I’m starting my campaign here and now to promote Kid Karisma for the Best Body of 2014 award. Holy shit, have you SEEN him in Undagear 22?!  I’ve lost it just watching him warm up before Ray Naylor even strolls into the mat room. Wrestling Arsenal should be interested to take note of Kid K’s Doreanse designer underwear, considering his recent musings on the color baby blue on a wrestler. Karisma’s award winning ass has never looked as muscled and hot not even close to being squeezed into that fabric. And the ballast in his low-hanging pouch jostles and jiggles hypnotically. The separation of his pecs is incredible. There’s a ridged chasm running down his sternum that astounds me. I have no idea what he gets up to under the sheets, but if pec frot isn’t on the menu, then that chest is going to waste.

Like his muscles, Kid K’s ego continues to swell bigger and bigger. “Who the fuck are you!?,” he spits contemptuously when Ray arrives.  Ray seems put off his game in an instant. There’s an awkward moment of silence, and finally Ray growls back, “Who the fuck are you, tough guy?”  Karisma belittles and taunts him like a tidal wave.  Karisma offers to shake Ray’s hand. Ray instinctively reaches toward the offer of sportsmanship. Karisma slaps him in the face.  There’s an instant of rage on Ray’s face, but Karisma is already distracting him again with another onslaught of intimidating trash talk, placing his hands behind his head and flexing his superhuman physique to add to Ray’s shock and awe.  He points at the BG East logo and declares, “I fucking run this shit!”  Ray flatly snaps, “You won’t by the end of this match.”  Kid K flexes his Himalayan-esque right bicep. “The last time I checked, I probably will.”

They do a side by side pose off.  Ray is ripped like my junk mail, but holy shit, he looks like a famine victim in comparison to the massive, meaty thickness and proportions of Kid Karisma. Ray can pretend to be unimpressed all he wants. There’s no way he isn’t in awe of the living sculpture flexing back at him. And I am not imagining things when I see a look of lust momentarily wash across the lean stud’s face. I’d say that Ray is just lucky to get an up close look at Kid K’s physical perfection, but I’m pretty sure the quick lick of Ray’s lips says it already.

Ray is incredibly dangerous on the mats. Just ask Drake Marcos, who I’m certain is still paying chiropractic bills after their match ages ago.  His height and reach advantage are not to be underestimated, because he knows what to do with them. When Kid K screws around and doesn’t even try to start with, Ray soon enough takes the hardbodied hunk to the mat and crushes his ripped gut in body scissors.  “What the fuck were you saying about my legs!” Ray snarls angrily.

Some physique stars strut into BG East and mistakenly think that gorgeous muscles will overcome wrestling skill (ahem, Kip Sorrell).  However, Kid K is the paradigmatic example of what happens when you combine mouthwateringly gorgeous muscles, a boatload of experience, and an absolute certainty in his fate to dominate. Whatever Ray throws, Karisma muscles free and twists the lean stud into knots. I’ve never seen anything quite like when Karisma holds Ray suspended off the mat, upside down, pulling upward on Ray’s legs while holding his head trapped tightly between Kid K’s ankles.  The stretch on Ray’s helpless body is phenomenal. Honestly, I’m convinced Kid K could have ripped him in half if he wanted to.  But it’s so much more fun for everyone, especially Karisma, to catch and release in order to humiliate his opponent in more ways.

Ray spends days off of his feet. Karisma hoists him into the air over and over, fireman’s carry, lifts, suspended in bear hugs. Ray is tough and experienced, mind you, so getting manhandled seriously pisses him off. Which seems to be exactly Kid K’s point, over and over. He wants to get a rise out of him. He wants to poke and provoke him.  He wants the stare down Ray’s adrenaline rush and fury, because nothing less could possibly stand of chance of being any competition.  Not that Karisma thinks that Ray has any chance of being actual competition.

There are several innovative moments that makes me gush for Kid K all the harder. He’s nearly ripping Ray’s head off in a camel clutch. The stud is clearly moments away from submitting (or breaking). Karisma let’s go of Ray’s chin with his left hand, still in total control cranking back with his right, but with his left reaches back and snags Ray’s flailing right foot.  Karisma muscles it upward and forward, applying unbelievable torque to Ray’s lower back.  The sublime ecstasy on Kid K’s face says it all as he closes his eyes and rolls his head backward, feeling the moment of total domination and, clearly, grooving almost as hard on it as I am. When Ray holds out, Karisma releases his ankle and grabs hold of a fist full of Ray’s hair, yanking backward still harder. The veins in Ray’s forearms bulge as his entire body above the waist flushes dark red under the strain.  Yeah, he gives.  Of course he gives.

 

At one telling point they’re locked together, Kid K’s head trapped hard between Ray’s knees, Ray’s ribs crushed between Kid K’s gargantuan thighs. Karisma’s ass hovers in front of Ray’s face.  Ray starts spanking that award winning ass.  These two trade spanks A LOT throughout the match, and Ray’s ass looks like ground beef before the end. But in this moment, Ray pauses, stretches his fingers wide, and just feels the mass and power in the palms of his hands. If you’re going to get crushed and brutalized by Kid Karisma, for god’s sake, get a long, lustful feel of those glutes and legs!

There’s ball crushing and brutality spilling over the edges everywhere, but in the end, Ray is flat on his back in a pool of both of their sweat (and quite a few of Ray’s tears).  He’s had his last submission stomped out of him relentlessly. Kid Karisma stands over top of him, straddling his body, flexing, preening, crowing.  Ray’s hands reach up and subtly stroke Karisma’s left leg perched on top of Ray’s chest. Whatever the rage, whatever bruised egos were involved, I think Ray would have to concede that getting crushed and humiliated by Kid Karisma has its upside.  What Ray nor I could have seen coming, though, happens in the final 30 seconds of this match. As the camera lingers on Ray’s drenched, battered body, suddenly Kid K’s feet come back into frame. And then his sweat soaked designer baby blue underwear plops damply across Ray’s mouth. The camera snaps upward just in time to watch Kid Karisma’s naked backside strolling from the mat room.  Maybe it was a last, gratuitous gesture of humiliation, or maybe it was the sexiest gift Kid Karisma has ever bestowed upon an opponent. As far as I’m concerned, it was both!

There are myriad reasons Kid Karisma continues to reign as my favorite homoerotic wrestler, and pretty much everyone of them is captured to perfection (like Ray Naylor) in Undagear 22.