A Case for a Face

Red-white-and-blue junior Captain Americas as pretty, pumped, and competitive as babyfaces can be: Jake Jenkins and Austin Cooper
All in the same day a couple of days ago, SP at Inner Jobber posted a by-the-numbers “how to be a fantasy wrestling jobber (like Curtis Thompson)” post, and Joe at Ringside at Skull Island posted a “you might be a heel if…” list of distinguishing characteristics of the heel set, and I briefly mentioned my guilty pleasure of watching a babyface hero defeat an evil doer in the ring.  I think there’s less said than should be about professional wrestlers who fall neither into the doomed to be exploited category or the devious exploiters category.  Since SP and Joe did such thoughtful treatments of jobbers and heels, I decided to try to do a little more justice on behalf of that oft-maligned class of homoerotic wrestlers: the face.
I’ve got a longstanding crush on handsome hero Mitch Colby.

I say oft-maligned because I think to be compelled to pull for the handsome hero is frequently portrayed as gullible.  To boost for the “good guy,” the hard worker, the play-by-the rules, sincere competitor is frequently equated with naiveté.  Guys into the conquering and suffering of a pretty boy may ache for their jobbers, and guys into domination and humiliation dished out by a villain will pull for their heels.  I have a long, long record of working up a head of steam for plenty of jobbers and plenty of heels.  But call me gullible and naive, because (not always, but definitely sometimes) nothing will crank on my chain as convincingly as an all-in babyface (or just “face”) beauty using brains and brawn to overcome treachery and deceit.

Gorgeous face Denny Cartier is all skill, stamina, and strength on the mat.

I venture into this territory with eyes open.  I’ve seen the equivalent of doctoral dissertations written on parsing out opinions about what and who qualifies to be classified as a babyface wrestler.  I’d bet money someone will let me know where I got it wrong by the time I finish this post.  And I love that about us.  We’re the aroused, gorgeous gay nerds of professional wrestling.  We care way too much, leading us to quibble and at times even squabble about what is, let’s face it, minutiae and trivia.  We openly defy orthodoxies on one hand (e.g., celebrating the fierce, butch, dangerously strong and masculine gay man), while on the other hand bitterly defend other orthodoxies (e.g., heaping contempt on the commenter who describes your favorite jobber as a face, or vice versa).  Despite the apparent perception of others that I consider myself an expert, I offer this as nothing more than my personal system for classifying that distinctive breed of wrestler-for-pay who is not the villain, and he’s not the wrestler who seems eternally destined to lose beautifully.  But rather, he’s the heroic athlete determined to defeat his opponents with skill, stamina, and strength, and sometimes, he even succeeds.

Fiercely pretty babyface tagteam Zack Coleman and Brian Barnes.
Like babies themselves, I can’t think of anyone ugly who I’d classify as a babyface wrestler.  Granted, “ugly” is entirely subjective, but inclusion criteria for babyface wrestlers (as far as I’m concerned), include a strong, chiseled chin, gorgeous, piercing (often blue) eyes, and a gym-toned body with beautiful skin.  The parameters are flexible to accommodate an assortment of tastes (eye of the beholder and all), but something obviously beautiful seems a prerequisite.  A babyface seems to, by definition, be attractive in a conventional sense.  It’s not like particularly homoerotic wrestling is well-populated with men who fail to meet basic standards of physical attractiveness, but those especially handsome Clark Kent-esque boys tend to get checks in my personal tally of elements that add up to the essential ingredients of a compelling face.  Necessary but not sufficient criteria to be a babyface, it seems to me, is eye-catching beauty.  
Alexi Adamov strives valiantly to honestly overcome notorious Aryx Quinn’s dirty tricks.
Further inclusion criteria for me include that babyface wrestlers tend to stick to the straight and narrow when faced with (as they frequently are) an underhanded, dirty, no-good heel.  Here’s where it comes in handy to have powerful muscles and innate athleticism (again, necessary but not sufficient characteristics of faces – plenty of heels and jobbers have beautiful muscles and obvious athleticism).  When faced with cheating and trickery, the Pearl Harbor before the bell rings, the hair pull, the crotch blow, the foreign object, the refusal to break a hold when the action hits the ropes, the babyface hero grimaces, shakes his head (“kids these days”) and reinvests his faith in his thousands of hours of gym time and, hopefully, substantive experience and wrestling skills.  An occasional venture into a retributive low blow not-withstanding (particularly in homoerotic wrestling), the face places his confidence in the superiority of his physique, his mental preparation, his wrestling prowess, and the sincerity of his heart.  In a post-modern world, faces can get away with a lot more rule bending and still be objects of heroic adoration, of course.  They can most definitely lose their temper, open a can of unnecessarily rough whoop-ass, ravage an opponent momentarily in a rage.  But in the morality tales of homoerotic wrestling, if I see a handsome stud tend toward the exercise of self-restraint and appear to intentionally decline to take shortcuts, I check off another box in the face checklist.

Who’s got whom? Babyface hearthrob Brad Rochelle battles babyface heartthrob Jeff Phoenix

That’s not to say a babyface can only be seen in matches against heels, of course.  He can most definitely wrestle another babyface or a jobber, by all means.  Sometimes, he may be less easily identified in those settings, but nevertheless he perseveres in the certainty that he is the “better man” which will lead to his victory (as opposed to the heel who sees his victory, by whatever means, as the evidence that he’s the better man).  A babyface v babyface battle can be a particularly compelling thing of beauty.  Two hard, hardworking studs who’ve been convinced by accolades and past victories that they are destined to succeed can generate intensely satisfying and homoerotically charged wrestling entertainment.  The allure of the thrill of competition (which I argue is an essential element of what turns me on about the drama of homoerotic wrestling) can be most poignant and compelling for me when it’s face v face, beauty v beauty, power v power.  These are matches in which tit-for-tat wrestling often makes me smile, as athletes play a game of HORSE, showing off their skills and strength in a one-upsmanship format.  Like knights in armor of old, they charge upright into one another with a typically unspoken assumption that purity of heart will add weight to the scales of justice, and the outcome is less about the delectable doings inside the ropes as it is about who wanted it more as demonstrated by preparation, training, and hard work before they entered the ring.

