Category: Kid Karisma

Bard’s Fantasy League Picks

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When Z-Man debuted with BG East 3 months ago, a regular reader emailed me to let me know just how excited he was by this news. He immediately speculated on who from the BG East roster Z-Man should wrestle next. Turns out, he hit the nail right on the head, proposing that a Z-Man v Kid Karisma bout would be over the top arousing.

Of course, now we know, Z-Man followed up his mat debut with BG East with a pro ring muscle match against none other than Kid K. Nice call, savvy neverland reader! And your prediction that a Z-Man v Kid K match would be smokin’ was perfect prognostication.

From a different angle, Cage Thunder recently called out both BG East rookie Austin Cooper AND proposed a detailed ring match scenario against Austin’s rookie buddy, Jake Jenkins. I’ve got a major league crush on Jake,  so Cage’s proposal to face him in the ring is fueling my imagination. Jake in white trunks with pale blue trim, then 30 minutes after stepping into the ring with Cage, stripped naked, pounded into a daze and helpless in Cage’s skilled hands… well, this concept is pure gold, in my estimation.

All of this speculation, proposal and prognostication sheds light on what I assume must be a nearly universal mental exercise that wrestling kinsters play: the fantasy homoerotic wrestling card. At least, I’ve been playing that game for as long as I’ve been erotically captivated by wrestling. I love that these virtual connections available to us now, like blogs and emails, give us the opportunity to compare notes. So, in addition to a Cage on Jake Jenkins ring strip battle, here are the current top 3 fantasy league homoerotic wrestling matches on my scorecard:

Lon Dumont v Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!)

I’ve fantasized about this combination long and hard. Not only would this settle once and for all the question of who deserves the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy division (but remember, it’s about who turns me on the most, not necessarily who “wins”), I also think this would be an absolutely amazing mash-up of two delightfully different sets of assets.

Thiago Diaz v Brad Rochelle
I haven’t even had an opportunity to see if Thiago has anything at all to offer in the wrestling ring other than that fantasyman bod and that hefty package dangling between his legs, but I’m already lining him up for some rookie initiation. The return of Brad has been a long-held aching fantasy of mine (and many others, I know), and I think Brad working over Thiago’s muscles from top to bottom would be an earth-shaking combination of veteran fan favorite with jaw dropping rookie sensation.
Cody Nelson & Travis Storm v Kid Vicious and Rafe Sanchez

First of all, Kid V partnering with Rafe Sanchez has long haunted my homoerotic wrestling dreams. Second, I’ve nursed a whole lot of lust for a PG-to-R-rated evolution of the careers of pretty, innocent, eager muscle boys Cody and Travis. I picture this as both a coming-of-age wrestling scenario for the bright-eyed boys as well as Rafe’s first apprenticeship match, learning from the master of sadism himself.

What are your fantasy league homoerotic wrestling matches of choice?

Kink Costs

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I just filled out an online survey as a BG East Arena member, giving them my impressions of the Arena content and subscription cost. It reminded me that I need to buckle down and do something that I’ve been telling myself that I need to do for some time. I need to dump a subscription. But which one? I’ve signed up for more than I really ought to, convincing myself that it’s in service of having more to review here on the blog (weak pretense, I know). But truth be told, I really shouldn’t be carrying quite this many recurring subscriptions. So let’s look at this by the numbers, and you tell me what I should do.

The BG East Arena membership is still stroking and stoking my kink quite nicely. I like the new weekly updates, even if they are proportionally smaller than their semi-monthly old updates used to be. I think I’m on the 90 day recurring billing scheme, for which I pay $34.95 for three months of access to the Arena. I’m under the impression that I get more quantity of content per penny with the Arena than I do with any of my other subscriptions (though a number cruncher may have more to say about that). I enjoy the preview pics of yet-to-be-released products, as well as the extensive galleries of new releases and “classics.” And I really enjoy the “action clips,” those little tasty morsels of a few minutes of BG East matches. BG East has also been very generous with permitting me to repost occasional Arena content here at neverland, which is extremely cool of them. I’m not inclined to put the Arena on the chopping block as I scale down my kink budget, but perhaps you have arguments for or against it?

