Well fuck me. It appears that WordPress deleted my polls not long after I posted them on Monday. On the one hand, this fills me with a slightly irrational quantity of rage. On the other hand, of course technology reared its ugly head and thwarted me. That has been the most consistent theme of my life over the past 12 months. Literally, only about 8 votes were cast, although there were thousands of views of the post, so that’s about as reliable a gauge of the popular vote as the Electoral College. However, like Don Quixote, I’m not quite ready to give up battle. I’ve found a new poll widget to try. To those of you who voted, I apologize sincerely for disenfranchising you. I hope that you will weight in yet again, as we give this another shot. If this doesn’t work, this may be the end of my polls, which would be sad. Give it a go and let’s see. I’ll leave this up a few days, so spread the word.
Since “awards season” goes for months into the new year, I feel like it’s not too late to poll gay wrestling fans for a few of those “best” categories that BG East doesn’t award. We got to laud Rocky Sparks dazzling abs, Ty Alexander’s grabbable ass, Kirk Donahue’s notable bulge, and Alexi Adamov’s entire body. But what about the BG East wrestler with the best legs? Which stunning stud had the best pecs? What about best arms and best back? These magnificently sexy men craft every lovely inch of their bodies, and it seems a shame to me to not adore every part of them in exquisite, possibly even tedious, detail. We were enfranchised to award Jake Jenkins as Top Babyface again, Kayden Keller as Top Heel once again, and Rocky Sparks as Top Jobber for the first time in his career. But what about (and I admit, I may be threading the needle here on this one) the wrestler with the prettiest face (regardless of whether he’s a babyface/heel)? And this is definitely not the first time I’m lingering long and hard on wrestlers with the sexiest nipples, in particular.
Just to dot all my i’s and cross all my t’s, this poll is, in no way shape, or form, sanctioned by BG East. I have not been paid or in any other way compensated by any of the slate of nominees that I’m putting forward for your consideration, except for that time that Kayden Keller took my compliments about his legs and flexed his dizzingly hot quads at me as positive reinforcement. I consulted absolutely no one but my own tastes and preferences, and I’m sure I’ve mistakenly missed plenty of deserving contenders, and probably an army more of those I wouldn’t have picked, but many of you would have. It’s all in good fun. I absolutely lovingly adore and worship every single one of these hot bodied hunks… except for one of them who I actually, genuinely can’t stand to watch in the ring, but I have to admit he meets the criteria for the question at hand. There’s always an outside chance that the powers that be (aka, The Boss) at BG East could be irritated by my presumption and ask me to kill this entire post, which I’d do instantly, because I adore him and his genius, and I’m more than a little terrified of him at the same time. Vote if you’d like. Comment to lobby for your pick or to complain about my choices.
Congratulations to all of the winners of the BG East 2020 Fan Poll! Excellent choices all around, as far as I’m concerned. My votes lined up with the majority for 3 of the 15 categories. Being on the winning side 20% of the time is only slightly better than random chance, and I’m not surprised that my tastes diverge that much with the critical mass of voters. It merely demonstrates the importance of a robust and diverse homoerotic wrestling industry. I don’t think of any of the results of the Fan Poll as upsets, really, but I do think there are some interesting takeaways.
Kayden Keller secures Top Heel title a 4th time in a row, and I think that accurately reflects his dominance at BG East. As his 2020 matches demonstrated, he’s an incredibly accomplished heel who ticks off all of the boxes. He’s so fucking lovely to look at. He possesses a sensationally deep arsenal of wrestling holds that he executes to devastating effect, as evidenced by the fact he features in the match with the Best Submissions of the year. He’s a magnificent sadist who savors the tears and whimpers of his opponents like fine wine, which really makes Tag Team Torture 22 such a standout for Best Overall Match. And the factor that really separates him from the heel rivals who also possess all of of those other qualities: wrestling, and dominating his opponents, gets Kayden off. This is a prime mover in what made me crush so hard on Grudge Match 6, and surely a key ingredient to explain why that climactic match secured the title as Sexiest Match of the Year. Honestly, what Kayden touches (and crushes) turns to gold. He’s been the heel to beat for years, and he’s unbeatable, yet again in 2020.
Kayden was the one who pointed out on social media the interesting factoid that Chase Addams has featured in the Best Submissions matches for the past 3 years. Having interviewed Chase several times, I have to imagine that this is exactly what he would want and expect. Chase’s contribution to homoerotic wrestling has always been about innovative and technically outstanding wrestling holds (well, that and his magical nipples). Back on social media, Chase’s submission match dominance has prompted Kayden to issue a challenge for a rematch against him, once the pandemic is over and we can get back to scheduling super hot wrestling matches. Just like their Learning the Ropes match, I’ll be incredibly torn as to who to root for!
Ash DeLeon is coming on strong in the category of badass heels, as evidenced by his half of the heel team in that Best Overall Match, as well as his singles match with Rocky Sparks that earned the Best Squash and Hottest Liplock title this year. If he picks up where he left off when the pandemic hit, could baby heel Ash come back and unseat his mentor Kayden? Considering he could have split the votes for Hottest Liplock, but still came out on top in that category, should Ash be crowned BG East’s newest Kisser-in-Chief? I think nothing can settle that last score like a liplock face-off against longtime kisser champ Christian Taylor!
Rocky Sparks certainly made a remarkably good showing, participating in Best Overall Match, Sexiest Match, and Hottest Liplock, and winning Best Abs and Jobber of the Year. This, on the heels of being Best Debut last year! Any one of those titles seems like a big red target on your ass, so all of them combined surely add up to a whole lot of hunks lined up to dish out a beating on Rocky, once everyone is vaccinated. And probably my most controversial opinion of this post, I’m also looking forward to Rocky getting a haircut.
I think Jake Jenkins dominance in the Babyface category over the years is entirely understandable, but as JJ appears in fewer new releases, I’m looking forward to seeing who the next breakout babyface heart throb is going to be at BGE.
Alexi Adamov winning best body merely amplifies the rant I go off on every year about just how amorphous are our collective standards for this category. It goes without saying that I’d slather every inch, bulge, and valley on Alexi with maple syrup and lick him dry, then wet again. I very well might vote for Alexi as possessing the sexiest body in the running, mind you. But I think of “best” to imply slightly more objective criteria, like conditioning, muscle size and proportion, and a balance of all of those other body-part categories like best abs, butt, bulge (and legs, pecs, shoulders, and arms). While I’m sucking the maple syrup off of Alexi, I’m also thinking that there are harder hunks with thicker muscle mass and even more stunningly, painstakingly built bodies. And no, I’m not only thinking of contest-ready Lon Dumont! Well, okay, I certainly am thinking of Lon, but other worthy beefcakes as well.
Best Bulge went to Kirk Donahue, and sure, I certainly get that. It depends on the gear Kirk wears, though. But from some angles, in certain gear, his bulge looks pretty porn-ready. When looking back at past winners of this category, I think Kirk is lucky that the likes of Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) and Pete Sharp didn’t wrestle in new releases last year. But I’ll give Kirk his due, as long as we don’t have a repeat of Kirk’s Best Butt scandal of 2017.
Finally, there’s Ty Alexander’s butt. After lobbying the academy shamelessly for years, Ty started winning this title in 2018, and claimed the trifecta in 2020. Ty’s cheeks are undeniably juicy, round, and perpetually in our faces. For my tastes, I key off more on muscle butts, thick, powerful, granite carved ass cheeks that you can just picture flexing hard and holding on tight. But, clearly, the criteria that adds up to the Best Butt of the year is subjective, which is exactly the way it should be. Kirk Donahue as runner-up is concerning to me, as I think he needs a lifetime ban from this category for his involvement in past malfeasance, so there’s at least that silver lining in Ty’s victory. Congratulations to Ty (even as I’m over here, tongue out, a little faint, on my knees worshiping the seriously comic-book-superhero bodybuilder butt cheeks on Devil Devitt).
Cheers to you of the winner! I’m cuing up the Sexiest Match of 2020 again to keep myself warm on this frigid, winter day.
