Tag: Tyrell Tomsen

Asses Named

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No one posted a perfect score for this week’s installment of Name That Ass. I’m still looking for teacher’s pet. Keep studying, gentlemen. Adoring homoerotic wrestling asses requires intense, exhaustive study. Don’t be discouraged if you didn’t do well. I grade on a curve, and preparing for the next quiz should be it’s own reward. In the meantime, here are the answers to the quiz:
Ass #1 belongs to:

 BG East’s Tyrell Tomsen.
Stunning size and gorgeous proportions, when Tyrell is naked and soaked in sweat in the wrestling ring, he can strike one of the most lustworthy still life’s on record. As pictured, Tyrell was playing dominating bully to opponent Braden Charron for Strip Stakes 1. It was Tyrell’s Summer Sizzler against Bobby Horton that convinced me that Bobby deserved the title of homoerotic wrestler of the month last summer.  Tyrell has definitely been out-wrestled in his brief tenure with BG East, but he’s never been out-muscled or out-classed when it comes to his picturesque physique.
Ass #2 belongs to:
BG East’s Kid Karisma.
Kid K has captured me in his gravitational pull lately, and I’ve found myself circling back to marvel at his performances over and over again. His ass, in particular, is simply astonishingly beautiful. This particular shot is from his face off with Rocco in Gear Wars 1. I’ll gush soon about his Wet ‘n Wild appearance with Christian Taylor, but in the mean time, marvel a little longer at those glutes…

Did ass #3 pose a challenge? It belongs to none other than…
Can-Am’s pornboy extraordinaire, Mark Wolff.
Blake Onassis would have also earned you full marks for this one, since he’s cross listed under both names. This particularly fun shot is of Mark getting his face smashed into the lockers by Billy Herrington (also AKA’s Billy Marcus) for Lords of the Lockerroom. He was always a pornboy musclegod, with an ass for days and nipples the size of half dollars. Frankly, it wasn’t really Mark’s wrestling that ever sold me, but I’d buy some full contact moving pictures of that body anyday.
I imagined ass #4 might have given some students trouble. It belongs to…
Naked Kombat’s John Magnum.

I’m positive that I’ve seen Magnum wrestling somewhere else, but for the life of me, I can’t remember where. He blew my socks off (pants, too!), when I saw him in his one and only (to date) appearance at Naked Kombat in a nail-biter against Phillip Aubrey. Phillip nearly took the big muscle brute in this match. If there was ever a tie, in the gestalt sense, these two boys were perfectly, evenly matched, despite having distinctly different styles and builds. John’s personality, though, is absolutely kink-stastic. He’s 110% present. He delights in every second of domination, and he struggles to free himself from absolutely ever nano-second under Phillip’s control. He’s a beautiful man, and although I haven’t had an opportunity to enjoy much more wrestling from him, I get a little contact high off of his tweets now and then.

I didn’t hear from any advanced players who correctly identified the monster muscle glutes of ass #5 as belonging to…
Thunder’s Arena’s Coupe.

I’ve marveled before that Coupe is a muscle freak. That does not always equate to homoerotic gold, but just like his trunks in his poolside back-and-forth with Cameron Mathews, Coupe is indeed homoerotic wrestling kink gold in my book. If ever there was a body that absolutely required comment, even awe from his opponents, it’s Coupe’s. But that’s not really what Thunder’s does, sadly. It’s much more frat house romp than full on homoerotic body worship. I haven’t seen him at Thunder’s in a while, but I’ll just put it out there here and now, if ever Coupe is looking for some homo muscle worship to make up for all the neglect the boys at Thunder’s have made him suffer, I’m first in line with the baby oil.

So how did you do? I put more weight in progress over time than any individual quiz grade, so I hope that you’re finding that you’re performance is improving as you take more Name That Ass quizzes. Don’t be discouraged if you didn’t do as well as you’d hoped. We both know that you love the subject matter, so devoting yourself with renewed enthusiasm to your studies should be no burden at all.