I’m also subscribing to Can-AmMax. I believe I’m on the month-to-month recurring billing cycle, which gives me each month’s content for $19.95 (I could get 90 days recurring for $49.95). Can-AmMax is more hit-and-miss for me with regard to how into it I am at any one moment. When I’m particularly into Max releases (e.g., the first 2 Arena matches & Pro Sex Fight), I was scarfing it up and checking daily for when the next morsel would be offered. I like that I can watch entire matches, piece-by-piece, for the subscription price itself (unlike the extra charge over at the Arena). The photo galleries often aren’t always action-oriented (lot’s of posed Blue Steel stuff that leaves me bored), and the galleries don’t always correspond to new releases in a 1-to-1 relationship the way that the BG East Arena does.  I also repost Can-Am content holding my breath just a little, because though I’ve tried to figure out how to formally ask their permission to repost their content here, I haven’t been successful in receiving specific permission (if someday all Can-Am content has been removed from this blog, it’s because they must have finally asked me to stop treading on their copyrighted material). The wrestling action itself is running about 50/50 for me these days, with my sincere interest in their new releases rising only about half the time. I’d miss it if I dropped it, but I don’t know how much I’d miss it.

And yet again, I’m subscribing to Thunder’s Arena’s Thunder TV. I think I’m on the month-to-month plan with them as well, investing $29.99 recurring (I could get 90 days for $59.99). Thunders is striking a chord about as frequently as Can-Am Max (though very different chords). The wrestling, video, and photo quality are the weakest of the three, and the website itself is the lease intuitive or well-organized of anything I’m paying for. I like the personality and the personableness of Thunders. I like the humor and the big, big muscle boys. Mr. Mike has been sincerely generous in giving me permission to repost any Thunder’s content here, so they rock for that as well. It’s the coyest of all my subscriptions, with no nudity and only implied gay-themed content, which is frustrating. They do have some wrestlers that I enjoy that I just don’t see elsewhere (Big Sexy and Ace Hanson, I’ve got my eyes on you as I say that!). I’d miss the subscription from time to time, I’m sure. And this is the second time I’ve had a Thunder TV subscription, returning to the fold after a long hiatus. But it could be the low fruit ripe for picking in this bunch.

Finally, I’ve got a NakedKombat subscription for a whopping $34.95 per month, though if I was smart, I’d sign up for the 90 days recurring plan for $59.99. NK puts out exactly one new match every Wednesday that I can watch or download in its entirety, as I can any other NK match, at any time. I can also download photos of NK action from any match they’ve released, though the galleries sometimes aren’t as entertaining as in other subscriptions, nor do they have the bells and whistles and theme galleries that I enjoy elsewhere. NK doesn’t appear too worried about copyrighting their photos, so I don’t know how they feel about my reposts and reviews, but I suspect they don’t mind (wouldn’t be the first time I’m proven wrong, though). I’m into about every 2 out of 3 NK new releases, with my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboys often showing up exclusively in this all-pornboy production (sweet Jesus I can’t get enough Trent Diesel!).  Round 4 and the victory sex interest me only rarely, frankly, since it’s the wrestling itself that really tweaks my kink the most. But rounds 1, 2 & 3 are highly entertaining and arousing for me for those matches that particularly speak to me. I’d miss it particularly for specific wrestlers that I go to for my hardcore pornboy wrestling moods.

So, surely someone out there is an CPA, MBA, financial advisor… someone with more money sense than I have. Crunch the numbers, wave a wrestling kink wand over top of them, and tell me what I should do to balance my checkbook and feel a bit better about my abundant outlay of cash in pursuit of wrestling kink.

There Oughta Be a Law

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I was holding vigil all weekend in anticipation of the arrival of summer. It still hasn’t arrived, as evidenced by my pasty white skin and layers of clothes, but the hot morning weatherman on my local television news station promises me that I’ll be in short sleeves tomorrow, just in time for the solstice.

So there’s no quiz for you this week. Considering school’s out and the grads are still hung over, I figure you deserve a break from test-taking. I’ve also been abundantly distracted by my first taste of the juicy new releases from BG East. I’ve been trying to pace myself and drink plenty of fluids, but one moment in Fantasymen 33: Muscle Pros keeps grabbing my attention. At one key point in the development of the match, Z-Man is appropriately taking a well-earned, nasty beating from Kid Karisma. They’ve both given and taken their fair share of pounding, but now Kid K has beaten the mocha-skinned muscle model into submission, and then added a gratuitous ball claw on the pretty boy just to seal the deal. Z-Man is finally writhing on his stomach on the canvas, clutching his balls in agony, when Kid K bends over (just linger on those last 4 words a while…. okay, now continue), grabs Z-Man’s pink trunks, and wedgies them high up his ass.

