As the World Watches

I actually wasn’t going to post today, but a very sweet, direct appeal from a reader for something to divert his attention from election day anxiety convinced me otherwise.  I’m not sure what topic is appropriate for a day like today, as Americans go to the polls to cast votes with such big potential to impact people around the world.  We have way too much influence on the well-being of people worldwide, those of us who live and vote in the US.  So many people may prosper or suffer based on the (let’s face it) fickle and often superficial election choices of Americans.  So today, I honor those who have to sit on the sidelines and watch the wingnuttery of American politics play out yet again, just hoping that those crazy Americans won’t elect a(nother) nutjob who will start yet another war of expedience, exploit more of the earth’s resources while ignoring the impact of our exploitation on the global climate, or arm more wingnuts worldwide to fight wars of ideology that ultimate do nothing but increase overall human suffering.  So here are a few of the fantasy men I lust after who today, as far as I know, don’t get to vote in the 2012 US election…

Even armored in newly minted, mouthwatering muscle, high impact x-wrestler Gabriel Ross can only sit back and sip his tea, hoping that those crazy Americans get it right.  Then again, Gabriel and his UK buddies have their own political insanity to sort out on their side of the pond…

Monstercocked leatherboy Rob Chandler and dizzyingly handsome x-wrestler Chris Xaos both command my lustful adoration.  These gorgeous, nasty battlers do such things to me! But one thing that they can’t do: cast a vote for the American politicians who will undoubtedly have undue influence over the world economy and their own local well-being in the UK.  Truly, I’m sorry boys.

Ben Monaco and his hot and hairy pecs are Canadian, which is a particularly hard place to be on a day like today, I’d think.  There’s so much American shit that rolls down hill and across our northern border.  Again, Canada’s got their own bizarre politics to cope with, but at least they have universal health care.  And if it’s any consolation, at least Ben and his compatriots will have another 3 years or so before they have to hear completely ignorant and misleading American political ads warning against being “too much like Canada.”

Rio Garza compete for Mexico in fitness competitions, though his livelihoods seem intimately tied to his commercial success in the US.  I can’t imagine what the US campaign season looks like from south of the border.  Even worse than for Ben and the Canadians, Rio and his countrymen can almost certainly count on being continually demonized as the barbarian hordes beating down the gates of America, all of them drug dealers and mafioso murders who want nothing more than to sneak across the border in order to sit in their lazyboys and soak in all the free shit American’s mistakenly think we provide anyone, much less undocumented immigrants.  It’s guaranteed that U.S. policy makers will bat around Mexican interests like a cat with a ball of string, but do Mexicans get to have any voice in directly influencing their overly wealthy cousins to the north? Despite wildly misleading allegations of voter fraud (always implicating Central and South American immigrants), the answer is no.

Vlad Varek is billed a Russian cage fighter who made just one trip to this country to beat the living shit out of a few weak-assed Americans.  True story or promotional gimmick, I can’t actually attest, but if Vlad is indeed from the motherland, he’s also got to be wondering just how much more saber rattling American politics will get based on who we elect today.  The right wingers in this country still try to dabble in resurrecting Cold War terrors to motivate the electorate, and let’s face it, Russians have more than their fair share of both widespread corruption and undue influence over their neighbors, near and far.  But whether the US will keep trying to put the boogeyman mask on them or, conceivably, deploy actual diplomacy that doesn’t come at the point of our over-estimated sword, Vlad and his peeps can only wonder.

I’ve got a crrrrazy infatuation building for the particular combo of Dan the Steel Muscle God and the return of his plaything, Wimpy Boy.  These Hungarian beauties have managed to reach halfway across the globe and grab me by the balls with the intoxicating chemistry that they’ve got going.  I sweat to god, I’d do a lot of things for the chance to get my hands on SMG, but I’d give my left kidney to round out the entirely naked threesome with BOTH SMG and Wimpy Boy.  I have no idea what their politics are, but if they know what’s good for them, they’d better be hoping for increased prosperity for their army of gay US fans.  Whether they think that would come from re-electing President Obama or siding with $Romney$ and Ayn Rand budget slasher, it doesn’t really matter, does it?  Because Hungarians don’t get a vote in our crazy hot mess of an election in the US.