Classic babyface Christopher Bruce shocks and awes perennially supine Rio Garza

I also like the drama of a babyface v jobber match, though again, I think this can confuse folks who equate a serious mauling as the exclusive domain of a heel.  By my way of thinking, a babyface is generally convinced in the superiority of his training, conditioning, and strength, so there’s most definitely still a story to tell when he encounters a pretty slice of heaven with a track record for getting crushed and humiliated.  He wrestles because he has faith in the premise that if he is the better man, he will win.  Dangling a jobber in front of his face, particularly a tasty, pretty, unknowingly vulnerable jobber, merely offers him the opportunity to collect evidence to confirm what he already knew: all of his hard work destines him to conquer an unworthy opponent.  A jobber’s job is that much more crucial in a babyface v jobber match, because his suffering must rise from being outmatched and outwitted above board.  There’s not likely a low blow or a nipple-twist to explain what threw the jobber off his game, so the two must dance the intricate dance of decisive, convincing combat.  A jobber must beat like a wave upon the sand against the superior strength of body and spirit, only slowly to ebb in will and perseverance in the face of the innate dominance of the finely tuned babyface offense.  Not an ounce less agony, not a smidge less suffering is required than if the jobber took a fist to the scrotum and had his face forced into a heel’s swelling crotch.  This tale is just a tad more subtle but no less tantalizing and tempting for my tastes, for the drama of a jobber slowly crumbling beneath a face.

Heel rising Morgan Cruise drops gorgeous giant Diego Diaz with a shocking low blow

Finally, I’d like to make a case for holding these archetypes in pro wrestling lightly when it comes to homoerotic fare.  While I’m sure I’ll get crap for getting it wrong (won’t be the first time… to get crap or to get it wrong), I’ll also suggest that so far, there isn’t a homoerotic wrestling company producing a through-story with quite the consistency of a weekly mainstream pro wrestling serial in which these archetypes were birthed in live wrestling and televised wrestling entertainment decades ago (probably centuries, really).  Character development takes time and consistency that I think is particularly challenging in the catch-as-catch-can world of the homoerotic wrestling industry.  While there are notable exceptions, such as the highly entertaining through-story that Alex recently posted about regarding the crushing humiliation of fan-favorite face Brad Rochelle until Brad pulled off a sweetly satisfying heel turn in the middle of the Contract series, a chaptered story building motivation and a story arc is a rare element in homoerotic wrestling.  And therefore a face, jobber, or heel may be built or broken within the confines of a given match.  I find this type of story telling more intense, though inherently more difficult to latch onto favorite characters over time (because characters may play multiple roles in seemingly out-of-order sequences).  In other words, my favorite industry highlights that a face (or a jobber or a heel) is not who a wrestler is, but what a wrestler does.  The sum total of a storied career in pro wrestling for gay eyes likely demonstrates that “one man in his time plays many parts.”

Gorgeous babyface Justin Pierce puts the hurt on gorgeous babyface Tommy Tara

In his last post, Alex proposed a new Contract (or Contract-like-series) to chart another rare chaptered story of homoerotic wrestling drama.  I love that idea.  I’d also add my dream of an honest-to-god serial homoerotic pro wrestling story, released as a “season,” witnessing the rise and fall of wrestling hopefuls, the tensions and betrayals, the shocking humiliations and victories-against-the-well-established-odds… alliances made, loyalties tested, egos crushed, losers showing up again owned and operated by the man who bested them… roaring testimonials, sweat-soaked post-match interviews, an explicitly named grudge, a quest for vengeance.  There are some nice tropes and devices of classic mainstream pro wrestling that I think have yet to be fully translated into an explicitly homoerotic context.  I’m sure it would require an entirely different production, likely including prohibitive amounts of scheduling, investment, and choreography.  But seriously, I’d pay a premium for that, particularly with an explicitly homoerotic angle.  Some more suspense, a story arc, a chance to tune in repeatedly to be compelled by a favorite face, heel or jobber… surely there’s a significant market for that.

Babyface beauty Cameron Matthews heeled by Kid Vicious
So I started by making a case for a face, which I still stand by enthusiastically.  Heroes battling for good, winning valiantly, losing in soul-crushing, despair-inducing humiliation… fuck, I love that guy.  But I’d love him even more in a context in which I could watch his character grow and change, in which his motivation is more explicit, contrasts drawn more starkly, perhaps his heel turn that much more shocking because he’d convinced me of his utter trust that right will ultimately overcome might.  I’m sure it’s a pipe dream, but it’s still a dream that makes my blood pulse harder.

Love Putting on a Show!

First 3-time winner of my homoerotic wrestler of the month title: Eli Black

There’s at least one person who was entirely unsurprised by my choice of Eli Black as the first 3-peat homoerotic wrestler of the month here at neverland: Eli Black.  In response to my post announcing his ascendancy to the HWOTM title for the record third time, I received this private message from him:

“And your… three time… HWOTM… Eli Black!!!!!!!!!!! All I can say is it’s about damn time, and trust me, I’m damn sure there is a lot more to come. I’m going to be the unbreakable record holder of championships!!!!! Because this is my world, and it’s what I do. Yins lucky to live in it and witness my glory!”

“… witness my glory!”

Eli’s supreme self-confidence doesn’t stoke everyone’s fire the way it does mine, but I’m completely sold on his laser-beam focused intensity and ferocity.  Oh, and his ass is astonishingly hot.  And his abs are fucking granite.  I replied to Eli:

“You’ve clearly convinced me (and Diego Diaz!)! Not like I need to tell you this, but the praise for your work is very well deserved. You are definitely the stud to beat!”

Eli convinces big Diego Diaz that he’s more than man enough for a “big man’s fight”

While you may not care for Eli’s style, you shouldn’t mistake his absolute certainty in his destiny as contempt.  He’s devastatingly brutal on the mat, in the ring, and in the cage, true.  He sports the conditioning of a stark raving, possibly diagnosable physique fanatic, sure.  But he also loves the drama, the suspense, and the spectacle.  He replied back to me:

“Thanks man. Love putting on a show!”

And perhaps that, more than anything, is what earned Eli his record 3 HWOTM titles (all in less than 12 months time, no less!).  He’s a showman as much as he’s an athlete, as much as he’s a badass, as much as he’s a fighter.  And he loves it.  And on the scene just over a year, he’s been a great addition and a high impact player in the world of homoerotic wrestling.

Keep ‘em coming, Eli!  I’ve learned not to bet on the other guy!

“Love putting on a show!”

