Shrines

“…a complete stranger’s secret masturbation shrine.”

A link to this post from Thought Catalog was forwarded to several of us with an overlapping interest in blogging and BG East.  It’s a clever, well-written post from some straightboy in California who stumbled across a particularly indicting… well, let’s just say indicative… scene on a recent walk in the woods in SoCal.  The author, I’m sure correctly, surmises that this is what is left of a remote jackoff session, with the remains of black-and-white computer printouts of “semi-nude male wrestlers.”  Referring to this as “a masturbation shrine,” the author marvels at the untold story of these artifacts.  Why, for example, did the owner of these images travel to such a remote spot in the woods to settle in for a moment of private ecstasy?  With the obvious availability of these images from the internet, why leave the color computer screen behind and surreptitiously carry black and whites 4 miles up a hiking trail and into the bushes to possess them for gratification?

The stuff of fantasies: Kid Karisma wrings the sweat out of Jake Jenkins in Hunkbash 12.

The reason this perhaps tongue-in-cheek blog post was forwarded to several of us was not so much for the words, but the images attached.  Take a look, and you’ll see that these are not simply printouts of “semi-nude male wrestlers.”  These are shots of some of the finest, sexiest BG East boys (with copyright intact, no less) going at it in the ring!  The close-up photo from the blog post is easiest to identify.  It’s quite clearly my top contender for the status of my favorite homoerotic wrestler, Kid Karisma, bearhugging achingly pretty, barefoot beauty, Jake Jenkins and showing absolutely no mercy in Hunkbash 12.

Barefoot beauty Jake Jenkins looks achingly vulnerable under Kid Karisma’s control

Studying the more wide angle on the scene, I’ve managed to identify 2 of the other 3 images.  Both also come from Kid K and JJ’s smokin’ hot match in Hunkbash 12.  One shows Jake looking for the world like a reincarnation of barefoot gladiator babyface Kevin Von Erich from the 80’s, getting his arms stretched out behind him as Kid K takes advantage of JJ being flat on his fine, fine ass.

Kid Karisma feels Jake’s hot body melt in a sweat soaked Boston Crab

The other image I can make out (anyone else decipher the badly “soiled” image on the bottom?) is an exquisite shot of Jake sweaty and slapping the mat in agony as Kid K torques the living shit out of JJ’s gorgeous lower back in a spine-snapping, ass-bonanza Boston Crab. Readers of neverland may remember that this is the match that, at the time, Kid Karisma identified as easily his favorite. In my interview with Kid K, he marvels at the memory of “getting a hold of that body!… I mean, I truly got to work him over completely!,” Kid Karisma enthused. “But when I had him in the Boston or bent over my knee…God, you can just feel his body melting and weakening…pretty epic.”

Pretty epic.
Epic indeed! This is quite clearly the stuff of fantasies, clearly a fantasy match for Kid K, absolutely a fantasy match for me (it’s one I come back to again and again!), and obviously a fantasy match for the creator of this masturbation shrine in the woods. I don’t know if necessity is what drove this person to find such a remote site to let the fantasy take him, or if he has a particular thing about black and white homoerotic wrestling images enjoyed in the woods. Or perhaps, as the Thought Catalog author suggests, perhaps this is making an ironic artistic statement on the disposability of culture and passion.

Fueling fantasies near and far.
Whatever it is that explains or describes the person who left these images behind, I know one thing for sure: he’s a homoerotic wrestling fan like you and I are.  And perhaps like the Gideons and like me, he’s just spreading the word about what he’s passionate about, leaving behind some provocative images that, while lost on a straightboy remembering sorting himself out as a kid to National Geographic boobies, may yet inspire another hiker to catch a glimpse of what turns him, and me, and you on: hot, hardbodied hunks wrestling for our enjoyment.
Worth a 4-mile hike.
If the kindred spirit who left these images in the woods happens to read neverland, let me know you’re out there, buddy.  Let’s strategize a better way for you to access the beauty of Kid Karisma making Jake Jenkin’s muscles melt under his control in a Boston Crab.  And I’ll personally do my best to get you an autographed, color photo from at least one of these fantasymen.  A 4-mile hike to spend time with them?  You deserve at least that!

A Case for a Face

Red-white-and-blue junior Captain Americas as pretty, pumped, and competitive as babyfaces can be: Jake Jenkins and Austin Cooper
All in the same day a couple of days ago, SP at Inner Jobber posted a by-the-numbers “how to be a fantasy wrestling jobber (like Curtis Thompson)” post, and Joe at Ringside at Skull Island posted a “you might be a heel if…” list of distinguishing characteristics of the heel set, and I briefly mentioned my guilty pleasure of watching a babyface hero defeat an evil doer in the ring.  I think there’s less said than should be about professional wrestlers who fall neither into the doomed to be exploited category or the devious exploiters category.  Since SP and Joe did such thoughtful treatments of jobbers and heels, I decided to try to do a little more justice on behalf of that oft-maligned class of homoerotic wrestlers: the face.
I’ve got a longstanding crush on handsome hero Mitch Colby.

