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Spicy Ginger Surprise

September 21, 2016 wrestlebard3 Comments

0102_lg — Rare breed ginger Latino pornboy hunk Steven Ponce

Picking up the theme of who was overlooked in the battle for top ginger at BG East when Charlie Evans and Blaine Janus faced off in Great Outdoors 2, I’m also aware that porn stud Steven Ponce probably also deserves a seat at the table. Guys who make the transition from full on gay porn to homoerotic wrestling can break one of two ways, I think. There are examples I’ll leave unnamed of pornboys who are simply out of their element, with little wrestling skill and an evident discomfort in selling a pro wrestling story. And then there are sensational examples of pornboys who fucking rock it like primetime, typically with some self-evident wrestling background and an enthusiasm for the particular melodrama that distinguishes homoerotic pro wrestling from boomchickaboom typical porn. But then, on the third hand, there’s Steven Ponce.

0202_lg — Does he want to fuck or wrestle?

Steven isn’t the first freckled faced red-headed Latino hunk I’ve seen, but they’ve been a rare breed in my sampling of hot men. His sultry, sexy as fuck accent slaps my racial/ethnic biases and preconceptions in the face, sort of the way that Mike Yanagita does in Fargo. He’d be a long shot in the ginger-off between Charlie, Blaine, Kid Karisma and him, of course. Though I’d pay a premium to watch Kid K ride Ponce’s pornboy bubble butt while Charlie worships the karismatic one’s world class muscles. But I haven’t had high expectations for Steven’s wrestling prowess to date. He looks like he’s happy to climb in the ring, mind you. I think he enjoys the competition, and judging by his nail gun, he clearly has skin in the game when it comes to wrestling for stakes. But I typically think of Steven as marking time until he can get naked and throw himself into his first language, that being sexing up some lucky, lucky erotic partner.

0205_lg — Sex boils over before they even reach the ring

So I’m happy to report that Steven yet again slaps my preconceptions in the face when he shows up in the ring with Ty Alexander in BG East’s recent release X-Fights 41. Ty’s cred as a serious wrestler has been on the rise in my book. Now, I know there are fans who hold Ty in contempt for his Trophy Boy shtick and persistent overestimation of his wrestling ability and universal sexual allure. As for me, I think that makes Ty a sensationally provocative character to toss into a pro wrestling ring. He makes you feel something. He demands you pass judgment on him. Whether you ache to see him ride his cocky confidence to victory, insisting on his own self-fulfilling prophecy, or whether you get some frictional satisfaction watching his big, big talk go down in flames while an opponent roughs him up and humiliates him mercilessly (which is more often the case), Ty provides the propulsion in the story, which is a thousand times more entertaining (and hot) than watching two very pretty guys clock in and clock out without much effort or panache.

0207_lg — Knee to the groin and deep, ripping pec claws… and they still haven’t stepped foot inside the ring!

But Ty has the capacity to kick ass. Even when he goes down in flames, he almost always puts a hurt on his opponent. He clearly likes the ring. He’s comfortable with the geography and the mechanics of pro wrestling. He relishes the mind game, and he’s demonstrated multiple times that when it comes to our particular clan of gay men sexually aroused by wrestling, Ty is one of us. Honestly, I expected it to be a cake walk when I saw Ty climb into the ring with Steven, with Ty taking the bull by his fully erect horn and grinding the eager, if hapless pornboy into the mat. That is not what you get in X-Fights 41.

It is true that Ty sets the pace. “I’m going to abuse you,” the Trophy Boy whispers ominously, stroking the red-headed hunk’s muscles before the match and literally licking his lips. A little self-consciously, Steven chuckles. “I’m going to have fun being abused by you,” the Latino power hitter coos, locking lips with Trophy Boy and setting the thermostat to sweltering before the boys have even hinted at wrestling. So I think I can be forgiven if I was expecting this to be a pornboy squash. Ty can deliver. Steven seemed to cede the territory immediately.