Between Takes

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I love it that you’re reading a homoerotic wrestling kink blog on Christmas! You are such the hardcore, ironman wrestling kinkster! Or, you’re reading a back edition… or this isn’t even your holiday… but in any case, I’m taking it easy today. I’m trying not to sweat the obligatory family drama. I’m trying not to resent the cacophony of carols that have nearly bored a hold straight through my head by now. I’m trying to relax and let it all wash over me.

This time last year, I posted some of the behind-the-scenes shots from BG East, capturing the boys between slams and submissions, relaxed, smiling, and clearly just savoring a happy moment. I thought I’d reprise the theme again for another Christmas day, because these unguarded smiles on these hardworking hunks just lighten my mood.


We all take ourselves too seriously. I do it. You do it (don’t contradict me!). Hell knows, the politicians and pundits and preachers do it, particularly this time of year. So a glimpse of an almost shy smile on a granite-chiseled, merciless ring heel is a sweet reminder, I think, to just cool my jets. Whatever it is that gets me hot and bothered (in a bad way), if I just  just take a step back and remove my ego from the situation, 9 times out of ten it’s all just silliness not to be taken seriously.



There’s seriously messed up shit going on in the world right at this very moment, of course. That’s no laughing matter, but that said, in light of the serious shit, my shit honestly is laughable. So I had to wait in an insanely long line to get that last Christmas present that I put off until way, way too late. So the roads are filled with crazies. So another season of Dexter came and went and I still haven’t seen Michael C. Hall’s world class ass. None of it should be such a burden that I can’t set it down today, let the tension that I’m carrying in my body slip away, and just smile.


Okay, so I’m having trouble letting go of my bitterness about Michael C. Hall’s ass. I’ll keep working on it in between Scrabble games and slices of turkey and endless accounts of the inanity of my sibling’s miserable children (tension rising again… breathe……. okay, I’m back).


Whatever rituals you do or don’t engage in today, whatever your religious or familial proclivities, whatever the burdens you carry, my hope for you is a deep breath, a sly smile, a moment of innocent humor, and all the hot, sweaty, muscle thumping, crotch bumping, ass humping sexual pleasure your heart desires.

The Spice of Life

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Pyschology Today (via Towleroad, to me) has an interesting piece on the racial diversification of gay male porn over the past 3 to 5 years. Psychology Today is sort of like light beer… all packaging and marketing without much really satisfying inside. But I like the connections that the article draws between identifying what gay men find attractive and broader socio-demographic trends in racial politics.

As for me, I’m 100% in favor of more diversity. As a born-and-bred middle class suburban white boy, I was raised with deeply engrained, implicit lessons that chisel-chinned white boys are the physical ideal. Happily, just like other sexual tastes and attentions, I’ve since discovered that beautiful boys of all sorts of complexions offer treasures of objectified lusts.
I don’t really spend much of my time or money in the gay porn world, sans wrestling. It’s one long yawn for me. But even in the wrestling kink corner of homoerotica and porn, I think that we’re seeing more racial diversity and less a need to fetishize racial diversity, at the same time, which I think is a good combination.
Whereas it wasn’t long ago that products were prominently marketed that specifically catered to the tastes of those looking for cross-racial wrestling, these days when opponents reflect different racial-ethnic backgrounds, it most frequently goes uncommented on. In most cases, I think that’s progress. My homoerotic wrestler of the month, Bobby Horton, is a white guy who came into possession of that title on the merits of his smokin’ hot, edge-of-insanity dismantling of bodybeautiful muscle god, Tyrell Tomsen. I’m sure for many people still, a battle like that continues to be first and foremost a morality play in contemporary racial politics. And, true enough, the white boy delivers a beat down and humiliating defeat of the physically dominant black hunk, which stands in a long tradition of white fantasy about subduing and possessing the physical threat from men of color. But as far as I read the text (and I’ve been happy to read and reread that text over and over again to enjoy Bobby’s delightful performance) the story that’s primarily told is really about the battle between the beauty of brawn and the cunning of ring savvy. If anything, Tyrell plays the role of the refined, sculpted, entitled muscle god to Bobby’s crazy-ass, brutish, uncivilized short-cutter. I realize that this doesn’t eliminate the racial politics that play out in the homoerotic wrestling ring, but it screws with expectations and long-held prejudices enough to be at least resistant toward white privilege, if not entirely dismantling of it.
BG East has been promoting a lot of Latinos lately, and that’s 110% just fine with me. If white Eurocentric privilege managed to keep the likes of Rafe Sanchez (mmmm…. Rafe….), Rio Garza and Lobolito off of my shelf, my life would be much less entertaining.
Can-Am has been tossing the likes of Michael Vineland, Max Munoz, and yes, Rio Garza onto the mats, making their typically-happy-ending wrestling formula much more diverse than it may have been at one time.
Naked Kombat frequently puts up men of color, like recent battlers Jack Hammer, Derek Reynolds and Race Cooper. It’s not all one formula for fetishing the racial composition of the match, by any means. Depending on the fighters on any given day, Naked Kombat’s wrestlers of color end up battling each other or white guys, and they end up on top or on bottom with seemingly similar frequencies.
I’m intentionally taking a look at Thunder’s Arena with fresh eyes lately, particularly after reading the very enjoyable interview that Joe did with Mr. Mike and Ace Hanson at Ringside at Skull Island recently. Young stunner rookie AJ looks like another case in point of the expanding pool of skill and beauty to which homoerotically-inclined wrestling is turning.
More is better… variety is the spice of life… the pithy sayings go on and on to explain why it is that all of this is a very good thing. Still, I think we need to keep an eye on the way that racial politics play out even in (especially in) our erotic fantasies. I know, I know. It’s a buzz kill. But it also reveals something about what we believe down deep, how we live, and underneath any socialization or commitments to political correctness, how we picture ourselves in relation to racial difference. I like where things seem to be heading, and I think that we would all do well to remember where we’ve been, and the ways that racism have long played a major role in dominant homo-culture, much less hetero-culture, in the past forty years.