I say oft-maligned because I think to be compelled to pull for the handsome hero is frequently portrayed as gullible.  To boost for the “good guy,” the hard worker, the play-by-the rules, sincere competitor is frequently equated with naiveté.  Guys into the conquering and suffering of a pretty boy may ache for their jobbers, and guys into domination and humiliation dished out by a villain will pull for their heels.  I have a long, long record of working up a head of steam for plenty of jobbers and plenty of heels.  But call me gullible and naive, because (not always, but definitely sometimes) nothing will crank on my chain as convincingly as an all-in babyface (or just “face”) beauty using brains and brawn to overcome treachery and deceit.

Gorgeous face Denny Cartier is all skill, stamina, and strength on the mat.

I venture into this territory with eyes open.  I’ve seen the equivalent of doctoral dissertations written on parsing out opinions about what and who qualifies to be classified as a babyface wrestler.  I’d bet money someone will let me know where I got it wrong by the time I finish this post.  And I love that about us.  We’re the aroused, gorgeous gay nerds of professional wrestling.  We care way too much, leading us to quibble and at times even squabble about what is, let’s face it, minutiae and trivia.  We openly defy orthodoxies on one hand (e.g., celebrating the fierce, butch, dangerously strong and masculine gay man), while on the other hand bitterly defend other orthodoxies (e.g., heaping contempt on the commenter who describes your favorite jobber as a face, or vice versa).  Despite the apparent perception of others that I consider myself an expert, I offer this as nothing more than my personal system for classifying that distinctive breed of wrestler-for-pay who is not the villain, and he’s not the wrestler who seems eternally destined to lose beautifully.  But rather, he’s the heroic athlete determined to defeat his opponents with skill, stamina, and strength, and sometimes, he even succeeds.

Fiercely pretty babyface tagteam Zack Coleman and Brian Barnes.
Like babies themselves, I can’t think of anyone ugly who I’d classify as a babyface wrestler.  Granted, “ugly” is entirely subjective, but inclusion criteria for babyface wrestlers (as far as I’m concerned), include a strong, chiseled chin, gorgeous, piercing (often blue) eyes, and a gym-toned body with beautiful skin.  The parameters are flexible to accommodate an assortment of tastes (eye of the beholder and all), but something obviously beautiful seems a prerequisite.  A babyface seems to, by definition, be attractive in a conventional sense.  It’s not like particularly homoerotic wrestling is well-populated with men who fail to meet basic standards of physical attractiveness, but those especially handsome Clark Kent-esque boys tend to get checks in my personal tally of elements that add up to the essential ingredients of a compelling face.  Necessary but not sufficient criteria to be a babyface, it seems to me, is eye-catching beauty.  
Alexi Adamov strives valiantly to honestly overcome notorious Aryx Quinn’s dirty tricks.
Further inclusion criteria for me include that babyface wrestlers tend to stick to the straight and narrow when faced with (as they frequently are) an underhanded, dirty, no-good heel.  Here’s where it comes in handy to have powerful muscles and innate athleticism (again, necessary but not sufficient characteristics of faces – plenty of heels and jobbers have beautiful muscles and obvious athleticism).  When faced with cheating and trickery, the Pearl Harbor before the bell rings, the hair pull, the crotch blow, the foreign object, the refusal to break a hold when the action hits the ropes, the babyface hero grimaces, shakes his head (“kids these days”) and reinvests his faith in his thousands of hours of gym time and, hopefully, substantive experience and wrestling skills.  An occasional venture into a retributive low blow not-withstanding (particularly in homoerotic wrestling), the face places his confidence in the superiority of his physique, his mental preparation, his wrestling prowess, and the sincerity of his heart.  In a post-modern world, faces can get away with a lot more rule bending and still be objects of heroic adoration, of course.  They can most definitely lose their temper, open a can of unnecessarily rough whoop-ass, ravage an opponent momentarily in a rage.  But in the morality tales of homoerotic wrestling, if I see a handsome stud tend toward the exercise of self-restraint and appear to intentionally decline to take shortcuts, I check off another box in the face checklist.

Who’s got whom? Babyface hearthrob Brad Rochelle battles babyface heartthrob Jeff Phoenix

That’s not to say a babyface can only be seen in matches against heels, of course.  He can most definitely wrestle another babyface or a jobber, by all means.  Sometimes, he may be less easily identified in those settings, but nevertheless he perseveres in the certainty that he is the “better man” which will lead to his victory (as opposed to the heel who sees his victory, by whatever means, as the evidence that he’s the better man).  A babyface v babyface battle can be a particularly compelling thing of beauty.  Two hard, hardworking studs who’ve been convinced by accolades and past victories that they are destined to succeed can generate intensely satisfying and homoerotically charged wrestling entertainment.  The allure of the thrill of competition (which I argue is an essential element of what turns me on about the drama of homoerotic wrestling) can be most poignant and compelling for me when it’s face v face, beauty v beauty, power v power.  These are matches in which tit-for-tat wrestling often makes me smile, as athletes play a game of HORSE, showing off their skills and strength in a one-upsmanship format.  Like knights in armor of old, they charge upright into one another with a typically unspoken assumption that purity of heart will add weight to the scales of justice, and the outcome is less about the delectable doings inside the ropes as it is about who wanted it more as demonstrated by preparation, training, and hard work before they entered the ring.

