It’s as if December new releases are extra titillating in an effort to sneak into the final spot of 2016 favorites when the retrospectives start to come. Another tasty offering from BG East’s catalog 116 surprised me by just how provoked I was. Making a regular diet of homoerotic wrestling for going on 8 years of blogging now, I’m probably one of the more jaded fans of the genre. So when something catches me off guard, when I catch myself saying, “I don’t think I’ve seen anything quite like that before,” it’s a notable delight. So I was thoroughly delighted by the opening match in Undagear 26, pitting phenomenal fan favorite Van Skyler against sophomore sex bomb Payton Meadows.
I was excited to read Joe’s take on this match already. As is the case 99% of the time, I agree with Joe in spirit. Like Joe, I found this match bawdy and beautiful. Like Joe, I was eager to take a long look (with many pushes of the pause button) at body-beautiful Van seeing if he can find his groove in a new wrestling context. Like Joe, the muscles and combat and power and sweat made “my pants itchy.”
However, as is equally often the case, I had a slightly different take on some of the details. I find that seeing things slightly differently from Joe is reassuring for me, because otherwise, what would be the point of both of us blogging? In this case, whereas Joe pegs physique aesthete Van as “his” guy, my eyes are riveted almost from start to finish on the smoldering Quebecois. This takes me completely off guard. Payton didn’t grab me by the balls quite like this in his debut earlier this year. My hunch is that his first match and this one were both taped around the same time (same context, same general appearance), but somehow, it’s like I’m seeing Payton for the first time. And fuck me sideways, I like what I see a whole, whole lot.
Van seems about 20% more bad ass than in his first two matches, which is a relief. Someone who looks that pretty and gets bulldozed so commandingly can dig quite a rut for himself in this business. Most of us enjoy watching a superhuman specimen of muscular development like Van get knocked down to mortality, I think. In this business, there’s an inherent vulnerability to being that wildly pretty, with those perfected proportions, with that seemingly impenetrable muscled arsenal just begging to get penetrated. In Undagear 26, he’s noticeably more aggressive. He’s got a plan that doesn’t stop at a complete un-self-reflected assumption that because he looks like a live action version of a comic book superhero, he’s destined to win. In his first couple of matches, I got a sense that Van expected that someone who looks as fucking sensational as he does simply deserves to have victory served up on a platter, which was, of course, his spectacular undoing. But squaring off against Payton, there’s something more devious and determined about him, or, as Joe puts it, he tackles this new assignment with more brio.
Van’s vigor is remarkably well met by Payton’s sheer force of will. Having acknowledged that I found myself wholeheartedly on team Payton, it may seem paradoxical to admit that in their opening posedown muscle comparison, I objectively have to give the edge to Van. Payton’s legs are a fraction more petite. His lat spread may be a little more ripped, but Van’s wing span is simply broader. On sheer size alone, Van’s double bicep pose casts a long shadow across Payton’s nearly, but not quite as thick peaks. But the French Canadian doesn’t concede an inch. “That doesn’t beat this,” Payton snarls with that sexy Quebecois accent that always sounds supremely sophisticated to my provincial ears. “No way, not a chance,” he insists, stepping in front of the self-proclaimed “It-Boy” and dialing up his own blinding beauty an extra hard pumped flex, broadcasting his powerfully persuasive cocky certainty in his own superiority. I’m seriously shocked to discover that if I had the opportunity to get my lustful, worshipping hands on either of these magnificent men at that very moment, I’d be all over Payton despite Van’s piece by piece superiority.
Well, there’s one piece of Payton that I would argue is superior: his ass. At the risk of calling down a mountain of heat from Van-fans, I just have to say, as magnificent and muscled an ass as Van possesses, Payton’s ass takes my breath away even more. Seriously, please don’t send me hate mail, because I freely acknowledge we’re talking shades of gray here. These are four outstandingly sexy ass cheeks. But I have to be honest here when I say that pushing rewind happened most frequently around my lustful appreciation of Payton’s derriere. And what angles we get! Holy fuck, I’m pretty sure an experienced physician could do a proctology exam on Payton just by watching the last 3/5ths of this match once he’s wrestling in a jock strap. The camera clearly loves that ass as much as I do. And he’s completely unselfconscious about showing it off, flexed, twisted, stretched, split wide… I get the impression that Payton knows that every hill and valley on him is intoxicatingly pretty. When he forcibly strips Van down to a thong, Payton requires that Van obey his command to peel off his own baby blue designer briefs, because no way in hell is the Quebecois stunner going to let Van show more skin for even a second.