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

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Trent Diesel’s reign as my homoerotic wrestler of the month is coming to a close. I’m still rooting for more wrestling action from the prime time porn boy, at which point he might make another -of-the-month appearance, or he could seriously make a run in my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy rankings. In the mean time, time marches on. New releases this month have been pretty abundant, particularly for the lean months of summer. BG East released the second half of their catalog 83 new releases, including some notable performances by Rio Garza & Reese Wells, Bobby Horton & Tyrell Tomsen, and an impressive 1-on-2 beatdown by Donnie Drake. Naked Kombat put up 4 contenders, including a pretty damn tasty oil match debut for one hard, compact little bundle of hot muscle, Sami Damo. I’m too confused to track the timing of Can-Am’s to-disc releases, so I’m just going to count their Max subscription releases as new to me, since that’s where I’m getting most of my Can-Am fix lately. As a result, I’m tossing in the first few scenes from Arena 4, Toy Fights, and Jobe Zander vs. Aryz Quinn Director’s Battle as contenders. If you’re keeping count, Aryx Quinn is in all three of these Can-Am releases, which brings to mind my comments about Rio Garza’s overexposure recently. But in the interest of keeping the peace, I’ll just let it pass. Did I miss any new releases?

Well, without further ado… my pick for reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month is Bobby Horton.

A major factor in my selection of Bobby is how he came completely out of the blue to shock me into awed respect. The last time I caught sight of Bobby, Mitch Colby’s balls were wresting on his chin in Backyard Brawls 5. While I was jealous of that position, I really didn’t take much note of Bobby (my eyes were all over Mitch).

Well, Bobby’s come a long way, baby. Storming the ring against muscleboy Tyrell Tomsen in BG East’s Ring Rookies 3: A Heel is Born, Bobby grabbed hold of my attention with both hands, shook me around a bit, slapped my ass and absolutely made me sit up and take notice.
Bobby emerges as an out-and-out freak in this bout with Tyrell. A screw shook loose somewhere along the way (perhaps in getting manhandled by the drop dead gorgeousness of Mitch), and Bobby is wrestling like he just doesn’t care who he hurts any more. Wait, I take that back… Bobby is wrestling like he cares just a little too much about hurting just about anyone. He’s a little maniacal, a lot sadistic, and he moves like a work of pro-style art.
Not to give it all away, but Bobby is the one mentioned in the subtitle of this match. He’s getting some major kicks thwarting the overwhelming power of Tyrell and, in turn, laying some devastating hurt on the big man. He also takes as good as he gives, but it’s the give that really turned me into a Bobby fan this month. Bobby’s in the nonpornboy ranks (so far… I can always dream), but he brings plenty of kink with him to his beatdown on Tyrell. He’s got the moves. He’s got a hot, made-for-pro, rough and tumble body. And now that he’s got a balls-out giant-killer lust to lay down some hurt, I say he’s the total package. Bring on some more Bobby!