Classic babyface Christopher Bruce shocks and awes perennially supine Rio Garza

I also like the drama of a babyface v jobber match, though again, I think this can confuse folks who equate a serious mauling as the exclusive domain of a heel.  By my way of thinking, a babyface is generally convinced in the superiority of his training, conditioning, and strength, so there’s most definitely still a story to tell when he encounters a pretty slice of heaven with a track record for getting crushed and humiliated.  He wrestles because he has faith in the premise that if he is the better man, he will win.  Dangling a jobber in front of his face, particularly a tasty, pretty, unknowingly vulnerable jobber, merely offers him the opportunity to collect evidence to confirm what he already knew: all of his hard work destines him to conquer an unworthy opponent.  A jobber’s job is that much more crucial in a babyface v jobber match, because his suffering must rise from being outmatched and outwitted above board.  There’s not likely a low blow or a nipple-twist to explain what threw the jobber off his game, so the two must dance the intricate dance of decisive, convincing combat.  A jobber must beat like a wave upon the sand against the superior strength of body and spirit, only slowly to ebb in will and perseverance in the face of the innate dominance of the finely tuned babyface offense.  Not an ounce less agony, not a smidge less suffering is required than if the jobber took a fist to the scrotum and had his face forced into a heel’s swelling crotch.  This tale is just a tad more subtle but no less tantalizing and tempting for my tastes, for the drama of a jobber slowly crumbling beneath a face.

Heel rising Morgan Cruise drops gorgeous giant Diego Diaz with a shocking low blow

Finally, I’d like to make a case for holding these archetypes in pro wrestling lightly when it comes to homoerotic fare.  While I’m sure I’ll get crap for getting it wrong (won’t be the first time… to get crap or to get it wrong), I’ll also suggest that so far, there isn’t a homoerotic wrestling company producing a through-story with quite the consistency of a weekly mainstream pro wrestling serial in which these archetypes were birthed in live wrestling and televised wrestling entertainment decades ago (probably centuries, really).  Character development takes time and consistency that I think is particularly challenging in the catch-as-catch-can world of the homoerotic wrestling industry.  While there are notable exceptions, such as the highly entertaining through-story that Alex recently posted about regarding the crushing humiliation of fan-favorite face Brad Rochelle until Brad pulled off a sweetly satisfying heel turn in the middle of the Contract series, a chaptered story building motivation and a story arc is a rare element in homoerotic wrestling.  And therefore a face, jobber, or heel may be built or broken within the confines of a given match.  I find this type of story telling more intense, though inherently more difficult to latch onto favorite characters over time (because characters may play multiple roles in seemingly out-of-order sequences).  In other words, my favorite industry highlights that a face (or a jobber or a heel) is not who a wrestler is, but what a wrestler does.  The sum total of a storied career in pro wrestling for gay eyes likely demonstrates that “one man in his time plays many parts.”

Gorgeous babyface Justin Pierce puts the hurt on gorgeous babyface Tommy Tara

In his last post, Alex proposed a new Contract (or Contract-like-series) to chart another rare chaptered story of homoerotic wrestling drama.  I love that idea.  I’d also add my dream of an honest-to-god serial homoerotic pro wrestling story, released as a “season,” witnessing the rise and fall of wrestling hopefuls, the tensions and betrayals, the shocking humiliations and victories-against-the-well-established-odds… alliances made, loyalties tested, egos crushed, losers showing up again owned and operated by the man who bested them… roaring testimonials, sweat-soaked post-match interviews, an explicitly named grudge, a quest for vengeance.  There are some nice tropes and devices of classic mainstream pro wrestling that I think have yet to be fully translated into an explicitly homoerotic context.  I’m sure it would require an entirely different production, likely including prohibitive amounts of scheduling, investment, and choreography.  But seriously, I’d pay a premium for that, particularly with an explicitly homoerotic angle.  Some more suspense, a story arc, a chance to tune in repeatedly to be compelled by a favorite face, heel or jobber… surely there’s a significant market for that.

Babyface beauty Cameron Matthews heeled by Kid Vicious
So I started by making a case for a face, which I still stand by enthusiastically.  Heroes battling for good, winning valiantly, losing in soul-crushing, despair-inducing humiliation… fuck, I love that guy.  But I’d love him even more in a context in which I could watch his character grow and change, in which his motivation is more explicit, contrasts drawn more starkly, perhaps his heel turn that much more shocking because he’d convinced me of his utter trust that right will ultimately overcome might.  I’m sure it’s a pipe dream, but it’s still a dream that makes my blood pulse harder.