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

February has arrived, and with it a horrendously difficult decision on my part when it comes to anointing a new homoerotic wrestler of the month.  BG East alone pumped out an incredibly deep bench to draw from.  Just sticking to the very, very top of the line wrestling that grabbed me hardest, I’m seriously drawn to finally put Kid Vicious where he belongs on the throne for his mouthwatering destruction of Len Harder in Ball Bash 3.  Former HWOTM and current top contender for the title of my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler, Lon Dumont, worked nothing short of magic in his hilarious and incredibly sexy Hair Stakes match with frequent nominee for HWOTM, Ethan Andrews.  Eli Black stuffs the ballot box with two hard hitting Gut Bash 10 matches, the most eye-catching for me pitting him against insanely sexy (and shoe-in for a starring role in Hair Stakes 2) Diego Diaz.  Former HWOTM Aryx Quinn and Alexi Adamov put up an automatically iconic muscle on muscle ring battle in Ring Revenge, and in separate matches, former HWOTMs Denny Cartier and Jonny Firestorm are instant contenders for the title on that release as well (it would be a 3-peat for Denny!).  I’ve already swooned publicly over two rookies who made my eyes pop out in their go-go boy beatdown in Motel Madness 12: Serbian sex god Arn Nedic and insanely beautiful babyface Brit Connor Cross.  And speaking of big, big rookie splashes, the tidal wave set off from massively hairy beast Alain Leclair getting the hands-on welcome that only a devotee of homoerotic wrestling line Ben Monaco can give in Mat Scraps 2 tweaks my impulse to tap a rook.  At Thunder’s Arena, a leaner vision of Z-Man is back against a thonged, bootilicous muscle boy by the name of Specimen in Mat Wars 37.  Rock Hard Wrestling put out a lip-licking babyface muscle battle between Brodie Fisher (who needs to compete in a most luscious nipples contest with Mason Brooks) and Jason Kane in Strength and Struggle. RHW also celebrated the new year with a Brutally Bashed tag team match (always a score for me) that makes me award a second nomination for Ethan Andrews as well as Brit pugilist Will Stanley (I’m a sucker for an accent… and a lower abdominal tat… and muscles….).   Muscle Domination Wrestling has been demanding some of my time recently with matches like mouthwatering daddy’s boy Damien Rush Piledriving the hell out of Tony Law, and an entrancing, nay, hypnotically wonderful performance piece starring Mr. Franchise Master Kevin as the Immortal Vampire to Damien Rush’s Renfield as a members-only release.  Did I miss anyone?  Probably. Sorry boys.  My mind is already spinning out control with so much high class hotness to choose from.  It’s not like any of the above fail to deliver exhaustingly satisfying homoerotic wrestling performances.  But push, shove, and I’m forced to pick as the one homoerotic wrestler of the month…
5’6″, 135 pounds: Eli Black
the first 3-peat winner of the Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month title, Eli Black.
Eli isn’t even at the same altitude as Latino giant Diego!
There’s more than a hint of a David v Goliath element about the confrontation between 5’6″ and 135 pounds of painfully lean fighting machine Eli Black and the 6’3″ and 184 pounds of long, luxurious, sculpted Latino lover Diego Diaz.  Diego’s laughter rumbles from deep in his chest when Eli finally convinces him that he’s Diego’s opponent.  The lightly hairy chested tallboy sucker punches the MMA fighter, lifts him off the top turnbuckle where Eli is perched, and quite literally flings Eli more than halfway across the ring.  Holy fuck, the difference in size between these two wrestlers is astonishing!
Gorgeous Diego glistens as he owns Eli early on!

Early going, and this is all about Diego.  He’s overwhelming.  He bullies and outmuscles Eli like he’s pummeling a 3rd grader for his lunch money.  The condensation drips slow and sticky off of Diego’s pouty lower lip as he scoffs at the gross ignorance of whoever thought to send this little kid into the fray against a hairy chested skyscraper of a hunk like him.  He peels Eli up off the mat like snatching a lucky penny off the sidewalk.  He flings him into the corner and completely overwhelms typically fiercely offensive (in many ways) Eli Black, leaving the anatomy chart of a battler wilting into the ropes.  Eli’s chiseled abs are bright red within a couple of minutes of Diego’s massive mitts pounding them like a tough cut of beef.  What the fuck were they thinking, indeed!?

Diego totally dominates and looks like a god as he does it!

The story they tell is more complex than this, but let me just cut to the point at which Eli persistently grabs me by the chin and yells in my face that he’s the only possible candidate for HWOTM.  Diego is completely brutalizing “the kid.”  It’s ugly, I tell you (in an awesome way).  He’s twist-tied Eli into the ropes to stretch out those gorgeous abs and leave him wide open for the Latino heartthrob’s gargantuan fists to punch unobstructed. He’s picked the 135 pounder up and slammed him down to the mat over and over and over again.  Then he drags Eli, nearly limp and mostly unable to defend himself, off the mat, wraps his huge hands around his throat, and then hoists Eli up in a pristine, jaw dropping overhead choke.  A lesser man might have straight-armed Eli directly upward (it takes less strength), but fuck that.  Diego holds Eli by nothing but his throat out in front of him a tad so he can watch the kid’s porcelain white face instantly flush dark red.  Diego’s body, posed in this moment of total, unquestionable domination, is simply perfect.  His gorgeous two handfuls of strong, round glutes; his tantalizing mouthful of a package; the sweat making his pecs glisten underneath his light coat of fur; his long, brown locks sticking damply to his temples; his gorgeous biceps bulging with the 135 pound deadweight hanging at his mercy in his fingers… this story is ALL about Diego.  But then, beet red and eyes popping out of their sockets, Eli seems to snap.  He shoves the palms of his hands against the Latino giant’s bulging shoulders, pushing their bodies apart just a few more inches.  Diego still looks on, snarling insults, admiring the total control he has Eli under… until gracefully, Eli pries his right knee against Diego’s upper abs, swings his left foot backward, and finally drives his left knee sharply into the Latino’s long, long, long and lovely abdomen.

Eli snaps!

Words don’t do it justice, so let me just say that this incredible counter made me go back and watch it again and again, my heart racing harder every time.  The athleticism throughout this match is mind boggling, and this particular moment is simply an astounding feat of strength, balance and coordination.  The air comes rushing out of Diego’s lungs and, shocked, he drops Eli to the mat.  Gulping on air, he tries to grab hold of the offense, and the story, again, but no doing.  Hurricane Eli hits, and long, tall Diego’s got nowhere to go but down.  He’s cornered, trapped, and pummeled.

Diego’s long legs miss their mark, but Eli’s don’t!