More Leg Lust

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It’s still August, but where I am, summer is starting to sputter. One of the finest side-effects of hot summer weather is the excuse it offers hunks who’ve been working on their hard bodies all year to show some skin. In particular, I’m already feeling some anticipatory grief about losing sight of sweetly muscled legs once cooler weather lures those gorgeous thighs under wraps. There’s nothing about well-worked legs I don’t like. From the front, the back, the lead-in to hard, muscled asses… At this very moment, though, I’m feeling particularly randy for some low-slung, mounded, muscle thighs.
It’s been way, way too long since I took anatomy and physiology to really appreciate the technicalities of how muscles are attached so beautifully to joints. What I do recognize is that our bodies are wonderfully diverse, and even men who share precisely the same diet and workout routine develop muscle shape and size differently. When quads are huge, separated, and encasing the knee like plate armor (like classic muscle jobber Ed Harte) I’m breathless.
And speaking of fine muscle jobbers, huge legs, and me being breathless… Troy Baker was a work of art who absolutely adored his own massive, powerful thighs. It’s not like there was any inch to that blond bombshell that didn’t deserve complete worship, but he seriously got off on scissoring his opponent until they were gasping. His mat battle with Nick Archer in Undergear 9 remains a favorite go-to for me when I’m desperate for some freakish thighs put to good use in a match (and some blond muscleboy humiliation thrown in at the end).


With a catalog a mile deep, Mike Columbo at BG East is also exactly what the doctor ordered for a bad case of leg lust. Honestly, it’s hard for me to take my eyes away from his ass, even when I try…
But when I can manage it, I’m awed by his astonishingly massive thighs (not to mention his gorgeous upper body and sweet, sweet babyface). Derek D’Amore (no slouch himself) thinking he could stand side-by-side with Mike in a pre-match posedown for Fantasymen 21 is just a little sad. Mike is in a league of his own, and it isn’t the last time he humiliated Derek that day.
Aesthetics are as important as size for me. In fact, some beautiful muscle trumps a side of beef in my book. Fortunately, there are plenty of gorgeous wrestlers like Can-Am’s classic battler, Troy Lucas, who had both. As I’ve mentioned before, I think that Troy was one of the most handsome musclemen to dip his toe in the homoerotic wrestling pool, and I’d have paid money to feel those legs squeezing the breath of out me. Just watching him do it to someone else still makes me gasp.
When Tyrell Tomsen is in his competition-ready shape, he can give Troy Baker a run for his money when it comes to worship-ready muscle, inch for inch. Tyrell simply needs to put someone on their knees and mesmerize them with his sculpted physique. Then he needs to shove an awestruck face between those tree trunks and squeeze until the lucky bastard cries.
The hot hunks at the park will be putting their long pants back on soon enough, damn them. Fortunately, the finely crafted physiques of homoerotic wrestling are ever at the read to display the goods and put huge thighs to the very best possible use they could be: making one another suffer in a hot, hard fought, power vs. power wrestling match.