That Look

In Friday’s post, Alex posed some provocative questions about what’s said in a homoerotic wrestling match.  Specifically, whether hearing a wrestler taunt his opponent by asking if he’s “gay” (by implication meaning weak, wimpy, less than a real man, et.) is a turn-off or perhaps ought to be out of bounds for wrestling for a gay audience.  The post generated some fantastic conversation, which is exactly what I expect every time Alex puts pen to paper.  His thoughts, coupled with some images I’ve recently been obsessing over, reminded me of the flip side of the equation, as well: when without so much as a word, a wrestler turns me on full force in an instant with just a look.
Kevin Crowes looks pleased.
The recent photo releases from Can-Am of my long-time favorite wrestler emeritus, Rusty Stevens, in Pro Sex Fight 4 against Kevin Crowes, has been making me sweat buckets.  But this particular shot of angelic beauty Kevin sweaty, pumped, and swinging pipe caught my attention.  Specifically, look at the look on his face!  Fuck that’s hot.  He’s been taking a mauling at the expert hands of Rusty for eons at this point in the match.  It’s looked like Rusty’s got this adonis crushed and sprinkled over an intensely tasty dish of sex served hot, until deceptively pretty Kevin catches the veteran sex wrestling champ getting a tad too cocky, a smidge too over-confident, and just as Rusty is sizing up the slice of beef he’s about to eat whole, Keven lays him down, strips him naked, and starts pounding the hell out of Rusty’s balls.  In an oh-how-the-mighty-have-fallen moment, Kevin takes a strutting victory lap around his opponent’s vulnerably body.  All that viciousness, all the bile, all that contempt and scorn pouring out of Rusty earlier is doused, and the look of pleasure on Kevin’s face sells a whole novel’s worth of story to me.  The abs, quads, and simply gorgeous cock don’t hurt his case either!
Gabriel Ross looks hungry
Honestly, I’ve been trying my best to watch BG East’s Wrestle Shack 16 all the way through, but fuck me if I can manage to get more than about 5 minutes at a time watched before I’m stoked into delirium and exhaust myself entirely.  Holy fuck, Lorenzo Lowe (I don’t give a damn what his frat brother’s call him, he’ll always be bespectacled Lorenzo to me) is an insanely sexy little scrapper.  But damn, damn, DAMN when he’s getting his crotch ripped apart with muscle bunny fallen archangel Gabriel Ross leaning over top of him, I’m helpless.  The look of calm, chill, confident, hungry pleasure on Gabriel’s face contrasted with Lorenzo’s agony-twisted visage, is worth about 10 orgasms (and that’s not counting the one Lorenzo’s about to pop).
Ethan Andrews looks delighted.

Rock Hard Wrestling was the first to make me an Ethan Andrews believer.  Like the catty bitch I can often be, I once questioned whether Ethan was rock hard enough to qualify to be in their stable of pretty pretty muscle boys.  Ethan made me eat my words and lose load after load climbing into the RHW ring and wringing symphony after symphony out of his bulging, pumped opponents like a maestro.  Ethan tends to give better than he gets at RHW, and the look of serene delight that inevitably plays across his handsome face as he makes another gym bunny scream like a tantruming two-year old makes my heart skip a beat.  He flashes that smile at so many pitifully wailing opponents, but possibly never as entertainingly as the moments in which he catches handsome powerhouse Jake Jenkins by surprise.

Tak looks ready for his close up.

I keep coming back to Thunder’s for the humor and the subtext, despite lapses in good taste and common sense like Alex mentioned on Friday.  One of the TA wrestlers who completely catches me by surprise by how compelling a character I find him is lean, blond, doe-eyed twink Tak.  He plays twink among the muscle gods beautifully, and perhaps precisely because he stands out in the TA crowd, his lovely, lean bod sorts me out extra hard. But when Tak has both hands wrapped around the throttle and another gym bunny muscleman is at least momentarily getting humiliated by a blond, blue-eyed, babyface lightweight twink, Tak gives some sexy sexy face! His look is somewhere between a champion bronco rider eight seconds into his ride and a seasoned pornboy a split second before his money shot.

Like Alex suggested, it doesn’t take a lot to suck the air right out of a homoerotic wrestling match. Just a word, an implication of genuine contempt for the audience that slapped down plastic to watch, and at least some of us find our buzz killed. And at least for me, the opposite can also be true. As much of a fan of trash talk as I am, some of the sexiest moments that sends fireworks exploding in my head are entirely about one compelling, silent look that tells the most homoerotic wrestling story of all.