The story was Diego’s overpowering size and strength.  The story becomes Eli’s lightning quick, laser beam focused kicks.  Our 135 pound MMA champ has had enough of this shit.  He got completely humiliated by Morgan Cruise his first time out of the gate.  His second gut bash outing (the B-side to this DVD) demonstrated Eli’s complete technical superiority in every detail over mohawked muscle stud Joah Bindao, and still it’s Eli’s sweet ass choked out cold on the mat as Joah snarls and mutters incoherently in victory as he strides out of the ring.  Third time isn’t just a charm for Eli, it’s his last straw as he opens up a can of full contact whoop ass on Diego that the Latino stud and everyone else in the world won’t soon forget.

Eli bruises the big man from the inside out!

I’m pretty sure that gorgeous Diego doesn’t take a full breath for the last 15 or so minutes of this match, because there isn’t more than a split second here or there that he doesn’t have one body part or another of Eli’s jabbed into his diaphragm.  Turns out, all those overwhelming muscles don’t work so well when they’re deprived of oxygen!  Eli is an absolute machine, and by machine I’m thinking of the homicidal computer Hal 9000 from 2001: A Space Odyssey.  He’s focused.  He’s relentless.  His kicks are a blur. His punches sink in deep.  And when Diego is flat on his back, gasping for air and bruised everywhere between his chin and his crotch, 135 pounds of Eli Black trampling his midsection is just big enough to make a big man wail.

Aren’t so big now, are you, Diego?

Yep.  This is Eli Black’s story to tell, mother fuckers!  Keeping the Latino sex kitten flat on his back leaves 5’6″ Eli towering over him, bashing and pummeling.  Knees crash over and over into Diego’s gut.  Eli nearly rips the long stud’s head off at the neck, wrenching Diego’s back apart vertebrae by vertebrae.  Hurricane Eli just stops right over top of his opponent and blasts the Latin American landscape with blow after blow, leaving Diego with nothing to do but hunker down and pray he’s still alive once the storm finally passes.

Eli’s ass wants a recount for Best Butt of 2012!

Now I’d love to get my hands all over Diego’s body, but the meaner Eli gets and the harder his supernaturally lean body works, the more I can’t take my eyes off of him.  That ass!  His zero-bodyfat muscle glutes stretching well beyond the bottom of his baby blue trunks as he squeezes the steel cables of his legs in a nearly successful attempt to snap Diego in half are epic.  I know some fans like their wrestlers bigger, heftier, whatever… and hell if I’m not right with you in crazy lust for the feel of Diego’s mountainous pecs in my hands, for example… but when Eli does what Eli does best, the eroticism of intensely aggressive ring wrestling sprinkled liberally with MMA strikes is homoerotic gold for me.  His maniacally conditioned body is insanely fucking hot!

Eli’s rage has taken him over the edge

Eli breaks the once invincible big man down piece by piece in this relentless and increasingly vicious assault.  Fuck it if anyone at BG East thinks Eli can’t handle himself in a Gut Bash.  The man won Best Abs of 2012, for god’s sake!  Perhaps it’s PTSD flashbacks to the Mastodon dripping sweat onto Eli’s quivering bod.  Or maybe it’s the shame of having roused from his choke out humiliation at the hands of Joah.  Whatever it is that motivates the depths he goes to against Diego (about 5 minutes past the point that he could have secured a half a dozen submissions if he’d bothered), Eli has snapped.  Diego is a limp mess in one of the prettiest trees of woe I’ve seen.  He’s got nothing to defend himself against Eli’s stomps and punches and knees.  He’s done.  Stick a fork in him.  It’s over.  And suddenly Eli dives out of the ring and sprints off camera, returning 10 seconds later with a medicine ball to pound into his opponent’s wide open abs for still further unnecessary brutality.  No amount of destruction seems good enough. No humiliation, no act of glazed-eyed viciousness is sufficient.

This is Eli Black’s world!

Diego’s pleas for mercy fade as it’s obvious Eli can’t hear him through the ringing of rage filling his ears.  Eli dives out of the ring and returns with a dumbbell from the weight rack.  He drags Diego’s gorgeous ass to the middle of the ring and pounds the Latino’s quivering abs with it.  Holy fuck, is Diego getting out of this alive!?!

Turns out, “little” Eli Black is just the right size to make Diego Diaz cry!

Diego’s fans need not worry too much, because he’s still breathing by the time Eli storms out of the ring having pounded away the memories of Gut Bashes past.  Whether or not Diego has the guts, so to speak, to show his face in the BG East ring again, however, I can’t attest.  I hope so.  In my personal dictionary, his picture appears next to the entry, “eye candy.”  But he was no match for a “little kid” 50 pounds lighter, who, once provoked, unleashed a Gut Bash like I’ve never seen before.  I started out thinking that this was Diego’s story to tell, but I was wrong.  It was Eli’s turn to strike back, and for the athleticism, the power, the intensity, and the physical perfection of a body whittled down to knowing but it’s singular purpose (ass-kicking), Eli Black is, yet again, my homoerotic wrestler of the month.

3-time homoerotic wrestler of the month: Eli Black

Still-Frame Fantasies

I remember the first time I came across (so to speak) sites like Can-Am and BG East online.  My heart pounded in my chest.  This is exactly my thing, I thought!  Holy fuck on a cracker, the images of hot athletes in minuscule gear captured in still-frame in provocative, evocative moments in wrestling sent off explosions in my head (and pants, sure).  I emotionally wrestled for a while with my own closet before I ordered my first homoerotic wrestling videos.  But that period after I first glimpsed homoerotic wrestling in still-frame online and before I had a video popped in the VCR to watch the action in motion was, in and of itself, a pristinely beautiful thing.  The fantasies that those pics inspired could have fueled a small city with the combustion that they set off inside of me.  Everything that came before and everything that came after the shutter going click to capture a given still-frame was alive with possibility that my virile imagination was thrilled to muse over.  One homoerotic wrestling producer (not KL) once chided me gently for my infatuation with photos, since homoerotic wrestling is, by definition, a kinetic thing best (essentially?) defined in motion.  But my homoerotic wrestling kink has always included a deep passion for the fantasies that a particular wrestling still-frame can ignite within me that, occasionally, exceeds the reality once I get my eyes on the video.  With that in mind, I have a whole new batch of still frame fantasies ignited in response to the preview pics of BG East’s latest catalog release, Catalog 97.  So many fantasies, so much erotic energy generated!  And I’m a major fan of BG East’s commitment to document their products with both a videographer and photographer present.  The boys with their eyes in the viewfinders of the cameras deserve major credit in my book, because these images are stunningly gorgeous!