The Nominee Sale ends today, so I don’t know if that mean the poll closes today. In case it does, get your ass to BG East and vote! Here’s my voter’s guide for the remainder of the ballot. At this point, we really wade into the meat market portion of the categories. My buddy Mac emailed me after my last post to 1) agree with me that there should be a Best Legs category, and 2) point out that there’s also no Best Arms, Best Pecs, or Best Back category, so perhaps BGE limits the physical attributes to abs, butt, bulge, and body to keep the ballot concise. I just think this calls for a follow up Sidelineland fan poll for the missed categories, once the official vote has been counted and certified. In the meantime, here are the mouthwatering body parts you can vote for…
As I said earlier, there is no Lon Dumont, so I’m immediately frustrated. Have you seen his chiseled abs when he’s in contest shape?! Fuck me. Jax Atwell and last year’s Debut of the Year, Rocky Sparks were my #2 and #3 nominations, so my official vote goes to Jax, though it’s easy to get distracted from his washboard when you catch a glimpse of his entry for the next category. There are lovely abs to choose from across the slate, though, so take your pick.
The Best Bulge slate of nominees that made it out of committee includes perennial contender Jobe Zander and his “Centerpiece,” of course. In addition to nominating Jax and Lance, I also nominated Van Skyler’s gorgeous tool, but Van didn’t make it out of committee. For my taste, I’m voting for Jax. I’m restricted from posting full nudity on this blog by BG East, but if I could, I’d be happy to demonstrate just how magnificent a candidate Jax is for this category once he flies his flag full staff. Short of that, let me just say that when Sarge unsnaps Jax’s breakaway thong mid-match, the meat that spills out would feed a herd of gay boys for weeks.
I love seeing some new contenders in the Best Butt category this year. Sure, you’ve still got reigning Best Butt Winner, Ty Alexander going for the trifecta this year, who you can vote for, and be prepared to see him bitch for the next three months if he doesn’t win. You’ve also got Kirk Donahue back in the running, though I still can’t bring myself to seriously consider him ever since the whole Best Butt scandal centering around him from the 2017 BG East Fan Poll. My #2 and #3 nominations for this category didn’t make the cut, namely Kayden Keller and Elite Eliot, so my choice is straightforward and certain. Feast your eyes on Devil Devitt’s glorious glutes! He wins my vote and unending adoration for that mouthwatering ass!
I think this is my favorite category every year. I fucking LOVE wrestling liplocks. I love them wet and sloppy and paralyzing. I love them hungry and fierce and long. My top two nominations made it through committee, leaving only Ace Aarons and Calvin Haynes’ tongue wrestling out of contention from my nominating ballot. I know, I know, I’ve been over the moon throughout this entire voter’s guide about how sexy Kayden Keller and Nino Leone’s work was in Grudge Match 6, but shockingly, I only put them in second place on my ballot. My top pick, and the liplock that gets my vote, belongs to Nino and Jax from Backyard Brawls 13. Clearly, there’s a common denominator there, and if I ever get the opportunity to interview Nino again at a BG East taping, I’m insisting on first-hand evidence to confirm just how intoxicating his liplocks appear to be.
Best Overall Match 2020
I telegraphed my pick for best overall match a few days ago, when I was bitching about the confusing state of the slate of nominees. Specifically, my top pick, Starr/Sparks vs. Keller/DeLeon in Tag Team Torture 22, doesn’t feature in any of the earlier Best Match categories. I sort of love and hate the fact that every nominee in this category is a ring match. I love that, because it’s my favorite genre for homoerotic wrestling, but I hate it because I know there are fans who will be frustrated by the limited options. I’m a little blown away that all 3 products from Ringwars 33 are in the mix, because that product didn’t grab my crotch that decisively. Obviously, vote for the match you think is best, but for my money, it’s a slam dunk for Tag Team Torture 22.
Best Full Product of 2020
I have to confess that I forgot to include this last category in my nominations form, and thus, my nominees for Best Full Product didn’t factor in, and it shows. I’d intended to include, far and away as the best, my passionate support for BG East Grudge Match 6. So fucking sexy from start to finish, including Zip Zarella joining in a three-way thrashing with Ace Aarons and Gunnar Baer, but mostly power packed with Kayden first taming and claiming Nino, then taking that show on the road against Mason. Absent that option, my vote from the worthy nominees that did make it out of committee is for Tag Team Torture 20, which offered sensational drama, my sentimental favorite of Charlie Evans lovely ass paired with fellow lightweight beauty Cap Landon, and a tag team betrayal setting up a 2-on-1 beatdown of muscle hunk Calvin Haynes. Pick your poison, though.
For being such a shit year for everything else, BG East managed to pull together an impressive set of catalogs with, what I believe, included (almost?) no new matches recorded due to public health concerns (good on them!). Vote, and show some appreciation for the gorgeous, hardworking hunks of homoerotic wrestling!
Have you voted in the BG East year-end Fan Poll? It’s still up, as of my writing this, but I don’t know for how long. So immediately go and vote. In case anyone is looking for a voter’s guide, here is another installment of my opinions and the slate of nominees.
This category always stumps me just a little, both on the nominations committee and in voting. I think I’m just not as into the technical side of wrestling as a lot of you are, so what I remember most isn’t the particular submissions in a match. Unless there was something particularly sexy about it, like Kid Vicious winding up an opponent’s joystick in an over-the-knee backbreaker. My top nomination had been Nathan Sargent and Jax Atwell’s Wrestleshack 16 match, because several of Sarge’s punishing submission holds do remain in my memory. But that match didn’t make it out of the nominating committee. Actually, none of my 3 slate of nominees got through committee, so clearly my taste in submissions is out of step with my esteemed colleagues. However, the slate that did get nominated is fully of lovely, sexy options for you to pick from. I’ll go with Alexi and Devil’s match, and it’s entirely possible that Devitt’s incredibly sweet ass is still playing a role in my vote. And I’m not ashamed one bit. Here are all of the nominees for your consideration…
The Best Body category has got to be one of the most contentious topics every year. I learned long ago that my criteria for what makes a wrestling body “best” is different than a lot the rest of you. Lon Dumont is ALWAYS on my nominations slate, because… fuck, his gorgeous bodybuilder-bod rocks me hard. But he never wins. I always feel like I need to apologize to Lon afterward. In any case, this year I’m actually throwing my vote to Austin Cooper. Austin’s bod is a moving target, of course, and his conditioning varies from match to match, but I think he’s peak Coop right around his Demolition 29 release this year. I’m only a little ashamed of myself to admit that my second choice would have most definitely been Damien Rush, because I fucking HATE that guy, but his huge, hairy muscles make my mouth water, and I think his legs may be the best in the field this year, though I’d like to see Calvin Haynes and Damien sort it out in a Science of Scissors 4 (why do we STILL not have a Best Legs category?!). But, of course, you be the judge…
The nominations committee is tasked with nominating up to 3 nominees for each category, but I only put up 2 names for Top Heel. My taste in heels is growing more articular over time, and to be honest, I’ve been keying off on babyfaces lately. But there were exactly two heels who held my rapt attention this year. My top choice, and my clear vote in Fan Poll this year, is 3-time running winner of this category, Kayden Keller. He’s the perfect example of the rare heel who dominates my attention, no matter how tasty his prey is. I’m always convinced Kayden loves his sadistic work. And when I enjoyed the opportunity to interview him in person a few years back, Kayden tauntingly flexed his gorgeous quads for me, so he’s always a sentimental favorite. But he was absolutely everywhere this year, and his work in Grudge Match 6 and a Tag Team Torture 22 were the highlights of the year for me. My number 2 nominee was Austin Cooper, who didn’t make it through the nominating committee. Dr. Cooper is such a sensational bully-sadist in matches like Forced to Flex 3 and Undagear 33. Of the slate that did make it through committee, if I had to pick someone other than KK, I guess I’d go with Jonny Firestorm as a sentimental vote, but I don’t think Jonny’s work this year was his best heel work. Seriously, I only see Kayden as a legitimate option, but here’s everyone you can choose from…
Shockingly, all three of my nominees for Top Babyface made it out of committee. 2018’s Debut of the Year, Kenny Starr, was my first choice. Such a beautiful babyface bro, and he worked his fine, fine ass off last year. My second pick was last year’s Best Abs winner, Kip Sorell. Honestly, his credentials are stronger for the next category, but he’s dazzlingly pretty, and I’ve never seen him break a rule. My third choice was Calvin Haynes, who brought his beef to an impressive range and depth of matches last year. Seriously, you can’t swing a cat without hitting a gorgeous, brave, earnest young babyface at BG East these days, and I love that! You also have a few of other excellent options to choose from, including past winners, and honestly, you can’t go wrong…
Jobber of the Year
Selecting the best jobber requires us to define the jobber, and therein lies the rub. On the one hand, there are those who point to jobbers as wrestlers who get squashed. On the other hand, I think of a jobber as characterized by more than just one match, and not limited to getting squashed. From my perspective, a jobber is a wrestler whose career arc is such that they regularly, dependably lose, inevitably putting over their opponents. So I think a jobber can put up a good fight, even dominate for a while in any given match. But the fates have determined his course to be flat on his back and beaten by the end of his matches, and you, and I, and his opponent, and he, probably all know it. As part of the nominating committee, my top pick for 2020 was Tim Messina. He doesn’t get the credit he deserves for his body of work, and he makes victory look so, so sexy and sweet (i.e., the victory of his opponents over him). My second-choice nominee was Jake Jenkins, which feels like a bit of a cheek because JJ wrestled in only one 2020 match (but fuck, those cheeks are so lovely). My third nominee was Charlie Evans, because I love watching him fiercely charge into the fray with guys twice his size, give them a run for their money, but sooner or later get tenderized. My esteemed colleagues on the nominations committee gave you a full slate of options to choose from, but I’ll give my vote to Jake, because the second he steps into a wrestling ring, you know he’s going down in a blaze of glory.