But this is not a cake walk. While Ty takes matters into hand with an early and persistent shock and awe offense of cock teasing interspersed with savage ball claws to keep the pornboy unbalanced, Steven makes me stand up and cheer when he suddenly snaps out of jobberville and slaps on a gorgeous, red-headed bearhug and squeezes long and hard with those big, freckled, muscled arms. He pulls his opponent off his feet, hoisting Ty into the air and demonstrating how that hot, hot muscled body is for so much more than looking pretty while pounding ass.

h0207_lg — Hammerlock and ass spanking, Steven is intent on marrying his two careers.

And it’s not a one off. Steven stays on offense, throwing him down and quickly clamping his lovely thighs around Ty’s ribs and making the Trophy Boy scream a little in panic. Honestly, I’d have been happy with just two mojo-sucking moves from the pornboy turned pro wrestler. So imagine my pleasure when Steven releases the scissors only to instantly slip into place a standing surfboard, ripping Ty’s arms backward while the pornboy stands over top of him. Holy fuck, that’s a pornboy/novice wrestler demonstrating some convincing, domineering chain wrestling!

0220_lg — And he steps on Ty’s balls, to boot!!!

And then, right there in that surfboard, Steven steps on Ty’s balls. I think the Trophy Boy screamed, but I’m not sure, because I was shouting ecstatic encouragement at the screen. I got just a briefest hint of Rusty Stevens there, who I count as the top pornboy turned homoerotic pro wrestler ever. Rusty still makes me swoon in reruns because he was so fucking vicious. So disdainful. So cripplingly vile. Steven’s not there, by any stretch, but just glimpses, like that gratuitous grinding of Ty’s balls in the surfboard, make me think there’s a lot more potential in the Latino ginger than I knew to expect.

h0203_lg — This wrestling match is careening in exactly one direction

Both x-fighters are battling with their raging lusts as much as each other as the match unfolds. There’s aggressive face sucking throughout, often successfully distracting one or the other from offensive momentum and pushing the reset button on the give and take of the wrestling contest. They both want to fuck. There’s just no denying that fact. The only question is, within this complicated formula weighting each stud’s will to win, factoring in their roaring lusts to fuck, who will be left victorious? And, does it matter, because, fuck, this is just all about fucking!

Ty’s love-’em-‘n’-hate-’em offense finally turns the tide his way, but this isn’t a novice pornboy collapse. It’s hard fought, bitterly contested, and intensely sexy. Ty woos him with liplocks and nipple nibbling until the pornboy leaves himself totally open to get scooped up and slammed down into a sensationally nasty OTK backbreaker. Equal parts erection stroking and ball ripping clawing leaves the ginger hunk shedding tears of both pleasure and pain. When Ty throws him down and quickly slides Steven into place for damp, smothering face-to-crotch headscissors, there’s a pathetic sincerity to Steven’s voice when his muffled cries groan, “Holy… shit!!!”

0213_lg — Ty’s got his eye on the prize from start to finish.

Now, when Ty is in the room, it’s typically all about Ty’s ass. Ty loves his ass. Ty fucking worships his own ass. If Ty could get a bronze statue of his own ass made, he’d have it at the front door of his house to greet visitors. So you know there’s something magical about Steven Ponce’s muscled bubble butt when Ty turns his full attention onto it. There’s a moment where I think Ty’s lust for that pornboy ass could be his undoing, he becomes so fixated on grabbing it, pulling Steven’s tights down to expose it, squeezing, clawing, kissing it. Watching the Trophy Boy enraptured with someone else’s ass is delightful to watch, and in the end, rather than being his undoing, it seems to merely compel Ty to turn the burner on high and bring this explosive mix to a boil.

