandwagon, my thoughts this Thursday are turned backward for a “Throwback Thursday” life review. As I approach the 5th anniversary (!!!?) of neverland, it strikes me often how time can be warped in my memory as I reflect on what I’ve posted here over the years. Some things I swear that I’ve harped on over and over, but when I do a systematic search, I discover I’ve perhaps mentioned just once in passing. Some things I think I’ve never, ever said, I discover (not infrequently pointed out by a reader) I’ve most definitely put into print. So today is a trip down memory lane, digging like a geologist into the strata of the years to consider what March 20 has meant in the life of neverland.
My first March 20th post was 4 years ago today, and I was remarking on the still nascent offerings of Rock Hard Wrestling. Specifically, I reviewed RHW’s double match release of Brody Hancock v Cameron Davis as a double-header along with Brody & Shawn Lawson double-teaming (does that make it a quadruple-header?) imminently deserving Zack Johnathan. Back than I was full of critique and advice, probably a little too heavy handed with the wisdom. Time has taught me a little more humility, I think. I hope. In any case, I still say Brody’s double-layered trunks (does that make it an octuple-header?) was a buzz kill and wrestling for gay eyes should use at least 1/3 less fabric in constructing ring gear than straight-up mainstream pro. I haven’t posted on RHW in a while, after covering their releases pretty extensively years ago. Not sure why.
A year leader, in 2011 I was playing Name That Ass, a game that I probably found a lot more fun that readers did. Then again, some of you played along, and even Queer Me Now covered the genre. And seriously now, what’s not to love about studying in exquisite detail finely crafted homoerotic wrestling asses? The asses teased in that March 20th post were, in order, Tyrell Tomsen, multiple best butt award winner Kid Karisma, Mark Wolff, John Magnum, and Coupe. No one posted a perfect score in that round. Perhaps I need to pull Name That Ass out of mothballs to give you more practice.
March 20, 2012 was a Bodies-Over-Time focus on the stunningly evolving body of BG East’s Charlie Panther. I’d just seen his newest release at the time, absolutely defining a squash against Tim Messina in Pros in Private 9 and earning the homoerotic wrestler of the month title around these parts. Homoerotic wrestlers of the month have continued to be a theme since I started handing them out, and Charlie was a most excellent entry into the HWOTM hall of fame. At some point, I should do some soul searching about what subsequent HWOTM say about me and my evolving/stagnating tastes.
Interestingly, last year on this date, I didn’t post at all. This was in the middle of a several-week drought, which happens not too infrequently around these parts. The nearest post was the day before, when I was resurrecting a theme that has possessed these pages since THE VERY BEGINNING, namely, Chris Cuomo and the need for more hotly muscled skin in the news. Specifically, I was extremely excited by the prospect of massively muscled Latino pretty boy Gio Benitez joining the reporting pool at GMA. GMA has yet to truly capitalize on the sheer magnetism of Gio’s mammoth pecs, but I still get a little giddy when I see him on air. I’m quite certain you will continue to read more about my ongoing obsession with new hunks.
It’s an interesting core sampling of what has made neverland hold my attention over the years, looking back at this date in history. Some things change. Some things stay the same (including periods of radio silence as life distracts me from what’s really important, homoerotic wrestling). And, as always, I just follow my fanaticism for the homoeroticism of wrestling where it takes me.
I’m willingly channeling Joan Rivers for today’s flight of fancy for the sake of alliteration. God forbid two wrestlers show up for a match wearing the same gear, but honestly, there’s a finite number of choice, sexy homoerotic wrestling gear out there. It’s bound to happen. For example, we’ve seen the same eye-catching baby blue bikini trunks with yellow piping round the waist and thighs on several wrestlers, including (at least) Tyrell Tomsen, Joe Robbins, Dick Rick, and most recently, Brad Barnes. So, sure, we could easily debate for days which of these massive mountains of muscle would win in a battle royale ring rumble. But besides that, who wears those hot trunks best (or, alternately, who needs most to have them removed… with my teeth)? Of course, the correct answer is that we have to see them take them on and off in person to know for sure, but if you had to pick, who would it be? Vote below!
I am a vegetarian, but that doesn’t stop me from loving big, juicy, meaty thighs. For no other reason than a absolute adoration of alliteration, here are a sample of some of the juiciest homoerotic wrestler quads that come to my mind in order to celebrate Thursday Thighs.