The Daddies of BGEast

What, precisely, is a daddy?

There really isn’t a definition of the word, I suppose, as it applies to gay male sexuality. I’ve always taken it to mean a sexy older man you’d want to have sex with.

Lots and lots of hot, sweaty, nasty sex.

BGEast has, over the years, presented us with some truly hot daddies.

Take Powergunz for example.

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Now, he’s probably not older than I am, but he definitely fits into what I would consider a daddy. Masculine, big, strong, hairy…oozing testosterone. You just want to get locked into a sleazy motel room with him for a weekend, don’t you?

I know I do.

I also consider this stud to be a hot daddy. I mean, look at him.

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There’s just something about a mask, isn’t there? I generally don’t care for tights on wrestlers either, but lately…I’ve been seeing their appeal. This stud certainly helps in that regard.

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Mac Matthias is another one I’d consider a daddy, even though he’s not that old and not that hairy. But he has that masculine, dominant energy that comes off as daddy-ish to me; I mean, that look on his face. Whoever is in the ring with him is about to get beaten, badly.

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Indy pro wrestler Matt Stryker is definitely a daddy.  Thick muscles, that body hair, and look at those powerful powerful legs. And that ass….but never mistake Matt for someone you’re going to dominate in the ring. No, he might let you get some early advantages as he works up a glistening sweat…but he is going to then cut loose on you and dominate you until you know you’re his bitch and he can do whatever he wants to you.

Scott Williams is also kind of a daddy; that lean, ripped body, that deep sexy voice, and that body hair. It’s really a shame he only taped four matches for BGEast. I’ve wrestled him privately a few times….and it was always a great time.

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Despite the yellow trunks, Skotch English just screams heel/daddy/dominance, doesn’t he? I wrestled him privately about ten years or so ago–we were locked in a hotel room for about eight hours and I enjoyed every sweating, screaming-in-agony, minute of it. And while hotel matches are definitely a lot of fun, I still hope to get into a ring with him someday. I bet he’s even more fun in a ring. His demolition of Mitch Colby for BGEast was one of my favorite ring matches in BGEast history–both men sweat heavily, and I do love me some sweaty wrestlers.

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You also cannot talk about BGEast daddies without Clint Morgan being mentioned. Big Clint–oh, how I wish I’d worked with him, either in front of the cameras or in private. Big Clint has always been one of my favorites…he is pretty much every imaginable wrestling domination fantasy all rolled up into one sexy and enormous package.

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And of course no discussion of BGEast daddies would be complete without the master of them all, the Brooklyn Bodywrecker. My private match with him is one of my all time favorites. He was the one I wanted to unmask me–either him or Kid Vicious–but it never worked out.

And now, back to work.

Ain’t No Sunshine

When I was in high school, I read an essay by Mark Twain, from his collection Life on the Mississippi, in which he talked about how much he loved the Mississippi River when he was a kid and how his love for the river indelibly marked and changed and influenced his life, so much so that he couldn’t imagine doing anything other than being a riverboat captain when he grew up. And he did…learning how to read the signs of the river so he could pilot his boat safely, but in doing so, the river changed for him. It was no longer a big mystery; now he saw it as shoals and currents and sandbars and hazards for the boat. I’ve always, whenever I’ve chased down one of my dreams/fantasies, remembered that essay with a tinge of sadness, because I know exactly what he meant and how it feels.

Take Cole Cassidy as an example.

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I first encountered Cole Cassidy when I got the tape Ringwars 11. In it, Cole took on a young man who went by the name “Tarzan” Tyler Reece. Reece had a mop of long hair—very lord of the jungle—and he wore basically a wrestling trunks version of a loincloth. It was a terrific look, frankly, and not one I would usually go for. I’d bought the video (back in the day of videotapes) primarily for the Tommy Tara/Marco Guerra fight, but as I watched my way through the video—it took me a while to get past Match 2—Cole v. Tarzan.

