Producer’s Ring: Team Championship

——–continued from The News Division: Match 7——-

The News Division: Match 8

(Team Championship)

Carter flexed his sun kissed, sweat and sand covered muscles, milking his decisive victory over Chris to win the championship match. Carter began to walk back to the steps leading up the side of the cliff.  The other four newsboys walked out onto the sand.  When Rob reached Carter, he planted his palms into Carter’s chest and shoved him backward.  The newly minted champion fell to his ass.  Immediately, Richard walked up behind Rob and kicked him in the back of the knees, dropping him to the sand.  Thomas and Sam separated the three of them.  “Cool it!” Thomas barked at Rob, holding him by the shoulder as he came to his feet, fists clenched.  Sam walked up behind Richard and stretched his arm across his shoulder, pulling him backward with his palm pressed against Richard’s chest.  “Your boy is exhausted,” Sam whispered in Richard’s ear.  “You don’t want to do this right now.”

Shrugging away from Sam, Richard walked over to Carter and helped him to his feet.  Leaning on Richard’s shoulder, Carter made his way past the other newsboys and began climbing the steep stairs to the house.  Sam, Rob and Thomas made their way out to join Chris, who had rolled over to his side.  His face was caked in blood and sand, and his nose and eyes were swollen and dark blue.  Rob and Thomas gently pulled Chris up and draped him between them, hanging from their shoulders.  The four men slowly made their way back to the steps and up the steep climb to the house.

Hours later, Carter and Chris were showered and rested.  Chris’ face was badly bruised, and his nose was sharply deviated and swollen.  He lay back on the couch with a bag of ice across his face, Rob and Thomas sitting on either side of him protectively.  Sam, Carter and Richard were laughing loudly and chattering on the back deck overlooking the ocean, stretched out across chaises with margaritas in hand.  When they heard Eli’s voice coming from inside the house, the three of them hopped up and came inside.

“Gentlemen!”  Eli was saying, “All I can say is, ‘Wow!’  I don’t mind telling you, Chris, that you have severely disappointed some bookies.  You were favored 2 to 1 going into that bout.”  Rob placed his hand consolingly on Chris’ shoulder.  “But Carter, you have earned the title of champion.  Your performance was as masterful as it was unexpected by so many of Chris’ fans.”  Richard slapped Carter’s knee and squeezed, smiling broadly.  “None of you should be ashamed of our performances thus far.  You’ve created quite the sensation across the bandwidth.”

“Thus far?” Rob asked, incredulous.  “This is done.  You just declared Carter the champion.  We’re out of here.”

“There’s one more bout,” Eli corrected him.  “We have a singles champion.  But before you leave, we need to crown ta championship team.  We’ll be using a single bout format.  A submission eliminates you from the field of play.  The team of the last man standing will be our winner.”

“We’re in no shape to fight again!” Rob complained, glancing quickly at Chris, his head leaned back with the bag of ice still resting across his face.

“Agreed,” Eli said.  “In fact, I’d say Chris is pretty fucked up right now,” Eli chuckled.  “That’s why you’ll all have three days to recuperate.”

“Three days isn’t enough,” Thomas said flatly.

“Whatever shape you’re in in three days, there will be a fight.  The winning team will get the lead anchor desk in prime time.”  All six newsboys sat silently, taking in the implications.  None of them were headlining anchors.  This would be a major promotion for any one of them.

Sam cleared his throat, then said, “Who are the teams?”

The other five men looked at him in surprise.  It hadn’t occurred to any of them that they would be teamed up with anyone other than the colleagues they worked with.  Carter and Richard didn’t come in as partners, but they’d clearly developed a solid bond since the start of the competition 8 days earlier.

Eli smirked, “You’ll dance with the dates you brought,” he said simply.  “To keep things in order, there will be a guest referee to make certain that defeated fighters leave the beach.  Three days, gentlemen.  Noon.  The beach.”

————————————————–

Three days later, the six men walked onto the beach.  Team members wore matching trunks.  Chris, his face still darkly bruised and swollen, and Sam wore red trunks.  Carter and Richard were dressed in matching yellow trunks.  Rob and Thomas wore black trunks.

The beach was deserted other than the guest referee.  Standing in a tank top and tropical print board shorts, Anderson Cooper waited for the newsboys.  Once all six fighters had gathered in a circle around Anderson, Sam complained, “This isn’t exactly fair.  You work with Rob and Thomas.”

Anderson smirked, “Stop your bitching.  Let the fight begin!”  Anderson stepped backward out of the circle.

No one moved for a few seconds as eyes darted back and forth from face to face.  Finally, slowly, Rob, Thomas and Chris began to walk toward Carter threateningly.  Richard began to move to join his partner, but Sam snuck up and cinched a tight full nelson from behind.  “Sorry, dude,” Sam spoke in Richard’s ear.  “This was inevitable.”  Richard squirmed and flexed trying to break free, but Sam simply held him tightly in his control as the triple team approached Carter.

Carter held up his hands defensively, backing away slowly.  “Look guys,” Carter said anxiously, “it’s nothing personal.  Let’s fight fair now.”  Chris and Thomas lunged forward and each man grabbed Carter’s wrists.  They twisted Carter’s wrists behind his back, and Chris took hold of both wrists, pinning them high up Carter’s back.  Thomas dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around Carter’s ankles, immobilizing his legs.

Rob planted his feet wide directly in front of Carter.  “This IS personal, bitch!” Rob spat.  He swung his right fist into Carter’s abs.  Carter flexed defensively, but a groan of pain escaped his lips on impact.  Rob took half a step backward, paused, then lunged forward again.  Once again, he drove his right fist into Carter’s abs.  Carter’s abs flexed, protecting himself from the blow, but again Carter groaned.  Rob grabbed Carter’s chin in his left hand, pressing Carter’s head backward.  “You know what I really enjoy is watching a big man suffer,” Rob growled.  “But I’ll settle for watching a bitch like you suffer!”  Rob began landing alternating left and right fists, back and forth, into Carter’s abs.  Carter’s head drooped, his abs desperately tensed under the onslaught.  After a minute of the barrage, Carter’s abs began to quiver, bright red from the beating.  Gradually they grew softer, and Rob’s blows pounded deeper and deeper.  Carter was moaning steadily in anguish.

Rob stopped and stepped backward.  “Spread his legs!” he shouted at Thomas.  Thomas looked up at his partner for a moment, before Rob shouted again maniacally, “Spread him wide!!!”  Thomas spread open Carter’s legs while Chris maintained his tight control over Carter’s arms wrenched behind his back.  Rob placed his hands on Carter’s shoulders, shifted his weight to his left foot, and drove his right knee upward into Carter’s crotch.  Carter gasped and grunted.  Again and again, Rob drove his knee into Carter’s balls.  Carter began to drop to his knees, and Rob screamed at Chris, “Keep him on his feet!!!”  Chris lifted Carter by his hammerlocked wrists.  Carter’s knees wobbled weakly.

After a half a dozen blows, Rob again paused, stepped back, and looked at his victim.  Rob’s chest was heaving, his face was red, and his breath quivered with rage.  He reached forward and grasped Carter’s balls through the yellow speedo in his right hand.  Squeezing tightly, Rob twisted them painfully.  Carter screamed out in pain, a tear rolling down his right cheek.  Chris growled in Carter’s ear, “Give it up now!”

“No!!!” Rob screamed.  Still holding onto Carter’s balls with his right hand, Rob shoved his left hand into Carter’s face, pressing his jaw upward, shutting his mouth with a loud crack.  “We’re far from done with you!!!”  Carter tried to wrench his head side to side to escape Rob’s hand, but Rob kept his hand tightly clamped on Carter’s face.  Releasing Carter’s balls, he grabbed Carter’s left nipple and pinched it tightly.  “You get your rocks off by humiliating people?” Rob asked rhetorically.  “But how do you like it when the tables are turned, bitch!?”  Carter groaned and twisted, but couldn’t break free from any of his tormentors.  After several seconds of nipple torture, Rob brought his right hand up to join his left hand secured across Carter’s face.  Holding Carter’s face between his hands, Rob leaned close, looking down into Carter’s eyes fiercely.  “I could bite your fucking nose off!”  Rob screamed.