The poll is still up, so vote today! I’ll try to round out my voters guide within the next day or so, hopefully before the polls close.
Just to prove to me that last year wasn’t the complete shitstorm that I remember, BG East has released their year-in-review 2020 Fan Poll! I was honored to be on the nominations committee again this year. I was pouring over the possibilities so long, in fact, I almost didn’t get my slate in before the deadline passed. I don’t see the deadline for the official fan ballot that’s available now on the website, so vote soon. In the meantime, I’ll obsessively reflect on the nominees that made it through committee. For your consideration….
We’ve only come to the first category, and already the match I ranked first on my nominations form didn’t make the cut. Technically. I put in for Kayden and Nino’s matroom match as sexiest, but close enough, the sequel to that match on BG East Grudge Match 6 did get nominated. And it’s hard to argue against the value added of including Mason Brooks alongside of Kayden and Nino, and putting them all in the ring, and the tasty addition of double teaming. If I could, I’d still vote for the smolderingly sexy 1-on-1, but of my options, I think my choice is pretty clear. A close second place for my vote would be the Wrestleshack 26 match, the military erotic fantasy I had no idea I needed. Here are all the nominees:
Best Mat Battle
As you could probably guess from my deliberation about the Sexiest Match category, I picked Kayden and Nino’s Grudge Match as my top nominee for Best Mat Battle. Hands down, that’s my vote. So. Fucking. Great. My 2nd and 3rd place nominations didn’t make it out of committee. But if I was pressed to pass over Kayden and Nino, I’d probably give a nod to Brendan and Ethan’s Sexy Showdown. But this one isn’t close for my vote. Here’s the full slate:
Best Ring Match
I’m just going sit here and stir the pot when it comes to the nominations for Best Ring Match, because how in the living fuckity-fuck did Tag Team Torture 22 (Starr/Sparks vs. Keller/DeLeon) not get nominated in this category?! That match did get on the slate for Best Overall Match, so I just don’t get how it didn’t even make the cut for Best Ring Match. I’ll just sit here and fume about it, but I should acknowledge that my vote most definitely goes to the match I listed #2 on my nominations form, Hunkbash 22, starring Alexi Adamov and Devil Devitt. They set that fucking ring on fire, and I got completely hypnotized by Devil’s delicious derriere. My third pick on my nominations form was the part 2 to Grudge Match 6, the aforementioned sweat fest with Mason, Kayden, and Nino, but they didn’t squeeze out a nod for Best Ring Match, despite getting it for Sexiest Match. If I was pressed to dig into the bench for another pick, I’d give it to Ace and Chase. Here are all your options:
Squashes have never really been my favorite in general, but oddly, I’m getting off on a lot more squashes during the pandemic. I’m not sure what that means. But my vote will go to the match I listed first on my nominations form, Braden Charon and Jake Jenkins in Backbusters 2. Fuck. What a squash, and JJ broken in half is a revelation. My other 2 nominations didn’t make it out of committee, and I have to scratch my head that the product entitled Training Day: Squashes, didn’t feature at all. But if I had to vote elsewhere, I’d tap Richie Douglas’ ass… I mean, I’d pick Richie and Toney’s match.
Knowing me, I’m apt to keep writing up this voter’s guide until after the polls have already closed. So I’ll post these first few categories now, in the hopes that it inspires a few more of you to vote.
Eli Brody sat atop the most powerful economic and political institution in history. The West Coast Titan possessed sweeping power as both political leader and entertainment industry producer. His empire was built on savvy choices of what entertainment talent to promote, in what vehicle, and for how long. The secret to his success was simple: he promoted the talent that made him hard. The entertainment-consuming public had never failed to follow where Eli’s cock led, and the public voted with their social media upvotes and subscription prices, to propel Eli to geopolitical dominance.
Titans like Eli held the power to shape public opinion, to launch tomorrow’s stars or to bury them. As a result, beautiful actors with big dreams and muscles were always lined up for the opportunity to make an impression on him. Eli had a knack for plucking someone from obscurity and creating a multimedia juggernaut. He also occasionally employed some mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to the careers of established talent struggling for survival. The masterful producer understood that it was equally important and profitable to know when to break down overexposed talent, to choreograph their fall from grace in just such a way as to exploit those actors that the public had grown to love to hate, for rating gold.
Eli’s Vancouver corporate headquarters were situated in a dockside warehouse that looked more industrial than entertainment-industrial. He was considering his next two, back-to-back appointments. The barometer in his crotch told Eli these two actors were going to be valuable commodities. Both hot, hungry hunks were on the cusp of a major breakthrough, and they were both coming to Eli today to make their pitch to become the next big thing.
Jamie Bamber and Tahmoh Penikett both had their first big breaks on the same TV show. Both immediately generated a passionate fan following that only grew more intense as they appeared in less and less clothing as the series unfolded. When the show came to its natural conclusion, both Jamie and Tamoh had jobs lined up, but they wanted what neither had yet accrued the capital to secure: the breakthrough role that would catapult them into the heights of stardom.
Eli’s first appointment was with Jamie. The British beefcake pitched him an idea he had for a copy show, starring him, of course. “It’s guaranteed ratings gold,” Jamie explained. “I’m in top shape physically,” the hunk boasted, instinctively flexing his thick biceps, straining the seams of his tight dress shirt. “My fans will follow me, and I’m ripe for a vehicle that will make me, and you, a boatload.”
Eli smiled and nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. He had another idea for Jamie that would almost certainly make him a bigger star than this tired cop show format he was pitching today. But the talent seldom understood the nuances of timing and momentum that Eli had needed to master to build the type of success he was known for. Jamie was making a hard sell for a mediocre lateral move, and the producer could tell that the young hunk wasn’t going to be convinced easily that the smarter move was to wait.
“Mr. Brody,” his secretary called across the intercom, “your next appointment is here.”
“Jamie, I’m sorry that I’m so booked up this morning,” Eli said. “I think you may be on to something, but I’ve got to meet with my next appointment. Perhaps you’d like to stay, and we can talk further about this after my next meeting.”