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I originally got drawn into the match because of lithe, sexily lean Tyler—but it didn’t take long before Cole caught my attention—and kept it.

It’s not that hard to see why, is it? That fucking vascularity. Those veins are not only prominent, but enormous. A body builder doing a competition would envy that vascularity.

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I’ve often been accused of being a body fascist, which I’ve always taken with a degree of amusement. Yes, I appreciate the male form, and yes, I appreciate the male form that is in excellent shape—but it’s more of an aesthetic appreciation. I like all kinds of bodies—which is in no small degree influenced by my lifelong enjoyment of professional wrestling. Are John Cena and Randy Orton fucking gods walking the earth as men? Yes—but I also find the traditional pro-wrestler body, as evidenced by my lifelong attraction to some other, less body beautiful type wrestlers—Bob Orton, Ivan Koloff, etc. There’s a certain something that some guys have that I’m drawn to, and a lot of it has to do with how much they enjoy wrestling.

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Watching Cole in the ring against young Reese, he had that something I am drawn to—call it charisma, call it whatever you want to call it—he had it. It was also clear that he was enjoying himself; he was having a good time even when Reece had the upper hand and was punishing him. And looking at the two of them, it was clear who was filling the role of heel and who was the face; it was the classic wrestling trope–older, nasty heel taking on fresh-faced energetic youngster (apparently fresh out of the jungle), and it was a terrific, amazing match.

I began actively seeking out and ordering Cole’s matches; I became, as I said, a huge fan. It seemed that around the time Cole made his video debut was one of those transitional times at BGEast; when a new stable of stars was rising and the previous stable was giving way to the them. Cole was definitely in the mold of the BGEast heels I’d loved watching–Mikey Vee, Joe Mazetti, Cruz, Jose, the Bodywrecker–and it was fun watching him take pretty boys apart, piece by piece–and even taking on some of the previous generation’s heels in some terrific battles.

So, naturally, when I was invited to work in front of the cameras, and was asked whom I wanted to get in the ring with, without hesitation I replied, Cole Cassidy.

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Again, the definition on that body; the shape of the pecs perfection, the huge shoulder caps and biceps, the bulging veins on the massive quads, the hard and tight muscular ass.

That match has yet to see the light of day, but the “vault” matches somehow always seem to make their way out to the viewing public, so perhaps someday it will.

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Oh, that sexy sneer! I also don’t, usually, care for facial hair that much…but Cole’s just added to the nasty heel look he carried off so well.

But over the course of my first taping weekend–I don’t recall if it was before or after we got in the ring together for our match–Cole and I became friends. I don’t remember which night it was, but one of the nights that weekend we wound up being the last two people awake in the compound, and when I came back out to the living room he was watching The West Wing on television; a marathon on Bravo, I think it was. The West Wing was, and remains, one of my favorite television shows of all time, so soon we were talking about the show, politics, and bonding. We’ve seen each other a few times since then–taping weekends, business trips to the city where he lives–and while we have fallen out of touch somewhat over the years, I do still think of him fondly as a friend.

And I also learned the same lesson Twain discussed in his essay: now that I saw Cole as a person and as a friend, I no longer saw him as the heel of my dreams. Sure, he is still sexy as hell, and fantastic in whatever wrestling environment he appears in….but I no longer see him through an erotic, sexual lens; even thinking about that makes me feel uncomfortable. Now that I think of him as a friend, he is no longer an object of desire.

Which always gave me pause when thinking about potential opponents for before-the-camera work. Meeting and working with another wrestler, getting to know them as a person, completely changes the fantasy aspect, makes it almost impossible to  maintain–and kind of a squirmy discomfort. This also, it turns out, happened with other BGEast wrestlers I had fantasies about, were objects of lust; once I actually met them–whether we actually worked together or not–I could never quite seem them in the same way again.

Make a friend, lose the fantasy.