So a couple things speak to me here that probably don’t need mentioning (but that’s what I do around here, isn’t it? I mention everything I think). Z-Man’s bare ass is beautiful. A work of art. I’d go so far as to say his ass is even pretty, and I mean that with all due respect. I’d frame those golden glutes and hang them on a wall. Yanking the fabric away to give a less-obstructed view is nothing but an act of politeness from Kid K to you and me, as far as I’m concerned. Sure, it seems to dial up the agony in Z-Man, but seriously, that wedgie is a thoughtful gift from Kid K to us. “Take a look boys,” Kid K could have just as easily said out loud. As Kid K himself remarked earlier in the match, examining Z-Man’s vulnerable ass in a compromised moment, “Oh yeah, definitely very, very pretty!”

But then Z-Man does the unforgivable (as far as I’m concerned). As soon as he catches his breath, he quickly reaches behind him and digs the pink fabric out of his crack, re-covering those dessert-like cheeks. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you, I yelled at the screen the first time I saw this. That punk-ass bastard (said lovingly)!  When the trunks get wedgied, ripped, yanked or stripped, in homoerotic wrestling they need to stay that way. Screw your decency and sense of humility or dignity, Z-Man! Those went out the door well before you were screaming like a baby, trapped in the ropes, with Kid K’s claw crushing your testicles from behind. When your ass gets displayed by someone as generous and thoughtful as Kid K, you should just take it like the babyface muscle model rookie that you are (at least in these parts).

Before anyone gets the wrong idea (though I have no control over that, I’m reminded often), let me clarify that I love this match. I love Z-Man in this match. I LOVE Kid Karisma in this match. I can’t quite make it 10 minutes into this match before a dramatic cardiovascular event happens within me. It’s not that I actually don’t like Z-Man or his work here. I just feel like there should be some policy that says that homoerotic wrestlers that lose full coverage of their gear should have to just grin and bear it. There’s sort of a justice about it. Once the skin is exposed, it should have to stay that way. Any homoerotic wrestler who readjusts his gear to cover back up should merit a merciless and humiliating beating and the penalty of losing ALL his gear before all is said and done.

This brings to mind (in my constant stream of consciousness sort of way), Christopher Bruce’s “comeback” against Cole Cassidy in Demolition 10. Cole applies perhaps the nastiest wedgie I’ve ever seen as a defensive maneuver when he’s trapped in Christopher’s crushing bearhug. Unlike Z-Man, however, Christopher shows the instincts of a veteran. He and Cole deliver precisely what it is I’m tuning in to see here. He just keeps right on wrestling, his gorgeous bubble butt bouncing beautifully unencumbered by his trunks. I’m sure it wasn’t comfortable, but Christopher didn’t climb into that ring to be comfortable. He climbed in there to deliver what you and I pay for!

Naked Kombat’s recent match illustrated that Phenix Saint has the same veteran instincts. I’m pretty sure that NK instructs the wrestlers to leave the gear wherever the action takes it. But some can’t help themselves but tug the trunks back up, as if that was going to mean anything in round 3 and 4. But I enjoy watching Phenix completely un-selfconcious as he soldiers on after rookie farmboy Blake has yanked his red trunks three-quarters of the way down his ass. The trunks and the exposure clearly mean nothing to Phenix, and yet they mean so much to me. So his single-minded focus in ignoring his ass hanging out makes me root for Phenix that much harder.

And speaking of hard, and just to complete this stream of consciousness ranting, this makes me think of the truly remarkable rookie debut four months ago of seriously entertaining grappler, Adonis, running circles around Gianni Luca and tying the Italian up in knots. NK gives points for getting your opponent’s gear off of him. They get special points in round 2 when they can yank their opponent’s jockstraps over their heads, as opposed to just ripping them off. Adonis illustrates his tenacity and determination by working the “over-the-head” points in round 1, when Gianni is still in his speedo-style trunks. Cranking on Gianni’s skimpy red trunks like there’s no tomorrow, Adonis rips the crotch out of them and slowly manages to stretch them up and over the Italian jobber’s head and eventually entirely off his body. Not only is this a feat, in and of itself (buy a pair of speedos and just try this!), Adonis doesn’t skip even a beat as he performs this maneuver while simultaneously maintaining complete control of Gianni in one completely dominating, crushing, humiliating hold after another. We need to see Adonis and his gorgeous tool in action again!