“No!” Thomas shouted, releasing Carter’s ankles and standing next to Rob.  “Let him submit!  That’s enough.”

Rob glanced briefly at Thomas.  “I’ll decide what’s enough,” he growled angrily.  Looking back into Carter’s eyes, Rob shook Carter’s head sharply, then leaned forward, planting his lips across Carter’s mouth.

“Hey!” Thomas said, surprised.  He reached forward, pushing Rob away from Carter gently.  Rob shoved Thomas away with his right hand, maintaining his lip lock on Carter.  Rob dropped his hands to Carter’s sides, wrapping his arms around his waist.  Grabbing hold of Carter’s ass in his hands, Rob pulled Carter’s pelvis forward, grinding their crotches together.  Carter’s groans were muffled by Rob’s mouth clamped forcefully over his.  From behind, maintaining his arm lock, Chris leaned forward and placed his face next to the side of Carter’s face.  Chris’ lips lightly touched Carter’s left ear, just inches away from where Carter and Rob’s mouths were locked together.  Chris whispered softly in Carter’s ear, “Now you’re going to get what’s coming to you, you sadistic fuck.”

While all of this unfolded, Richard was struggling in Sam’s nelson.  Although Sam enjoyed a height advantage, Richard was stronger.  Richard twisted and flexed desperately trying to shake free, and both men stumbled awkwardly across the sand, locked together.  After a couple of minutes of this struggle, they both lost their balance and dropped to their sides on the sand.  The impact broke Sam’s grip, and Richard immediately spun around and climbed on top of Sam, pinning his back to the beach.  “Look!” Sam said quietly but desperately, “the big guys are going to tire themselves out on your partner.  If we conserve our strength and work together, we can take them all out together.”

Richard paused, considering Sam’s proposal.  He looked up in time to see Rob shoving Thomas away, his lips locked on Carter’s mouth with Chris holding Carter in place.  When Rob reached down and grabbed Carter’s ass, grinding their crotches together, Richard couldn’t stand it any longer. He hopped to his feet and began to come to his partner’s aid.  As he walked away from Sam, though, Sam spun to his stomach and reached out his right arm, grasping Richard’s left ankle.  Pulling sharply, Sam dropped Richard to the sand again.  With a grunt, Sam dove on top of Richard’s back.  Hooking his right arm in front of Richard’s neck, Sam squeezed tightly, cutting off Richard’s blood supply to his brain.  Sam growled at the back of Richard’s head, “I really wanted this to go down differently.  This could’ve been a lot more fun.  But you had to be the loyal sidekick, didn’t you?”  Richard was clawing and beating at Sam’s arm choking him, but Sam maintained complete control, allowing his own body weight to keep his opponent from being able to generate any momentum to free himself.  After about thirty seconds of struggle, Richard’s arms began to go limp, and his eyes rolled up into the back of his head.  Anderson Cooper was watching carefully, stepping close to the action to shout at Richard, “Do you submit!?”  Richard didn’t answer, but his face was blanching white, with dark red spots forming around his neck.  Richard’s hands slowly dropped to the sand, motionless.  Anderson shouted again at Richard, “Are you still conscious!?”  There was no response.  Anderson tapped Sam on the shoulder and demanded, “Get off of him!  His out!”

Sam released his chokehold and threw Richard’s head to the sand contemptuously.  Anderson began gently slapping Richard’s cheeks, rousing him and helping him to his feet.  Slowly, Richard wobbled unsteadily and in a daze toward the cliffside.  Climbing to his feet slowly, breathing deeply from the exertion, Sam assessed the situation among the other fighters.

Rob maintained his liplock on Carter, but his hands now slid underneath the top of the back of Carter’s yellow speedo.  Kneading Carter’s ass, Rob’s eyes were closed in concentration.  Slowly, his hands slid around to the sides of Carter’s hips, still underneath the fabric of the speedo.  Rob grabbed hold of the sides of the yellow trunks in both hands, then suddenly dropped to his knees, yanking Carter’s speedo down to his ankles.  Looking up from his kneeling position, Rob found himself at eye-level with Carter’s fully erect cock.

Thomas had been hovering to the side, growing concerned with how far his colleague was planning on going to exact revenge on their common foe.  Finally Thomas charged forward, shoving Rob to his side.  “That’s enough!  You’re going to blow this match for both of us,” Thomas growled at Rob.  Turning to Carter, Thomas grabbed the back of Carter’s head by the hair, pulling his face up.  With his other hand, Thomas grabbed hold of Carter’s naked balls, squeezing them tightly.  “Submit now, fucker!”  Thomas screamed into Carter’s face.

Rob yelled, “No!” just as Carter gasped, “I submit!”  Anderson was on the spot, tapping Chris on the shoulder.  “Let him go!  He’s got to get off the beach now.”

Furious, Rob lunged at Thomas, tackling him to the sand.  Anderson, pulled Carter to his feet and sent him stumbling toward the cliff.  Sam and Chris made eye contact for just a moment, then nodded to one another.  Sam walked up behind Rob, who was obliviously punching at Thomas’ face.  Wrapping his arm around Rob’s throat from behind, Sam jerked Rob backward.  Falling to his back, Sam pulled the larger man down on top of him, wrapping his legs tightly around Rob’s midsection while choking him savagely.  Rob squirmed and arched his back frantically, but Sam maintained tight control.  For nearly two minutes, Sam squeezed his forearm across Rob’s throat, while Rob’s resistance grew weaker and weaker.  Rob weakly pulled at Sam’s forearm, aimlessly kicking his feet, nearing unconsciousness.

“Nighty-night,” Sam gloated in Rob’s ear.  With a last surge of adrenaline, Rob’s eyes flashed open wide.  He bridged fiercely, pulling Sam off the sand, still clinging to his back.  Kicking up and backward with his feet, Rob launched himself into the air, dropping the force of his bodyweight down on his opponent, crashing into the beach.  The air came rushing involuntarily out of Sam’s lungs, and for just an instant he lost his grip on Rob’s throat.  The instant was just enough for Rob to squeeze his hands between his throat and Sam’s forearm, and slowly pry Sam’s arm away.

It was an incredible test of strength and tenacity.  Rob was seconds away from being knocked out, but was finding the reserves to peel away his fresher opponent mounted on his back.  Sam’s eyes grew wide in surprise, feeling his opponent’s powerful muscles straining and slowly overcoming Sam’s own dominant position.  Sam suddenly realized he had a tiger by the tail, and he desperately released his scissors from around Rob’s waist and began to try to push himself away from his rallying opponent.

Freed, Rob spun around belly-to-belly with Sam and pinned his shoulders to the beach.  Gasping for fresh air, Rob managed to position his heavier body high over Sam’s, preventing Sam from escaping.  Rob was covered in sheets of sweat and sand, his face slowly paling from the ugly scarlet shade that emerged under Sam’s chokehold.  A deep, primal growl began to grow in Rob’s chest.  Finally emerging as a maniacal scream, Rob swung his free right hand from behind his shoulder, plowing a vicious roundhouse punch into the side of Sam’s face.  Sam’s head whipped violently to the side, and his body went instantly limp.  He was knocked out with one punch.

Anderson Cooper was immediately on the spot, slapping Rob on the shoulder and insisting that he get off of Sam’s body.  “He’s done with!  Let him go!”  Slowly, Rob climbed off of Sam and stepped back, watching Anderson kneel next to Sam and slap him harshly on the face.  After a half minute, Sam roused, and Anderson sent him crawling off the beach, defeated.