“Definitely!” Jamie seemed pleased to get a second round for his pitch. As he stood up to exit the room, Eli waved him back to his seat.
“No, I’d like you to stay. I’d like your take on my next appointment, Jamie.” The British beauty sat up straight in his chair, his ego stroked semi-erect by the producer’s invitation to weigh in on a business decision.
Eli’s office door opened, and the Titan welcomed his next appointment with a smile. “Come in, Tahmoh. I think you and Jamie know one another.” The tall, handsome Canadian walked in and looked at his former co-star with a scowl. “I thought this would be just us, Mr. Brody.”
“My appointment with Jamie went long,” Eli apologized, waving him to take the seat next to Jamie. “However, I think perhaps the three of us may have some things we could talk about together.”
Wary anticipation hung heavily in the air as Tahmoh took his seat. “Gentlemen,” Eli began, “You’ve both caught the attention of the public, but the two of you split the audience. Your competing popularity has polarized your constituents,” Eli explained, pausing as the two hunks stabbed at each other with frustrated glances. “There are now Jamie-fans, and there are Tahmoh-fans, but not much crossover between the two camps. If I were to launch the both of you right now, there would be immediate comparisons and competition that, ultimately, would hamstring the both of you. In turn, I wouldn’t see the ratings or the profits that I think the two of you have the potential to generate. So I’ve got a can’t-miss serial in my pocket right now, and one of you can have it.” Both hunks sat up, still straighter, in anticipation. “It’s a sensational pilot, with lot’s of skin, perfect to make the most of all of the fans fantasizing about your hot, hard bodies. But, frankly, I can’t decide between the two of you who to give it to.” Both eager actors immediately began to plead their case loudly, talking over each other. Eli stopped them with an impatient raise of his hand. “I’m not going to decide which one of you gets the contract. You are.”
“We are?” they both said at the same time.
“Yes, you are,” Eli smiled. “You’re going to wrestle for it. It’ll be a private match for you to sort this out between the two of you. I’ll have the contract and a pen in hand, and I’ll just wait for the two of you to decide who gets to sign it.”
“So, I just beat him, and the contract is mine,” Jamie asked. Tahmoh bristled, but Eli silenced them both with another regal raise of his palm.
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Eli continued. “The two of you will have to agree as to who gets the contract. You’ll need to do whatever it takes to… convince your rival to give it to you. We’ll sign the contract once the both of you verbally confirm to me who deserves it. Do we have an understanding?”
Both Tahmoh and Jamie swallowed hard, then nodded.
“Excellent.” Eli stood. “No time like the present. Follow me.”
A little dumbstruck, Tahmoh and Jamie followed Eli out of his office and through the maze of hallways winding through the massive complex. Both men were nervous. Stopping at an unmarked door, Eli explained, “This is your locker room, gentlemen. Go on in and you’ll find your gear. Get suited up. You’ll see the door to the wrestling ring on the other side of the locker room. Join me at the ring when you’re both ready.”
Silent tension hung in the air as Tahmoh and Jamie walked into the locker room. The walls were lined with gray lockers. On the changing benches, the rivals found a box for each of them. While this turn of events was a complete surprise to the two of them, clearly the entire situation had been carefully and thoughtfully planned. Within the boxes, they discovered the gear that had been chosen for them. Tahmoh’s was a red singlet with a white Canadian maple leaf across the abdomen. Jamie’s singlet was blue, with the union jack printed across the front and back.
They turned their backs to one another and started to strip down. Jamie pulled off his polo shirt and undid his button fly jeans. Standing in his underwear, Jamie was, indeed, at the top of his physical form. On his 5’9″ frame, his shoulders were sculpted boulders, and his pecs were round and massive. His arm muscles were cut like crystal, each muscle group clearly striated through the taught skin. Jamie’s tiny waist was layered in abdominal and oblique muscles bulging over top one another. His round, muscled ass sat atop thick legs built for both sprint and distance speeds of an English footballer. As he pulled off his underwear to put on the jock strap tucked in the corner of his box, his thick cock and massive balls hung loose. He was shaved smooth all over, and sweat was already making his skin glisten as he tugged on the skintight union jack wrestling singlet.
At the same time, Tahmoh stripped off his tight, white t-shirt and jeans. The Canadian wasn’t as heavily muscled as his rival, but beautifully toned and proportioned, just the same. At 6’3″, he towered over the Brit. Tahmoh spent time in the gym building his broad back and strong frame, but he had clearly earned his strength doing more than just lifting gym weights. As he stripped out of his designer briefs and into his jock strap, his long thick cock swung like a pendulum. Pulling on his maple leaf singlet, he adjusted his jock.
They didn’t make eye contact as they strode to the far end of the locker room, toward the door marked “Ring.” On the other side of the door, they found a classic pro wrestling ring in a large, open, cargo warehouse. Bleachers lined the walls on all four sides, but the seats were empty. Eli sat on a wooden chair next to the ring, legs crossed, checking messages on his phone. As the men approached, the Titan stood with a smile.
“Since this is the first time either of you have been here, take some time to warm up and get a feel for the ring. When you’re ready to start, let me know.” Eli straddled his chair backward, resting his arms on the chair back to face the ring as he watched the men climb through the ropes. Jamie bounced from foot to foot, getting his heart pumping and his muscles warmed up. His thick, meaty pecs shimmied and bounced excitedly beneath his singlet. Tahmoh tugged on the ropes and stretched out his long, lean muscles for a couple of minutes, and then shadow boxed in a corner, preparing himself mentally for what was to happen next.
“Ready?” Jamie asked his opponent after a couple of minutes of silent, nervous warming up.
“Let’s do this,” Tahmoh answered. They both glanced at the producer outside the ring.
Eli pulled a pen and a folded piece of paper out of the breast pocket of his suit coat. “This belongs to whoever the two of you decide deserves it most. I’ll need to hear both of you verbally assent to your unanimous choice for who takes his next step in this business. There are no other rules. Pins, knockouts, and submissions are meaningless, unless the winner exacts the consent of his rival to hand over his claim to the contract. I’m just here to appreciate your negotiations. What happens next is up to the two of you.”
The two men eyed one another warily and began to circle the ring. Tahmoh’s reach advantage was abundantly apparent to the both of them. The Canadian hunk took a couple of testing jabs toward Jamie’s chiseled jaw, but the Brit kept himself out just out of reach. Abruptly, the Brit dropped to one knee, going in for a single leg, but Tahmoh hopped backward, successfully avoiding the attempt.
“You’ve done this before,” Jamie said with a smile, climbing quickly back to his feet.
“Hell, I’ve never done anything like this before,” Tahmoh smiled back. “But I’ve wrestled a little.”
Both men continued to circle one another, sizing each other up. Jamie lunged for another single leg and caught Tahmoh’s left ankle. The Canadian collapsed on top of him, grabbing him across the throat with his left forearm and squeezing, grasping his left wrist with his right hand and pressing upward against the Brit’s windpipe. Jamie began to choke and released Tahmoh’s ankle to try to pry his opponent’s arm away from his throat.
“You’re choking me,” Jamie coughed and sputtered.
“I’m beating you, you asshole,” Tahmoh responded fiercely.
Jamie twisted his head around within Tahmoh’s grip, sliding himself into a side headlock and releasing the pressure across his windpipe. Already sweating with the initial exertion and nerves, Jamie wedged his hands between Tahmoh’s forearm and chest, and pried them loose enough to slip out of the headlock. Both men rolled away from one another and stood, crouching, facing one another.
After two quick breaths, Jamie lunged again for a leg, but this time Tahmoh saw it coming. Clenching both hands together above his head, the Canadian brought his double fists crashing down into the middle of Jamie’s broad, muscled back, just as the Brit was stretched out reaching for his leg. Jamie crashed to the mat with a thud. Tahmoh immediately dropped his entire bodyweight down, driving a knee into the middle of Jamie’s back. The Brit yelled out in shocked pain and arched his back, scrambling to put distance between them. Tahmoh patiently stood up again, following his wriggling opponent across the mat. He aimed, and brought his knee again down with his full weight in the exact same spot in the center of Jamie’s muscle-armored back. The Brit screamed louder, arching backward in agony. A third time, Tahmoh stood, took deliberate aim, and pounded his knee into the weakened spot of Jamie’s back.