I’m sure there are more citizens of the world in our homoerotic wrestling universe, but those are the ones I could come up with on short notice.  Whether this little jaunt across the globe actually serves as a distraction or not from the insanity of election day in the US, I don’t know.  But for those of you like me feeling extremely tense and at least a little nauseated today with worry about the future of the US and our social and civil rights, I encourage you to pop in a homoerotic wrestling tape, lay back, and pound yourself into a stupor until the political ads start to fade.  After you’ve voted, bitches.  But then, let your favorite wrestlers take you far, far away.

Movement in the Ranks

The mental exercise of crowning “favorites” among the homoerotic wrestlers that I enjoy watching fascinates me. I get attached to my overall favorites. I don’t want to let them go, to let someone unseat them once I’ve said out loud, “This guy rocks me harder than just about anybody else.” So regular readers will back me up when I say that it doesn’t happen often that one of my favorites is replaced. Today is just such a momentum occasion, however. Mitch Colby has held the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy or at least top contender for that title almost without pause since I started keeping track of such things. I find Mitch’s body profoundly moving, and there’s an authenticity to his wrestling that, without fail, has the effect of making it nearly impossible for me to tear my eyes away from him as he grunts, strains, flexes and crushes his way through one opponent after another. I’m deeply aroused by the sight of Mitch’s focused concentration as he picks apart some lucky loser, and I’m arguably even a little more aroused to watch Mitch throw everything he’s got at some superhuman freak only to be conquered and dominated in the end. Any new release with Mitch is instantly at the top of my to-buy list.
Mitch got those beautiful abs of his tested hard in Florida Fights 3
However, all that said, his latest new release came out in a batch of fantastic BG East wrestling that figuratively positioned Mitch side-by-side with a certain ferocious, rumbling bundle of nerves, nerve and sexuality that I’ve had my eye on for quite some time. I simply couldn’t ignore the juxtaposition of Mitch’s Florida Fights 3 bout and my growing crush on a certain grappler from Mat Scraps 1. While it’s certainly not that I don’t love Mitch’s high impact ring battle with Vlad Varek, I cannot help but note that Skrapper’s mat scrap against epic coverboy Z-Man has catapulted the skrappy one over top of favorite emeritus Mitch. It’s been a rare day in neverland that Mitch has been out of the the top two, but today I’m lustfully and enthusiastically elevating Skrapper to the position of number 1 contender for the title as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy – right behind a dangerously quiet Trent Diesel.
The new #1 contender to the title of my
Favorite Homoerotic Wrestling Pornboy
I’m just going to put it right out there. I do not believe that Skrapper is pretty. I do, however, think he’s sexyasHELL.  Typically I wax poetic about the size and heft of my favorite wrestler’s bulges, but Skrapper is a different story. Not to say that he doesn’t have a gorgeous ass and more-than-a-mouthful of a package, but the first words that pop into my mind in contemplating Skrapper’s physique are lean, lanky, and wiry.  He’s got beautifully conditioned muscles in all the right places, but he’s no pretty coverboy with low slung pecs or massive biceps. At 5’10” and 145 pounds, he’s an astonishingly tight package without an ounce of bodyfat or merely gym toned muscle. He’s got an unconventionally handsome face with awesomely kissable lips and an aristocratic nose. I’d pick him out of any crowd as someone I’d desperately want to notice me. And if he did, and if he opened his mouth to speak, I’d be a goner.
“You’re losing so fast, dude!”

That voice! To be completely transparent, the word “Dude” is not a turn-on for me. And yet when Skrapper uses the word, as he does with relentless regularity, the timbre of his voice somehow skips right past my cerebellum and speaks directly to my cock. Perfect case in point: just about 2 minutes into his fearless face off with babyface extraordinary and homoerotic wrestler of the month, Z-Man. As is often the case, Skrapper starts wrestling about 2 speeds higher in intensity than his opponent. Z-Man looks for a moment like he’s going to have absolutely zero to offer against the raging focus of the skrappy one. “Damn!” Skrapper snarls, “you’re losing so fast, dude!” Holy shit, that irreverent, cocky, nothing to lose so I’ll fuck you over 9 ways to Sunday, skater badboy bass voice of his makes me nearly lose a load before Z-Man manages to get his groove going.