So while I do have some regrets about some of the guys I never worked with, in some cases I’m kind of glad we didn’t; I was able to preserve my fantasies that way.

Who’s Your Daddy

One of the things I like the most about BGEast is there’s not, really, a generic BGEast wrestler look; the Boss signs a broad spectrum of wrestlers, from the twink to the muscle boy to the muscle god to the athlete to the daddy-type. I never saw myself as a daddy-type, really; it was a surprise when my first match was released and I saw a lot of talk about me on-line about me as a ‘masked daddy.’

I just assumed it was the hairy body. There weren’t many of us at BGEast who were hairy, and the Boss always got annoyed with me whenever I showed up for a taping and had shaved my body hair off. I’ve always been hairy; I started growing body hair when I was eleven and it’s never stopped. From about age thirty-three to almost fifty at least once a month I shed my body hair, which was an enormous pain in the ass and was quite a relief when I finally stopped doing it once and for all. I still trim it down from time to time, but I can’t remember the last time I shaved my legs or torso. I was always told that the smoother you were the better and more distinct, more defined, your muscles looked; which was why bodybuilders are always hairless at competitions. I never really gave it a lot of thought. I thought smooth guys were sexy and I thought hairy guys were sexy.

Me in varying degrees of hirsuteness in past matches.

I’ve already commented on how gear, lighting and camera angles can make you look completely different in pictures taken on the same day.

Case in point:

I guess I don’t look that much different…other than the mask. But I always felt the higher on me the waistband of the trunks, the less lean I looked; it has to do with where my pelvic bones are and so forth and yes, I know I am really hard on myself.

Anyway, I always had a thing for the Brooklyn Bodywrecker; I regret to this day we never went in front of the cameras in the ring.

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Seriously, what isn’t there to like there?

I wanted to do a really nasty Dark Knights-type match with him, and let him take my mask. It never happened, but we did at least have a really hot private match.

(In an interesting aside, Bard’s blog has been doing a tournament of sorts to determine the top heel of gay-interest wrestling; yesterday was me and BBW, based on a fan vote. No surprise, I got clobbered…)

And of course, Powergunz is also one hot daddy.

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I don’t remember exactly when he landed on my radar; but I do know his match with Cole Cassidy was the first BGEast match of his I’d seen–it’s exceptional, by the way; definitely give it a look–and after that I knew I wanted to wrestle him. We’re about the same height, but his muscles were/are a lot thicker than mine (those arms!) and that chest hair…fuck me.

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I was pretty jazzed when the Boss set up a match for us. I mean, fuck me.

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And away we went… (to be continued)

The Body Beautiful

Josh (that’s MR. JOSHUA to you!) Goodman has had one of the longest running careers in BGEast History.

Being fucking gorgeous doesn’t hurt.

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Well, the blonde tips weren’t the best hair choice, but look at that body.  I mean, LOOK at that body.

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He also looks good from behind.

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I’m not really sure which of his matches was the first I watched, or when I became a fan, but I know I really enjoyed his match with Brick Burnett, Undagear 10. It was a great match, two hot guys, and they wound up stripped down to thongs, as I recall. I watched that one until the tape wore out.

I was also a big fan of his match with The Brooklyn Bodywrecker on the Josh Goodman Spotlight DVD.

And of course, there’s the bulge.

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You can’t  help but notice it; I once jokingly referred to it as “the third wrestler.” He’s won the fan vote for Best Bulge a number of times. It is impressive, and without fail, he’ll reach into his trunks and adjust it several times in every match. Josh is arrogant, handsome and chiseled, and even when he is getting his ass kicked, he goes down arrogant. He’s at home in every venue–ring, matron, gazebo, wrestleshack, backyard–and always is in perfect physical condition. He’s got crazy mad skills, and keeps up the arrogant patter in that thick Boston accent nonstop.

He was on my list of BGEast wrestlers I wanted to fight, and it actually happened.

Next: Motel Madness 13