When Sam had first pulled Rob off of Thomas, Chris had wasted no time taking Rob’s place.  He mounted Thomas, who was still stunned by his teammate’s attack.  Pulling Thomas’ left arm across his upper chest, Chris reached his right hand around the back of Thomas’ neck and grabbed hold of Thomas’ left wrist.  Pulling sharply, Chris tied Thomas up tightly, using Thomas’ own arm to apply a partial choke.  Thomas’ right arm pushed at Chris’ midsection defensively, but Chris easily corralled that appendage and trapped it underneath his left knee.  With his left arm free, Chris began jackhammering punches into the exposed chest of his trapped opponent.  Thomas’ right pec grew red, then a dark purple under the methodical attack, as he gasped and wheezed for a full breath.

After a couple of minutes of total domination, Chris realized that he had done as much damage as he was going to from this position, and Thomas was not ready to submit yet.  Releasing Thomas’ left arm, Chris quickly recaptured it again in front of Thomas’ chest, pinning it to the sand beneath his right knee.  With both hands now free, Chris dug his fingertips into the bottom of Thomas’ impressive pecs, driving his thumbs into the meat of the muscles and prying two massive handfuls away from Thomas’ ribcage.  Thomas’ neck arched backward as he screamed in pain.  Chris leaned forward, leveraging his bodyweight to help dig deeper into the torturing hold.

Feeling Chris’ weight shifting, Thomas planted his feet in the sand and drove his pelvis upward, arching his back suddenly.  Chris quickly lost his balance and slid forward in the sand above Thomas’ head, sprawling face first.  Thomas rapidly spun to his stomach and launched himself on top of Chris’ back.  Wrapping his arms underneath Chris’ armpits, Thomas laced his fingertips behind Chris’ neck, securing an iron-tight full nelson.  Wrapping his legs around Chris’ midsection, Thomas rolled over to his back, pulling Chris’ over on top of him, immobilized.  Chris grunted and yelled in pain and frustration, but Thomas was stronger and better positioned, and there was no way Chris was going to escape.  It was only a matter of time before the full nelson pulled Chris apart at the shoulders.

By this time, Rob had dispatched Sam and slowly caught his breath and gathered his wits about him.  No longer running on pure adrenaline, Rob surveyed the other battle from a slight distance, considering his next move.  Thomas mounted Chris from behind and captured him in a nelson, rolling over to his back, just as Rob approached the battle.

“This match is ours, partner,” Thomas grunted to Rob as he approached.  “He’s completely vulnerable.  Fuck him up now and let’s claim our prize.”

Rob smiled and nodded at Thomas.  Positioning himself next to the two men locked together in the sand, Rob stood still for a moment looking down.  He lifted his right foot, positioning himself directly over Chris’ black and blue face, his nose still clearly broken and swollen from his fight with Carter.  “Do it!” Thomas screamed at Rob.  Rob took a deep breath, then drove his right heel downward across Thomas’ nose.

Stunned, Thomas released Chris and threw him to the side.  Rolling over onto his side, Thomas cupped his nose, now broken and spurting blood.  “What the fuck!?” Thomas garbled through the blood pooling in his throat.

Rob’s upper lip pulled away from his teeth in disgust and rage.  “You mother fucker!” he screamed at Thomas.  “You humiliated me to start this week off.  Now it’s time to make things even.”  Rob dropped to his knees, pulling Thomas flat on his back, and climbing over top of him to straddle his chest.  Glaring down into Thomas swelling face, Rob snarled, “So you get your rocks off on hurting people?  All you ever wanted was to hear me scream in pain?  Let’s see if that turns me on, too?”  Sliding his body down, Rob positioned himself across Thomas’ pelvis.  Rob grabbed hold of both of Thomas’ nipples and pinched them tightly.  Thomas groaned, his eyes closed tightly.

Chris had pulled himself to his feet by this time.  Still panting, his back covered in sand and sweat, he walked up to stand in front of Rob, just over Thomas’ head.  Rob looked up fiercely, gripping Chris with an assessing gaze.  After a moment, Chris nodded sharply, silently, and then grinned sideways.  Without any further communication, Rob looked back down at his colleague trapped beneath him.  Rob slid himself still farther down Thomas’ body, straddling Thomas’ knees, as Chris knelt directly over Thomas’ head.  Chris placed his knees directly in the meat of Thomas’ round shoulders, pinning him to the sand.  Then Chris sat back, planting his red clad ass onto Thomas’ injured face.  Thomas’ screams of pain were muffled by Chris’ solid ass straddling his nose.

In the meantime, Rob yanked Thomas’ black speedo down to his knees, leaving his long, semi-erect cock exposed and vulnerable.  Rob reached down and wrapped his large right hand around the base of Thomas’ balls. Squeezing sharply, Rob pried Thomas’ sac away from his body.  Thomas’ muffled screams grew louder, as he frantically tapped both hands in the sand, signaling his submission.

Anderson stepped in immediately and slapped Chris on the back.  “That’s it!  He’s done with.  Let him go!”  Chris slowly rose to his feet, standing straddling Thomas’ head.  Chris looked down domineeringly at Thomas for a few seconds before turning and walking away a few feet.  Rob had not yet released his torturous ball claw.  Anderson shoved Rob’s shoulder to break him from his sadistic reverie.  “YOUR PARTNER submitted!” Anderson shouted.  “Release him!”

Rob let go of Thomas’ balls and rose up on his knees.  Instead of climbing off, though, he walked his hands forward, stretching his body parallel to Thomas’ body.  Finally planked directly overtop of his colleague, Rob’s hands planted just above Thomas’ shoulders, Rob dipped low, bringing his crotch to press directly into Thomas’ crotch.  Pushing up, Rob said firmly, “One.”  Dipping again, Rob pressed his crotch into Thomas’ and swiveled his hips, grinding his hardening cock into Thomas’ tented speedo.  Pushing up again, Rob said, “Two.”  Dipping one final time, Rob dropped his body entirely onto Thomas’ body, chest-to-chest, crotch-to-crotch. Placing his lips next to Thomas’ right ear, Rob said quietly, “You were right.”  Then breathlessly, he whispered, “This is hot.”

Anderson shouted at Rob’s back, “Get off of him!  He’s got to leave the beach now!”  Pulling Rob up by one shoulder, Anderson pushed him off of Thomas and began helping the beaten man to roll over to one side.  As Anderson managed to get Thomas to his feet and heading off of the beach, Chris and Rob faced one another.

“Nice work,” Chris said with a smile.

“You’ve had my back the whole way, haven’t you?” Rob said affectionately.

“Absolutely,” Chris nodded.  He walked up to Rob with his hands held open at his sides, non-threateningly.  “I’m on your side,” Chris said reassuringly, reaching his arms around Rob’s shoulders in a congratulatory hug.

Rob returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around Chris’ lower back.  “It’s been good working with you,” Rob said quietly.

Suddenly, Rob laced his fingers together around the small of Chris’ back. Cinching his arms tightly, Rob lifted Chris off his feet.  Chris cried out in pain and surprise, his eyes snapped open wide.  Squeezing a ferocious bearhug on his opponent, Rob growled deeply.  With a sudden grunt, Rob twisted his body, driving Chris back-first into the sand.  Chris gasped in pain, the breath forced from his lungs.  Rob paused a moment, kneeling between Chris’ bent knees, then hopped to his feet.  Stepping over Chris’ body, Rob came to stand next to Chris’ head.  “I like you,” Rob said, looking down at Chris.  “But this is business.”  Rob carefully placed his left foot across the broken, swollen bridge of Chris’ nose and stepped down.  Fresh blood came pouring out down Chris’ cheeks.  He screamed in pain, desperately trying to pry Rob’s foot from his face.  After a half a minute of the torture, tears pouring down his blood soaked face, Chris screamed, “I give!!!”

Anderson stepped forward and touched Rob’s shoulder.  “That’s the match!  You’ve won!”  Rob looked down at his final opponent, maintaining the pressure across Chris’ damaged face a few more gratuitous seconds as Chris screamed and wept.  Finally he lifted his bloody foot away from Chris’ face and planted it with a thud on Chris’ chest.  Pumping both fists in the air, Rob stood dripping in sheets of sweat, covered in white sand, and with his sizable cock fully erect and stretching his black speedo to its limit.