I’m not entirely sure I’m finishing this post in the same spot where I started it, but let me just conclude by saying this is what gear is meant for in homoerotic wrestling: getting removed. Whether it’s in the form of a vicious wedgie that reveals the gorgeous glutes beneath, or if it’s in the form of ripping the extraneous garment off entirely, gear inevitably stands between me and the next level of homoerotic pleasure. While it’s certainly true that I can be entertained with hot wrestling involving all gear staying firmly in place from start to finish, if there are any wardrobe malfunctions (and especially the intentional ones), it ought-a be a law! Leave gear where ever the action takes it, especially if that’s stretched so high up Z-Man’s ass crack that it makes the muscleboy gag!

Simply Gorgeous

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It was a labor of love, but yesterday’s study of the remarkable homoerotic wrestling career of Jonny Firestorm took a whole lot of time for me to compose. So today, I’m trying to keep things short and sweet.
Kid Karisma wrestling the Z-Man in BG East’s Summer Sizzler: Fantasymen 33: Muscle Pros, is incredibly sexy muscle model pro wrestling!

Kid Karisma’s ass, encased in skin tight shiny silver trunks, is ranking as one of the most gorgeous asses I’ve ever seen in my life, under just about any circumstances.

Grinding that world class ass into Z-Man’s face, as Kid K gloats and revels in wrapping the fitness model hunk up so tightly and humiliatingly, is wearing out the “pause” and “rewind” buttons on my DVD player.

Z-Man is turning into a total team player for BG East, bringing attitude, athleticism, and that agonizingly attractive body of his in well-pitched proportion to the scope of this ring battle and the extremely high quality presentation of his opponent. I’m not too proud to admit that Z-Man is making me eat my highly critical words of the past over his prior wrestling resume. And Kid K has a direct line to my libido, with every inch of his bulging body and every smart-ass snarl and sneer turning me on and turning me into drooling fanatic for the red-headed muscle star bad boy.  Fantasy. Men. Muscle. Pros. Hell, yes!

Karismatic

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I have been so hot for Kid Karisma lately. That body, that attitude, that incredibly hot sexuality dripping from him like honey. Each time I catch Kid K in something new, my infatuation grows.
In the new release Wet and Wild 5, the karismatic one picks a pool fight with Christian Taylor. Christian is muscled up and harder than I’ve seen him before. And he seems to get a kick out of the playful calling out that Kid K slaps down. They’re in the pool quickly and tossing one another around impressively. On the theme of rides that would be fan favorites at a homoerotic wrestling theme park, getting the chance to have Kid K on your shoulders, crotch-to-face, as he flexes and taunts, would be in Space Mountain territory.
I’d stand in line for Christian’s crotch in my face as well, for that matter. Now typically, a pool match leaves me feeling all frustrated. So much of Kid K’s gorgeous physique is underwater most of the time. I love seeing him throw Christian around like a rag doll, of course, but what opportunities that arise from wrestling in water seem to me to be outweighed by the obscuring of the wrestler’s bodies themselves. In this case, the pool time is relatively brief, and it does serve the most excellent purpose of displaying Kid K’s muscle-bully attitude (with a twist of arousal).
On dry land, Christian takes several more trips on Space Mountain, with Kid’s crotch shoved hard down onto Christian’s chin. The karismatic one continues to taunt and bully. Even though Christian has the long limbs and potential leverage to have a chance against Kid K, he can’t rally for more than a minute before the cocky red-head slaps him down like a puppy. 

 Christian doesn’t always appear to be too upset about it, either. I mean, he suffers just fine. He takes a beating, getting slammed and tossed and choked every which way to Sunday, but can you blame him for the irrepressible smile stretched across his lips as Kid K flexes and preens with his cock pressed against Christian’s chin?