Jamie screamed and writhed in pain. He no longer tried to retreat, but simply scrambled to keep his injured back out of striking distance. Tahmoh stalked him coldly, watching the desperation rising across his rival’s pretty face. Decisively, the Canadian dropped to his knees, grabbed Jamie’s left arm with both hands, and pried it backward in a painful hammerlock. He knelt on one knee, wrenching up on his opponent’s wrist, as the Brit sat helplessly.
“Okay, I lied,” Tahmoh said quietly, kneeling behind the Brit and leaning in close to his ear. “I have done this before. And I’ve been wanting to do this to you for the last five fucking years.”
Standing up and straddling his opponent, Tahmoh gripped Jamie’s trapped arm with both hands and yanked upward, dragging Jamie’s body a foot off of the mat, dangling from his precariously twisted shoulder. As Jamie screamed like a wounded animal, Tahmoh slammed him to the mat face-first. He leaned hard into the hammerlock, making the Brit’s boulder shoulder quiver. Then Tahmoh placed both hands on Jamie’s hammerlocked arm and kicked his feet up in the air. He did a graceful handstand, balancing his full bodyweight down on Jamie’s nearly dislocated arm. Then he again dropped his right knee down into the weakened middle of Jamie’s back. “Fu-uu-uuck,” Jamie choke-screamed through silent sobs.
Cranking Jamie’s muscled right arm even higher up his back, Tahmoh knelt down on one knee and lowered his head to speak softly in Jamie’s ear. “You’ve been an arrogant prick your entire life, pretty boy.” The Canadian swung his leg over to straddle his opponent’s ass and lean into the hammerlock harder. “The way I see it, you’ve got three options right now. You give the contract to me now, and this is over. Or, I can break you down quickly and really injure you, and when you’re fucked up good, you give the contract to me and, this is over. Or, I can pick you apart, piece by piece, until you can’t move, and when you’re beaten senseless, you give me the contract, and this is over. Which option do you want?”
“Fuck you,” Jamie growled through clenched teeth.
“Hmmm,” Tahmoh snorted. “That’s definitely not option one. But I’m not sure if it’s option two or option three. I guess it’ll have to be dealer’s choice.”
Maintaining his hammerlock with one hand, Tahmoh grabbed Jamie’s hair with his other hand and pulled his opponent up off the mat. Just as Jamie pulled his knees underneath him into a kneeling position and balanced himself with his free hand, Tahmoh released the hammerlock and hair, pivoted on his left leg and brought a roundhouse kick solidly across the side of Jamie’s face. The Brit’s nose snapped, and blood flew through the air as Jamie landed on his side, motionless.
Grabbing his dazed opponent by the hair again, Tahmoh dragged him up to his feet. Jamie sagged groggily, but before his legs gave out, the Canadian shoved one arm through Jamie’s legs and grasped the Brit’s neck in the crook of his other arm. Scooping him up, Tahmoh hoisted the stunned man up to his chest effortlessly. Tahmoh looked down at Eli, watching intently from outside the ring, as he paraded Jamie’s battered and vulnerable body in a slow lap. Stopping in the center of the ring, he lifted Jamie high up on his chest. Then dropping to one knee, the Canadian drove his opponent’s already weakened back down across his outstretched knee. Jamie screamed and choked like a wounded animal, nearly split in half across Tahmoh’s knee. Tahmoh grabbed Jamie’s left ankle with one hand and his chin with his other hand and pulled each end of Jamie’s tortured body backward across his leg.
Sobbing in pain, Jamie flailed with his hands, smacking at Tahmoh’s grasp. The Canadian hunk chuckled, staring down and admiring his work. “Every day, you’d show up on set like the king of fucking Persia,” Tahmoh growled. “You’d flash your dimples and bounce your pecs underneath your tight t-shirts, and you’d just get everything you asked for.” He released Jamie’s ankle, and then pounded his elbow down into the tightly muscled abdomen stretched out across his knee. The air rushed out of the Brit’s lungs as the captured hunk gaped dumbly. “You’d wear those tight pants, showing off that hot little ass and big, juicy bulge, and and just knew we were all staring at you, didn’t you?” Leaning forward, driving the point of his elbow into Jamie’s midsection, Tahmoh worked the elbow in small circles, digging deep and breaking apart the star’s muscled torso. Jamie screamed out in pain, grasping Tahmoh’s arm and trying to pry him away from his damaged core.
“We’re past the point of my putting you out of your misery quickly, so you only have two options left now. Give me the contract now, or I’ll break you down in a new way, and you’ll give me the contract then.”
Blood pouring down his face, Jamie spat blood, then weakly replied, “Fuck you, I’ll never agree.”
Tahmoh chuckled. “I was sort of hoping that would be your answer.” Cradling Jamie in his arms, he lifted the broken star up in the air again. “Moving on, then.” Swinging Jamie’s legs high in the air, Tahmoh drove his opponent’s body into the mat in a devastating powerslam. Jamie reflexively arched his damaged back high in the air, as Tahmoh climbed off of him and knelt at his side. As the Brit writhed on the mat, his tormentor grabbed Jamie’s singlet straps and dragged them off his hugely muscled arms. “That’s it,” Tahmoh muttered, “let’s see those huge fucking shoulders, pretty boy.” Then he kicked him over onto his stomach and straddled his lower back. Reaching down and grasping Jamie’s chin from behind, Tahmoh leaned back, trapping the Brit’s muscled arms across his thighs. Using his height to its full advantage, Tahmoh leaned way back now, pressing with his thighs to bend Jamie backward in a camel clutch.
“I can sit here all day, you little fuck,” Tahmoh said calmly. Leaning backward still further, he strained the Brit’s quivering back to the limit. Jamie cried out in excruciating pain. “Are you ready to give me that contract yet?”
Jamie gasped and groaned, but finally choked out a whispered, “No!”
“You are a tough little fucker, I’ll give you that,” Tahmoh conceded, more than a little frustrated now. Maintaining the chinlock with his right hand, he slowly reached forward with his left hand, squeezing and massaging his opponent’s thick, sweat soaked chest.
Abruptly, Tahmoh released his hold on Jamie’s upper body. The Brit’s face slammed violently to mat. “Tough little fucker,” Tahmoh muttered again, as he climbed to his feet. “Those big fucking muscles of yours are good for something after all, I guess,” he sneered, shrugging his arms out of his own red singlet, exposing his glistening, gorgeous torso. His six-pack abs heaved as he pumped air in and out of his lungs.
“But as much as I admire that hot body of yours,” he growled, “it’s standing in my way, you fucking prat.” He bent forward and violently ripped Jamie’s singlet down his legs. The Brit groaned and crawled forward on his elbows, going nowhere but away from the punishing hunk towering over him. Tahmoh arrested his progress by grabbing the back of his jock strap and prying Jamie’s hips off the mat. Circling to stand in front of him, the Canadian scooped him up in his arms, lifting the Brit upside down and hoisting him across his left shoulder. Tahmoh bounced the Brit up and down in the backbreaker. Jamie screamed as he was paraded around the ring, bent backward and hanging helplessly over his opponent’s shoulder. “I submit! I submit,” the Brit cried repeatedly. “Please, p—-please!”
Tahmoh let him slide off his shoulder and collapse on the mat in a heap. The Canadian breathed heavily, wiping the sweat from his brow. “By ‘submit,’ do you mean you’re ready to give that fucking contract to me, you piece of shit?!” He dropped to one knee and pried Jamie’s face up by a fist full of hair. “Are we in agreement that I deserve that contract?!”
