I realize that I’m not subtle, but for the sake of new readers, let me state what’s abundantly obvious to anyone who’s read me over the past 12 months or so: I am a fan of Dio Characi. I’d really love licking honey off every inch of his ridiculously beautiful body, of course, but my fan-status is based on more than that. Dio seems to seriously enjoy wrestling. I can’t say the same for all wrestlers who show up on our small screens, but Dio has this delightful presence, this immediacy in his matches that never fails to sell me the story that the cherubic Brazilian babyface with a sizzling hot body gets off on wrestling. Of course, for all I know, it could be bullshit. Dio could be like a lot of wrestling-for-gay-eyes guys, just clocking in and earning some extra cash off of eager marks like me. But if so, he’s even more brilliant than I already think he is, because he tells that story so fucking well.

I’m also a fan of Forrest Taylor. Honestly, I’ve taken some shit for saying that out loud, because Forrest seems to collect haters like overripe fruit attracts gnats. And I get that, truly and deeply. There’s something about his tenor voice, spitting out cocky, contemptuous trash talk, demanding to be praised/worshiped, that makes me want to gag him with his own sweat-soaked trunks. But about 42% of the way through every match I’ve seen of Forrest’s, I completely forget to be irritated by him. Instead, I just marvel at his remarkably hot body, his lily white complexion and fiery red hair pulled straight out of the same gene pool as I come from. Fuck, Forrest’s rock hard muscled ass and thick, aesthetically stunning thighs make all the argument needed to convince me that he deserves the praise he demands. I mean, sure, he deserves to have someone shove his own sweat-soaked trunks down his throat and spank those shockingly white glutes crimson. That, too. But fuck, I can’t quit the guilty pleasure of letting his relentless wrestling offense and carved-from-ivory physique make me forget, for a little while, how annoying his over-the-top overconfidence and smirking trash talk is.

So Dio, grinning hungrily at the start of Mat Scraps 4, openly acknowledging how hot he finds it watching Forrest’s thick quads stretching and flexing as they warm up, is all sorts of right. “It looks like you have good quads,” the Brazilian bombshell says what we’re all thinking, even if I’m the only other one saying it out loud. In that classic Dio way, it’s not so much a compliment as it is a come on. Dio’s fucking famished from the moment the video starts, and that lick smacking hunger is the slow burning vibe that keeps their mat scrap hot and homoerotic. I swear, 95% of hunks showing up to wrestle for gay eyes seem to bitterly loathe the idea of giving an opponent an ounce of credit. Now, that’s fucking irritating! Dio, on the other hand, pays Forrest well-deserved compliments from start to finish in this match, and not only is he the bigger man for it, he’s also lighting the match in my crotch as I eagerly watch to see where his relentless attraction is going to drive the two of them.

Forrest is… well, Forrest. Without skipping a beat after Dio’s honest opening compliment of his hot legs, the red-headed hottie smirks and says, “Oh, I know I do.” It’s this oddly hot subtext throughout the match, that Dio hungrily praises Forrest, and Forrest just keeps throwing sneering trash talk back at him. Fuck, it’s SO audaciously irritating when Forrest sucks up Dio’s compliments and serves him damningly faint praise in return. “Yours are nice, too,” he deadpans. “Just not as nice as mine.” Half the match later, Dio gasps, full sell, “You’re so hot.” Then, as Forrest is getting fucking swarmed by the Brazilian, forced to worship the Brazilian house-on-fire Best Body at BG East winner last year (his DEBUT year!!!), Forrest deadpans again, “You do have a good body, I’ll admit….” You can hear the “but” hanging silently in the air, as Forrest let’s the tension mount. “…even though you’re weaker than I am.” It’s a patently ridiculous statement, as he’s staring up at Dio, force fed Dio’s bulging biceps, made to lick Dio’s pits and squeeze Dio’s pecs. I’d be so fucking irritated with him, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s now wrestling in a jock strap, and that magnificent alabaster ass is bare and so fucking beautiful. What was Forrest saying? I can’t remember now.

Dio clearly forgives/forgets Forrest, too. When Forrest is taking a turn accumulating riding time, squeezing (convincingly!!!) Dio’s coverboy torso between his tree trunk thighs, the Brazilian both suffers and manages to tug Forrest’s trunks off his ass. Holy shit, Dio kneading his fingertips into the red-headed hunk’s glutes blows my mind, all by itself. Forrest’s ass DESERVES the greedy, possessive clawing and groping Dio gives it. When Forrest cockily shoves his opponent’s face between his cheeks, there’s this sweet, sweet moment of perfection, as Dio, unsolicited, offers, “I’m enjoying the view a lot from here!” Like, FUCK. Such a fucking authentic moment that speaks volumes of truth about both of these gorgeous hunks, as well as you and me.

It will surprise no more than about 3% of Forrest’s marks (me NOT included) that Dio is just too much for him to handle. The Brazilian is 5 inches taller and a good 40 pounds of solid, succulent muscle heavier than the impertinent bearded pretty boy with such a smart mouth. It’s not a squash by any means. It’s got some playful highlights to the schoolyard who’s-bigger/badder feel to it, as they trade holds and hurts. And Forrest makes the big boy hurt! Fuck, Dio’s suffering sell is luscious. But just like gravity pulls us just one direction, there’s an inevitability about Dio wearing Forrest out hard and long. There’s one sensationally hot moment when Dio is really building up a head of steam, crushing the snarky red-head, digging his fingers deep into Forrest’s rock hard core. He crushes Forrest’s balls and smothers him in his pit. Then, trapping Forrest’s left hand behind his head, he claws the living FUCK out of the red-head’s impressive lat muscle. It looks like he’s ripping meat of the bone, and holy shit, it makes me swoon!

In the end, Dio shuts up the relentless, notorious trash talker in the second best way I can think of. In case my take on how erotic this match is leads you to think the boys get naked, let me transparently point out that no cocks are visibly unsheathed. Two of the sexiest asses in the business are beautifully bared, and every other inch of their bodies is explored and destroyed, admired and tasted, though. Dio is a force of nature, and I’ve got a spare bottle of honey waiting in case I ever get the call from him. And Forrest is so fucking irritating, his confidence so overblown, and then about 42% of the way through the match, Dio rips off his trunks and kneads those tasty glutes and… what was I saying about Forrest? I just can’t remember much after that moment. Damn.