For over six years I’ve been anointing Homoerotic Wrestlers of the Month to celebrate the new release additions to the homoerotic wrestling canon and, hopefully, help promote a lively, creative, innovative industry. In that time, there have been 68 award winners. A select few have been repeat HWOTM title holders, and a very rare breed of wrestler has managed to earn the title on three different occasions. Today, I call up one more fine example of homoerotic wrestling greatness to take that 3-peat title and lord it over the rest of the wannabes.  Winner of homoerotic wrestler of the month for a sizzling hot performance in a new release in the month of October is…

 

 

… Christian Taylor.

I’ve already reviewed in detail what I think works so well about Wet & Wild 8, so I’ll just reiterate a few points about why Christian continues to tantalize and fascinate me. First, Christian turns heads. He’s just so fucking pretty that rookie beefcake Calvin Haynes is, quite literally, licking his lips with excitement at discovering that he’s alone with the dazzlingly handsome veteran. Calvin strategically maneuvers his magnificent physique in between Christian and the Florida sun he’s attempting to bathe in until he gets his attention. Calvin has been casing the joint inside and out for a couple of minutes to verify that the BG East South compound has been temporarily abandoned by everyone else in town at the moment. “Looks like we’ve got the place to ourselves,” Calvin says with just a little excitement shining through, despite the rookie’s obvious attempt to look cool. Christian lets that hang in the air for a few pregnant seconds, peeling his long, luscious body off the chaise and getting up in the muscle rookie’s face. He fucking towers over him. “What are you going to do about it?” Christian asks, flaunting that extravagant sex appeal that’s so obviously already turning Calvin on.

The BG East website says Christian is 6’2″ tall. I’m sure they’re right, but I walk away from every Christian Taylor match remembering him as even taller. The way he wraps this long, lean limbs around Calvin accentuate his incredible reach and flexibility. He looks like an anatomy chart painted a mile long. Beefy Calvin dwarfs him in muscle thickness, and still it’s that luxurious expanse of Christians gorgeous, smooth, pale body stretched out, squeezing, flexing and bearing down that slaps the big, bulging rookie into the background.

I also love Christian’s vulnerability. In a homoerotic wrestling universe with so many huge bodybuilders sucking the air out of the room, Christian is both delicate and dangerous. He’s clearly an athlete. “You’re stronger than you look,” even muscle rookie Calvin has to admit. Christian confesses he’s been a competitive swimmer, perhaps explaining the tide-tipping advantage he rides to the end of the pool portion of Wet & Wild 8. But Christian also suffers. Inevitably, he sucks on some agony, particularly when he’s outmuscled and tossed around by the likes of Calvin Haynes and his big, hard, hairy pecs. I believe the teeter-tottering balance of power in this match because Christian sells suspense. He takes punishment like a studied pro. AND he can deploy his long, strong, gorgeous muscles to convincingly milk some humiliation and begging out of an amorous muscle stud like Calvin.

Christian is always a contender also because he effortlessly dials up the homoeroticism in every match I’ve seen him. It’s not just that moment that he grabs the rookie by the hair and drags his beefy ass out of the pool saying, “Come with me, big boy. We need to take this somewhere else.” It’s also his generous offer to towel off the competition, getting a more appraising angle on those “tree trunk” thighs and meaty pecs of the rookie. Christian then hands Calvin a towel and holds open his arms, inviting a payback towel down, “if you don’t mind.” The enthusiasm in Calvin’s reply speaks to the devoted fan following Christian has earned for years. “Not at all, not with that body!” Calvin gushes, slowly pressing the terrycloth across every long, long inch. Slowly, he drags the towel down the length of Christian’s torso. Calvin squats low, dabbing off every drop of water down the mile long legs in front of him, letting his face linger right in Christian’s ass. “Not a bad view,” the rookie coos. Fuck, we can go a long, long time between seeing homoerotic wrestlers appreciate each other’s bodies. It’s about fucking time someone was absolutely gagging for Christian Taylor’s gorgeousness.

The last third of this match is a foreplay wrestling session on a bed inside the BG East compound. My heart pumps extra hard as the camera hovers so close by. The boys start grinding, squeezing, plowing into each other. Big Calvin slides Christian into bodyscissors, crushing the veteran’s lean torso and grinning ear to ear at the sound of his loud, cracking slaps pounding down into Christian’s ass. “You like that!?” Calvin asks. It’s a rhetorical question. Homoerotic wrestlers ask each other this question about 30 times per match (I’m estimating, here). It’s a question asked in order to make a statement (i.e., you’re fucking hating this!). It’s intended to humiliate, to defy a wrestler’s masculine impulse to underestimate his agony, to not show his vulnerability. It’s meant to make a statement, not to be answered.

But the icy cool veteran answers anyway. “Actually, I do.” And fuck. I’m chuckling and so turned on and completely sucked into the careening sex play this is turning into because Christian Taylor doesn’t just like to wrestle. He doesn’t just enjoy shoving his tongue down another hunk’s throat. He convinces me all over again that he is turned on precisely because of the wrestling, because of the precise dosage of pain and punishment, give and take, domination and submission, power and beauty.

Not to belabor that same point, but there’s a moment where the furious sprint to the finish is just about to take them hurtling right over the edge. Christian has the momentary advantage, which at this point simply means that he’s literally on top and at the steering wheel of the careening bus. He stretches his super long, smooth, sexy self out over top of Calvin and slowly flexes his glutes, as if in slow motion grinding his swollen cock into the muscle rookie’s raging erection. Calvin is blinking rapidly, like he’s a little lightheaded, which considering the vascular redirection happening in his cock, makes sense. He hungrily laps at Christian’s nipples. Christian dives down and kisses the rookie’s mountainous biceps. Harder they grind, with the camera (i.e., you and me) right up in there, practically close enough to feel the inferno heat of their fully aroused bodies working up friction. Christian thrusts his hips forward, crushing their cocks together, as the veteran bends his long neck forward to suck aggressively on the rookie’s nipples. “Mmmmmm,” Calvin groans, eyes closed, completely under Christian’s spell, “you’re sexy!”

“Not so bad yourself,” Christian murmurs as he slides to the other pec and starts going to town on Calvin’s other nipple.

While I’m instantly a fan of Calvin Haynes, particularly that magnificent ass and the hot ink, this match is a perfect example of what almost no one does as steadily, convincingly, and successfully as Christian Taylor. That body. Those eyes. That coverboy jawline. And an unblinking long-distance race to an unabashed erotic conclusion hits every homoerotic wrestling kink button I’ve got. I’d say the third time is a charm, but with Christian Taylor, every time is charming, deep down sexy, and incredibly satisfying. He could easily become the first 4-peater in the HWOTM annals with the quality and quantity of homoerotic wrestling he puts out there. In the mean time, he takes a step forward and joins the rarified ranks of three-time award winners, and becomes around these parts, once again, my Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month.