One could almost imagine this as a Thunder’s Arena bit from the bold strokes, but make no mistake, these boys wrestle hard. Unlike over at Thunder’s, where there often seems to be a wanting for motivation to explain why the boys throw down, Kid K and Christian build some sweet intensity laced unmistakably with the fine scent of foreplay. Christian does not just role over and take it, despite every evidence that he’s nothing but flattered to be in Kid K’s sights. Kid K is determined to show off, to act as if it’s a cakewalk, but it’s less about it actually being a cakewalk than it is about Kid K showing the pretty one that he can take him at any moment, that he will dominate him at will, that he can crush Christian’s boy and break his will whenever it suits him. Locked up tight in Kid K’s figure-4 sleeper, Christian struggles. He fights it. He doesn’t want to be embarrassed so completely. Personally, I think he desperately wants to prove that he can hang with the karismatic one, that he deserves to be in Kid K’s league. He doesn’t want to be muscled around and sleepered out cold with the pool water still dripping from his hair.

 But Kid K knows what Christian wants, and all the wrestling foreplay pays off as Kid K wakes sleeping beauty with a kiss. To be clear, Kid K has been smacking down aggressive, stolen kisses frequently during the action. This is explicit homoeroticism that makes me stand up and cheer (once I’ve toweled off). The harder Christian makes him work, the more Kid K seems to grow hungry for the taste of Christian’s lips. Finally laying him out cold, Kid K crouches over his vanquished opponent and tenderly, like Prince Charming himself all of the sudden, he tenderly wakes Christian up in one of the most pleasing ways one can be awakened.

Rough play followed by tender care is one of my very favorite stories of all. Kid K helps the tall, battered boy, woozy from his sleeper, up to his feet. Tenderly, dare I say, lovingly (well, at the very least, lustfully), Kid K wraps his muscle bound left arm around Christian’s waist and lets the pretty boy lean on him for support and balance as they slowly begin to make their way inside. Christian, perhaps not as befuddled and in need of a gentleman’s aid as he might have let on, slides the palm of his hand down the bulging muscles of Kid K’s back and underneath Kid K’s turquoise trunks, copping a quick feel of those legendary muscle glutes. Kid K cups the pretty one’s tight ass, as if in reply, and they head inside.

Fantastic homoerotic wrestling fare. I buy the story from start to finish, of sexual tension that detours through rough housing, bullying domination, building hotter and hotter until Kid K puts Christian out cold, at which point all the allusions and implications are finally played out. They put their cards on the table. And they walk off arm in arm (and asses in hand), both fully aroused and ready to blow. This is a wonderful piece of homoerotic wrestling.

Asses Named

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No one posted a perfect score for this week’s installment of Name That Ass. I’m still looking for teacher’s pet. Keep studying, gentlemen. Adoring homoerotic wrestling asses requires intense, exhaustive study. Don’t be discouraged if you didn’t do well. I grade on a curve, and preparing for the next quiz should be it’s own reward. In the meantime, here are the answers to the quiz:
Ass #1 belongs to:

 BG East’s Tyrell Tomsen.
Stunning size and gorgeous proportions, when Tyrell is naked and soaked in sweat in the wrestling ring, he can strike one of the most lustworthy still life’s on record. As pictured, Tyrell was playing dominating bully to opponent Braden Charron for Strip Stakes 1. It was Tyrell’s Summer Sizzler against Bobby Horton that convinced me that Bobby deserved the title of homoerotic wrestler of the month last summer.  Tyrell has definitely been out-wrestled in his brief tenure with BG East, but he’s never been out-muscled or out-classed when it comes to his picturesque physique.
Ass #2 belongs to:
BG East’s Kid Karisma.
Kid K has captured me in his gravitational pull lately, and I’ve found myself circling back to marvel at his performances over and over again. His ass, in particular, is simply astonishingly beautiful. This particular shot is from his face off with Rocco in Gear Wars 1. I’ll gush soon about his Wet ‘n Wild appearance with Christian Taylor, but in the mean time, marvel a little longer at those glutes…

Did ass #3 pose a challenge? It belongs to none other than…
Can-Am’s pornboy extraordinaire, Mark Wolff.
Blake Onassis would have also earned you full marks for this one, since he’s cross listed under both names. This particularly fun shot is of Mark getting his face smashed into the lockers by Billy Herrington (also AKA’s Billy Marcus) for Lords of the Lockerroom. He was always a pornboy musclegod, with an ass for days and nipples the size of half dollars. Frankly, it wasn’t really Mark’s wrestling that ever sold me, but I’d buy some full contact moving pictures of that body anyday.
I imagined ass #4 might have given some students trouble. It belongs to…
Naked Kombat’s John Magnum.

