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.

03_lg

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.

0101_lg (1)

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.

0143_lg

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.

matt stryker

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.

skotch

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.

0307_lg

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.

bbw

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.

Star

Looks like Bard over at Sidelineland finally picked me as Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month again…although just like the last time, I have to share the honor. No worries; both wrestlers I shared the title with are hot as fuck, so I can’t really complain. Of course, this had everything to do with the Mitch match on Motel Madness 14, although I have to admit, I figured he’d pick Mitch since he’s been such a fanboy for so long.

You can read it here. 

Ah, Bard, one of these days we’ll get in the ring together.

Here’s the write-up of the first time I shared Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month.

Ringside at Skull Island also had some good things to say about the Mitch match, as well: Joe’s write up is here.

Here’s a little wayback Wednesday; the start of a story called “A Cowboy’s Work is Never Done,” that was originally published in an anthology called How the West Was Done.

The story was inspired by a BGEast wrestler…as were so many of my stories.

I’ve always had a thing for cowboy wrestlers.

To me, there was absolutely nothing sexier than a man in cowboy boots and black trunks climbing through the ring ropes wearing a pair of black leather chaps and a black leather vest open to show a powerful chest. They were always bad asses—tough stud who always took apart some pretty boy with ease. And there was no one sexier than Top Rope’s Big Bill Tucker. When I first discovered Top Rope’s website (“gay oriented wrestling!”), the front page had a huge picture of Big Bill, dressed exactly as my ultimate fantasy man: a tough sneer on his handsome face, a curly mullet dropping out from under his black hat, one black clad boot up on the lower rope in the corner, in his black trunks and black leather vest. The trunks couldn’t hide the huge bulge; I clicked through to see the match write-up and the pictures of him just taking a handsome muscle stud named Donnie Brooks apart—and the smile on his face showed just how much he enjoyed destroying the good looking young stud. I ordered the tape, and it was one of the hottest and sexiest matches I’d ever seen—Big Bill left Donnie crumpled and broken in the middle of the ring, stripped of his trunks, his big muscular bubble butt up in the air justb begging to be fucked by the big man. But Big Bill didn’t fuck him. He just tucked Donnie’s trunks into the front of his own, growled at him, and then climbed through the ropes and walked out as the camera faded to black. I ordered every tape that had Big Bill on it—and there were a lot of them over the next few years. No matter how much I hoped for a money shot, though, there never was one. Big Bill never took off his own trunks (although he always stripped his beaten foe out of his), and never did anything sexual with the loser. And then, there weren’t any more tapes with him. Like so many others, he’d apparently retired. And while Top Rope always introduced new studs, there was never another cowboy star.

 Apparently, Big Bill broke the mold.

After I went to work for Top Rope, I’d asked the Boss about him, but all I got was a shrug. “Last I heard, he was living in Dallas. He was supposed to come up and tape for us, no-showed, and he stopped returning calls or answering emails.” The Boss had shrugged. “It happens. We were sorry to lose him.”

Yup, I always had a thing for Big Clint Morgan. Day-um.

clint morgan