Narcissus

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According to Greek mythology, Narcissus was a devastatingly beautiful and proud mortal man who disdained those who loved him. When Narcissus glimpsed his own reflection in a pool, he was captured by the sight of his own beauty and slowly died unable to tear himself away from adoring his image.
It’s an ancient tale that survives today because it says something that’s timeless. Narcissus is a morality tale, most genuinely, warning against excessive pride and self-worship. On another level, it’s a story about the way things are at the heart of the human condition. We praise beauty. We idolize and idealize the beautiful. We worship beauty, and those in possession of an overabundance of socially reinforced standards of beauty fail to surprise us when they are clearly wrapped up in their worshiping within themselves that which others prize, praise, and worship in them.
Confession: I’m a sucker for a hardbodied narcissist who’s completely in love with himself. Sadly, that’s true in my personal life, but more to the point, it’s definitely true when it comes to the homoerotic wrestling that I dig. Self-worship is a succinct, well-trod tale in the wrestling ring. The opening scene of the narcissist soaking in the gorgeousness of his own reflection sets the table for countless battles. Sometimes the challenger arrives equally as self-adoring, and the match ensues as each adonis defends his claim to embody the pinnacle of beauty. The banter that centers around, “sure, you’re not so bad, but take a look at me!” works to establish the characters, define the terms of the contest, and begs the question of who the objective observer would select as the most beautiful of the beautiful. A delightful alternate ending to this tale is when both beauties are so evenly matched that slowly, eventually, the competition turns into mutual muscle worship.
Sometimes, the narcissist is met by a challenger less concerned with his own self-worship and more incited by contempt to attack and tear down the work of art before him. The battle is its own morality tale, determining the superiority of the aesthete or the athlete. When the phrase “pretty boy” pops up frequently in the ring, we see the psychological struggle to determine who is the superior man: the one with the stunning proportions and classic beauty, or the one built of rougher stuff filled with determination to mess up his opponent’s beautiful face. This story works swinging either direction, as far as I’m concerned. I’m no less a fan of the pretty boy beatdown than I am of the I-told-you-so narcissist victory.
The narcissist in the ring is a character that typically works for me. It’s probably a profound character flaw in me (which would explain a lot of my dating history), that I find a man deeply in love with the sight of his own beautiful body incredibly arousing. Now I’m completely engaged by a muscled stud who poses proudly to awe and intimidate his opponent (and you and me). But the hot side of beef who is stunningly beautiful, knows he’s stunningly beautiful, and just a little awed and aroused by his own stunning beauty, is a character I’m tragically drawn to.
I think it’s no coincidence that both Lon Dumont (my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler – nonpornboy) and Mr. Joshua Goodman (top contender for Lon’s title) are fantastic self-worshipers. Lon’s compact, competition-ready musclebod is sufficient to give me whiplash, but Lon’s delight in looking at himself propels him to the heights of homoeroticism in my book. Mr. Joshua is probably even more the epitome of the narcissist enamored his own gorgeous, crafted muscles and overabundant endowments. Win or lose, Joshua’s role is the stunning muscle stud who genuinely, passionately adores his own fantastic body and is ready to deploy his painstakingly toned muscles to demand from any opponent their concession to his superior beauty. It’s not hard for me to imagine that when Joshua’s eyes are closed in that moment just before orgasm, the image that fills his imagination is his own classically proportioned naked body.

I believe my pathological arousal for a self-loving hardbody probably also explains why Rafe Sanchez manages to keep rising to the surface of the homoerotic wrestling matches in my cue. Any and every match that I’ve seen with Rafe prominently features a healthy dose of Rafe self-love. Even when his opponent’s engage in Rafe-worship, it seems to only fuel Rafe’s arousal even more as he marvels at every beautiful inch (and he has plenty of inches) of his hot, tight body. And the more Rafe adores his gorgeous proportions and flexed muscles, the more I’m entirely at his mercy.

Even short of full on, characterological narcissism, just a lingering gaze a muscled wrestler gives his body is a major plus in my book. A classic babyface hero who can’t help but pause and marvel at his own massive bicep (Mitch Colby, I’m looking at you) is astonishingly erotic. In fact, I’d say that what gets plenty of people in the world diagnosed with a personality disorder is the very same thing that puts at least 75% of the homoerotic into my favorite homoerotic wrestling. So bring on the self-worshiping body beautiful muscle hunks in awe and obviously aroused by the sight of their own stunning bodies… I just can’t help myself.

Going Crazy

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Is it my imagination, or is BG East pumping out new releases (so to speak) with increasing frequency? I like the more frequent release of matches, and I love the on demand options. It holds my flea-like attention span better, and it more efficiently satisfies my need for instant gratification.