I haven’t even really started talking about the wrestling, have I? The outrageous quantity of dazzling beauty in this match is hard to understate. But let me just appreciate the action itself, as well. It’s powerful and intense. For two bodies built like sprinters, the wrestling is actually quite focused on long-distance endurance. Van Pearl Harbors the International Delight mid-posedown because, I think, he recognizes that he’s getting out-prettied. Early days bodyscissors allow Van to demonstrate just how dominant his massive legs can be, grinding into Payton’s ripped, tanned torso. “That’s all you have?!” the Quebecois beauty taunts defiantly. He literally begs for more punishment, taking every ounce of pressure Van can muster and dismissing it with a smirk.
When Van exploits his advantage by reaching down and slowly, appraisingly stroking Payton’s gorgeously ripped torso, the erotic tension dials up about twice anything I’ve ever seen Van in before. I can’t tell if he wants to fuck Payton even half as much as I do, but he is clearly impressed with his body, finding it irresistible to refrain from from palming every bulge and divot. “You think you got muscle, eh?” Van taunts, his hands undermining his words. “They don’t seem to be working too much for you.” Payton muscles his way out of one predicament, only to be herded like cattle into a grinding, jeopardizing choke. “Feel that bicep on your neck,” Van crows, bearing down. “Too tight for you?” he asks tauntingly. “Just… just a little,” Payton grunts like a smart ass.
Payton, it turns out, is a HUGE smart ass. Van is controlling him hard early going, working him into a very cool ankle choke. “How do you like those legs?” he asks rhetorically, because quite obviously they are punishing and possibly close to putting Payton out. “They’re kinda strong,” Payton coughs out like the smart ass I’m discovering that he is at heart. “Thank you,” he smirks when he escapes, rubbing his throat, “it was itching a bit, but that helps.” The taunting sarcasm is strong in this one, and I kinda love it. The combo of a rocking hot body, gorgeously innocent baby face, and over the top smart assness gives him a strong Ryan Reynolds vibe.
A couple of moments in the wrestling stand out as particularly hot. One starts with Van working some exciting momentum and that aforementioned planning to slide Payton’s baby face into deep, smothering face-to-crotch headscissors. Let’s see a show of hands of Van-fans who would donate a kidney to trade places with Payton right then and there? Perhaps all that smart assness is taking an emotional toll on Van, because he seems to particularly relish the way this hold finally shuts up that snarling, sarcastic, biting wit pouring out of the French Canadian. I for one am really, really pleased to study the erotic sculpture that is this tightly clenched mojo-stealer of a hold. But then, out of nowhere, Payton climbs up to his hands and knees, pulling Van’s hips off the mat. Fuck, I’m thinking, this pretty boy is strong! Then, up off his hands, Payton powers up to a kneeling position, rolling Van up to his shoulders, still clamped onto that face-to-crotch with everything he’s got, and perhaps a little twinge of panic added on. Fuck, I’m thinking again, this pretty boy is really strong! Then Payton pulls his feet underneath him and powers up out of the squat pulling Van completely off the mat, hanging from that face-to-crotch, dangling there, squeezing with everything he’s got, Payton’s head completely enveloped between those huge, thick quads. And then, BAM, BAM, BAM!!! Payton slams that huge, strong, thick back that Van was showing off earlier into the mat with authority. You can pretty much see the stars circling Van’s head as he loses his grip on the headscissors and for the next three or so minutes gets absolutely muscle bullied by the provocatively accented international baby face beauty.