Beat that shit-eating grin off of face, Skrapper!!!

But it’s later in the match that Skrapper seals the deal to knock the knees out from under Mitch and demand my affections. Z-Man has a history (at least as far as I’m telling it) of hamming and mugging for the camera. BG East has been beating the living shit out of him since he arrived within their sphere of influence, such that he doesn’t have much time between grimaces to manage a cheesy smile. He does, however, still puke one out every so often, and they remain a serious buzz kill for me. So when Skrapper nearly rips the coverboy in half, he heaps on what is undeniably more punishment than is really necessary to make the muscleboy submit. When Z-Man hops up to his feet after conceding the fall, he looks like he’s ready to punch his fist through the back of Skrapper’s skull. “What!?” Skrapper demands. “That’s what you get for smiling at me, dude!” There. Right at that moment. Skrapper climbed into the top contender spot right there, punishing Z-Man not just for being pretty and cocky and screamin’ for it, but because Skrapper knows that fucking grin on the coverboy is a buzz kill and he deserves to be punished mercilessly anytime he pulls it out. I’ve been jonesin’ for someone to not only punish him for the shit-eating grin, but to call Z-Man out for it!

Driving home the point that you might want to just leave a
sleeping Skrapper lie.
Skrapper does not always win his matches. This is not a problem, and indeed it can heighten a wrestler’s allure as far as I’m concerned, if he makes the most of even a loss. Take, for example, Skrapper’s eventual loss at the hands of AJ Lyle in Undagear 17. Seriously, justice is on Skrapper’s side. He was just sleeping in the BG East matroom when AJ comes in, wakes him up, and tries to bully him out of his way. Fast-forward to the end of this scrap and you’ll be treated to Skrapper stripped naked and battered into complete and helpless exhaustion as the sweaty victor climbs on to use the skrappy one like his own electric blanket. Now rewind back to the beginning again, and watch how fucking irrepressible Skrapper is every single second of this match. True enough, he takes the loss and humiliation in the end. I sort of suspect he may have just had a hankering for a taste for giving up a cock-to-cock submission. But any way you slice it, pause the DVD at pretty much any point in the relentless battle, and you’re likely to see Skrapper firmly in charge or battling his way back from getting tossed around by his bigger opponent. Win or lose, you get the impression that Skrapper never really relinquishes the reins of psychological control in a match.

Kid Vicious & Skrapper’s understandable mutual admiration in Sexy Showdown 5: Florida Fun

It’s no wonder that in his relatively brief career in homoerotic wrestling, BG East has put him in the faces of some of the biggest and baddest boys on record. His encounter with notorious heel Kid Vicious left me breathless for all the right reasons, first and foremost the amazement to watch KV have to work to keep up with the eroticism (which he does, of course)! This is the most intensely erotic match I’ve seen Skrapper in, and frankly I’m not sure if there are many other than the likes of KV who can really match the inherent sensuality and eroticism that Skrapper brings with just a look and a snarl. There are moments in the match that make me gasp because Skrapper doesn’t just get riding time and take control of arguably the baddest boy in the stable: he humiliates him. Folding KV up, sitting on his face, and peeling the vicious bastard’s trunks down to expose his ass in utter helpless humiliation is a position that far bigger and more accomplished wrestlers have only dreamed of.

It’s not easy, but clearly it’s rewarding to take
Skrapper firmly in hand

This match is also where Skrapper earns his way into the adored ranks of homoerotic wrestling pornboys, the way I count them. Not only do both wrestlers lose their trunks, but KV succeeds in planting his ass across Skrapper’s mouth and, after pummeling Skrapper’s cock forEVER, he teases and strokes that battered joystick back to life until Skrapper erupts in ecstasy, his groans of pleasure muffled up KV’s ass. Holy hell! Have I used that expression already in this post? Those words come out of my mouth multiple times in just about every Skrapper match I’ve had the pleasure to enjoy.