Heat

Reigning favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy: 5’10”, 145 lbs Skrapper

My pornboy favorite rankings have been stagnant for a while.  When Naked Kombat went down, the need for a separate pornboy category from the non-pornboy homoerotic wrestling favorites seemed less important to me.  Now that NK is back and I’m back paying attention to them, I’m guessing there will be new pornboys capturing my fancy and shaking up the ranks.  Mr. Intense, aka BG East’s Skrapper, has held the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy forever, though I’m hoping the likes of someone like babyface sadist Vance Crawford might give Skrapper a run for his title.  The heat that dude-meister Skrapper generates, however, is incredible, and even when no on (on camera) is losing a load or two by the end of a match, Skrapper’s mastery of a homoerotic wrestling opponent is nothing short of scorching.

Scorching Jake Jenkins: 5’7″, 155 lbs.

Did someone say scorching?  Holy Mary Mother of God, have you seen that “little fucking monkey” (lovingly dubbed so by Kid Karisma) Jake Jenkins in mouthwateringly low rise Calvin Klein briefs!?  His mat match in Sunshine Shooters 6 against Skrapper presents Jake as insanely sexy as we’ve ever seen him, somehow stoking my fires a tad more for eventually wrestling in nothing but his tighty-whities soaked through with buckets and buckets of sweat.

A little “training”
Jake has a notoriously steady hand on the rudder when he wrestles.  He looks like a chess master through most of his matches, as much as a seriously dangerous powerhouse muscleman who, as Skrapper learns, can wrestle, punch, and kick with equally devastating results.  Skrapper spends the first half of this match chipping away at the cool as ice exterior on lovely Jake.  Having lured him to the mats for some “training,” he instantly and literally knocks Jake on his heels with the surprise that he wants to box.  It takes approximately a blink of an eye for Jake to recalibrate and start unloading a semi full of bell ringing strikes with fists, feet, knees and elbows.
Skrapper may not have gotten the memo that Jake is also an MMA fighter!
Bit by bit, Skrapper keeps chipping away, not giving Jake a moment to breathe, not a second to recover when he gets the wind knocked out of him.  Slowly it dawns on Jake that this isn’t about “training” at all.  As Skrapper starts both dominating and humiliating the “little fucking monkey,” Jake starts to lose his patience.  “What’s your problem, dude!” he snaps angrily when Skrapper stays on the offense well past the point of “practicing” a hold.  Between Skrapper and Jake, I suspect there may be more utterances of the word “dude” in this match than any other in the history of homoerotic wrestling.  I could find that grating, but I don’t.  Not for a second.  Because like Jake, I just don’t have time to catch a breath or be bothered by anything.  Skrapper sucker punches and pounds and squeezes his way inside Jake’s guard and underneath Jake’s flawless skin, and right around the time sweat is pouring off of both of these boys’ bodies in streams, Jake is seriously pissed off and I’m completely turned on.
I’d pay good money to trade places with Skrapper at this very moment!
The baggy shorts come off pretty quickly, thank the homoerotic wrestling gods.  More than 5 minutes with Jake Jenkins in anything more than very low-rise briefs is a crime against all that’s right and good in this world, as far as I’m concerned.  And fuck, Skrapper!  Damn!  He’s no muscleboy, mind you, but he’s seriously fit, toned, and does a mighty fine job of making his own pair of athletic-fit Calvins stretch at all the right seams.  Their two well-lubricated bodies sliding and squeezing all over each other is somewhere between a religious experience and insanely masterful art.  Skrapper’s face and hands go places I’d give a kidney to go, and the more moisture their bodies generate, the more I swoon at the sound of hard, muscled bodies slapping wetly into each other… and the mat… and the walls.
I don’t know what you call this, but I call it sexy as hell!

Skrapper’s got a tiger by the tail when he’s finally succeeded in provoking Jake, but damn it all if the skrappy one doesn’t hold onto that hot, hot piece of tail with precisely the fearlessness and tenacity that propelled me to lustfully anoint him my top of the pack pornboy wrestler.  I don’t know what the technical term is for this combo acrobatic/yoga/little-fucking-monkey move that Skrapper manages on the muscleboy, but he plants Jake’s handsome face into the mat, folds his legs at the knees, and pries the rest of Jake’s shiny body upward, slowly cranking Jake’s back arching backward.  Damn, that needs to be mounted and framed and hanging on my wall!

Skrapper messes with the bull…

I never, ever count Skrapper out until he’s been unconscious for at least a minute, and Jake figures that lesson out for himself eventually.  The skrappy one’s tenacity and endless reservoir of momentum and sheer nerve sincerely appear to stun his gorgeous opponent.  But tenacity and nerve, in the end, aren’t nearly as stunning as Jake Jenkins provoked, unleashed, and just plain fucking fed up!  The can of whoop ass he opens up as Skrapper keeps peeling himself off the mat and charging headlong into the buzzsaw is breathtaking.  Just ask Skrapper right about the time that sweat-soaked Jake Jenkins plants his luscious ass down on Skrapper’s sternum, his hefty package lodged sweetly in Skrapper’s cleavage, and Jake breathes deep and pumps out a double bicep in victory.

