Near the end of the Wrestlefest NYC kick-off party last February, I was waiting at the coat check to claim my coat and head back to my hotel room to decompress. It was cramped quarters, a narrow hallway, people coming and going. It was almost my turn at the coat check when a couple of guys walked in with the chill ozone of the winter cold still clinging to their coats.

Screenshot About 6 months ago, I met up with Harvey Dale on a trip he took the area. We chat online often, so it was great to finally get to spend some time together and, as it turns out, wrestle. I caught up with Harvey as he was making a pilgrimage to BG East. And there was the ring. And there we were.

Do you ever have that sense that someone's been on the wrestling scene forever when, objectively, you know they're relatively new? Not only do you see them popping up in a lot of places in a lot of different matches, but you have this pervasive sense of familiarity about them, like you've been watching them wrestle for years? That's how I'm feeling about…

I seem to have added a bit of mystery and suspense, if not downright confusion, by teasing, but not revealing, an exciting return to BG East of a favorite wrestler who was unmasked only in the final seconds of Masked Mayhem 23. I fielded quite a few sidebar requests for me to spill the beans about the identity of…

I just watched Lobo Gris and Matt Larsen wrestle in oil, and I've got words. Fuck, that's intense and intimate and incredibly hot! I've got a friend who teases me for saying that my primary turn-on is wrestling, as opposed to more straightforward gay porn. Whenever I describe myself that way, he'll laugh and point out how (very) frequently our discussions about what is innately erotic about wrestling inevitably veer directly into anticipating wrestlers cumming as the payoff for a hot match.

I have mixed emotions about Damien Rush. Throughout his homoerotic wrestling career, he's portrayed such an annoying character. His "daddy's little rich boy" persona plays to precisely the sociopolitical tensions that keep me up worrying at night. But is that actually a little stroke of genius on his part, tapping into the zeitgeist and the collective unconscious roiling over the vulnerability of the human condition in the face of the crushing maw of unchecked capitalism?

New review posted of BG East's Masked Mayhem 23: Muscle Bash, starring two legendary bodies and one super hot suspenseful reveal!

I'm super excited to see another of the incredibly hot matches from Wrestlefest Live NYC is now available for streaming on Watchfighers. Being ring announcer that night was a fucking trip, but I'm so happy to get to see this on video (watch the trailer here), because there was just too much hotness to take in all at once.

Naked Kombat I've been thinking a lot lately about the overlap between violence and the erotic. Of course, I've been primarily thinking about wrestling and the erotic, but panning back even wider than that, violence more broadly. On the one hand, of course, there's a fuzzy taboo around even acknowledging the possibility of a connection between violence and the erotic. The discussion immediately bumps into concerns about non-consensual sex and exploitation.

In the early days of writing this blog, I was more prone to be critical of a wrestler or a particular match than I am these days. For example, I was a bit bitchy about Z-Man, way back when he'd only appeared on Thunder's Arena, because I thought he was too campy, too self-conscious and oversold. He always looked like he was on the brink of busting out laughing in a way that was a buzz kill.

Leaving aside (for a moment) that I was in the room when Leon Cyrus faced down the twin twunk terrors, Mickey Knoxx and Nick Lean, One Man Wrecking Crew is a fucking hot match! Two-on-one matches can be tricky. The chemistry, the drama, the technical challenges of wrestling holds... there are a lot of moving pieces and potential pitfalls, to be honest.

Mickey Knoxx and NonoZ are both super hot wrestlers who can do no wrong these days. At least as far as I'm concerned, I haven't see a miss from either of this gorgeous men. So the promise of the combination of the two of them is a guaranteed bullseye. In Heel Heat, now available on WatchFighters, we see them square off on the mats at…

Everybody is somebody's crush, right? The longer I live and the longer I write about homoerotic wrestling, the more I'm convinced of this. Whoever you are, whatever you're into, whatever insecurities you carry around about yourself, someone thinks your fucking hot. Sometimes, the attraction might be unilateral. Like, maybe, somebody is way into you, but you aren't into them. Which is nobody's fault, and doesn't have to be a a thing as long as no one needs to make it a thing.

So there I was, packed like a sardine into a Manhattan hotel room with 30+ gorgeous wrestling hunks, trying my best to resist the impulse to start stroking and, instead, to keep the camera pointed at the action in the ring. Part 2 of Sir Dark's Watchfighters Rumble Match opens with four hot hunks left from the first half of the field.

I was wrestling Scott Williams a few weeks ago. Fuck, I love dropping that into absolutely any conversation I possibly can. But, anyway, I was wrestling Scott again, seriously enjoying wringing those bitter, frustrated submissions out of him. After a while, at one point, he snagged me in a side headlock. He was cranking on it, really grinding the side of my face into his meaty, hairy pec, trying to claw back a little of the dignity that he'd been hemorrhaging earlier.

As I've mentioned, I was honored and overwhelmed to be asked by Sir Dark to help out behind the scenes with his production of Watchfighters Rumble 2. It's impossible to convey the vibe in that NYC hotel room packed with 32 smoking hot wrestlers itching for their shot at plowing their way through that deep, deep field in order to come out on top.

Videos from Wrestlefest NYC are coming out, which is exciting to see. I'm particularly excited to get another look at the Wrestlefest Live matches, because, as I've mentioned, I was a bit distracted trying to take my responsibilities as ring announcer seriously. I don't want to sound like I'm bitching about it. I was honored as hell to be invited to be the ring announcer.

One of the many things I appreciate about Dio Characi is his unabashed readiness to appreciate another man's body. He's definitely not the sort of narcissist that's so self-absorbed that he can't admire someone else's physique. "I can see why you're proud of your abs," Dio acknowledges, after Ricky Clayton has gone to great lengths to point out the superiority of Ricky's washboard.

ESPN would fairly frequently broadcast bodybuilding contests back in the day when I was a kid. Massively muscled men, glistening with baby oil from head to toe, wearing posing trunks that just barely contained their cock and balls, and there I'd be, glued to the screen, hoping no one noticed my raging erection as I nursed fantasies of a fight breaking out between these muscle beasts.

As I mentioned in my last post, this year at Wrestlefest NYC I enjoyed (and was only slightly terrified of) getting to experience what it was like being behind the camera, recording some incredibly hot homoerotic wrestling content. I've been a consumer of homoerotic wrestling for so long that being literally behind the camera put me through some fascinating mental gymnastics that made me think about my relationship to homoerotic wrestling content in a new way.

I was talking with a first-time Wrestlefest NYC attendee while we were hanging out in the lobby of the New Yorker last weekend, and the newbie said exactly what I'm thinking whenever I'm socializing at a fest. "I see these guys and think to myself, wow! I've jerked off watching that guy wrestle!" I'd venture to guess that one of the top motivations to attend a Wrestlefest is to get to see and bump shoulders with the wrestling stars we get dehydrated over.

I often describe myself as "not a convention guy." This characterization is based on having had to attend work-related conventions in my non-wrestling-related career, and pretty much hating them. I may have even feigned sickness halfway through one work convention in order to justify going home early. I was a super shy kid and grew into a relatively introverted adult who can, when needed, socialize and schmooze, but it's not my happy place.

I've had my eye on Baba Sultan from when I only recognized him as that devastatingly hot guy with the body and the beard on social media. When I think about "my type" of guy, honestly, there's a whole Rolodex of different types that I dial into, but my fingers linger long on the type of hunk Baba Sultan is. His stunning conditioning, those abs, that ass, those sensational pecs, that lush and yankable beard, and, holy fuck, that deep, lusty voice...