Passing the torch

And speaking of enjoy, it’s so ironic as to seem like fate that Skrapper and Mitch generated such intoxicating chemistry in their voracious mat battle in Catch Weight 3.  The weight differential is simply  too much for Skrapper to make up, but he makes Mitch pay dearly for absolutely any split second of distraction or loss of focus. No wonder at all that he earns a trip hoisted over Mitch’s stone-carved shoulder once all is said and done, to be fireman-carried poolside and tossed in. Illustrating why Mitch has so long been in the ranks of the elite of my favorites, he quickly dove in after his prey to crush him once more in a wet bearhug that merges seamlessly into a make-out session with Skrapper perched across Mitch’s crotch.

I call next!
It seems hard for most of Skrapper’s opponents to resist the temptation to slide their tongues between those beautiful lips sooner or later.  Skrapper’s one victory, prior to knocking Z-Man out cold and wreaking divine retribution on behalf of all of us who’ve screamed at our computer screens when the coverboy broke character and grinned like a Cheshire cat, was a lightweight battle for the books against  perennial jobber Skip Vance. Seriously now. If Skrapper can make the likes of Brook Stetson work his 240 pound ass off to finally tame the feral beast, 135 pound Skip was doomed from well before the start of their Wrestleshack rendezvous. Gorgeously naked bodies, crushed and battered, seamlessly meld into sweat-soaked, fully aroused paramours. Skip hardly seems to mind Skrapper prying his face to the side with a handful of Skip’s hair in order to lock lips and grind crotches.

I’m sure Mitch will always work me hard, but it’s a lightweight, lanky, skater punk wildcat with an obvious lust to dominate that leaves him so loathe to submit that even the big, big boys have no choice but to knock him out cold and carry him from the mat in order to make him quit, who’s in undisputed possession of the top contender spot in my rankings of homoerotic wrestling pornboys who turn me on. And a little word of advice to Trent Diesel: you’d better get your ass back out on the mat soon, pretty boy, because there’s a feral, lanky unstoppable force of nature with a wildly sexy bass voice and a complete lack of awareness of when to give up who’s ready to plow you into second place… dude!

Bard’s Pilgrim Way – Post Script


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My time at the BG East compound will go down as my favorite afternoon playing hooky from work… ever. I enjoyed several hours hanging out with Kid Leopard and the boys who came and went.  In fact, I heard more than I’m allowed to tell you about. I was sworn to secrecy about much of what I heard, and when I promise Kid Leopard, Kid Vicious, and Jonny Firestorm that I won’t talk, damn well better believe my lips are sealed (though it might be worth it to be punished by any/all of them!).
If these guys swore you to secrecy, what would you do?
However, there are a couple of scoops that I was expressly given permission to divulge. One scoop is already out of the bag, really. The next catalog is just about ready to be released. Since there are already some preview pics up in the Arena for two DVDs, this won’t be earth shattering news for many. I did have an opportunity to look at preview photos for all of the matches for the upcoming catalog, and all I can say (under pain of a three-way beating), is that it’s an incredibly hot line up!
One of my perennial favorites Mitch Colby climbs back in the ring,
pitting muscle against muscle in soon-to-be released Florida Fights 3.
Muscle beast Dev Michaels digs deep in his ring debut
against long-haired rookie, lightweight Lucky(!?) Loko – BG East Catch Weight 4.
The second scoop I was expressly given permission to divulge is perhaps more satisfying: we’ve not seen the last of Brad Rochelle! Yes, I was promised that the saga of Brad Rochelle’s “Contract” with BG East has continued to unfold on camera, and we will see what has become of the babyface-turned-heel in due time.  I got no hints as to how things shook out for Brad. No idea if he’s made peace and joined the pantheon of BG East’s undisputed bad boys, or if the Boss managed to give Brad just enough rope to finally hang himself with it. But Brad’s fans can get their hearts a-pumpin’ with the assurance that they’ll see and hear more from the jobber-turned-heel hunk who so many of us have followed with a singular, fanatical passion for the past 18 years!
We haven’t seen the last of Brad!