I’ve been waiting to see this hairy beast that friend of this blog, Ben Monaco, discovered on camera, and Mat Scraps 2 finally introduces the world to pouty-lipped muscle beast, Alain LeClair.  He’s 6 foot tall, 187 pounds, and with those telephone poles wrapped around Ben’s abdomen, he’s blowing my mind!  There are more climax-worthy still frames in Ben and Alain’s match, including what looks like intense forced muscle worship, but this pic in particular, with Alain grinning as he watches Ben’s face twisted in agony, is incredibly hot!

The coverboy for Catlog 97 is the stud on the right in this shot, Arn Nedic, who goes gorgeous-muscle-to-gorgeous-muscle with insanely baby face muscleboy, Connor Cross in Motel Madness 12.  I’m imagining that there will be an instant fan base lining up right behind Connor’s incredible muscle ass wrapped so unbelievably tightly in those baby blue trunks.  However, there’s something dizzying about the shots of Arn that are already haunting my dreams (waking and sleeping).  Holy fuck, look at those shoulders!  His pecs alone are sending my erotic fantasies into overdrive.  I don’t think I’ve ever harbored an intense erotic fascination for a Serbian go-go boy before, but I’ve got one now. Bad.

Just saying “Alexi Adamov versus Aryx Quinn” is enough to get me hard, but damn!  The preview pics of this clash of titans in Ring Revenge 1 are wildly sexy.  Is it possible that Alexi is still growing taller?  Because he seems to dwarf his opponents more and more, despite facing the hot, smooth muscle bod belonging to someone like Aryx.  Alexi captured, strapped to a ring post, and about to get those picture PERFECT abs pounded is like an image out of Greek mythology, and, of course, my erotic fantasies.

Drake Marcos has been incredibly delightful to get to know since his debut just a couple of months ago.   He has the looks and the personality that instantly attract me.  That Cheshire Cat smile and obvious enthusiasm for high stakes, profuse sweat, unrefereed erotic wrestling are profoundly compelling.  But I have to admit, I sort of overlooked Ray Naylor when he debuted earlier in the autumn, my attention drawn more to the magic of his first opponent, Cameron Mathews.  But this particular preview pic from Drake and Ray’s match in Mat Scraps 2 keeps me coming back to admire Ray’s beautifully sweaty back and that incredibly hot ass, positioned so perfectly with Drake’s face trapped in that luscious figure-4 headlock.  Talk about cheek-to-cheek!  What an image!

Again, there are a dozen evocative images from Eli Black and Diego Diaz’ ab-destroying ring match in Gut Bash 10: Eli Strikes Back.  The size differential between these two men is amazing, and the side-by-sides that illustrate Diego’s beautifully musclebody towering over painfully lean “little” Eli tell an incredibly hot story.  But there’s something about this pic of Diego’s gorgeous, hairy pecs stretched out, his glute flexed, his massive white boots on those incredibly long legs tucked up underneath Eli’s chin, and the pain contorting Diego’s handsome face into a mask of agony that’s got me hooked.

Again, there are a dozen pics of Denny Cartier’s Ring Revenge 1 match with beach buddy rookie Kai Sotelo, but I’m so enthralled with 2-time homoerotic wrestler of the month Denny Cartier that I can’t take my eyes off of this solo image of him.  There are arguably “prettier” wrestlers.  There are unarguably bigger wrestlers.  But there’s just something about Denny that continues to stroke me hard.  The fuck-me brown eyes in this shot are daring me to dive into the ring with him, I swear.  And that dimpled chin of his was obviously stolen straight off of a 1950′s big screen leading man.  I long to see Denny take a major league heel turn, but then again I also long to see someone not only best Denny, but give him a severe tongue lashing in defeat (with some lingering sucking saved for that chin and those nipples).  So far, this is not the direction Denny’s wrestling has taken him with BG East, but pics like these have me helplessly writing that plot in my own mind.

Speaking of helpless!  This image from Kid Vicious taking ownership of Len Harder in Ball Bash 3 is sculpture that deserves to be in an art museum.  Every inch of this, every angle, everything is so fucking gorgeous!!!  From the self-satisfied sneer on KV’s handsome face to the exquisite, gasping agony on Len, there’s a whole story (or 30) summed up in this one shot.  The total mastery, Len’s semi-erect cock dangling vulnerably, the defensive-yet-amorous way the Len clutches KV’s neck with his right hand… I’m as captured by this photo as Len is completely captured by KV!

Lon Dumont’s physique is always profoundly pleasing to me, of course, but the shots of him from his Hair Stakes 1 (of many more, please!?)  match with Ethan Andrews are pure fantasy gold.  I remember in Lon’s Gut Bash battle against massively bigger Joe Robbins that Lon was not about to concede that big Joe’s body was better conditioned than petite Lon’s bodybuilder bod… except for the legs.  Lon apparently has some insecurities about his legs, and side by side with the sequoias that Joe calls his thighs, Lon was giving all the credit to the big man beneath the belt.  That was last bodybuilding season.  A year or so later, Lon’s back and putting his hair on the line against recent addition to the BG East fold, Ethan, and clearly, Lon’s been blasting his legs like a madman.  Hair pulling is, in and of itself, a major turn on for me (when done right), so this match is automatically high on my list.  But this pic in particular, with Lon hanging so vulnerably in a tree of woe as Ethan steps on his long locks, sends me right over the edge.  The drama, the beauty, and those pink trunks squeezed onto Lon’s smooth, lickable body is picture perfect!

Tyrell Tomsen and Jonny Firestorm have both, independently grabbed my attention often, including on the pages of this blog.  Jonny’s photo expose on his stunning forearms was one my favorite Christmas gifts this year, and Tyrell has been a vision of physical perfection in the ring making me swoon.  The pairing of these two is an intoxicating idea for Ring Revenge 1, and this image of Jonny hanging, body tensed and suffering as sweat drips off him, in Tyrell’s lovely bearhug is fantastic.  This is another example of the visually stunning proportions of two bodies sized entirely differently. Jonny’s track record as a serious badass award winning heel, paired with the screaming agony on his face as he suffers helplessly in Tyrell’s arms, sends my homoerotic wrestling fantasies into overdrive!