Jamie swallowed hard, his eyes closed as his body screamed out in pain. Finally, he licked his lips, opened eyes to look at his tormentor, and whispered, “Fuck. You.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Tahmoh snarled furiously, spitting in anger. “You do not know when to give up, do you, pretty boy?” He dragged his opponent’s limp body off the mat by his hair, and then hoisted him off his feet in a growling bearhug. Jamie’s head lolled backward in a silent scream. His feet hung inches off the mat, suspended in his tall opponent’s crushing embrace. Tahmoh shook him like a rag doll. “Okay, okay,” Jamie gasped desparately, “I….” But his opponent abruptly shifted, covering the Brit’s mouth with his huge hand and holding him off the mat in a kiss of death.
“Oh, no, not yet, pretty boy,” Tahmoh muttered. “You made me work too hard to avoid what I’ve got in store for you now.” Jamie flailed, struggling for air beneath his opponent’s smothering hand. Smoothly, Tahmoh rotated the limp rag in his grasp, spinning the Brit upside down and holding him there in an inverted bearhug. Tahmoh shook him hard, stomping around the ring. Staring down between the Brit’s lightly hairy, thickly muscled legs, he licked his lips hungrily at the sight of Jamie’s sweat soaked pouch, quivering round ass, and vulnerable hole.
“It’s yours!” Jamie screamed finally. “The contract is yours! Please. PLEASE! Stop now, please,” he sobbed.
Maintaining the inverted bearhug, Tahmoh stomped to the nearest corner. He hung his rival’s knees across the top ropes and hooked his ankles under the cable between the turnbuckle and the ring post. The Canadian let the Brit’s head drop to the mat with a thud.
Kneeling on one knee, leaning low to put his face right up in Jamie’s, Tahmoh asked, “Say it again, you fucking prick.” Jamie’s rippled abs, soaked in sweat, heaved as he sucked down air and humiliation. When he didn’t answer quickly enough, Tahmoh straddled the Brit’s face and clawed viciously at the big, stuffed pouch hanging helplessly from the turnbuckle. Jamie’s screams were muffled, deep up his rival’s ass, and his body bucked and shook in desperate protest.
“I’m sorry,” Tahmoh said, lifting his ass an inch or so off of his opponent’s face, but still holding tight to the crotch claw. “I don’t think I heard you that time. Tell me again, pretty boy?”
Gasping for air, Jamie quickly replied, “The contract is yours!”
Tahmoh smiled, making eye contact with Eli just outside the ring. He stroked Jamie’s glistening torso with the palm of his left hand, as he held tight to the crotch claw with his right hand. “So, we’re in full agreement, then,” Tahmoh demanded.
“Yes, I agree. I AGREE,’ he screeched as his cock and balls were twisted violently.
“Who deserves this contract more,” Tahmoh asked, sliding his free hand around his rival’s hip and kneading the Brit’s bubble butt appreciatively.
“You. You! You deserve it more,” Jamie choked pleadingly.
“And, who’s the better actor,” Tahmoh demanded to know, now grabbing both of Jamie’s ass cheeks, pulling his hips forward as the Canadian lapped at the sweat soaked pouch with his tongue.
Jamie swallowed hard, overcoming a last vestige of pride, before gasping, “You are. You’re the better actor!”
“That’s fucking right, I am, you piece of shit,” Tahmoh snarled, slapping savagely at Jamie’s quivering crotch and making the Brit squeal.
Tahmoh climbed off and leaned across the top rope, sucking down recuperative, deep breaths and wiping the sweat from his face. “Well, Mr. Brody, I think we’ve come to an agreement.”
Eli smiled broadly up at him, and rose from the chair. He handed Tahmoh the contract and pen. “Very well deserved,” he said quietly. “I see great things in store for you, Tahmoh.”
Tahmoh winked at him and took the contract and pen. Again, he knelt beside Jamie, still hanging limply in the tree-of-woe. He held the contract against the Brit’s heaving abs and signed on the bottom line.
First of all, a quick word about my housekeeping here around the blog. I redecorated just a tad, to keep things slightly fresher. I’ve also changed up some standard features to reflect my focus these days. Rather than crown a homoerotic wrestler of the month, which I haven’t had time to keep up with in years, I’m just naming whoever my latest obsession is (regardless if they’ve appeared in recent new releases). I’ve also crowned a new reigning homoerotic wrestler, which I deliberated about long and hard, because I fucking LOVE the longest reigning champ in that category, Kid Karisma, with a passion reserved for very few. However, I have to say, my longstanding wrestling crush on Scott Williams has been dominating my thoughts and posts in recent months, and I am awed at how he can just comment on the pages of this blog with two sentences and I’m fully aroused and savoring an endorphin hit. So Scott has officially, forcibly removed the crown from Kid K’s freckled forehead and planted it on top of his own gorgeous pate. If ever Kid K wants to settle this in person, in what would be the most spectacularly sexy old-school-meets-new pairing in homoerotic wrestling history, I will beat anyone else who wants the privilege of reffing away with a stick.
In honor of the newly reigning champ of these pages, I’ve done an extra leg workout today and savored BG East’s recent release of Science of Scissors 2. As far as I’m concerned, Scott is the final word in all things scissors, because he has demonstrated repeatedly, in action and word, that he knows exactly what I like most about them. So I’m hoping the new champ will weigh in on my quick review of this new entry in the annals of the homoerotic wrestling obsession with scissors.
The combatants are Kip Sorell and Brad Barnes, which frankly, is a little bit of a surprise to me. Brad I get, because, fuck, look at the quads on that beast of a man! Kip, though? I mean, he’s fuckable from every angle. But while his legs are sensationally lean and cut, with a topographical map of his circulatory system clearly visible across the surface of his quads and calves, his legs are not particularly big. Again, let me be clear, I would worship Kip’s body from head to toe for days on end, but I do not think of him in the top 10 of “legs most likely to punish.”
Brad clearly agrees with me. “I don’t know what you’re going to do against these bad boys,” Brad boasts, squeezing an almost audibly crunching flex out of his massive quads. “Yeah, you may have some size on me,” Kip counters, flexing his darkly tanned thighs in reply, “but I think I have a leaner, more aesthetic look.”
Reading my mind, Brad calmly asks, “Oh yeah? I don’t know if that’s going to compete with this power. I’ve been doing all those squats and deadlifts; been going up in weight, too.” Kip refuses to tear his eyes away from his own dazzlingly sexy image in the mirror as he mutters back, “Deadlifts and squats aren’t that important.” “It is when it’s about to end your wrestling career,” Brad deadpans back. Fuck, that is choice trash talk. I haven’t always been on the Brad Barnes bandwagon, but he is serious as a heart attack and sexy as hell, slapping down his smack and starting to crowd lovely Kip out of the center of the ring with his huge, round pecs and magnum-sized ego. “Let me see what these little chicken legs of yours have got.”
They take turns testing each other, which is curiously super-erotic to watch for me. They agree to let Kip go first, and they both ease their hunky, hot bodies down to the mat. Kip spreads his golden thighs open wide, and Brad willingly, compliantly, slowly leans back to rest his head on Kip’s crotch. Fuck. Their mutual consent in just getting right down to business like that is almost as much a turn on as it is when Kip deliberately positions his legs around Brad’s head in then suddenly clamps down the crotch-pillow headscissors. Brad instantly winces. He screws up his superhero square face in pain and grunts, breathlessly, “Okay… not bad.”
Kip milks it beautifully, twisting his lean torso to pry at Brad’s neck like he’s working on removing a stubborn wine cork from the bottle. “How’s that,” he asks, knowing full well he’s making the muscle hunk eat his own words. “Not bad for chicken legs, huh,” he demands to know. He barrel rolls Brad in those headscissors tauntingly, which always turns me on hard. Finally, they roll close enough to the edge of the ring for Brad to grab a rope at get the break. “I guess I’ll let you have a turn,” Kip chuckles, letting him go. “Though, I don’t think you’re going to do much with those stubby little things, anyway.”