Our Man Inside

I’ve often written about just how titillating I find it to see behind-the-scenes images of my favorite homoerotic wrestlers. It’s like how I get off more on Clark Kent than Superman (true story, also related to why I get off on hunks in glasses). Several years ago, I received the first of several batches of candid photos of BG East wrestlers, clearly taken before, sometimes during, or occasionally after since-published matches. These photos come to me anonymously and shrouded in mystery, much to the annoyance of powers that be at BG East, as well as some of the wrestlers. I know for a fact that at least one wrestler, accused of being the mole, was threatened with bodily harm if he were discovered to be the one smuggling BGE intellectual property off site and leaking it to the media (I love being considered “the media”!). But thus far, Our Man Inside (or OMI, as I affectionately refer to him) has remained unmasked, and the plucky mother fucker has continued to sneak shots my way, risking life and limb, just to get me (and you) hard. Fuck, I love that guy!

Diabolical Dr. Cooper with a gorgeously sweet smile, perhaps just before fucking up Calvin Haynes in Undagear 33

I am thrilled to announce that OMI apparently continues to work among the crew at BG East, because he just dropped me a bunch of new contraband. As always, there’s absolutely no context given for any of these shots. Some of the look like they came from recent releases, and some of them look like they may foreshadow yet-unreleased match-ups. The men are all gorgeous, of course, but it’s the unguarded, half-shy smiles, that turn me on so hard. There are real life, beautiful young men behind the larger-than-life wrestling personas they put on to compete at the elite level of homoerotic wrestling. I love catching that glimpse of the wrestlers just being guys, playful, shy, quirky, and effortlessly themselves.

Ace Aarons chills in the ring, maybe around the time of Grudge Match IV (judging by the gear)

Thanks, OMI. You are truly my hero, and your courage and commitment to feeding my libido leave me owing you a debt I fear I will never have the pleasure to repay!

The Man of My Dreams, Scott Williams, IRL makes Poseidon look pedestrian! Why in the fuck is this gorgeous specimen not still actively wrestling on camera!?
Delicious Devil Devitt makes goofy look so, so fucking sexy! Judging by the sensationally tight, sexy gear, I’m guessing he was just about to put the devil eyes on and bash the shit out of Alexi Adamov.
Devitt looks just a little (adorably) self-concious showing off his magnificent physique. This look like the gear he wore teaming with Paul Hudson in Tag Team Torture 10.
Then he turns on the heat, and flashes those deadly eyes mid-fucking-up Paul Hudson in Pros In Private 13 (nasty divorce!)
Paul looks embarrassed of the camera. Fuck, he needs a cuddle.
Heartthrob Calvin Haynes first flashes blue steel, hanging out pre-match…
…then Calvin turns up the goofy factor. Fuuuuuck, I want to lick his thighs!

Bigger than Life

At some point in the past 12 years or so, I’ve probably mentioned that some of my earliest exploration of my homoerotic imagination happened in the form of drawing. It really started with tracing the images of underwear and exercise equipment models (the word Soloflex still gets me hard). As my poor artistry improved a little, I moved on to copying images, and then ultimately free form drawing muscle hunks built to the specifications of my deepest desires. When one of my sketch notebooks was discovered by an older sibling, I freaked the fuck out and trashed them all, which still pisses me off today, because I’d love to go back and look at what my adolescent imagination so lovingly crafted.

tristan

When I returned from my hiatus from social media this Spring, I pretty quickly came across the IG and Twitter accounts of Marcus Wrestle. If you haven’t seen his work, you should. It appears to me to be the newest generation of graphic arts applied to the homoerotic wrestling imagination, and it’s fucking hot as hell!

maruswrest

Marcus has rendered his wrestling universe using graphic technology that elevates this beyond the comic book-style art I was getting off on just a decade ago. It’s three dimensional and intimately textured. I’d say it’s got one foot in realism (at least when compared to the comic-book genre), and another foot in graphic fantasy. The realism strikes me in the lighting and shadows, the glistening sweat and pulsing veins, the anguish on the faces, the strain of the muscles and joints pressed and pried and crushed with loving attention to human physiology. I say graphic fantasy, because Marcus likes his men massively muscled, with disproportionately narrow joints. His fighters are whittled down to zero body fat. And their cocks are monsters that would make porn stars faint.

denton.jpg

It’s a narrative universe. There’s a story being told, but almost entirely graphically. As a devotee of the literal narrative, I long to know more about the fight club scene itself, the hot hunks shouting encouragement or derision in the background. How do these hot hunks find their way into this scorching hot combat scenarios? Will Rami go out on a date with me?

doubleteam

The tag team bout between Jake and Ryan facing off against Lucky and Kyle appears to be the most extensively built out match on marcuswrest.com. Tag team jobbers vie to make their team heel turns. Lucky and Kyle are fierce in designer jock straps and nothing else. Jake and Ryan make me dizzy in go-go-boy style micro singlets. Lucky and Kyle get out to a quick lead with some vicious double-teaming on Ryan. By the time the Ref finally corrals Kyle in the corner, Lucky’s sitting pretty (so fucking pretty) in a single leg crab, throttling Ryan’s spectacularly hard cock and licking the prey’s lightly hairy lower leg. That lick, fuck. It’s a sensual detail that’s typical of the focus of all of the images you’ll find from Marcus.

ryan and kyle

It’s not a squash, which is sensational, because a still-frame story like this could easily turn 2-dimensional. But no, in fact, when Ryan muscles his way on top and spladles Lucky’s legs open wide, he exacts some sensational revenge by pounding his fist up Lucky’s ass. Ryan and Jake’s double-teaming action on both of their opponents is gorgeous and dripping with melodrama. The sexy singlet boys are pissed. You can see it in their grimaces, as Jake holds Kyle in a full nelson and Ryan drives rabbit punches into the trapped hunk’s abs. They really start to have their way with the jock strap pretty boys. Jake’s standing headscissors on Lucky are gorgeous, flexing and signaling to the roaring crowd, setting unLucky up for a pile driver that knocks him out cold.

It’s looking ugly for Kyle, right? You think you see where this is heading, right up until Kyle blocks Jake’s suplex, reverses, and slams Kyle brutally down directly on top of Ryan. That’s right, with his partner flat on his face out cold, Kyle proceeds to single-handedly fuck up their opponents with panache! He mugs for the crowd.  He throttle’s Kyle’s balls and punches his abs with his ass planted across Kyle’s face, all the while crushing Ryan underneath the both of them. And again, it’s the fine details that make this so mouthwatering, because Kyle’s impossibly big, hard cock has long ago sprung from his micro singlet, and he’s clearly turned on getting plowed under.

leon

You can get tantalized like I did with the free access offerings Marcus puts out. Or sign up for different levels of access to more detailed, more erotic, and previews of the Marcus Wrestle universe. You can also follow Leon, one of Marcus’ wrestlers, who’s a 6’1″ blond German muscle god who also has his own subscription fan site (so… fucking… meta!) on Twitter, as well as see all of the meticulously beautiful details on marcuswrest.com.

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My crush Rami takes a boot to the face!?! Tag me in, Rami!!!!

It’s international, multiracial, and just so fucking spectacularly gay!  I don’t think rendered homoerotic wrestling could every replace my appetite for IRL homoerotic wrestling videos, of course. I can’t hear Jake screaming as Kyle’s clawing his balls. There’s no audible gasps or the twang of the wrestling ropes stretching. Thus far, there’s no real dialogue, and I’m a total sucker for hearing wrestlers trash talking, raging, begging. But fuck it all, I definitely get off on this, and there’s a certain 6’2″ Egyptian, ex-military pit fighter who I want to see a lot more of (DM me Rami!!!).

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So Rami may not need my tag in, after all, but I’d donate a kidney to be his corner man!

 

Two-On-One Tuesday

To keep things shiny, I’m trying out a new hashtag: #TwoOnOneTuesday. No one loves a little alliteration as much as I do. Well, I know of one particular homoerotic wrestling producer who does, but other than that, I suspect alliteration tickles me more than you (which reminds me, I think there ought to be more tickling in homoerotic wrestling!). In any case, Two-On-One-Tuesdays may, or may not, end up being a thing. You can let me know what you think in the comments. But so far I like it. There’s something particularly sexy about seeing a couple of mates manhandling and mastering a muscleman, making him moan and milking his misery.