Is he finally down for good!? 
Chalk up another victory for that little fucking monkey!

By the end of this match Jake, Skrapper, AND I need a shower, and I can think of one easily solution to that problem!

Making Jake

The next catalog apparently has a new Jake Jenkins match previewed in BG East Arena this week, in which the former homoerotic wrestler of the month squares off on the mats with always underestimated and deceptively dangerous Skrapper.  It’s been a while since I posted a dose of Making Jake, so let’s consider more of the ABC’s that make Jake Jenkins such a compelling homoerotic wrestler.
K is for “kneel at my feet, bitch!”

..kneel.  Pry your eyes away from the aesthetic perfection of Kid Karisma’s award-winning ass and appreciate the stunningly sexy dominance he has over Jake in their sexy-as-hell ring match for Hunkbash 12.  I could come up with an A-Z catalog just documenting the insanely sexy wonders (yes, that’s 3 uses of the word “sexy” in 2 sentences!) that my top contender for reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler (Kid K) does to his highly acrobatic “monkey boy” opponent, Jake.  Potentially the sweetest of all is when Kid K drags this lovely homage to Kevin Von Erich off the mat by a fistful of hair, his own stunning muscles pumped and primed, staring down at the sweaty, battered, beaten, slack jawed beauty before him as humiliatingly makes Jake kneel.

L is for leaping from the turnbuckle!

leap. Speaking of acrobatics and being a monkey boy, there’s nothing more provocative about Jake than watching him in his natural habitat, swinging from the ropes and climbing the corners of a pro wrestling ring.  The 5’7″, this top babyface of 2012 could make hay for days capitalizing on a low center of gravity and his hot, thick musculature.  Fuck that.  Jake loves to fly, like when Rock Hard Wrestling’s stud puppy, Cliff Johnson’s long lovely bod is flat on it’s back, the overhead lights spinning in his eyes, and his tag team partner a couple of miles away, helpless to do anything but watch his buddy about to get pummeled from projectile Jake.  Cliff’s tantalizing helplessness laid out like a turkey dinner delightfully makes Jake leap!

M is for pushing the mild-mannered stud too far and making him mad!

mad.  I enjoy Jake’s range.  For example, in his tag team match alongside partner Austin Cooper, staring across the ring at Lon Dumont and Nicholas Rush, he chuckles at the start of Tag Team Torture 15.  The boys in stars and stripes think that they’ve got absolutely nothing to worry about.  They’re gorgeous, powerful, and probably Coop’s biceps are about twice as thick and strong as newbie Nick’s quads.  And they’ve partnered in the ring possibly the most of any current (or former?) homoerotic wrestling tag team, establishing a rapport and sweet empathy for one another’s trials in the action.  But here, catch the look of fury on Jake’s face as Coop offers a hand to peel him off the mat after getting used and abused by my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler, Lon Dumont.  The vulnerability of all that high octane muscle having to get a hand off the floor, combined with that rising boil of rage in his eyes is such sweet character development, as Lon Dumont makes Jake mad.

N is for watching your partner humiliated as you start to get nervous.

nervous.  That finely honed empathy Jake’s developed with frequent tag team partner Austin Cooper is a double-edged tool, of course.  On the one hand, Jake and Coop can probably finish each other’s sentences like an old married couple by now, having grown to know exactly what to expect from one another in the heat of battle.  Knowing your partner’s tolerances and limits, having confidence in your partner’s strengths and loyalty… these are fine weapons to bring to bear as a dangerously devastating tag team.  Then again, all that empathy can serve just to share the suffering when one of you is getting crushed and humiliated and you’re stuck obeying the rules from your corner.  When expert sadist and prettyboy basher Ethan Andrews gets his mitts all over Coop’s soaked, bulging body, things start to take a turn for the worse for team goldenboys.  Locking Coop up tight in a camel clutch and prying his helpless head backward to show the camera the handsome stud’s tortured humility leaves Jake pleading with his partner to rally, stretching his hand hopelessly inside the ring so far out of reach, paining the fresh man in the corner to watch his buddy getting messed up and taunted, and with Coop fading fast and looking like he’s about to literally cry uncle, making Jake nervous.

O is for finally putting Mr. Mountain Dew out cold and leaving a little drool dribbling from the corner of his mouth, oblivious.

oblivious.  Jake is not at all unlike a can of Mountain Dew vigorously shaken and then popped open: a concentrated burst of energy exploding all over the ring with a sugary sweet aftertaste.  Kid K called him a monkey boy because Jake doesn’t stop moving, climbing, leaping, sprinting.  He’s a fantastic combination of grace and power, and even when he gives away a fall, you get the sense the rubber ball is just about to bounce right back up.  So it’s probably no wonder that so many of his opponents can only claim an enduring victory over him after they’ve rendered the fitness model unconscious.  All that kinetic energy, all that motion and coordination and acrobatics and emoting go slack, and the allure of a muscled athlete dozing away, completely at the mercy of another man, is the homoerotic wrestling money shot for me.  What a thrilling climax it is to watch 2012’s top heel, Jonny Firestorm, take total possession of 2012’s top babyface in 2012’s best squash of the year, Jobberpaloozer 12, when he makes Jake oblivious.