They switch positions, and again, there’s something supercharged about the intimacy of Kip gently and willingly lowering his head in between Brad’s waiting thighs. When Brad bears down, Kip squirms and whimpers immediately. His head is nearly swallowed between those huge, lightly hairy, epic tree trunks on Brad. “Oh, shit,” Kip gasps in shock as he feels his skull compressing. Brad does this sensationally sadistic little trick of relaxing, even opening his legs apart an inch or two, which instinctively makes Kip gasp in relief. But then Brad snaps his thighs back together again that much harder, which causes Kip to cry out in shock. Brad works in his own sexy barrel rolls, though he delights in stopping part way and slamming Kip’s adorable face into the mat. Flex. Release. Flex. Release. Edging closer and closer to submission. Kip tries to pry Brad’s knees apart, but Brad just laughs at him. “Oh, you can forget that idea. You’re not spreading those bad boys!” Kip wriggles and squirms, his face flushed dark red. “Shit, shit, SHIT!” he screams out. It’s his turn to grab the ropes and get the break.
The rest of the action isn’t so willing or compliant, so this kicks back into the center aisle of my main turn on. “How about you try this on for size,” Kip suddenly pounces before Brad has peeled himself up off the mat. Kip lands on top of him, crotch slapping down into Brad’s face, and instantly snaps together his legs. “I hope you’re enjoying the view,” Kip crows, grinding his pink bulge into Brad’s gasping face. Kip’s go-to move to double down on the punishment is swiveling his hips. Not only does it highlight his infinitely munchable ass, it also cranks viciously at Brad’s neck, with his head locked up so nice and tight in the face-to-crotch headscissors. Kip does tricep dips, hangs from the ropes, mostly just showboats, rolling Brad around the ring at will and making the powerhouse hunk scream.
Brad drives a double-fisted axe handle into Kip’s gut to get the break, and then seriously starts to dominate. He forces Kip’s head high up between his thighs, and when the position isn’t quite to his liking, he reaches behind him and drags Kip by the hair so that he’s nice and snug, smothered deep up Brad’s meaty glutes. Flex and release. Flex and release. Fuck, Brad is playing Kip’s screams of panicked pain like a player piano. Kip gives. What the fuck ever. Brad is on a role now.
The money shot for me is when Brad drags Kip to the edge of the ring and climbs out onto the ring apron. He delivers standing scissors, first crushing Kip’s skull between his huge calves. Then he drags him up to his knees and drapes the boy across the middle rope, trapping his head between his monster quads. Brad flexes… everything at once, and it’s so fucking beautiful, and it makes Kip scream, “O, God, nooooooo!”
Then Brad spins around, to crank on a slightly different pressure point with Kip’s head now sticking partway out between the front of Brad’s flexing quads. Kip screams, and Brad just leans back and punches the wriggling fucker in the back. Total ownership.
When he lets him go, Kip is gasping and clutching his head, and Brad just leisurely muscles his opponent around, to bend him backward now across the middle rope. He steps across Kip’s neck like he’s mounting a pony, and then reaches behind him again and grabs Kip by the hair. “Let me see this pretty little head,” Brad chuckles, yanking on Kip’s hair until he’s positioned the kid’s face high up against his spectacular cheeks to cinch down the pressure to perfection. Kip arches and wails, and Brad just punches him in the gut. Fuck, yes, complete domination.
It’s not over. There are a couple more reversals of fortune. There’s a 69 scissor-off that is pretty climactic, as both battlers squeeze their hearts out to be the one whose scissors put him on top. It’s Brad that wins. It was Brad that was always going to win, as far as I’m concerned. I love luscious little Kip for believing otherwise, but sweet-fucking-god, Brad is in his element here. It’s all about power and punishment. And I had no idea that Brad, with his unbelievably perfect, round, huge pecs and unbelievably square jaw, was such a little sadist at heart! I’m totally reexamining my viewing history of his matches to figure out how I missed what a fucking beast he is.
The final scissors are a figure-4 choke out. “Good thing about having all this power,” Brad smirks, “is I don’t even have to try.” Credit where due, Brad makes this look easy, but I don’t believe for a second that he isn’t trying, because his performance here is inspired. Kip wheezes out a feint submission, struggling for air. “That’s not good enough for me,” Brad barks dismissively. “Say, ‘I can’t handle the power!'” Kip whispers, wheezing, “I can’t handle… the power.” Brad smiles brightly, but continues. “Say, ‘You’re too strong for me!'” Kip is groggy, slurring the words hissing out of his constricted airway: “You’re… you’re too strong… for…me.”
So yeah. Some nice surprises in this match for me. The scissors are awfully delightful, and I’m not nearly as into them a I know some fans are. The little bits of color and character that Kip and Brad bring to their scissors are sweet and nuanced. Frankly, if you combine Kip’s penchant for twisting his torso as he applies his headscissors, with Brad’s pulsing, pumping, flex-and-relax action, you get Scott Williams’ sensationally punishing scissors. I’m dying to hear Scott’s take on some of the key plot points. For example, Scott has mentioned that the thickest quads don’t always translate into the most punishing scissors. I think that’s the territory Kip is trying to lay out to start this match, but shit, he does NOT deliver there. With the wide variety of scissors applied in this match, I’m wondering which catches Scott’s attention (for good or bad), and why. And if Scott could test his scissors against just one of these hunks, who would it be, and upon which crotch pillow would he prefer to rest his head when he feels the power? And finally, can I be Scott’s corner man when this Science of Scissors: Old School Meets New School piece of brilliance goes down?
With some frequency, I refer to a particular wrestling hold or image as art. In saying that, I’m trying to convey what I think transcends the solely titillating aspect of the wrestling moment, and suggest that I think there’s something transcendentally aesthetic about it. Should a prude deign to take a look, I argue that said prude ought to recognize the stunning beauty displayed, whether or not they are turned on by, or in any way interested in homoerotic wrestling. Every so often, a wrestling image sparks something in my memory, reminding me that it’s not just aesthetics in the abstract that’s drawing my attention to the artfulness of a scene. Here are a few of the wrestling images that I’ve managed to track down, in the filing cabinet of my memory as well as in the catalog of available images on the internet, demonstrating homoerotic wrestling life imitating art, or, more likely, how relatively transcendent motifs, proportions, and angles echo through different artistic genres, including homoerotic wrestling.
Hercules wrestling Antaeus has haunted me ever since I first saw Steve Reeves, as Hercules, play out this scene in Hercules Unchained. The key plot point of the myth is that Antaeus must be suspended off the ground in order to deny him the inexhaustible strength he draws from contact with the earth. So big, lifting bearhugs abound in artistic renderings of this moment. I believe this bronze of the scene, with a gorgeous, dominating reverse bearhug, is on display in Vienna. Similarly, BG East’s Johnny Modesto is Hercules to Brad Rochelle’s Antaeus in Matmen 16.
The first time I visited Stockholm, I took about 1,000 photos of the Sun Singer, a naked Apollo greeting the rising sun. It’s a pose of celebration and vulnerability. If you’re ever walking around Stockholm, you can’t avoid gazing at the spectacle of beauty, with his arms raised invitingly toward the sun. Austin Cooper’s pose for the BG East promotion of Hunkbash 14, both in substance and shadow, accomplishes the same ends, and similarly, I can’t take my eyes off his magnificent ass!
This bronze of the classical sculpture The Wrestlers has been often reproduced, though the oldest surviving version of it is, I believe, in Florence. It’s so directly erotically-inclined, it’s no wonder homoerotic mat wrestling regularly draws to my mind the allusion to this sensational image of intimacy and domination, with naked wrestlers (with perfectly muscled bodies) entangled so completely that it’s not always apparent which limb belongs to which combatant. I grabbed this comparable vintage black and white image from BG East’s Arena (Vintage Collections). I don’t know it’s provenance, but it so perfectly captures every last angle, that it almost certainly had to have been posed. Clearly, I’m not the only one who sees the homoerotic text and subtext in it!
The Torah telling of Jacob wrestling with the angel has inspired many artistic visions throughout history. The heavily muscled bearhugs are my personal favorites, like this French oil painting, with a naked Jacob who I wouldn’t mind squeezing me in nice and tight like that. Damien Rush captures the futility of Leloir’s angel, grasping at big Joe Robbins huge arms that, once latched on, will not let go until satisfaction is attained. There’s plenty to appreciate in Demolition 23!