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Possibly the first 2-on-1 match that I got off on was the Tag Team Torture 2 match where Jeff Phoenix’ partner was a no show. There was no mention of who the son of a bitch was who abandoned this bulging, blue eyed, blond beefcake to face notorious heels Jose and Cruz alone.  Wouldn’t that have been a sensational grudge match sequel, when Jeff beat the living fuck out of the traitor!? Jeff held his own for a while against this 2-on-1, just long enough to make the coverboy cocky, which turns Jose and Cruz’ double team demolition that much sweeter.

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The bitter divorce of Jonny Firestorm and Calvin Haynes’ tag team led instantly to the sensationally sexy double-team of Calvinby Jonny and his rebound partner, pretty-pretty Royce Perry. I’ve nursed this fantasy pretty much every time I’ve had a rough break-up. Seriously, I always have this exact fantasy of meeting my ex in a wrestling ring, revealing the mouth-wateringly hot new model I traded up for, and the two of us beating him down, turning him on, and leaving him with blue balls.  Just me?

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Over at W4H, sexy go-go boy Christian Thorn apparently took so many brutally one-sided beatings that Cameron arranged for him to take some wrestling lessons from pro  hunks Ronny Pearl and Teddy Trouble. What could go wrong?  The classy pros put the pretty boy through his paces, but perhaps it’s too much of a good thing. Double-teamers take notes: 2-on-1 babyface jobber crushing can go wildly off the rails if you can’t get on the same page with your partner.

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It’s another pro vs. Instahunk story when Joey King takes advantage of his extensive experience to humble bodybuilder Steel in Rough & Ready 103. But Joey’s simmering feud with that other Instahunk, Scrappy, comes back to bite him in his lovely, round ass, when Scrapster joins the fray. So, sure, I can totally tune in to pretty muscleboy posers working up a head of steam on a bad ass pro.

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Regular readers will recognize this tendency I have to get totally infatuated with a particular wrestler who may, or may not, be objectively more notable than anyone else. And there we have Weekend Wrestling’s Pretty Boy Assassin. I don’t know exactly what it is that turns my crank quite as hard as he does, but I’m screaming to tag in with him when he’s getting double teamedby his official opponent, Brendan Byers, and WW’s boss man Cole Cassidy. Fuck, now I’ve got a fierce rescue fantasy churning away. Just one more way a two-on-one can turn me on!

Let me know what you think about #TwoOnOneTuesdays, and if they should stay on the menu.

Producer’s Ring: Cuomo vs. Evans

—continued from The News Division: Match 6

The News Division: Match 7 (Championship)

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Following Carter’s victory, all six men made their way back up the cliff to the house.  Both boys from the Southern syndicate, Thomas and Rob, required help up the stairs after getting plowed under hard in the semi-finals.  Rob leaned heavily on Chris, and Thomas accepted the offer of help from Richard.  Both semi-final victories were stunningly decisive, and all four fighters were exhausted and naked as they reached the beach house.  Thomas and Rob immediately went to their rooms and slept the rest of the day.  Chris and Carter cleaned up and dressed, then joined Richard and Sam in the kitchen.

“Nice match,” Carter said with a smile, extending his hand to Chris.  Chris paused suspiciously, then shook Carter’s hand, nodding.   “I especially enjoyed the way you kept torturing that bitch long after he submitted,” Carter’s eyes flashed, and he smirked.  “That was pure art.”  Chris scowled and tried to draw his hand away, but Carter held it firmly for a moment.  Chris shoved Carter away with his free hand, and Carter released his hold, laughing.

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The next morning, all six men were in the living room after breakfast.  Low, anxious conversations populated the air with tension.  With a start, Eli Brody’s face appeared on the plasma screen over the fireplace.   “Gentlemen!  It’s truly my pleasure to congratulate our finalists, Chris and Carter.  And thanks to our generous sponsors, I’m pleased to confirm 1/2 year salary bonuses to Carter and Rob for baring it all in their match.  And a special full year bonus goes to Thomas for not only his own decision to go the full monty, but also for stripping his opponent out of his trunks.  That performance made me suspect you’ve had experience doing this, Thomas.”

Thomas blushed, but smiled to hear that he was being so richly rewarded.  Eli continued, “Our very eager audience registered over eight million votes for the winner of our victory-pose challenge.  I’m sure you’ll remember that the winner of our polling for the best victory pose will be awarded a producing contract.  I’m also sure that you’ll remember that after his prolonged submission victory over Thomas, Chris flashed a very impressive most-muscular.  Frankly, we had a million votes tallied for Chris before Carter was even done with his match.  Carter, of course, went with the classic double bicep pose, kneeling across his fallen opponent.  Carter impressed the voters with style, and Chris awed them with spontaneity and aggression.  When all votes were tallied, the winner was clear.  The winner is… Chris Cuomo.”  Rob and Sam slapped Chris across the back in congratulations.  Carter’s eyes narrowed as he smiled and nodded, conceding the battle to Chris.

“I want you both fresh for the final match,” Eli continued.  “So you have today to rest.  Tomorrow evening, the final match will start at 5.  No bonuses this time.  No gimmicks.  Just the two of you facing off, and one of you walking away the winner.”

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At 5pm the next day, all 6 men returned to the beach.  Carter and Chris walked out onto the sand, watching each other warily.  Chris had seen Carter’s surprise attack on Rob, and he wasn’t about to give him any opening.  Chris wore only his navy blue speedo, and Carter once again sported his yellow trunks.  Both men were darkly tanned as a result of their week at the beach.  Chris was a couple of inches taller and had a more thickly muscled upper body.  Carter was leaner, with a narrow waist, but he had bigger legs than his opponent.  Both men had seen each other battle twice before, and both men had a sense of what they were up against.

The horn sounded from the top of the cliff at precisely 5:00.  Both men crouched and circled one another, their palms raised toward one another defensively.  Carter snarled, “You never told me what you thought of the way I beat Rob.  Were you impressed?”  Chris showed no sign he even heard Carter, his eyes darting from Carter’s eyes to his hands, watching for Carter’s first move.

Both men lunged at one another at the same moment, locking up by the collar and elbow.  Chris enjoyed a height and weight advantage and pressed Carter backward, but Carter locked his powerful legs behind him and stopped Chris’ advance, his heels digging into the sand.  They strained against one another, neither man able to muscle the other out of position.  Suddenly, Carter shifted his weight,  yanking backward and falling onto his back, pulling Chris down on top of him taking advantage of Chris’ own momentum.  Chris fell to the sand on his hands and knees, and Carter quickly snapped his legs around Chris’ torso in a tight scissors.  Chris winced in pain, but maintained his steady breathing, flexing his core defensively and protecting his midsection.  Chris shifted his weight to his left hand, swinging his right fist into Carter’s face.  Carter’s head whipped to the side, a drop of blood trickling out of one nostril.

Carter twisted his body to the side, pulling Chris, trapped between his legs, over with him.  Chris placed his hands on Carter’s chest and locked his arms straight, prying their bodies apart.  Carter laced his fingers behind Chris’ head and pulled forward, wrenching Chris’ neck downward, forcing his cleft chin to press into his upper chest.  Carter rolled again, pulling himself up and on top of Chris’ body, his ankles still laced behind Chris’ lower back and his thick thighs still squeezing Chris’ midsection powerfully.  Carter punched his fists into the inside of Chris’ elbows, breaking Chris’ locked position.  As Chris’ arms collapsed under Carter’s body weight, Carter drove his forehead downward and butted it viciously into Chris’ nose.  Chris’ nose cracked audibly, and blood squirted from his nostrils.

Chris’ hands went reflexively to his throbbing nose.  Carter leaned his face close to Chris and said, “You know what I really enjoyed was making Rob scream.  Seeing a big man cry for mercy like that is hot, don’t you think?”