Speaking of gratification, have you seen Bobby Horton’s schooling of Tyrell Tomsen yet? This is another one of the moments when I’m happily surprised to discover that the “other guy” in the match turns out to be my new fixation. When it comes to Tyrell, I love studying his body nearly as much as Tyrell loves studying his body. I can never get enough of his naked ass in Strip Stakes 1. He’s got a beauty and a power that’s simply fantastic. I was drawn to Ring Rookies 3 to get a little Tyrell fix. What I found was Bobby Horton grabbing hold of my crank with both hands and turning it like a champ!
This is a classic tale of muscle/power/beauty versus speed/guile/skill. Both wrestlers do a nice job of telling this tale, and I’m sucked along for quite a while, unsure exactly who I’m hoping most will come out on top. I’ve only seen one other bout with Bobby, when he lays down a punk’s challenge to Mitch Colby (back when Mitch was still ranked my #1 favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy). But against Tyrell, Bobby opens up a pro-wrestling clinic that convinces me that he is much, much (much) more than a long-haired, bright-eyed-and-convinced-of-his-own-youthful-invincibility surferboy. He’s quick, decisive, and he pieces together some high class moves that take me completely by surprise.
His frequent low-class moves are actually just as entertaining, frankly. Bobby does exactly what it takes to neutralize Tyrell’s superior strength and momentum, and then he does quite a bit more to make the big man suffer. When Bobby refuses to accept Tyrell’s second fall submission until he uses the word “quit,” I gain an entirely new respect and lustful attraction for Bobby. He has a slightly-psychotic laugh that bubbles up with increasing frequency throughout this match, as he takes obvious delight in watching his bodybuilder boy opponent laid low and hurt. He wants to not only defeat Tyrell. He wants to hurt him, and to take a nice long time watching the muscle hunk writhe on the ground, suffering.
Finally, there’s just something that takes my breath away when a massive, gorgeous, cocky bodybuilder is laid out helplessly, and his smaller opponent poses proudly over top of him. Bobby’s not nearly as big as Tyrell, though there’s nothing at all unaesthetic about Bobby’s beautiful muscles. His biceps aren’t even close to being as thick and meaty, and his pecs look nearly adolescent (if you were a gym bunny as an adolescent) by comparison. But when Bobby struts and preens, flashing a double bi and crunching out a most muscular, his sliced up muscles are exactly what the doctor ordered. He sells that incredible moment where the massive bodybuilder can only look up in shock and disbelief as his punk-ass heel opponent shows him the trim fighting-machine that brought him to his knees. I’d like to lobby for more of sadistic, gorgeous Bobby as heel in the ring, taking more BGE hardbodies by surprise and humiliating them with sadistic, gleeful satisfaction! Who’s next!?

Classic Tales

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The double bicep pose: a prerequisite for homoerotic domination hotness. Deconstructing (as is my way), the double bicep is an interesting statement. The explicit point, of course, is to call attention to the size of a man’s biceps. Sweet muscleboy Gary Myers, for example, sported stunning, double-peaked biceps bigger around than his neck. There’s a simple, primal aesthetic to the double bicep. When a hard hunk has the guns and proportions, there’s an amazing, powerful symmetry that’s simply beautiful. These are muscles that have been crafted and carved with insane amounts of sweat and tears and self-worship. A classic double bicep can simply say: stand back and be awed.
Making a run to strip Rusty Stevens of the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, Mitch Colby frequently illustrates that a double bicep can communicate much more than just aesthetics. Not that Mitch’s body shouldn’t be under glass, but with his cock planted across his opponent’s chin and his knees pinning his opponent’s arms to the ground, Mitch lifts his arms and crunches out a double bicep to make a statement: I’m your superior. Mitch’s softballs attached high on his upper arm drive home the point of his scrap with his young challengers. His gorgeously tanned, fantastically toned muscles will, without fail, put a lesser man on his back. The gloating look on Mitch’s face in this pic is priceless. You’re owned, kid, he’s saying. And these are the muscles that broke you and made you mine.