Ty Garrison has been making me cum for years now, appearing in BG East UK releases for a long time.  Like Denny Cartier, Ty gives me such a powerful hit of a “real” bloke, a guy who quickly rips to shreds any awkward pretense of a wrestling scenario on camera to get down to a seriously competitive and fiercely focused wrestler.  This Motel Madness 12 pic of Ty’s face smothered against the crotch of a another “Denny,” that is, this stunningly pretty refugee from some French boyband, Deni Dupuis, does all sorts of things to my wrestling kink.  Tighty whities, Brit footie fan vs. French beauty, lovely rookie vs. thoroughbred veteran… this works me into a lather in an instant.

My final still frame fantasy from BG East’s new release of Catalog 97 is this incredible shot of hairy heel Morgan Cruise flexing in victory with muscle hunk Marc Merino’s head locked up tight between Morgan thighs as the big, gorgeous, naked jobber tops himself off in obedient submission.  Again, the contrasting bodies, the stark naked beauty, the narrative written across Morgan’s gloating face and the completely dominated position of Marc… damn, this is a stunningly hot image.  I know that Muscle Destruction 1 is a 1:1 battle, but this shot inflames my desperate imagination longing for a full contact tag team story.  Just picture this view as belonging to Marc’s tag team partner, watching from the corner helplessly as his big, powerful muscle stud of a partner is so completely humiliated and destroyed.  Or, better yet, picture this perspective as belonging to Morgan’s tag team partner, having subdued whoever Marc’s chump of a tag partner is, and leaving Morgan’s wingman to slowly stroll up, kneel down between Marc’s gorgeous thighs, and force those bronze knees apart.

There are more beautiful, tempting sensations to be sampled in Catalog 97, but these particular images captured my imagination hard, igniting countless fantasies of what could lay behind and ahead of these moments in time.  I’m looking forward to getting my eyes on the matches themselves, no doubt.  I’m a wide-eyed fanatic for trash talk, and did I mention that Lon Dumont and Ethan Andrews face one another in the ring in Hair Stakes!?  But for the moment, the particular titillation of these still-frame fantasies take me back to those first moments of discovering the online world of homoerotic wrestling and knowing that whatever the reality of the matches themselves, these images are beautiful proof that this kink I love is something I share with a whole lot of others.

Voter Fraud

Is that a guilty grin on Z-Man’s handsome mug!?

What the hell was that?  The Reader’s Choice poll this month was an unmitigated failure, I’m afraid.  Votes were continually erased over the past two days that the poll was open.  At the end of day one of voting, it was looking like a tight race between Denny Cartier (buoyed by Aryx Quinn fans), Diego Diaz, and Jake Jenkins.  Then the next morning at least 20 votes were erased, and we started all over with a big surge in the poll for Z-Man.  Yesterday evening, at least another 20 votes disappeared, and Hooper was suddenly in the lead.  Early this morning, the poll results reported just 2 votes: a tie between Hoop and Gold Mantis.  Just 30 minutes ago, there were 3 votes recorded, adding up to a total of 150% of the vote.

Is is just me, or does Aryx look like he’s up to something?
I wish I were a tech forensics geek with the ability to definitively prove who or what was to blame for this gross miscarriage of democracy.  As with all all-electronic voting debacles, there’s no way to trace what went wrong or who was disenfranchised (though, frankly, it looks like nearly everyone was cut out of the official count).  Was it Z-Man’s minders (and I know he has quite an organization of them) scrubbing the record clean every time a competitor jumped out too far ahead of him?  Then again, I know for a fact that Aryx Quinn’s people were pushing votes for Denny based on the fact that Aryx was Denny’s tormentor in his nominated OTK.  Was it the Aryx Quinn/Tristan Baldwin machine throwing the vote when stuffing the ballot box wasn’t working?

Is Jake Jenkins as mouthwateringly innocent as he looks? 

There’s something ominous about this object lesson in relying on electronic media to approximate a democratic process.  I try not to even think about the implications of electronic voting machines in national elections for fear that I’ll never sleep restfully a whole night again in my life.  Of course the notoriously ill-supported and impersonal Google overlords that run Blogger and its in-house apps like the Blogger Poll widget are likely supremely uninvested in the outcome of the poll to determine who suffered the sexiest in an OTK backbreaker, as opposed to cronies of Presidential nominees who invest in electronic voting hardware and software, so the comparison is surely spurious.

If it was Diego Diaz, I don’t want to be the one to accuse him….

Ah, hell.  I’m not going to sleep restfully through a whole night now, at least until November 7.  The fiasco of this Reader’s Choice poll will haunt my dreams until President Obama is reelected.  I’m hoping they’re the sort of dreams where Tagg Romney gets forcibly stripped (yeah, those “undergarments,” too), surprisingly found to be packing a rock hard bod and 8-inches of pipe, and then cracked across Cage Thunder’s thigh while the masked master crushes his balls and makes him scream, “Bernie Sanders, make me your sex slave!”

Tagg Romney fantasizes about at man-on-man combat

However, I suspect my dreams will be much, much darker and more disturbing…

I offer to pay Tagg Romney $500 to let Cage Thunder do this to him….

