Blake Hunter was the runaway winner in the voting for who wore Jesse Zane’s crotch pillow stump puller best.  All of that love for Blake inspired me to do a deep dive into the match. This was my first Muscleboy match. Popping my Muscleboy cherry is overdue, of course, but they were cumming on strong right around the time I was losing steam with blogging a while back. I’ve read Alex and Joe’s sexysexy takes on Muscleboy matches, however, so I was prepared for that particular aesthetic that they’ve made their brand.

You didn’t know this, but I wrote Jesse’s very first match description when he debuted for BGE wrestling as Lorenzo Lowe. He’s come a long, long way, to now be the franchise player for Muscleboy. His mat wrestling game is second to none, and his signature icy sadism is instant drama in every match I’ve seen him. You sort of know what you’re getting with Jesse, and you know it’ll be sexy, sweaty, and painful. The wildcard will always be the hunky opponent who steps onto the mat with him. In this case, juicy Blake Hunter is instantly so, so promising.  Jesse is channeling me when he takes a look at Blake and honestly marvels, “God damn, those fucking legs!”

The match is very erotic-forward. In fact, both boys grind each other’s crotches to full erection and make out before any wrestling action has occurred. I have to admit, I love an erotic wrestling premise that starts with explicit lust. Jesse and Blake are convincingly into each other out of the gate.

I’m less compelled by the wrestling, because Jesse has to really carry that narrative nearly single-handed. Of course, Jesse’s up for the challenge. He grabs hold and molds his muscleboy sacrifice like the master craftsman he is. Blake is in so far over his head, though, that the wrestling heat doesn’t match the erotic heat as much as I enjoy.  Blake sort of redeems himself by suffering hard. He has a crotch-stirring, wounded whimper that Jesse squeezes out of him repeatedly. Blake also has a sweet petulance about him when Jesse demands that he submit, and the muscle jobber refuses at first.  He never really fights it for long, though. Then, when Jesse calmly explains to him that he owns the title as the “Spladle Champ,” Blake obediently, adorably submits, “I give, Champ!”

The one bright exception to Blake getting completely outclassed is a lovely bearhug he clamps down about halfway through the match. Both sets of singlet straps have come down, and the boys are getting sweaty. Uncharacteristically, Blake takes the initiative, powering up from he knees to scoop little Jesse way, way off his feet. In that way that they weave their lust and aggression together, Jesse just takes the embrace for a second, like getting swept up by an amorous lover. Part of the sell that works so well is when Jesse suddenly clenches his jaw and grimaces, as the realization hits him that he’s caught good by his dangerously powerful opponent. But most of the sell is how Blake fucking wrings him out like a washcloth, squatting low and then suddenly jerking back upright, shaking out Jesse’s legs like a rag doll. Blake keeps his eyes on Jesse’s suffering face, eating this up, and when Jesse’s flailing about uselessly, you can see Blake’s throbbing erection signalling that he’s as fully engaged in this moment as I am.

I’m ambivalent about my discovery that the photos illustrating the battle on muscleboywrestling.com are not action shots from the match itself. That laudable crotch-pillow stump puller that you (and I) love so much doesn’t happen, at least not quite that way. The hold does pop up near the very end of the match, but both boys are naked, which isn’t a bad innovation. I prefer the singlet on, though, rather than the close-up of Blakes asshole (I realize I may be in the minority, there). However, I love that Jake starts jerking himself off, with Blake’s head trapped between his upper thighs and his head pressed against Jesse’s balls.

Blake is too calm, too satisfied, when he says “I never thought I’d like being dominated by a smaller guy,” after all is said and done. He gave up far too soon for my tastes. I mean, the whole match lasts over 30 minutes, but the muscleboy with tree trunk thighs throws in the towel long before the end. He’s too satisfied. He colludes too much to keep the competitive pretense up, and so this match tilts a tad too much in the direction of soft core porn rather than erotic wrestling, for what I was hoping for. It’s a fine distinction I’m making, though. In truth, I absolutely got off to this match.

The money shot, for me, was Blake’s withering, totally commanding bearhug, though. If I could’ve seen Jesse’s appreciation for Blake’s tree trunks a little more, like Jesse popping a blood vessel stuck between them in standing scissors, I’d have enjoyed the ending more. The images of Jesse getting crushed like a grape between those gargantuan quads of Blake’s that you can find on the website don’t happen in the match, though the fact that they happened in the photo shoot demonstrate that I’m not the only one whose erotic wrestling fantasy took them that direction. If Blake had more of a taste of victory, before it’s diabolically ripped from his grasp by the top shelf erotic mat wrestling champ, if the muscleboy had more bitterness left in his mouth when he’s muttering, “Damn,” as he peels himself off the mat and stares down at little Jesse’s cum dripping down his mountainous pecs, I’d have loved this match even more.