It turns out, in addition to being devastatingly beautiful and delightfully smart ass, Payton is also a vicious mother fucker on offense. He rips Van’s muscled legs open wide and pounds his knees into his hamstrings. “You like it, don’t you?” Payton asks in that cocky, aristocratic accent. “Feels good, eh?” he asks. Payton is wailing incoherently in response. “This is just too hard for you, my friend,” the Quebecois beauty taunts him ironically. He wraps himself around Van in an abdominal stretch, turning Van’s bulging muscle physique into taffy. Van gasps and whimpers, with a rising panic. “You like it? It’s fun, eh?” Payton beams down on his handiwork. “Just a regular day for me,” he coos, abruptly wrenching Van’s hot legs spread eagled hard in a spladle. Van can muster no other response than writhing in agony, gasping, silently clenching his teeth and, presumably, his sphincter. “Pain is not mandatory,” Payton mocks, reminding his opponent that his diabolical torture can end with two simple words. “Pain is just weakness leaving the body,” the French Canadian monologues like a supervillain. When he digs a claw into Van’s quivering abdominals all stretched out and helpless, Van cannot take it. “IgiveIgive!” he gasps in quiet panic. I, for one, seriously hate watching that magnificent torture session at the hands of perfectly, painfully pretty Payton come to an end.
When the first layer gets stripped to thong/jock strap, Van dials up the brutality considerably. Perhaps fearing that prettyboy rut I mentioned earlier, he starts muscle bullying the International Delight with renewed brio. They trade ass slapping, because this has got to be the sum total best quality ass match ever. Pretty quickly, Van snaps on a sequel, completely smothering, face-to-crotch headscissors, burying Payton’s pretty, pretty face deep into his big red bulge. Payton instantly slaps and strokes that fan-favorite ass of Van’s. “You like that ass, don’t you?” Van asks, “slap that ass!” he commands with a big smile, delighted to see that his charms are having as much an affect on Payton as vice versa. “You like that smell, that sweat?!” Van taunts, swiveling his hips, really stuffing Payton’s face in hard. Out of nowhere, the Quebecois accent muffled with a mouthful of balls, Payton snarls enthusiastically, “I kind of love it!” Oh, fuck, I am so on team Payton.
The last moment I want to mention from this match is one that Joe, and the match description allude to as well. Van is starting to rack up submissions on my boy. You can tell Payton is getting buried under, because his trash talk turns significantly less smart ass and more ego bruised. Van has been bullying him hard and mean, clawing his balls for no good reason, not giving him a break between yanking out submissions. Van locks him up in a sleeper from behind, threatening to bring this battle of the beauties to an abrupt end. It looks like it’s heading that way, in fact, when suddenly Payton reaches behind him and claws the living fuck out of Van’s testicles. Needless to say, that sleeper hold disintegrates in a slack jawed, air sucking wash of panic across Van’s face. Van crumples, but Payton drags him back to his feet. Deliberately, the French Canadian shove his arm between Van’s sweaty, meaty thighs and thrusts upward, racking the beefcake’s balls hard. It’s a little breathtaking, watching Van’s jaw drop and his eyes widen in shock. But then Payton keeps thrusting upward with his forearm, literally picking the It-Boy up, racked across his forearm, and pins him against the wall, Van’s feet dangling inches from the floor. Joe nails the metaphor of a pinned butterfly specimen. Gorgeous. Stuck. Possessed. And if there were any doubt if Payton’s gorgeous muscles have the power to compete against a comic book superhero like Van, that question is put to rest in what very well may be the juiciest, sexiest submission I have ever seen. Ever.
So are you team Payton or team Van? It’s not like you can go wrong either way. Whether you’re keying off on Joe’s guy or mine, you will enjoy the intimate, high impact, super sweaty power and beauty of this match. I see something new and seriously unexpected from both of these dazzlers. And given the opportunity, I’d be first in line to coat every inch of Van Skyler with multiple applications of baby oil. Unless Payton Meadows was the other option. Then I’d kick Van’s stellar ass cheeks to the curb and worship Mr. International Delight in body and soul.
I am breathless in anticipation of getting to see much, much more of what I saw in those thrilling 3 minutes of supervillain monologuing and surgical, diabolical, merciless muscle torture from Payton Meadows in Undagear 26.