Having put in my time marveling at Jake today, let me simply offer my assurances to BG East’s winner of best abs and best debut of 2012 that I’ll be stroking his ego as well, soon!

Best of…

The best of BG East in 2012 poll results have been posted.  Joe’s also posted a summary of the winners,  implying that he and the popular vote may have parted ways at several points.  Same for me, I think.  Honestly, I can’t remember who I voted for in several categories, despite the fact that I voted just a few days ago.  It’s probably the remnants of my anti-inflammatory and pain meds working their way out of my system.

Sexiest  Match: StripStakes 3 – Morgan Cruise vs Damien Rush
I do like numbers though, and I’m happy to see a few more data points available than just who won. For example, Morgan Cruise’s rip ‘n strip ‘n force to cum rookie welcome of Damien Rush in StripStakes 3 scored the trophy for sexiest match in 2012, but check the stats.  The match I voted for, Cage Thunder and Lightning Rod’s insanely sexy 2-on-1 destruction of achingly adorably Stinger in Masked Mayhem 9 was just 1 percentage point behind.  I think the heat of this competition deserves seeing Cage Thunder and Lightning Rod tag team once again, this time against Morgan and Damien!
Best Mat Battle: Matie Rookies Eli Black v Jake Jenkins

I was with the herd in selecting best mat battle.  Jake Jenkins and Eli Black’s Mat Rookie confrontation is a match I think will stand the test of time.  And it was 20 percentage points ahead of 2nd place!  When we do a best of the best vote for the next decade anniversary or 100th catalog of BGE, I think Jake and Eli could contend for the title against a broader field.

Best Ring Match: Babyface Brawls 2 Austin Cooper v Cameron Matthews
I can’t remember for certain, but I think my vote for best ring match went with runner-ups Jonny Firestorm and Jake Jenkins in Jobberpalooza 12: The Works, rather than category winners Cameron Matthews and Austin Cooper for Babyface Brawl 2.  I wouldn’t argue with that outcome at all, really, even though just 5 percentage points separated 1st and 2nd place.  I thought that was a very competitive category with several very worthy contenders.

Top Babyface: Jake Jenkins
For best babyface, I think I again went with the herd in picking winner Jake Jenkins who pulled it out by 6 percentage points over Austin Cooper.  There are extremely fierce fans in both of these boys’ camps, so I’m not surprised they rose to the top.  I’m sort of pleased that of the two, Jake topped Coop.

Top Heel: Jonny Firestorm

Honestly, I just can’t remember who I voted for top heel, but it could have been winner Jonny Firestorm who beat out equally likely candidate I may have voted for, Kid Karisma, by 11 points.  Since there was no category for most mindblowing forearms (next year, people!), I’m glad Jonny tucked this one under his belt.

Best Squash: Jopperpalooza 12: The Works Jonny Firestorm v Jake Jenkins
Best squash was not close at all, but I sided with the 17% of decisively swung for Kid Karisma’s gorgeous, sexy beatdown on Skip Vance in Mat Mayhem 23 rather than category winner Jonny Firestorm and Jake Jenkins for Jobberpalooza 12: The Works.  I’m glad The Works got a shout out somewhere in the poll results, though.  And the writing was on the wall, really, with Jake voted top babyface and Jonny voted top heel!

Jobber of the Year: Rio Garza
Jobber of the year went to fan favorite Rio Garza by 9 percentage points over my pick, Skip Vance.  Rio’s got an extremely loyal and not infrequently aggressive (to the point of rude) fan base that makes this result unsurprising to me.  For my tastes, however, Skip is much more a classic jobber and entertaining sell.  Rio’s awfully entertaining to watch job, too, though.

Debut of the Year: Eli Black
Again, I think was with the herd in picking Eli as the best debut of 2012 by 12 points over Damien, though this could easily have gone a different direction and I’d have been entirely on board.  It feels like Eli’s been at BG East for years and years, which suggests to me why this was, as Eli would be happy to tell you, his year!

Best Spotlight Release: Wrestler Spotlight: Austin Cooper
Best spotlight release feature was an 11 point spread between Eli and category winner Austin Cooper.  While this doesn’t surprise me, and if I were a betting man I’d have put money down and made money back on this outcome, I placed my vote for last place winner Denny Cartier because his Leopard’s Lair 4 anchor position was fucking AWESOME, and essentially 4 barnburner and brutal bouts for the price of 2.  I love, love, love me some Denny Cartier and one of my fondest wishes for 2013 is to see him tap into a nasty streak and headline a new category for next year’s voting: best heel turn!