Unlike the victory double bi, the buddy double bi seems like it’s frequently the last moment of dignity for a couple of hardbody faces heading into a world of hurt. Freakishly stunning Tyrell Tomsen and his short-lived partnership with Jimmy Gee is a recent case in point. We don’t have to even know who their opponents are to take a look at this pre-match pose and predict that these boys are going to be humiliated. The double bis telegraph the approaching story line. Massive mountain of muscle, Tyrell, is demigod anchor to this tag team. Jimmy, who’s a bit softer and sporting decidedly less impressive guns than in prior outings, is destined to be the weakest link. The double biceps are ostensibly the display of power and confidence here, but the whole text tells a different story, including vulnerability and an inevitable date with humiliated destruction.
I’ve been enjoying the forced flex in more and more recent products out of BGE. Lon Dumont, who must be worshiped in more matches to come, made an over-the-top homoerotic masterpiece with his psychic humiliation of Eddy Rey, forcing the bigger man to flex on-command in submission. Brooklyn Bodywrecker had the same tool in his arsenal of destruction, when he broke cocky hardbody Mr. Joshua Goodman to pieces. The double bicep here is no longer about victory or confidence, but about humiliated defeat. Joshua stepped into the ring banking on his muscles to power down on BBW (the silly, silly fool), so in victory, BBW forces a decimated Joshua to flex. Behind the nearly unconscious loser (and I mean that lovingly, Mr. Joshua), BBW crunches out his own double bi, illustrating that despite not having quite as smooth, ripped, or classically pretty a muscle body, he has exactly what it takes to hammer down on a muscleboy, strip him naked, and heartlessly taunt us by refusing to let us see Mr. Joshua’s owned goods.

Ultimately, the double bicep is always a complicated story of strength and vulnerability. It’s a primal display of power to intimidate would-be challengers. At the same time, the class double bicep pose stretches out and exposes the rest of the muscled body. This isn’t a defensive position by any means. As repeated maneuvers in the homoerotic ring illustrate, a strutting double bicep leaves a cocky stud vulnerable to a strike to the crotch, a surprise full nelson from behind, or an attack on the exposed core. So in the end, the musclegod who pulls off the double bicep tells a fantastically woven tale of power and vulnerability, beauty and savagery, the promise of victory and the haunting foreshadowing of potentially being owned and displayed like a tantalizing piece of meat.

Birthday Suits

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Neverland is a year old! The anniversary of when I started this extended wrestling kink conversation sort of snuck up on me. At times, this past year has been challenging, particularly at the point that I committed to post something new each day. But all in all, this has been a lot of fun, and it’s been very rewarding making a lot of enjoyable connections with plenty of other kinksters across the globe.
As regular readers realize, I’m actually pretty demure. I tend to shy away from full frontal nudity on this blog. It’s not that I’m trying to spare those of you who are searching for your wrestling kink hit at work. Personally, I think you get what you deserve when you browse for porn at work (such as inopportune erections, pre-cum stains on your suit pants, etc.). But in keeping with the whole theme of promoting the homoerotic imagination, I tend to like to leave a little to the imagination with the graphics that accompany my ramblings. But in honor of the auspicious occasion of the 1 year anniversary of neverland, I’m treating myself (and you) to some of my favorite boys celebrating in their birthday suits.
At the head of the line has to be my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, Rusty Stevens. Rusty has “only” appeared 9 times over the past 12 months in this blog, but his snarling, humiliatingly domineering possession of the title as reigning champion is sure to boost his numbers quickly. Rusty tugging at his own handsome cock is fantastically hot. Rusty’s naked body gets credit for quite a lot of my homoerotic fantasies as of late, particularly since his capture of the championship in my own little imaginary competition.
Next in line, appropriately enough, is the top contender to unseat Rusty, Mitch Colby. Since Mitch had a commanding headlock on the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy for most of the past 12 months, it’s no wonder he appeared, by far, the most often in this blog (a total of 30 of my posts include Mitch!). Mitch’s entry into full on nude, hard action over the past couple of years has been an incredible treat. I’m seriously jonesin’ to see him back on the mats/in the ring, putting that stunningly gorgeous body on the line in muscle-on-muscle competition. And ANY match that ends in a passionate, soapy shower scene with Mitch and his opponent is guaranteed to be in my library (I promise!).
Derek da Silva and his gorgeous, round muscle butt have to make an appearance in the parade of birthday suit homoerotic wrestling pornboys, as I celebrate the anniversary of this blog. Derek has shown up in no fewer than 14 different posts over the past year. Derek looks ready to put that stunning body to good use, clawing his way back up the rankings.
The naked form of Tyrell Tomsen is the stuff of classical sculpture. Tyrell’s growing body of appearances in the BGE roster, extremely proudly displaying his incredible muscles, has definitely been a source of joy for me this past year, ending him up in 8 posts in neverland. His striated muscle butt and his massive, yet beautifully proportioned cock make Tyrell paydirt from any angle. This simply can’t just be considered “porn.” This is art on par with the masters of absolutely any medium.
My final favorite wrestler in his birthday suit is the underrated Rafe Sanchez. Rafe has only shown up in 3 posts over the past 12 months, which is a little misleading, considering he stars regularly in my personal erotic fantasies. Rafe is certainly not as massively constructed as, say, Tyrell, but Rafe absolutely loves every inch of his body not one iota less (which is saying a lot, if you’ve seen how much Tyrell appropriately worships his own muscles). When Rafe is rode hard and put away wet before losing his gear, he leaves me breathless. When he’s irrepressibly erect, his passionate pleasure for his work (and himself) makes me ache just a little to join in the fun with him.