I’m positive that I’ve seen Magnum wrestling somewhere else, but for the life of me, I can’t remember where. He blew my socks off (pants, too!), when I saw him in his one and only (to date) appearance at Naked Kombat in a nail-biter against Phillip Aubrey. Phillip nearly took the big muscle brute in this match. If there was ever a tie, in the gestalt sense, these two boys were perfectly, evenly matched, despite having distinctly different styles and builds. John’s personality, though, is absolutely kink-stastic. He’s 110% present. He delights in every second of domination, and he struggles to free himself from absolutely ever nano-second under Phillip’s control. He’s a beautiful man, and although I haven’t had an opportunity to enjoy much more wrestling from him, I get a little contact high off of his tweets now and then.

I didn’t hear from any advanced players who correctly identified the monster muscle glutes of ass #5 as belonging to…
Thunder’s Arena’s Coupe.

I’ve marveled before that Coupe is a muscle freak. That does not always equate to homoerotic gold, but just like his trunks in his poolside back-and-forth with Cameron Mathews, Coupe is indeed homoerotic wrestling kink gold in my book. If ever there was a body that absolutely required comment, even awe from his opponents, it’s Coupe’s. But that’s not really what Thunder’s does, sadly. It’s much more frat house romp than full on homoerotic body worship. I haven’t seen him at Thunder’s in a while, but I’ll just put it out there here and now, if ever Coupe is looking for some homo muscle worship to make up for all the neglect the boys at Thunder’s have made him suffer, I’m first in line with the baby oil.

So how did you do? I put more weight in progress over time than any individual quiz grade, so I hope that you’re finding that you’re performance is improving as you take more Name That Ass quizzes. Don’t be discouraged if you didn’t do as well as you’d hoped. We both know that you love the subject matter, so devoting yourself with renewed enthusiasm to your studies should be no burden at all.

The Kid Club

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A couple of weeks ago I mentioned that I was celebrating “Porn Sunday” with a fresh, new purchase in support of the fine, hardworking people who bring us high quality wrestling kink. Okay, so it wasn’t all philanthropic on my end, I admit. It’s also true that I was craving, in particular, a taste of a sweaty, leopard thonged, red-headed muscle boy.

Wait, leopard-thonged!? That’s right. In my newest purchase, Sexy Showdown 5: Florida Fun, red-headed hardbody Kid Karisma is sporting a snazzy leopard thong. When Len Harder first gets a glance at the thong under Kid K’s trunks, Len is living large and in charge abusing the hell out of Kid K’s balls. Fascinatingly, Kid K desperately points out that he had “special permission” from the Boss to don the leopard print. For Kid K’s sake, I hope he was being honest about that.

My Porn Sunday 2011 purchase pleases me. Kid Vicious’ match against Skrapper is astonishingly sexy as only Kid Vicious can deliver. But for today, I’d just like to marvel at the wonder that is Kid Karisma’s match against Len Harder.

Kid K entertains me more with every match I see him in. He’s putting the erotic into the homoerotic wrestling gig more and more explicitly all the time, and I’m loving it. He has a twisted, sadistic sense of humor that, paired with his “Teutonic god-like” physique (nicely put), makes him some of the highest quality wrestling kink on the market these days, I think.

Did I mention the red hair? That’s a rare piece of gorgeousness to be admired. From someone with a bit of Scot in my genetics (accounting for red facial hair on my otherwise brunette composition), I frequently have a taste for a red-headed gym bunny with a homo-fratboy-feel about him and a gleeful delight in dominating and humiliating an opponent. In other words, I frequently jones for some Kid K.

This match is closer than you might imagine (or at least it was for me), primarily due to Kid K’s overconfidence. If I had a body like his, I’d be overconfident too… at all times… in all ways… Len looks downright adolescent in comparison with Kid K’s hard muscle tone, massive pecs and shoulders, fantasy ass, and powerful legs. But Len likes to dominate and humiliate as well, and every fraction of a second that Kid K gets distracted by his own success, Len manages to make the “Teutonic god-like young man” (really, nicely put) pay. Ass-to-face, crotch-to-face, claw-to-crotch, claw-to-pec, bearhug, inverted bearhug, forehead-to-forehead, mouth-to-mouth… the dark intimacy throughout this mat romp is non-stop and intense. I’ve never scene a crotch-to-crotch battle quite as literal as theirs, but indeed, hands behind their backs, Kid K and Len take turns plowing each other’s crotches into one another until one of them is the clear winner of that fantastic exchange.