Reader’s Choice Poll – OTK Delights

“Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup….”  I’ve been quiet around here lately, but I’m happy to report that it’s not a sign of writer’s block.  In fact I’m writing a lot, and on several different projects, all of which I’m finding very enjoyable and exciting.  You’ll have a chance to see it all sooner or later, but for now I’m designating today for a “reader’s choice poll” to make you all do some of the heavy lifting around here!
I’m on board with team Shutt!
Before we get to the poll, however, I want to make this brief shout out to a particular fan of this blog who made a special appeal for neverland readers to support his burgeoning, ass-kicking career.  My shirt for team Shutt arrived, and it fits great.  I’m looking forward to regular reports documenting his rise  through the ranks of hardbodied battlers, and I’m fully expecting him to generously remember those of us who were hopping on his bus way back when he was just a newbie with an attitude.  Readers can still order their own shirt, promoting and supporting the MMA career of a driven young man who appreciates all of our support.
Now, however, let’s move onto today’s assignment.  Homoerotic wrestling fans frequently have special g-spots for particular pieces of the complex puzzle of wrestling eroticism.  For example, Joe at Ringside at Skull Island recently posted that he’s a thighs-and-shoulders-man more than an abs-and-ass-man, whereas when it comes to someone like Kid Karisma, I’m entirely fixated on those world class glutes!  Same thing goes for many other aspects of wrestling, including holds and maneuvers.  There have been virtual rivers of virtual ink spilled by raging fanatics of bearhugs, for example.  There was for a while (I seem to have lost my link) a blog devoted to the erotic power of the bodyslam.  Regular readers know my particular kink is tweaked hardest by a hard, lingering, sweaty, spine realigning over-the-knee backbreaker.  So the reader’s choice poll for today is to sample the recent OTK backbreakers in new releases and select the one that’s the sweetest example of how exquisitely sexy this maneuver can be.  Like a tango, it takes two, but I’m convinced it’s the boy getting backbroken who sells this maneuver most, so the boys up for your vote are on the receiving end of this particular delight. Check out the nominees below, and then vote in the poll to the right.
Hooper’s trunks rise to vote for him for best wrestler in an OTK backbreaker.
Speaking of having spilled virtual ink, I’ve already waxed fanatical about the chemistry generated in the Thunder’s Arena recent release, Mat Rats 21.  The surprise star of the show is that growing bulge in Hooper’s trunks, god bless him, but possibly the most perfect moment in this match for me is when big (and I mean BIG) Austin Wolf pounds Hoop’s back down across his thigh and then leaves the little studpuppy slowly cracking in half.  Hoop’s agony is nothing short of sublime, and the rising tide in his trunks totally catches me off guard for it’s erotic appeal.
Rookie Gold Mantis bends like rubber while getting crotch-clawed by the master.
Gold Mantis learns immediately upon entering the gym to be careful what he wishes for (and wishes to avoid).  Within seconds, his #1 nightmare, Cage Thunder, has the hardbodied rookie locked up tight and cracked backward across his thigh. And can Gold Mantis bend or what!? Damn, a hot, hard body like that that’s also as limber as a gymnast is… well, it’s golden! With Cage Thunder’s claw squeezing his crotch, Gold Mantis is going nowhere at the speed of light, and this mouthwatering OTK ticks off just about every single box I’ve got!
Z-Man makes my mouth water with his no-hands OTK agony!

Z-Man fans will, I’m sure, chime in when they see that the playboy model turned homoerotic wrestling fantasyman is nominated here for his gorgeous display of his totally vulnerable yet incredibly powerful body wracked so appealingly across Dick Rick’s right thigh. Dick is a consummate salesman, and the sweat dripping off his meaty pecs are icing on this cake, but the cake itself is Z-Man totally committing to this involuntary chiropractic procedure.  So much beauty and power made so completely at the mercy of the heel pro… wow…

Denny Cartier’s hot bod, hairy thighs, and gasp-worthy flexibility on gorgeous display

Reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month, Denny Cartier, sells and sells and sells in his anchor role on Leopard’s Lair 4.  The quantity of abuse he soaks up from both Alexi Adamov and Aryx Quinn are epic, but I swear to you that it’s the quality of his suffering that makes Denny second to none in this new release.  Singlet straps down, on his tiptoes trying to relieve the pressure on his lower lumbar while his forehead is smashed to the mat on the other side of Aryx’ leg, the hairy legs, the stretched abs, the tats, the bulge… gorgeous.

Diego Diaz’ 6’3″ frame stretches for days as he bridges across Kirby Stone’s thigh.

Diego Diaz is another of the tallboys turning my head hard lately.  When Kirby Stone catches him across his right thigh and bends him backward, Diego is nearly too much man for Kirby to handle.  Keeping those long limbs and hot muscles in place makes the heel-rising Kirby have to work at it, and if a little gratuitous squeeze of Diego’s right glute happens along the way, all the better! There’s just so damn much of Diego to love, and this OTK makes loving every inch a deep down pleasure.

Pec-perfect playboy model Z-Man doesn’t only know how to catch an OTK, he can pitch with some sweet finesse as well.  When he’s got a sweat-soaked Jake Jenkins where he (and you and I) want him, it’s like sculpture.  But when JJ screws up his face, wails like a wounded animal, and clutches his lower back pinned across Z-Man’s knee, there’s pathos is all performance art!  Damn, I love JJ’s sweaty locks plastered to his temples as his head hands upside down!  This boy hurts like a champ!
Brit battler Will Stanley takes two opponents to work him over in an exquisite OTK!
Rock Hard Wrestling also chimes in with the only recent 2-on-1 OTK I’ve seen recently, and I have to say, I love a 2-on-1 OTK!  In this case, young muscle stud Will Stanley gets cracked across Ethan Andrew’s thigh and laid open for opportunistic punk Aaron Travers to pound the muscle stud’s vulnerable, yet armored, abs.  This scene would achieve ultimate perfection should Aaron’s left hand slide down underneath Will’s trunks and throttle his balls as he bashes the boy’s gut.  Alas, even short of perfection, it’s an incredibly hot contender for the most provocative OTK backbreaker of recent releases.
So who’s your pick for the wrestler selling an OTK backbreaker sexier than all the rest?  I’m wildly ambivalent and my loyalties are shattered 7 ways!

Cross-Pollinating

Joe’s post this morning was serendipitous.  As is so often the case, right about the time something occurs to me regarding homoerotic wrestling, Joe has just posted on the topic.  In this case, I was even thinking of the phrase “cross-pollination,” as I reflected on the tempting allure of playing the game “what-if” with the chess pieces of homoerotic wrestlers from different production companies.  Regular readers will be quick to point out that I’ve bemoaned too much of a good thing in the past.  I’ve been quick to complain about “over-exposure” of wrestlers appearing everywhere at once, showing up simultaneously featured in new releases by competing productions.  But if I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times: I see no virtue in constancy, and like so many great men before me, I’m willing to allow that my opinions on important subjects “evolve.”  Whether today’s post is evolution or merely me reveling in my own self-contraditions, only time will tell.  However here’s my theme for today, picking up on Joe’s introduction of the topic of cross-pollination: which brand-loyal (for now) homoerotic wrestlers would I most like to see matched up against each other in cross-production matches?  Considering only the boys who I’ve only seen (or remember) wrestling for one and only one homoerotic wrestling company, here are the dream matches that are making me reconsider the moral good of cross-pollinating wrestlers.

Austin Wolf (6’4″, 235 lbs) v Diego Diaz (6’3″, 185 lbs)

For example, my first pairing for this mental exercise is the hypothetical match that really started me down this path.  Thunder’s Arena has a new stunningly handsome muscle giant by the name of Austin Wolf who grabs me with both hands and turns my crank hard! Wow, just… wow.  His dismantling of fellow Thunder’s rookie Hooper absolutely enthralls me.  It’s a catchweight scenario. Little Hoop is just fucked from the moment he walks on the mat and looks up, up, up at the bottom of Wolf’s chin towering over him.  Wolf’s look completely delights me.  A big, long, giant of a man who can pack on aesthetically luscious muscle mass is just priceless.  And that’s when it hits me.  Austin Wolf will never be fully realized in my mind until he climbs into the ring against BG East Latino beauty Diego Diaz.  I have no idea what would happen next.  Although essentially eye-to-eye, Diego is giving up a reported (but I’m skeptical) 50 pounds, though his conditioning looks far superior to Wolf’s.  I have a hunch that Austin Wolf would not be tossing around Diego like a sack of potatoes!

