Christmas came a little early for me this year, and I was treated to some presents directly off of my wish list of matches-to-own. Personally, I would’ve thought I’d have fallen into the “naughty” category. But I’m not asking any questions.
Thumbing through the catalog for things that might show up under my tree, I’ve lately been aching for Ball Bash 2. Truth be told, I’ve got a little crush on Reese Wells aka Brody Hancock. Well, more accurately, I fantasize about crushing him. He’d put up a good fight, mind you, and he’s got some sweet sell. But in the end he’d be screaming a submission wracked across my shoulders, before I rubbed salt in the wound by dropping his back across my knee. When all is said and done and his spirit is broken, I’d walk away with his boots to hang them up as a trophy of good times.
Fortunately for me, Jonny Firestorm has handed Reese precisely the type of treatment I think Reese desperately needs. I wasn’t expecting Ball Bash 2 to be quite so competitive. However, there’s plenty of pretty salesmanship going in all directions for most of this match before it turns into a full-on ball bash squash. Jonny always impresses, and this match is no different. He’s got instincts for delivering exactly the content, pacing, and humiliation that makes ring action my cup of tea.
I have to remind myself that this release came out before anything else that I’ve seen Reese in. This is significant for me because although I’ve seen him flirt with full-on homoeroticism, never since have I seen Reese wrestle naked. And that’s a shame, because he’s got a really beautiful cock, and there’s something about the optical illusion that is Reese’s body that somehow makes perfect sense when he’s in the ring in nothing but those boots (that’d I’d rip off of him and take home with me). I’ve seen the career trajectory that starts out with some stud just translating straight-up wrestling for a homoerotic company, and then eventually evolves into a balls out, naked, full-on homoerotic fantasy fighter. But someone who goes the other direction seems like a novelty (and a little bit of a waste, as far as I’m concerned).
The moment in this match that completely captures me, though, comes when Reese still has his speedos on. Things have been relatively traditional up to this point, with Jonny and Reese taking and giving in approximately equal measure. But when Jonny snaps his legs around Reese’s waist, presses wide the pretty boy’s legs, and grabs hold and squeezes Reese’s balls, this match instantly careens off the straight-up tracks and deep into homoerotic territory. But it’s this moment in particular, and specifically, it’s Reese’s sell of this moment, that captures my imagination. Reese has nowhere to go. Jonny is showing all his cards, including the fantastic revelation that he’s out for nothing short of blood curdling screams. And Reese is writhing in pain, stunningly vulnerable, and totally humiliated. And with his jaws open wide in agony, Reese kisses the mat.
Good god, that kiss just sends me. It’s such an excellent moment of helpless agony. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a BIG fan of Reese’s destruction without trunks, and I’m nearly as enthusiastic about the target-thong that Jonny makes him wear, which is delightfully inadequate to contain Reese’s impressive member that simply can’t be described as entirely flaccid throughout the remainder of the bull busting. All the moving parts to this match line up perfectly, I think. Jonny is impeccable. Reese is astonishing for a “rookie.” The bodies, the wrestling, the setting, the gear (and lack thereof), are all brilliant. But it’s Reese’s lips planted on the floor in agony that makes this match one of my favorites. Thanks, Santa.