I often wonder how much organization is churning away behind the scenes at BG East. I enjoyed getting to be on site during one of the weekend shoots several years ago, as a dozen or so hot wrestlers all descended on the BG East headquarters to squeeze in as much sizzlingly sexy wrestling as possible over a few days. Hot guys were everywhere I turned. There was wrestling happening somewhere all the time, often more than one match being recorded at the same time in different venues. And when they didn’t have the cameras pointed at them, there were idle wrestlers everywhere, in the kitchen, down on the dock, watching television, napping in the sunroom. It was so fucking busy, with so much eye candy everywhere, I quickly suffered from whiplash and a raging sugar high.

So it wouldn’t exactly surprise me if the oft-used premise for a match, that two wrestlers showed up to warm up and practice in a temporarily unclaimed spot in the compound, actually happens. A lot. That’s the premise for Ring Rookies 6, when Forrest Taylor walked into the ring room, expecting to find it empty, but instead found Jack Norwood already warming up in the ring. It was Forrest’s second release from BG East, and his first time stepping foot into the ring. It was Jack’s debut, and as of this posting, his only released match. So this was, indeed, a classic ring rookies set-up.

“Excuse me! Who are you? I reserved the ring for this time,” Forrest bitches immediately. “I got here first,” Jack snaps coldly with a sneer. I like the look of Jack. He has that combination of a pristine, pretty face and a hot, meaty body that works wonders for me. He also possesses chill confidence, to the point of being downright cold. He suggests that they can settle who gets to stay in the ring room by wrestling for it. With a whopping one match already under his belt, Forrest is way cocky and quick to accept the challenge. And in the opening flurry of action, fuck, Forrest looks like he was born in a wrestling ring! He breaks a collar and elbow lockup with a sharp knee to Jack’s gut, before scooping the newbie up in a full nelson. The red-headed lumberjack swings him around in the full nelson, letting centrifugal force add brutal pressure to his hands cranking on the back of Jack’s neck. He flings the newbie into a corner and punches the living fuck out of Jack’s tightly muscle, flat abdomen. “I told you to leave when you had the chance,” Forrest snarls with an evil grin.

Regular readers know I always enjoy a hotly contested, competitive match, and that’s what Jack and Forrest deliver. They both possess a curious quality of cocky confidence bordering on ring savvy, considering they’ve reportedly not battled it out in the ring before. But they both obviously have wrestling experience behind them. Jack delivers a snap mare that absolutely no rookie has a right to. Just when Forrest is crawling up to his hands and knees, shaken hard, Jack snaps his thick thighs around the red-head’s lean waist and squeezes. Forrest refuses to submit, even while he’s struggling for air. As the “rookie” Jack starts to roll them around the ring by the body scissors, Forrest wails and writhes like a fish on a hook. He desperately tries to pry apart Jack’s crushing legs, but the rookie’s smooth, rock hard quads are like a steel padlock, going absolutely nowhere.

Both ring rookies score submissions, and they both gloat big time. Forrest lays into Jack’s meaty pecs like a terrier with a bone, ripping, stretching, punching and prying them all over the ring. “Go ahead and quit,” Forrest demands with a smirk, working to rip Jack’s head off his neck with a chinlock while punching the muscle kid’s pecs a deep cherry red, until he finally submits,”Okay, okay!!!”

“You like that,” Forrest asks, catching Jack eye fucking him as he’s flexing his sweet, petite round guns in gloating victory. “You look great,” Jack admits on his hands and knees, staring unblinkingly at Forrest’s big tartan bulge swinging in front of his face. Then he’s laughing like a supervillain after he’s delivered an uppercut to Forrest’s balls, dropping the red-headed hunk to his knees hard. Once Jack notices how fucking pissed it makes Forrest to drag him around by his hair, he does it pretty much non-stop. The red-head gives away a submission to an abdominal stretch, a century into getting his alabaster abs pummeled hot, hot red.

I like the attitudes. I like the bodies. A lot. I like the suspense of two snarling, evenly matched, fresh and ferocious fighters wringing each other out, demonstrating both their potential to dish it out and take it. We’ve seen a lot (literally) of smoking hot Forrest since then, and I, for one, am down for seeing a lot more of him (in all senses of the phrase). I think it’s surely time to see Jack’s hot, muscled bod and cocky, calculated chill back in action, too.

The winner trusses his beaten rival up in the ropes, cooing in the loser’s ear as he bears down on a lovely sleeper. “I guess we both got to use the ring,” the preening, flexing victor monologues, his eyes admiring his own hot body on display with his vanquished rival slack and helpless behind him. “But we know who the winner is.”