Finally, back to Stockholm, because… Swedes. This sculpture of the Fången Viking (“captured viking”) again highlights the aesthetic beauty of youthful power tamed, constrained, and displayed in intimate vulnerability. A handcuffed Nino Leone, pinned against the mat room wall by Kayden Keller in BG East Grudge Match 6, signals the same gorgeous vulnerability.
I’m late to the game when it comes to HunkWrestling.com. Last summer, as I was picking up with posts again, HW offered to send me a couple of their matches for reviews. Right around the time that I received them, work began to swallow all of my free time again. So here’s my first, long-overdue review of a HunkWrestling.com match.
The boys at HW tell me that the Arturo vs. Dark Jr. match is one of their top 3 best sellers, and I can easily see why that would be the case. First of all, both wrestlers are sexy as fuck. Bearded beauty Dark Jr. has this Colin Farrell thing going on. So damn pretty with sweet, round pecs. As the two wrestlers are warming up before the match, the camera catches Dark Jr. stealing quick glances over at his opponent, looking… nervous? Impressed? Hungry? Hard to say.
Arturo is simply stunning. He’s at least 4 or 5 inches taller than Dark. His shaved head and handsome face look all business. That bod of his, though. Damn! Total beefcake. Thickly muscled. Gorgeous, muscled, round glutes perched atop thick, hairy legs.
Honestly, I don’t have a baseline to compare with, so I didn’t know that to expect out of this match. This is a continuous 15 minutes of taping, with no breaks, so there’s a very live and spontaneous vibe about it. The first 2 minutes or so are warm-up, so you’re getting about 13 minutes of wrestling. However, with not cuts, we’re seeing probably no more than 10 minutes of actual grappling. On the one hand, this seems like a formula for disappointment, but it turns out, I love every minute of it, including (especially?) the sweat-soaked, gasping moments between falls when both hunks are trying to recharge from total exhaustion.
It’s hard fought, serious-as-fuck grappling for the most part. Sure, they’re all smiles before they first lock up, but from there on out, it’s scrambling strength and speed as they work up bucket loads of sweat to control each other’s bodies. Dark Jr. repeatedly initiates, but over and over again, it’s Arturo who successfully counters, coming out on top and ready to take his pick of punishing holds to clamp down on the bearded beauty. The size difference is everything. Arturo muscles the boy around until he’s on top of him, and Dark Jr. keeps wearing himself out just trying to avoid getting crushed. Arturo gets the first tap out about a minute and a half in. And they both roll to their backs huffing like steam engines, sweat glistening, working on recovering from what was quite clearly an all out effort from them both.
So I’m thinking this is going to be a straightforward shoot match, right up until they’re on their knees, about to start the second fall, and Dark Jr. asks Arturo to flex for him. Oh, fuck, yes. The big muscle man proudly pumps his double bicep, and it brings a delicious smile to Dark Jr.’s face. The bearded beauty initiates the action again with a sudden, playful punch to his opponent’s gut, but there’s no denying that Dark Jr. is impressed and hungry, and maybe just a little nervous.
It’s Dark Jr. who keeps initiating offense, and I love that about him. As the action unfolds, it’s obvious he has every reason to be nervous. He’s getting outclassed and out-maneuvered at every point, but the randy little fucker cannot wait to do his damn best to tackle the hot muscle hunk who’s willing to put his muscles on display for him. But he goes down even faster in fall 2 than he did in the first fall. Arturo wraps him up in a small package and rolls him to his back, pinning his shoulders, just bearing down on him with all of that gorgeous muscle mass, until Dark Jr. taps out again.
Then things get really interesting. While Dark Jr. is flat on his back, exhausted, Arturo rests his hand on the boy’s chest, feeling his pounding heartbeat for a few seconds. It’s intimate and the sexual tension suddenly spikes. I know it’s not just the sexual tension in my crotch spiking, because Arturo then slowly climbs on top of him and saddles into a schoolboy pin. He flexes his huge biceps, staring down at his helpless opponent, both of them knowing that Dark Jr. wants this, literally asked for it. Then Arturo slides forward, sandwiching Dark’s mouth way, way up his crotch. It’s hard to tell exactly what’s going on down there once Arturo leans forward, pinning the back of his opponent’s hands to floor. But Dark Jr. is not fighting this. He’s rubbing his face from side to side into the big, beautiful bulge resting on his chin. Then, slowly, Arturo reaches behind him and grabs Dark Jr.’s crotch, making him wince. But it’s an appreciative grab more than punishing. He massages him in hand. He strokes a hand up the sweaty side of Dark’s torso. Sweat is literally pouring off of Arturo’s nose as he leans over top of him, both of them breathing heavily long after recovering from the exertion of the fight.
It’s catch and release, and Arturo pretty much owns this boy at will. The one brief moment when it looks like Dark Jr. just might work up to a little upset is when Arturo is in his guard, and Dark Jr. snaps his hairy thighs tightly around the muscle hunk’s hips. He locks his ankles together right behind Arturo’s tailbone and suddenly squeezes. Arturo is right in the middle of trying to snag another controlling headlock, when he reverses course in an instant. He rears back, immediately trying to pry the punishing thighs apart. It’s a fucking bear trap, and his scissors do pretty much the only serious damage that Dark Jr. can seem to muster. Until all of that pouring sweat lubricates their bodies just too much, and Arturo slides out, leaving Dark Jr. wanting more.
Before I talk about the end of the match, I have to mention the unexplained and somehow supercharge of the erotic feature of the silhouetted hunk watching from across the room. Who in the fuck is this guy, and where do I apply to take his job from him!?! He’s in bike shorts and nothing else. He can’t take his eyes off of the action, including those delicious, tense moment when Arturo climbs on top after a fall and demonstrates the possession he’s earned over his outmatched opponent. The voyeur’s face is shadowed by the bare window directly behind him, but you can see him smile brightly at moments. He likes what he’s seeing. Fuck me, I want to interview THAT guy!
Okay, so let me wrap up on the formal review. Like I said, we’re talking about probably no more than about 10 minutes of actual grappling, so I’m describing a whole lot of it. But I can’t leave without appreciating the final fall. Dark Jr. keeps fucking initiating, and I’m eventually convinced he just seriously wants to grab hold of his opponent’s gorgeous muscles as soon as physically possible. He stops Arturo in his tracks again with those crushing scissors. Fuck, if he could just deploy those more strategically, I think he’d have a chance of taking a fall here or there against this muscle man. But rather than milk the pain of the bodyscissors, he tries to slide Arturo into face-to-crotch headscissors. It’s a gamble that doesn’t pay off, as the big man slips his sweat-lubricated, shaved head free and quickly spins on top of the boy. Suddenly, he snaps his huge (fucking HUGE), hairy thighs around Dark’s head and squeezes, pulling his trapped opponent’s face way up high between this upper thighs, forcing (?) Dark Jr. to stare up at that truly glorious ass. I’m pretty sure Dark Jr. like what he sees, but he can’t take the pressure crushing his skull for more than 2 seconds before tapping out on that meaty, muscled ass cheek.
Artutro takes a few seconds to catch his breath, again, sweat literally pouring off him as he stares down at his vanquished opponent. Then he takes his prize, climbing on top and planting that magnificent, muscled ass on Dark’s face. He leans forward, stretching out on top of him, massaging Dark’s Jr.’s crotch. Arturo’s face hovers inches from the loser’s crotch being manhandled firmly, but appreciatively, in his hands.
You can get this video from HunkWrestling.com for 9.99 Euros, which at today’s conversion rate, looks like about $12.25 American. You’ve got to love this genre. This isn’t pro wrestling. It’s just all out grappling between two g-g-gorgeous hunks, with what has every appearance to be genuine, spontaneous muscle worship and erotic pleasure as the victor’s prize. I’d love to see both of these gorgeous men in action again, but seriously, someone please get me in touch with the silent, studying, happy voyeur who was watching all 15 minutes of this pairing with such pleasure!