Frankly, I must admit, when I first saw Kid K, I questioned the wisdom of letting him claim the moniker of “Kid.” Another big, stunning boy tried to fill those shoes before and found himself out the door under the weight of disappointed expectations far too soon (as far as I’m concerned). But just like the dubious, dangerous wisdom of Kid K in a leopard print thong, I think Kid K has established himself as a risk-taker, a nasty tool for delivering delightful punishment, and a legitimate member of that exclusive fraternity, each known, deceptively, as “Kid.”

A True Romantic

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I’m not into Valentines Day, really. Too much compulsory heterosexuality in the air. It’s NOT that I’m not a romantic. It’s just that I can’t take red heart chocolate boxes and red roses seriously (well, I’m always a sucker for receiving flowers… just something other than red roses, please).

The Enforcer v Blueboy – BG East – Masked Mayhem 4
Even more than the compulsive heterosexuality, there’s something intentionally fictive about Valentines Day that irks me. No one’s relationship, even the most melba toast straight couple, looks like the gooey, saccharine, “you complete me” idea promoted in commercials and greeting cards. There’s something passionless and sterile about the whole production that swings the whole constructed reality of romance toward enmeshment and abstraction and away from physicality. Sure, the morning news shows mentioned men giving lingerie to women as evidence of the link between sex and Valentines Day. But if I were to hazard a guess, I’d say that there’s likely a decrease in the amount of sex happening today, directly attributable to the chocolates-and-roses sentimentality of it all.

Kid Karisma v Len Harder – BG East – Sexy Showdown 5: Florida Fun

Now, if there were a Valentines Day card that said something like, “Show me that you really care: Wrestle me to the ground, pound me into submission, and then shove your tongue down my throat,” well, then perhaps I’d think that this contrived “holiday” has something for me.

Dean Tucker v Drake Jaden – Naked Kombat – 7/22/09

If there were an FTD card that I could send with the orchids that said something like, “First to cum gets ridden like a pony,” that might enhance the romance of the day for me.

Landon Mycles v Michael Vineland – Can-Am – Pro Sex Fight 1

If a date promised me that, for dessert, he’d treat me to an over-the-knee backbreaker, then just maybe I might associate Valentines Day with some sexual passion.

Mitch Colby v Patrick Donovan – BG East – Wrestler Spotlight – Mitch Colby

A jock strap, buckets of sweat, and a schoolboy pin lip lock are a so much more to the point than chocolates and lace and plastic-wrapped shrubbery. I hope today has something truly romantic and passionate in store for all of us, which will have absolutely nothing to do with Hallmark, FTD, or Godiva. It’s not that I’m not looking for romance. I just don’t think it comes to any of us tied up with a bow with the sales receipt in our pockets.

Words and Silences

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It doesn’t take long reading this blog to realize that I am a big fan of dialogue. It’s one of the texts that makes a homoerotic wrestling scene sparkle. I’m not a fan of a wrestling scene filled with silence broken by only the occasional grunt or gasp, even when the combatants are doing everything else that I love (yes, Enforcer, I’m talking about you!). Some sweet, snarling, domineering dialogue makes the contest more than just about the bodies. It should be about heart and soul and ego and will, and that story can get a major assist with letting the boys say something about what it all means. I’ve been fishing through my collection of inspiration lately, and a couple of snazzy talkers have made me smile (and swoon) all over again.

In Gear Wars 1, Kid Karisma shows that he’s all about dialogue-as-humiliation as he and Rocco go for broke to be the first to strip the other wrestler’s gear off of him. From start to finish in his match, Karisma offers a running commentary that’s every bit as arousing as the visuals (and that’s saying a lot!). For example, at one point Karisma is, for the moment, having his way with Rocco, claiming his back at will and choking him to submission with Rocco’s own shoulder strap. Karisma is loving the moment. He’s loving himself. He’s loving being in total command of Rocco’s body. He flings him to the wall and stands up, flexing and admiring himself (get in line, Kid K!). Rocco coughs and gasps, clutching his throat, causing Karisma to laugh derisively. “Oh, you don’t want to get choked any more? Cute… cute. How’s that look, huh?” Kid turns his back on Rocco and peels his singlet down, leaving his world class muscle ass bare in his jock strap. “Yeah, oh, I think you want to get choked by something else, don’t you?” Turning around to face Rocco, he pulls the front of his singlet down and bounces the pouch of his packed jock-strap in the palm of his hand.