Chris snarled and shoved at Carter’s face with his bloodied hands.  Pressing Carter’s head and neck backward, Chris lock out his elbows again, prying their bodies apart.  Carter reached downward, unable to see exactly where he placed his hands due to Chris pushing upward against his head.  Feeling across Chris’ broad chest, Carter found both of Chris’ nipples and pinched them between his index fingers and thumbs.  Chris gasped in surprise, reflexively grabbing at Carter’s hands, trying to pull them away from his nipples.  Carter’s face, bloodied by Chris’ hands, was once again free.  Carter drove his forehead down again across the bridge of Chris’ nose.  Chris cried out in pain and twisted his body to the side, sliding in Carter’s scissors.  Chris’ hands again went defensively to his bloody, throbbing nose.

Carter unlaced his ankles and pulled himself free from Chris’ body.  Standing over top of his opponent, his feet straddling Chris’ midsection, Carter looked down at opponent writhing in pain.  Carter leaned down and grabbed hold of Chris’ trunks at the hips.  He yanked them violently down to Chris’s knees, as Chris’ body jerked in surprise.  Chris yelled, his voice garbled by his swelling nose and blood pooling in his throat, “There’s no bonus for the trunks, you bastard!”

Carter paused and grinned, then yanked the trunks the rest of the way off Chris’ legs.  “Fucking you up and leaving you naked in the sand is all the reward I need,” he snarled.  Chris kicked his feet, but Carter managed to pull the trunks around his ankles and off.  The battered big man crawled away from Carter on his hands and knees, blood dripping from his busted nose, his body naked.

Carter stalked his opponent from behind.  Walking up from behind, Carter grabbed Chris’ ankles and pulled them out from underneath him.  Chris fell to his stomach on the sand.  Carter twisted Chris’ ankles around one another, forcing Chris to flop to his back. Carter spread open Chris’ legs and carefully planted his right foot onto Chris’ exposed balls.  Chris’ hands darted to his crotch, as Carter leaned forward, placing his weight onto his right foot, smashing Chris’ testicles under the ball of his foot.  Chris groaned, “No, no, no, no, no!!!”, as Carter twisted his foot back and forth.  Chris began choking, the pain overwhelming.

Carter lifted his foot, and Chris’ hands cupped his abused balls.  Pulling Chris’ legs still farther apart, Carter then drove his knees into the meat of Chris’ hamstrings.  Chris winced in pain, still holding his hands protectively over his crotch, not daring to leave his balls exposed.  Carter hopped back to his feet, then dropped his knees again into the meat of the back of Chris’ legs.  Carter repeated the maneuver 3 more times as Chris groaned, his eyes shut tight in pain.  Carter dropped to his knees just in front of gasping opponent.  Lacing his left forearm underneath Chris’ right knee, Carter grabbed his wrist with his right hand and leaned backward.  Carter jerked and stretched Chris’ knee, prying the ligaments and tendons apart.  Chris screamed and sat up, batting at Carter’s arm.

Carter released the hold, then pressed Chris right knee down to the sand.  Kicking his legs backward in the air while pressing down on Chris’ leg, Carter lifted himself into a handstand, then drove his right knee downward into the side of Chris’ knee.  Chris screamed like a wounded animal.  Carter climbed to his feet and stepped back, assessing the damage he’d inflicted thus far.  Chris moaned and rolled over to his stomach, crawling to his hands and knees.  The moment he put weight on his right knee, though, he grunted in pain and lifted it off the sand.  Chris began to hobble away from Carter, dazed and damaged.

Carter rushed up behind Chris and swung his arm wide, smacking his open palm down on Chris’ bare ass with a loud crack.  Chris’ eyes went wide, and he tried to crawl away more quickly, but Carter followed closely.  Repeatedly, Carter swatted Chris’ ass cheeks alternately, which quickly grew bright red.  The naked muscle man was helpless to protect himself, blood dripping from his nose, his testicles throbbing, and his relentless opponent reveling in humiliating him like child’s play.  Finally, Carter stepped back and watched Chris’ continue to try to crawl away.  Carter licked his lips, then asked, “Are you done yet, pretty boy?”  Chris didn’t answer.

Carter swung a powerful kick into Chris’ ribcage.  Chris pulled one arm against his side protectively.  Chris was teetering, balanced only on one knee and one hand.  Carter planted his foot into the side of Chris’ midsection and shoved, toppling his opponent onto his side.  Carter dropped down on top of him, pressing him face down to the sand and straddling his knees across Chris’ broad back.  Leaning over his opponent’s head, Carter placed his left forearm across the bridge of Chris’ broken nose, then pulled backward with his right hand gripping his left forearm.  Chris again choked, tears streaming from his eyes, as Carter pressed his head backward and tortured Chris’ already damaged nose.  “How does that feel?” Carter taunted, gently biting his lower lip in concentration.  “Give it up, pretty boy, and put yourself out of your misery!”  Chris refused to respond.

Carter released his forearm from across Chris’ face, and a stream of blood poured down from Chris’ nose, pooling on the sand beneath him.  Chris’ head dropped to the bloody sand, and he began to pull his arms underneath himself.  Carter grabbed Chris’ bent elbows in his hands and pried Chris’ arms backward.  Carter then laced his legs around Chris’ arms, bending his knees and lacing his ankles over one another just behind Chris’ neck.  Chris’ arms jutted straight backward, squeezed in between Carter’s thick legs. Carter leaned backward, resting his hands behind him on top of Chris’ bare ass. Gradually, Carter squeezed his legs together, pulling Chris’ arms backward still farther.  Chris’ big shoulders stretched to their limit as he groaned desperately.

“Put a fork in it, pretty boy!  You’re my bitch now!” Carter laughed.  Chris held on, refusing to submit, completely immobilized within Carter’s relentless legs. His arms and shoulders were completely numb.  He tried to twist and jerk his body free, but he was entirely trapped.  Carter squeezed his legs still tighter, and tears poured down Chris’ blood soaked face. Carter chuckled sadistically, kneading Chris’ ass in his hands.  “It’s all up to you, pretty boy.  The pain will end whenever you say so.” Chris quivered all over with silent sobs, tears continuing to track down his bloodied face.  Something in Chris’ shoulder made a small snapping sound, and the big man finally cried out, “I give!!!!”

Carter released the pressure on Chris’ arms and slowly unwound his legs.  Straddling his defeated opponent’s back, Carter leaned down, placing his lips against Chris’ right ear.  “That,” Carter whispered, “was exquisite. Let’s do this again sometime.”  The champ crawled up to his feet and turned to face the cliff.  His body  caked in blood and sand, sweat pouring down from his forehead, Carter raised his arms to his sides and pumped his baseball biceps in a victory flex.

He Wore It Best

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I’m excited to declare Tyrell Tomsen the winner of the Who Wore It Best poll! I fell completely in lust with Tyrell the moment I saw his spectacular debut in Strip Stakes 1. It’s a rare debut that features a muscle hunk this aesthetic, this gorgeous, this ripped, who’s also ready to get naked in his first dance. By the time Tyrell put his superhuman physique on the line against big Joe Robbins in Gutbash 7 a couple of years later, he’d taken some hard knocks and bitter humbling, but honestly, he’s one of the relatively few hunks that doesn’t look dwarfed next to the mountain of muscle that is big Joe. Sure, I didn’t hold out much hope for Tyrell to deliver the upset against the steamroller, but just those few moments of seeing him pumped to perfection, staring Joe down, and flashing his spectacular cuts and luxuriously draped muscles that make Joe look merely mortal, got my heart pumping in anticipation.

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My hopes for a heart pumping babyface upset spiked when Tyrell took those mammoth, superhero, vein-mapped biceps and shockingly beat Joe in a best-of-3 arm wrestling showdown. It takes a lot to put big Joe in his place, so it was incredibly arousing to see Tyrell demonstrate that he’s up for the task.

