Joe and Alex have both put the 3-some match of Damien Rush, Ty Alexander, and “don’t-call-me-jobber” Drake Marcos at the head of the line in their reviews of BG East’s recent catalog. Now, you know I’ve got stuff to say about Damien, Ty, and that pretty, petulant, foot-stamping battleboy Drake, but I’ll let Alex and Joe’s reviews point the way a while before I jump in and start stirring that pot. For today, I want to sit back and marvel just a bit at a match in this recent batch that took me by surprise. I was not expecting to get quite so turned on by a blast from the past, pitting a barely legal Cameron Matthews from back in the day going toe-to-toe with delicious little morsel Jonah Richards in Babyface Brawl 4.

I think Cameron and Jonah snuck up on me because if I’m shopping in the Cameron Matthews aisle, I will go for the seasoned, vine ripened, mature muscle stud version of Cameron from the past 2 or 3 years ahead of his earlier incarnations. If push came to shove, and let’s face it, we’re talking pro wrestling so of course it does, I’d own up to putting my finger on the scale for an older wrestler over a raw, loud, late adolescent twink puppy 9 times out of 10. So seeing Cameron back in his bowl cut incarnation, lickable for days but just not as filled out and angular (particularly compared to his brawny beefcake edition of the most recent past), made me delegate this match to the “let’s watch this first” pile, because I was expecting other matches in Babyface Brawl 4 to provide the most natural money shots. Holy fuck, was I wrong.

I have reviewed Jonah Richards in the past. I like the look of him a lot. I think the only thing I’ve really sunk my teeth into in his resume left me a little flat, though, with a little too raw of an edge, a slight clumsiness to the wrestling that gave me too much of a hit of backyard trampoline wrestling. I’ve long thought it would be a pleasure to bend him over and fuck that hot, taut, lean meat ass of his, but, again, I wasn’t expecting him in BB4 to grab me by the balls. Again, I say, holy fuck, was I wrong.

This is a mat match, which keeps this in the realm of believability, because even a barely legal version of Cameron would own an inexperienced, shoot from the hip twink punk like Jonah for days if this was in a pro ring. Fuck. Especially a barely legal version of Cameron would have wiped the floor with the mop haired Tiger Beat babyface if this was a ring match. Fuck, again, I say, I fully expected him to crack the kid like a nut even on the mat, if for no other reason than a height and weight advantage, without even bothering to factor in on camera wrestling experience. But after they trash talk and curl their upper lips at each other, Cameron turns his back to lean against the wall and stretch out his long legs, and BAM! Jonah rushes him from behind and locks on a full nelson. It’s assertive and confident. It’s a little vile and vicious. In other words, I like it. A lot. But then he suddenly lunges forward and slams Cameron face first into the wall. Right then and there I absolutely forgot about the also-rans on this DVD.

The story is authentic and compelling. Jonah is a pit-bull mix, throwing himself with claws bared and a gross lack of concern for counters or reversals. He hates Cameron’s cockiness. He hates his polish and prettiness. He hates his size and pedigree as a rising pro phenom. And he throws every fucking thing including the kitchen sink at getting underneath Cameron’s skin.

My heart beats faster in those moments when Jonah is racking up riding time. He gloats and sneers. I would swear to the wrestling gods that he is, right at this very moment, wherever the fuck he is these days, cuing up and jacking off to these scenes of his younger self ripping Cameron apart and working the twink punk revenge scenario that so many skinny gay guys have dreamt of back in the day when the high school jocks were lording over them. When he snaps on face-to-crotch headscissors and reaches down, grabbing the back of Cameron’s head and pulling hard, cramming his balls into the pro’s face, I am a big, big Jonah Richards fan.

But the drama is between this sensational back alley twink punk against an icy calm, exceptionally experienced, sensationally dominant, polished pro. So time and time again, Cameron takes his licks, but then muscles back into contention. He counters like a motherfucker, yanking victory out of the jaws of defeat over and over again. And he knows exactly how to control an opponent. He takes the heat Jonah is throwing his way, and he burns him with it again and again. Jonah is the first to try to unbutton Cameron’s jeans, but it’s the bowl-cut pro who flips the script and strips the twink punk first.

And Cameron’s ass was then, as it is now, astonishingly hot. So when he slides into figure-4 headscissors and bends his knees, slowly pulling Jonah’s puckered face deeper and deeper up Cameron’s crack, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a world class bubble butt used as wrestling offense better. You know there’s an army of Cameron Matthews fans who would give their left nut to trade places with Jonah right then and there. But it does nothing but piss off the pit bull that much more.

 

Two other elements are pleasant surprises for me here. One, I fucking LOVE watching hot, angry wrestling in jeans. I know, I know, this is totally inconsistent with my perpetual complaint about anytime there’s not enough skin. Fuck consistency. Sue me. I’ve got a special kink button for hot, shirtless boys in jeans beating the fuck out of each other. And 99 times out of 100, when homoerotic wrestling starts in jeans, they’re out of denim within about 3 minutes. Not so with Jonah and Cameron. They go about 5 falls into the match before Jonah gets his hot hors d’oeuvre ass stripped to briefs. The pacing is such that this makes total sense. They’re bitter. They don’t take breaks. When Cameron tried to pull of his t-shirt, Jonah took advantage of the moment by attacking him and using the shirt against him. So it’s little wonder that, when they’re both swinging for the fences, the time and effort it takes to rip off two pairs of skin tight jeans is not their top priority. And I for one love it.  I mean, I’d be bitter if we didn’t get to see these two bodies stripped to their gorgeous trunks underneath, but we do see that, and I get my denim kink stroked hard in the mean time.

The final delightful surprise of this match is the finish. I mean, it’s not a surprise that sooner or later Cameron Matthews kicks Jonah’s munchable ass. He’s just too dominant. He’s too skilled. Even at this point in his pro career, he’s seen every dirty trick in the book, so one way or another, he’s going wrap this lean cut of veal up nice and tight and sleeper Jonah out cold. Watching the bitterness and resentment fading from Jonah’s face as he drifts off to dreamland is super sweet. But it isn’t surprising. What is surprising is how much time it takes Cameron to pull his shit together, get to his feet, catch his breath, stroll across the mat to pick up his clothes, monologuing to his unconscious opponent about fate and “maybe next time son,” and don’t-mess-with-the-bull trash talk. Because a groggy, blinking, dizzy twink punk has just enough time to rouse, crawl on his hands and knees up behind the hot jock who just put him down and jab a solid, breathtaking punch to Cameron’s balls from behind.

Cameron “wins,” mind you. He can out wrestle Jonah morning, noon and night. If Jonah just kept wrestling at this point, I have zero doubt that Cameron would yet again be putting the bitter punk down again and flexing and preening all over again. So Jonah grabs his leather belt off of his jeans and just hog ties the wailing, ball-bruised pro in the middle of the mat. I literally stand up and cheer, this is so fucking satisfying. The reversal of fortune is dripping with juicy, jock-comeuppance humiliation. The back alley punk then picks up his own clothes and starts for the door. But then he turns back and grabs Cameron’s clothes, too. “Fuck you!” Jonah spits down at the trussed up babyface pro. “Walk home naked, loser!”

File this one under that longstanding theme I’ve talked about, where genuine suspense and surprise turns me on extra hard. This makes me want to go back and savor every Cameron Matthews match I own all over again, with this hot-tied humiliation of his past shedding new light on the career trajectory of the hardest working hunk in homoerotic wrestling. And this makes me want to go back and purchase every Jonah Richards match I can get my hands on.

And this makes me, for at least a moment, ask “Biff? Chet? Who the fuck are they?!”