Best Abs: Eli Black
Best abs was a surprisingly (to me) narrow victory of 2 points by Eli over Jake.  What makes for “best” when it comes to bodies and their parts is, obviously, subjective, however my vote went for Lon Dumont by a mile and a half.  At the risk of pissing off Eli, I just have to say Eli’s phenomenal 8-pack seems to me to be about 60% conditioning and 40% mass, whereas Lon’s anatomy chart abdominals (the whole pacakge: serratus, obliques, abdomini) are a more aesthetically balanced and all around stunning beauty.  I don’t begrudge Eli’s victory at all, mind you, but I just shake my head and contemplate my vast distance from the herd when I see that Lon placed last.  For me and my tastes, I think this calls for a Lon v Eli gut bash in 2013.

Best Bulge: Mr. Joshua Goodman
I was, however, right in the middle of the pack in voting for best bulge winner (by 4 points) Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!), who slapped down his junk to power hit past Gabriel Ross’ anaconda.  There wasn’t one candidate in this field that couldn’t easily own the title, and I’d go so far as to say that this year was a bumber crop of mountainous packages. Now the task for 2013 is for one of those club boys that he likes to take home and challenge to wrestle for the chance to put Mr. J on his knees, to literally shock the pants off of Mr. J and finally, finally, finally unleash the beast within.  I guarantee I’ll buy three copies of that release!

Best Butt: Kid Karisma
Best butt was a horse race between category winner Kid Karisma and 2nd place finisher (by a nose) Cameron Matthews.  While we can’t go wrong with any of the contenders for this title, I’m happy to admit I voted for and was campaign chairman for Kid K’s glorious glutes to grab this title.  Again, I say, the ferocity of this competition clearly warrants a Kid K v Cameron rip ‘n strip ring battle to be decided by who makes whom kiss his ass. I’ll pay a premium for a front row seat to that one!

Best Body: Rio Garza
Best body again revealed the distance between me and the herd, with Rio Garza taking the title by 4 points over 2nd place Austin Cooper.  Arguably, this could be the most subjective of all of these wildly subjective categories, because what bodies turn us on follow such divergent tastes in bodies among wrestling fans.  If this were strictly about physical conditioning and muscle mass, the 2 bodybuilders at the bottom of the heap, Magnus and my choice Lon Dumont, could have easily vied for the top spots.  Again, this line of reasoning makes my loins ache to see Magnus and Lon in a head-to-head catchweight ring match of bodybuilding beauties.  However, 21% of fans preferred the body of beautifully proportioned, lickably smooth Rio, which I get, despite my tastes drawing me strongly elsewhere.

Hottest Liplock: X-Fights 34 Gabriel Ross and Drake Marcos
The final category placed me back among the masses in selecting the blazingly hot X-Fights 34 match between Drake Marcos and Gabriel Ross, obliterating the competition with 54% of the vote!  Truth be told, I could easily be tempted to swing for the incredibly sexy and, yes, I’ll say it, wrestling romantic liplock that Enforcer slapped on Maskador in Masked Mayhem 10 as the ripped hunk hung battered and helpless in a tree of woe, halfway to being entirely unmasked.  I admit it: I’ve also gotten off to that scene from Spiderman where Tobey Maguire hangs upside down, his masked half pulled off, as his co-star sucks hero face.  Gorgeous fantasy!  But holy hell, the heat generated by Drake and Gabriel could heat Reykjavik for year!
What a year!  BG East pieced together an incredible collection of outstanding homoerotic wrestling, and all of the nominees and the entire catalog of 2012 releases deserves all this and much more credit.  Nicely done, gentlemen! 

Enjoy

There are less than 12 hours for you to register your votes in BG East’s Best of 2012 poll, so get to it!  My last post, urging you to fulfill your civic duty and vote, generated some consternation from a couple of folks concerned about my electioneering.  I hear your concern, and I respect it.  But I humbly point out, this isn’t rocket science.  Have some fun with it, my friends.  Campaign for your favorites.  Enlist random friends to sign up and stuff the ballot box with your slate of picks.  Lighten up and enjoy.  It’s homoerotic wrestling, after all, and if there’s anything that should guide us in reflecting on it, it’s enjoyment.

Rio’s Bad Day: Nominee for Best Spotlight Release of 2012

More to the point, we the electorate can’t really go wrong in this one.  Unlike national elections for public office, it’s not like there’s any one potential candidate who could rip apart the fabric of civil society.  To assist, not to campaign, let’s take a look at the nominees for best abs as they appeared in 2012 releases.  Seriously, there is no “wrong” choice to be made (and you can select a write-in candidate).  So have at it!

And the nominees for Best Abs of 2012 are…

Eli Black
Austin Cooper
Alexi Adamov
Lon Dumont

Jake Jenkins