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Joe is notoriously unflappable, so I was yet again excited by the way that Tyrell’s arm wrestling victory pissed Joe off. Joe impulsively, bitterly slammed Tyrell’s gorgeous face into the table (no!). The big man is unaccustomed to being humbled. He just doesn’t really know how to handle being outclassed by an opponent’s objectively perfect proportions. Normally unphased by a challenger’s cocky confidence, Tyrell’s top shelf muscle mass and mindblowing conditioning made big Joe lose his cool. Fuck, yeah, Tyrell!

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Of every stunning inch of Tyrell’s muscled perfection, it turns out it was his deep, carved 6-pack abs that Joe felt most inadequate next to. Thus, this became a Gut Bash bout. Joe pounded and pummeled those resplendent, ripped rectus abdominis.

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Joe trampled him under boot, which is serious as shit when you calculate the pound per square inch of Joe’s 240 pounds deep boring his heel into Tyrell’s lower abs.

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Tyrell was trussed up in a tree of woe for Joe to exploit new angles of assault on the affronting abdominals.

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Joe trapped Superman in the ropes and bearhugged the bodybeautiful beefcake from behind, digging his knuckles into Tyrell’s throbbing gut.

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He wrung him out in an abdominal stretch, making Tyrell scream in anguish as his pendulous bulge quivered seductively. But it was when Joe went in for the money shot, that signature suspended bodyscissors, that put me over. He snapped his monstrously huge thighs around Tyrell’s ripped torso and squeezed. That made Tyrell gasp in shocked agony. But it’s when Joe rolled up to his hands, twisting his body and pulling Tyrell off the mat, that Superman seriously started to scream.

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So. Fucking. Gorgeous! I think Tyrell has been an underrated star in the BG East catalog, so I’m thrilled that he got the nod from voters in this poll. I miss seeing his incredibly fine physique in the ring, and I wish his tenure in homoerotic wrestling had been much longer. But he was all class, spectacular beauty, and fearlessness while he lit up our screens, and I’m thrilled to confirm that he wore it best!

Who Wore It Best?

Big Joe Robbins has a pair of the meatiest, most punishing legs in homoerotic wrestling. To be honest, Joe had to grow on me. He’s too chill. He shows precious little/no emotion.The emotional range of a match almost entirely depends on the sell of his opponent. But over time, I realized the subtle, sexy truth about big Joe. He plays his opponents like a musical instrument. Like a virtuoso bowing a Stradivarius, Joe’s passion is evident in the timbre of the screams of his opponents.

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Joe’s signature hold is his bodyscissors variation, where he clamps those monstrous tree trunks onto an opponent’s torso and then rolls up to his hands, suspending a trapped hunk off the mat. The genius of this hold includes the  spotlight it places on Joe’s mammoth thighs. The position shows off Joe’s lovely, luxurious, round glutes. And it displays his opponent’s trapped muscles, complete helplessness, and exquisite agony beautifully. As Joe digs his knees into his prey’s kidneys, the suffering sings from way down deep. If they’re off key, Joe applies the precise pressure to wring the right notes out of them.  It’s always astonishingly dominant, a move that only a huge, powerful muscle hunk could possibly pull off. Every opponent looks helpless, completely dominated, and absolutely humiliated.

But when it comes to Big Joe’s kidney crushing, suspended bodyscissors, who wore it best? Check out my curated selection of nominees, and vote below.

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Suspended bodyscissors #1: Denny Cartier

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Suspended Bodyscissors #2: Tyrell Tomsen

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Suspended Bodyscissors #3: Eddy Rey

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Suspended Bodyscissors #4: Donnie Drake

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Suspended Bodyscissors #5: Jobe Zander

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Suspended Bodyscissors #6: Jonny Firestorm

Trunk Pull Tuesday

Today’s #TrunkPullTuesday is dedicated to the beautiful, muscled, round ass cheeks that are sometimes showcased with a hearty trunk pull and a strategic camera angle. I’ve curated this collection from among many of my very favorite asses in wrestling. Thanks to the pullers for so generously treating us, and thanks to those on the receiving end of these trunk pulls for looking so, so fucking fine!

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In Calvin Haynes’ Wrestler Spotlight, his standing headscissors are enough to get me seriously hard, but showing off Mason Brooks’ magnificent ass at the same time kicks this hot match up several notches for me!

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Apparently, we all owe Masked Menace an immense debt of gratitude for taking go-go muscleboy Van Skyler, in Masked Mayhem 17: Heel Training, and forcibly molding him into the breakout leather daddy heel star of 2019. Seriously, I had no idea Van had a match like Dark Knights 14: Birth of a Master in him, but I love to be surprised almost as much as a absolutely adore Van’s muscleman glutes.

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I’ve taken heat in the past for just how much I crush on featherweight grappler Charlie Evan’s beautifully munchable ass. I get it, in so much as he doesn’t fit my typical thick, bulging butt tastes. But Charlie is just so fucking pretty, and when Calvin Haynes uses a trunk pull assist to choke slam lovely little Charlie way, way, way off his feet in Tag Team Torture 26, it’s the reveal of Charlie’s aesthetic ass that makes me stand up and cheer.

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It’s hardly a mystery why buff bro Kenny Starr was voted the Debut of the Year in 2018. Physically, he’s the total package of a naughty fratboy dabbling on the homoerotic side of the tracks, bringing a smoking hot, ripped bod and a serious lack of inhibitions.  In Jobberpaloozer 17, I think Trophy Boy Ty Alexander makes a serious miscalculation when he wedgies Kenny’s trunks up his crack and makes the bro’s booty shimmy, hoisted up high in a bearhug. Kenny’s muscle carved glutes are so stunningly pretty, I daresay they threaten to upstage Ty’s pride and joy ass!

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I have yet to sink my teeth into Weekend Wrestling, but their promotional shots of Cole Casside nearly (?) ripping Zach Reno’s trunks off definitely make me sit up and take notice of this new company. I get the impression that Zach may not bat for our team, but he’s seems awfully game to give us a glimpse of what we like. Could someone ask him, for me, how he might feel about a muscle worship stakes match, putting his beautifully hot butt up for grabs, squeezes, and adoration, if an opponent beats him into submission?

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What the fuck ever happened to Marco Carlow? The fact that I can only see him wrestling in 3 matches is criminal negligence of my homoerotic wrestling lust. Honestly, his Undagear 23 match is the only time I think I’ve ever seen Kid Karisma wrestle when I’m seriously considering whether his opponent may be fractionally hotter. When Kid K nearly rips Marco’s undagear apart at the seams in this savage headscissors/atomic wedgie, I fell in deep, deep love with Marco’s absolutely perfect ass. But when Kid K finishes the match by stripping this muscleboy naked, and Marco does what every naked wrestling muscleboy should do in those circumstances (flex for the fans), I would’ve followed Marco for a long, critically acclaimed homoerotic wrestling career. Absent that, at least I can marvel at those luscious cheeks in that gorgeously nasty headscissorsl trunk pull.

Lights Out

Hurricane Isaias put my lights out like Kayden Keller knocking Chase Addams’ block off in Learning the Ropes the Hard Way.

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Seriously, though, I’ve been cleaning the ruined food out of my freezer and sweltering sans air conditioning for way too long. 2020 has had us all over a barrel, but a global pandemic, worldwide protests over anti-Blackness, murder hornets, and the dumpster fire of the executive branch of government weren’t enough. The curse of 2020 thought I was getting a little too cocky with surviving the national economic collapse and actually getting shit done in my work-from-home office. So Isaias slapped me down hard, like Braden Charron dropping Jake Jenkins like a boss.

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Even now, my internet connection is thready, so let me just reiterate how I’m feeling as I wait for the cable company to get around to my neighborhood.