Archer (5’9″, 150 lbs) v Michael Vineland (??)
Another Thunder’s exclusive who demands a double-take from me everytime I run across an image of him is tatted young muscle stud, Archer.  This boy can sweat, and I could spend days studying every carved, cut muscle on his gorgeous body… with my tongue.  I swear this kid does to me what Brad Rochelle did to me the first time I saw him on the splash page of BG East.  Fun and games and fratboy hijinks will surely keep me tuning in for more of Archer at Thunders, but holy hell in a hand basket, just imagine this mouthwatering kid climbing into the Pro Sex Fight ring with Can-Am exclusive, Michael Vineland. There’s some inevitability about that match-up.  For example, at some point devastatingly handsome Archer is going to be sniffing balls with his head trapped in a long, slow face-to-crotch headscissors between Michael’s incredibly huge quads.  And there’s no way Archer won’t, at some point, be tied in the ropes in the corner and getting his sweat soaked muscles alternately stroked and pummeled, most likely with his cock and balls hanging out the front of his trunks.  And sure, someone’s getting fucked, and most likely he’ll return the favor.  But still, the journey along the way with these two would absolutely demand me pull my wallet out.
Victor Paz (6’2″, 172 lbs) v Jimmy Clay (??)
Two more brand loyalists (as far as I know, please correct me if I’m wrong!) that I’d love, love, love to see “cross-pollinate” are BG East rookie Victor Paz and Can-Am sex fighter, Jimmy Clay.  Jimmy talks a good game and has a lovely body, but he’s more pornboy than homoerotic wrestler.  That fact is precisely what makes me absolutely ache to see him step onto the mat against laser-focused MMA hardbody, Victor.  Jimmy would be all about the camera angles (which I’m not knocking him, mind you… a boy who thinks about precisely how sexy this will look on camera is golden in my book).  He might get some early offense, locking up Victor in a sloppy headlock.  But the shitstorm that would rage all over Jimmy’s fratboy porn-body for the next 45 minutes would be absolutely epic! Victor nearly took down Eli Black with legitimate skill, stamina, and strength against a wrestler who epitomizes all three of those!  Poserboy Jimmy?  Holy hell.  But if anyone could grind his ass into Victor’s crotch and get a rise out of the stunning MMA stud, I’m betting Jimmy could make a mat loss turn into a win-win-win (that last win is for me and you) scenario with Victor.
Lon Dumont (5’7″, 150 lbs) v Coupe (6’1″, 215 lbs)
BG East fixture, Lon Dumont + Thunder’s Arena goofy boy: Coupe = Match made in heaven.  Both of these hardbodied hunks are competitive bodybuilders.  They both inspire infinite wrestling fantasies that keep me sated in between actually watching their respective matches.  Lon is not a man who suffers fools lightly, and Coupe, at least in the context of Thunder’s is the classic medieval fool: jokester, self-depracating, silly, out for a laugh.  Now put these two great tastes together, preferably in the ring, and you’ve got muscle bashing beauty with stamina to keep wrestling for days and days!  While Coupe is a half a foot taller and around 65 pounds heavier than Lon, there’s no way in hell that he’s coming out with any shred of dignity left.  The relentless destruction Lon would rain down would be infinitely varied and delivered with the precision and perfection of a consummate professional.  Exactly how it would go down, I’m not sure, but I strongly suspect 2 things: Coupe tied up in the ropes and Coupe balling like a baby.
Cratos (5’9″, 200 lbs) v Kid Karisma (5’8″, 170 lbs)
My reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month, Cratos, looks incredibly familiar to me, but for the life of me I can’t place where I may have seen this hot and handsome hunk before.  So as far as I know, he qualifies as a Thunder’s exclusive and eligible for this little game I’m playing today.  What brand-loyal wrestler from another company would be my ideal to meet Cratos and do some cross-pollinating?  I can’t think of a more perfect opponent for my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month than my reigning overall favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy, BG East’s exclusively, Kid Karisma.  I’m picturing Kid K welcoming Cratos to his first ring match.  I’m also picturing Cratos totally indignant at the raging ego and contemptuous disdain that oozes from Kid K’s every pore.  I’m also picturing this as a serious battle of muscle and determination.  Details? I have no idea, which is what makes this such a fantastically provocative pairing.  However, I have to believe, right near the end, we’d see the karismatic one’s crotch planted across Cratos lips.  Prove me wrong, Cratos.  Prove me wrong!
Tyrell Tomsen (5’11, 185 lbs) v Alexi Ivanov (6′, 170 lbs)

The final pairing that occurred to me was BG East’s resident adonis, Tyrell Tomsen, facing the Russian battleboy, Rock Hard Wrestling’s exclusive, Alexi Ivanov.  Again, both of these men rock me hard, although in different ways.  Tyrell is just a fucking god, full stop.  I think if I ever actually met this man in person, I’d melt away in a pool of mindless lust.  Alexi, on the other hand, compels me from a different angle.  He’s got a drive and personality that keep me tuning into watch him despite his lackluster performances thus far in the ring.  There’s story in his eyes that begs for more definition and attention, and putting him in the ring with the chiseled muscle god Tyrell seems to me to be a beautiful intervention to aid Alexi’s full emergence into the world of homoerotic wrestling.  Don’t even think this is anything but a rip ‘n’ strip match.  And you know that lovely, rippled, lean Alexi is going to spend hours racked across Tyrell’s thigh in an OTK backbreaker (or 20).  But possibly, just maybe, the divine beauty of Tyrell bashing him from corner to corner might just awaken within Alexi the Drago-within, because you and I also know that this kid is a genetically engineered erotic-wrestling-sleeper-cell left over from the cold war and surely and inevitably designed to go nuts all over some entirely naked muscle boy (aka, Tyrell) and own his ebony body tied up in the ropes and tortured to exquisite perfection.  I swear, that’s all inside Alexi’s hot-yet-wooden wrestling body, just waiting to explode all over Tyrell’s bulging pecs.

Who are the brand loyal battle boys you’d like to see cross-pollinate all over each other?