It’s poetry, I tell you! It’s nothing that I expect to find in straight up wrestling, and it’s everything and more that I look for in full-on, no apologies homoerotic wrestling. It’s like performance art mashed up with poetry slam mashed up with my fondest locker room fantasy.

Rusty Stevens still holds possession of the title as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy these days, in no small part do to his lightening fast, razor sharp, verbal wit on the mats. One of the many  moments that Rusty has Mitch Colby on his back, schoolboy pinned in the Breaking Point, Mitch is squirming and gasping for air as Rusty sits on his chest and slides forward, shoving the pouch of his sweat-soaked jock-strap onto Mitch’s face. Mitch’s muffled gasps are cut short by Rusty’s package pressed against his lips, “I… I can’t….”

“What!? You can’t what?” Rusty delights, looking down. “You can’t breathe? Losers don’t get to breathe!” Rusty snarls, slapping Mitch’s face with his cock and pulling up on Mitch’s head, shoving it harder into his crotch in complete humiliation.

Again, I say: it’s poetry. Sweaty, muscled bodies clutching, squeezing, grinding and controlling one another to the beat poetry of verbal domination. Fantastic. Simply fantastic.

…In Love and War

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I’m facing some stiff competition in my life these days, and not the good kind. This competition is more the stab-you-in-the-back and step-on-you-as-you-lay-bleeding type. I’m accustomed to this brand of competition, frankly, but that doesn’t mean that I like it. I keep thinking that if someone is so intent on fucking me over, shouldn’t I at least get a kiss first?

Which brings me back to a topic I’m fond of bringing up repeatedly. I’m a fan of a liberal use of lips in a homoerotic wrestling match. I know some guys who think of a kiss as an unwelcome, tender diversion in the heat of battle, but I am not in that camp at all. There’s something fantastically dominating about an intense, tongue down the throat lip lock. To lay an opponent out so vulnerably that you can literally taste victory works for me as an entirely appropriate element of homoerotic combat. Along the lines of the “spoils of war,” a kiss can be a hot moment to revel in the delights of owning what you’ve conquered.

Another angle that I’m already on the record in support of is the kiss as a benevolent gift from a stern master. This is the end of the match lip action, after a decisive victory is secured. Particularly after it’s been hot and painful, merciless and brutal, when the loser has conceded that he’s got nothing to put up any longer and he’s completely at the mercy of the better man, when there’s nothing left to gain by withholding mercy any longer, a generous, passionate kiss is icing on my very favorite cake.

As a fan of lip action, I’ve been awfully happy with a number of recent matches from BGE lately. Patrick Donovan’s stern disciplining of his weak-link partner, Steven Thomas, turns to benevolent reward once Patrick’s pounded his point home (so to speak).

I haven’t seen Kid Karisma and Len Harder’s “Sexy Showdown” yet, but I for one am thrilled to see KidK sucking face. A big, beautiful muscle stud taking delight in shoving his tongue down a skinny kid’s throat is fantastic melodrama, in my opinion. Pop me some corn and let me settle in for the long-haul. That’s entertainment.

I like to think of Mitch Colby’s end of the match lip lock on Rusty Stevens in Breaking Point as a symbolic passing of the torch. That match-of-my-dreams sealed the deal that Rusty was in sole and undisputed possession of my personal favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy title. That kiss, with Rusty planted on his back with his knees in the air, just made me all sorts of happy. After a snarling, sniping, low-blow-laced, insult-laden, sweat-soaked back and forth battle, Mitch’s mouth planted on Rusty’s made me believe for a moment that it isn’t just about the victory, that it’s not just about the paycheck, that it’s not just a het-anxiety-laden battle tPublish Posto avoid feeling “emasculated” by submitting to another man. For just that completely fictitious, but wonderful moment, I bought that it was about the intimate, lusting, carnal delights of two beautiful men celebrating a hard fought battle.

I know it’s a fiction, just like I know the nasty backstabbers in my own life aren’t about to give any love. But I can always dream.