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Producer’s Ring: Marciano vs. Evans

—-continued from The News Division Match 5—-

The News Division: Match 6

Marciano vs. Evans

As soon as Chris had defeated Thomas, Rob ran out to help his humiliated colleague off the beach.  As Rob reached the scene of the victory, he looked warily at Chris, still flushed with rage and adrenaline. Chris nodded at Rob, and the two of them knelt down and hooked their arms underneath Thomas’ arms, still dazed and unable to stand on his own power. They lifted him off the sand and turned to walk him back to the landing at the bottom of the stairs. Just at that moment, Carter reached Rob at a full sprint. Driving his shoulder into Rob’s gut, Carter lifted him off his feet and drove him five feet backward.   Diving on top of Rob’s falling body, Carter speared him with his shoulder as their bodies hit the sand.

Chris dragged Thomas toward the stairs, finally receiving help from Richard and Sam who helped carry the stunned hunk off the beach.

Rob gagged and choked for a moment, unable to catch his breath. Carter dropped a series of knees into Rob’s abdomen, pounding his full weight over and over again into the dazed hunk’s gut. Finally relenting, he allowed Rob to roll away onto his side, curled up, clutching his abdomen. Carter quickly peeled his own yellow speedos down his legs. His sun drenched skin sported no tan-lines, as the viewing public at home had enjoyed watching him sunbathe in the nude for the past week. Carter breathed deeply, steeling himself for the fight. His cock was thick and just beginning to swell, his crotch shaved smooth. He didn’t wait long to press the advantage on his much larger opponent.

Carter began driving his knee into Rob’s lower back. Rob arched his back, shrinking from the strikes. As the stunned stud tried to roll away, Carter stomped his right heel into the small of Rob’s back, then leaned down and grabbed hold of each of Rob’s wrists. Pulling back sharply, he stretched Rob in a stunning surfboard.  With his arms stretched straight behind him, Rob’s round shoulders and thick biceps stretched as far as they could go.  Rob moaned in agony. Confident of his control, Carter stepped his left foot onto Rob’s back, next to his right foot.  Balancing himself and leaning backward, the expert surfer rode his opponent like a wave.

Rob twisted his body instinctively, and Carter rolled off to the side, losing his grip on Rob’s wrists. Rob crawled up to his hands and knees, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs. Carter crept up behind him. In a flash, he grabbed the top of Rob’s red trunks and yanked them down, exposing his pale ass.  Rob grabbed at the front of his trunks with his right hand reflexively, falling to his stomach on the sand to avoid being stripped. Carter tried to pry the speedos backward, stretching them far beyond their limit. Rob continued to hang on to the front of his trunks, refusing to let go.

Carter gave up on the trunks for the moment. Squatting, straddling Rob’s upper back, Carter hoisted Rob’s arms up and hooked them over his knees. Lacing his fingers under the trapped hunk’s chin, Carter leaned backward, securing a Boston crab. Rob sucked down deep, controlled breaths, enduring the grinding pain twisting his spine. Carter shook his arms up and down, but Rob just grunted, sucking down the punishment.  Finally, Carter released Rob’s head and dropped his upper body to the sand in frustration.

Again, Rob crawled slowly to his hands and knees, as Carter circled him, trying to decide how to attack the big man. Carter planted his left foot and swung his right foot, in preparation for kicking his opponent in the side of the head. But before Carter could connect, Rob dropped to his stomach and pulled Carter’s left foot out from underneath him. Carter landed hard on his upper back and shoulders, stunned.

Rob rolled sideways and quickly crawled to his feet.  He tried to pull his trunks back up to his waist, but found that the seams were in shreds.  Reluctantly, he dropped the red trunks to the sand and stepped out of them.  Rob’s thick curly hair around his cock was covered in sand, and his cock bounced, semi-erect, as he crouched defensively.  If anyone was going to get the bonus for taking his trunks off, it was going to be him.

Carter swiftly rolled over and hopped up to a crouching position, his hands held up in front of him.  Seeing Rob step out of his speedo, Carter leered, “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

Rob snapped back, “I’m going to make you pay, mother fucker!”

Both men circled one another warily in the sand. Rob finally charged forward up high and wrapped a thickly muscled arm around Carter’s head.  Holding Carter in a tight headlock against his side, Rob squeezed with all his strength.  Carter wrapped his arms around Rob’s waist and, thrusting with his powerful legs, he lifted Rob off his feet.  Falling backward, Carter dropped Rob on his shoulders and neck. Rob released his headlock, stunned.

As Rob lay stunned on his back, Carter grabbed Rob’s head by the hair and slid it between this thighs, face-to-naked-crotch. Lacing his ankles together, Carter squeezed Rob’s head between his thighs. Rob frantically tried to pry Carter’s legs apart, but the surfer’s quads were far too strong.  Grabbing a handful of Rob’s hair, Carter pulled Rob’s face upward against his balls, flexing his powerful thighs painfully around Rob’s head.  Carter pressed his eyes closed and leaned backward, his cock swelling with excitement.  “Mmmmm,” Carter groaned.  “How’s that for you, Rob?”

Rob pressed his shoulders forward beneath Carter’s upper legs, lifting Carter’s legs and folding him over, pinning him onto his back.  With his face still trapped in Carter’s crotch, he leaned his full bodyweight down on top of his opponent.  Carter squeezed his legs harder, his body piked beneath his surging opponent. Stretching his arms around Carter’s thighs, Rob managed to lace his fingers behind Carter’s neck. With a sudden burst of strength, he muscled his feet underneath him, then power-squatted up, his head still trapped, pulling Carter’s body off the sand. Arching his back, Rob lifted Carter high into the air, then drove him down, pounding Carter’s back into the sand. Carter flinched with pain, and he lost hold of Rob’s head.

Rob stumbled backward, his chest and abdomen heaving with gasping breaths. He was quickly tiring. Carter remained on his back, catching his breath with a wary eye on his opponent, his feet lifted defensively between them. Carter shifted his weight, pulling himself up on his elbows. At that moment, Rob lunged forward to mount his opponent before he had a chance to get to his feet. As Rob dove downward, trying to position his legs to the outside of Carter’s legs, Carter kicked his heel straight upward, catching Rob solidly on the jaw.  Rob’s teeth popped together, as pain lanced through his face.  He dropped awkwardly to his knees, dizzied by the blow.

Carter twisted his body, swinging his right heel around to crash into the left side of Rob’s face. Rob was flung to his side onto the sand, clutching at his jaw. Carter rapidly hopped to his feet in a low crouch, assessing his opponent. Rob’s breathing was labored, and he was covered in sweat and sand. Moaning in pain, Rob was oblivious to his opponent’s approach.

Carter dropped to his side, entwining his legs around Rob’s left leg while spreading Rob’s right leg in the opposite direction with his upper body and arms.  Carter stretched his body straight, prying Rob’s thick, lightly hairy legs apart.  Rob screamed in pain, feeling his crotch ripping.  His lower abdomen and hamstrings quivered, as his cock grew harder. Carter gently rubbed his hand from Rob’s right knee down his inner thigh, approaching Rob’s crotch. Rob screamed in fury, “Keep your hands off my cock!”

Carter laughed, prying Rob’s legs farther apart. The trapped hunk screamed again. He tried to pull his back off of the sand and reach for Carter’s face, but the pain, and Carter’s hold, kept him immobilized on his back. Carter shouted, “I think it’s about time you submitted!” Rob shook his head “no,” biting his lower lip.  Carter then pounded the knuckle of his right index finger into Rob’s quivering, taut hamstring.  The assaulted leg began to shake violently, as he screamed again. Finally, Rob gasped, held his breath for a moment, then screamed, “I give!!!”

Carter pounded his knuckle into Rob’s leg a few more times, then rubbed his hand up and down Rob’s upper thigh.  Rob groaned desperately, pleadingly, “Keep away from my cock!”

Carter released Rob’s legs and crawled to his hands and knees. Crawling over top of Rob’s prone body, Carter hung his head low, just inches away from Rob’s face, still contorted in pain.  Carter whispered contemptuously, “Get over yourself.  I have no interest in your cock, bitch.”  Then Carter turned around over top and sat his ass across Rob’s chin.  Smiling up toward the cliff, Carter flexed a double-bicep, his darkly tanned, naked body covered with sand, glistening with sweat in the afternoon sun.

After the victory ride, Carter walked away from Rob without looking back.