I still get messages every so often from homoerotic wrestling kinksters who are just discovering, “I’m not the only one!” Good God, no! You aren’t. And fortunately there are enough of us to comprise a market for accomplished artists like these to be financially rewarded for the incredible, hard work that clearly goes into crafting every inch of their beautiful bodies and then displaying those precious treasures in body-on-body erotic competition. Not only is there a market, but there are also plenty of us with the time on our hands to ramble on, reflect, deconstruct and reconstruct the wrestling kink fantasies that turn us on and inspire a growing body of blogs. By no means are you the only one. By no stretch of the imagination are any of us alone. Thanks for your support, everyone!

Giveth and Taketh Away

wrestlebard5 Comments


BG East has some seriously sadistic sickos working for them, and I’m not sure whether I mean that in a good way. Here’s the story: I woke up this morning, and when it occurred to me that today’s is the 15th of the month, I eagerly checked for the BG East Arena update. Truth be told, I look forward to the Arena updates probably a little too much, each 1st and 15th of the month. I get a little disregulated if the updates are late. Today, though, I was thrilled to see that the update was already posted early in the morning.

I felt a little light-headed with excitement when I saw posted an advance peek at catalog 82’s Tag Team Torture 12, because my most recent wrestling boy crush, Lon Dumont, was there. Lon is clad in brief, shiny orange trunks that match his gorgeous tag partner. If anything, Lon looks even more shredded than in his BG debut in Fantasymen 32. I am instantly enraptured at the sight of Lon’s swagger, his polished pro strikes, his timing and tight, shredded body. I checked out a couple of the photos, and then decided I needed some morning caffeine to truly appreciate the beauty of this wonderful find.
When I came back to my computer several minutes later with tea in hand, Lon’s tag match was gone. True, nearly as exciting, Tyrell Tomsen is now up in another tag match, apparently from the same tape. Tyrell is in his competition bodybuilder shape. He’s gorgeous. I’m thrilled to see more of him. But what… the… hell… happened… to… Lon!?!?
You cruel, cruel bastards! Don’t get me wrong. I love your work. I love the quality and quantity of your work. I love your excellent customer service and quick ships. I feel like we’re old friends, considering how much correspondence has gone back and forth between us over the years of me buying your products. But this cut is so deep! What did I do to you? How did I offend you so, to deserve this horrific treatment!? Tag Team Torture, indeed. Is this because I said I’d like to see the behind-the-scenes match-ups that surely resulted from short-tempers as a result of your recent overtime coping with the flooding? Is it because I pointed out that you had some typos in the description of Lon’s products? Why?
My desperate hope is that your webmaster just hit “replace” rather than “add,” and that I will have the opportunity to drool over fresh, hard picks of Lon soon. Please. Please? My pre-order is in hand. I’ll shine your shoes (or whatever else requires me to be on my knees in front of you). I’ll probably hate you just a little for some time to come over this cruel, sadistic move to torment me. But we can make this right. I don’t mind some sweetly erotic suffering from time to time, but this is just vicious!