As is so often the case, I have to agree with Joe. The climactic 3rd match in BG East’s Undagear 25 new release is sensationally hot. Featuring hot little chili pepper Drake Marcos turning up the heat with bad boy Ethan Andrews, this classic mat match is a fabulous take on the classic question, “Whose is bigger?”
I’m sure that Drake will take offense at something, despite my best effort to heap praise on his pounding mat confrontation with Ethan Andrews. If I say he’s a top notch jobber, he’s offended. If I say he can suck on agony with the very best of them, his ego is bruised. If I say he’s got a hot, taut, fuckable body he… well, no, he doesn’t seem to really complain about that. But while points 2 and 3 hold true for Undagear 25, Drake is no jobber against Ethan. He suffers under a bulging mountain of pain and suffering, and his sensationally sexy legs continue to make me gasp with pleasure as he milks the whimpers out of his opponent, but the narrative here is not one of Drake’s destiny with failure. In fact, three quarters of the way through this match, I am once again wiping a bead of sweat away from my brow in anticipation of finding out if this is, finally, Drake’s breakout, undisputed, planned and followed through, first ever clear cut check mark in the victory column.
Speaking of bulging mountains, the real stars of this show are the big, flexing pythons straining the confines of Drake and Ethan’s jock straps. That battle really only unfolds once the built-for-fashion singlets come off, which is not a minute too soon for my taste. Ethan’s is sexy enough, but Drake missed the memo that no one honestly looks good in camo. I feel like Ethan is reading my mind when he says as much, right as he’s ripping Drake’s singlet off.
Ethan’s bulging doesn’t stop at his crotch, either. I don’t remember seeing the smirking bad boy looking this fit and muscular ever before. Once Drake finally returns the favor of ripping off E’s singlet, the best supporting actor in a homoerotic wrestling drama really comes to the forefront: Ethan’s magnificent, meaty, muscled glutes. As I said, the stars of the show are the packages, but I think the real writing on the wall in Drake’s undoing here is when he seriously melts in Ethan’s figure-4 headscissors. Personally, I think Ethan did his homework, and it shows right here. I don’t know if there was ever a sexier undoing of Drake (and I have studied the subject extensively), than when the Cheshire Cat had the smile wiped right off his handsome face in that exact position, smothered to perfection by Ray Naylor in Mat Scraps 2.
I’ve got my opinions about which Drake-slayer wore him (out) best with this hold, but I’ll let you vote below without me swaying your opinions. In the mean time, let me just conclude with a few highlights that are already recurring images in my waking homoerotic wrestling daydreams.
Pony rides. Fuck, I love a sexy pony ride. The supersize serving of humiliation and domination in a pony ride are like the sugary center to the earthy saltiness of a salted caramel. Fascinatingly, both Drake and Ethan score some literal riding time, and it’s Drake’s lap around the mat on Ethan that makes me believe the babyface also-ran might be just about to ride that stallion across the finish line for the first time. Never one to let a slight go unanswered, it’s Ethan’s tit-for-tat pony ride using Drake’s jock strap as reins that brings this pounding race to it’s climactic finish. Sadly, neither pony ride is tucked, confirming yet again that perhaps no one will ever do a post-match pony ride humiliation as provocatively as Rusty Stevens. However, kudos to both Drake and Ethan for saddling up nicely.
The real climax of this match for me (literally) was the brutal cock beatdown that Ethan delivers while pinning a withering, weeping, wasted Drake to the wall. Ethan is fucking gargantuan. It’s just a fact. And he swings that massive, erect member like a battering ram over and over again into Drake’s already tenderized balls. “Whose is bigger?!,” he demands repeatedly, his hotly muscled ass undulating, flexing and relaxing in rhythm as his cock pounds his now defenseless opponent mercilessly. While they don’t pull out the measuring tape or the scales, just eyeballing it (and I did repeatedly), I have to conclude that Ethan’s battering ram is, indeed, quantitatively superior. Drake admits it, too, finally, bitterly, reluctantly.
But I’ve got a few words of wisdom as someone who is, my guess, around a decade and a half older than either of these testosterone filled young bucks. Size gets you only so far in life. It is not indicative of capacity for sexual pleasure. And some of the most massively endowed men I’ve had the pleasure of meeting were die-hard, gagging for it, exclusive bottoms (and were sensational at it, by the way). I think 20 years ago, I was much more invested in the question, “Whose is bigger,” but these days, I’ve come to realize that the answer is one of the most unilluminating pieces of information when it comes to sexual performance (homoerotic wrestling or otherwise).
All that said, let me just again reiterate that this match has great pairings of bitterness and sweetness, power and cunning, speed and skill. I’m still left waiting hopefully to see Ethan out-bullied by some doe-eyed babyface beauty that he completely underestimates. And hope burns eternal for darling Drake to pull his shit together and fully execute a balls-to-the-walls take down that I’m certain he has in him. In the mean time, enjoy Undagear 25.
And honestly, what could I have possibly said that petulant puppy Drake could have taken offense to today!? Now, don’t forget to vote for which sphincter-smothering figure for headlock wore Drake best: Ethan or Ray.