The offense soon enough veers into porn territory, with force fed cocks and ass worship for days traded back and forth. Steven is particularly frustrated at putting together the pro wrestling match of his career (to date) and yet being repeatedly defied in his quest to get the Trophy Boy to submit. Competitive frustration on top of sexual frustration are finally his undoing, and it’s Ty who drives his opponent to total defenselessness with dizzying pleasure and punishing pain. I’m particularly a fan of the rope work, as the Trophy Boy bends the pint-sized pornboy backward over the top rope with a chin lock, before slipping into a dragon sleeper. Steven is laid out like a Christmas goose, and Ty digs in, chomping on the pornboy’s meaty pecs, groping his lightly hairy torso, craddling, wooing, teasing the pornboy’s fully erect cock. Soon enough, Ty is strumming him like a guitar all over the ring, and Steven is, quite literally, weeping amid the wash of vicious pleasure. I mean, seriously, he’s weeping. I bet those tears taste like honey on feta, that weeping looks so delicious.

Steven is toast long before the drama is over. Ty turns Steven’s hot body into his own personal erotic playground. Steven submits. Repeatedly. Hopelessly. But it’s only when Ty comes up for air, sucking on the pornboy cock with Steven backed into the ropes, that Ty explains how this is going to end. “This is the submission I want from you,” Ty growls, jerking his opponent’s fully erect cock, sucking face, finally stepping outside the ropes, grabbing Ponce by the hips, and diving in deep between those juicy ass cheeks, face first.

h0118_lg — Appetizer, main course, and dessert.

It’s a win-win for everyone, really. Ty was clearly famished for Steven’s ass, and Steven is driven catapulted over the edge by Ty’s tonguing. The pornboy screams his verbal submission at the same time that he shoots his steaming load across the mat. You know just how perfect this climax is when, in service of getting Ty off moments later, the Trophy Boy demands that Ponce sit that fine, fine ass back down across Ty’s face while he pounds out his victory emission.

Ty is steady as a rock lately, putting together thoughtful mixes of pro wrestling skill and power and unblinkingly erotic content. I expect to see Ty produce a match this compelling, frankly. Steven, on the other hand, totally takes me by surprise. If he continues this trajectory when it comes to getting more skilled and meaner, BG East contenders had better watch themselves. With an ass that seductive, it may be only a matter of time before some hot, horny wrestler gets completely shocked and owned by a fully realized pornboy turned homoerotic pro wrestler named Steven Ponce.

Climbing Mt. Muscle

September 20, 2016September 20, 2016 wrestlebard3 Comments

Mark Muscle and his pocket opponents, Zach Reno and Matt Blakewood

I’ve written recently about the special, pleasurable tension in contrasts. Age differences, contrasting gear, size, attitude. There’s narrative tension and immediate erotic value for me in watching homoerotic wrestling with high contrast. So little wonder I am blown away by Wrestler4Hire’s incredibly sexy two-on-one battle between Mark Muscle and the Ravaging Savages, namely Zach Reno and Matt Blakewood.

No one more aptly named that Mark Muscle

Mark is another wrestler I’ve been lusting after from a distance, and only now sampling in action. He’s a magnificent specimen of a muscleman. He’s listed at 6’4″ and 255 pounds, and even in a business in which big men’s stats are regularly exaggerated, no fuck, I believe every last inch and ounce of that. Tanned, smooth, dark blond, clean cut, and epic muscle on epic muscle hanging from his gigantic frame. When it comes to the objectification of the male body for gay viewers to key off on, Mark is the perfect object of muscle lusting male objectification. W4H seems not to title most of their matches, but if this had a title, Mark would be the title character.

Ravaging Savages Matt Blakewood (l) and Zach Reno (r) are half the size but just as sexy!

Pitting him against 2 opponents a fraction his size is sensational casting. Zach Reno I’ve seen and commented on before. At 5’7″ and 145 pounds, he’s sexy as fuck with his hairy pecs and caveman beard. But the shocking standout star of this complex match is totally new to me. Matt Blakewood is listed in the roster at 5’4″ and 130 pounds, and again, I buy that. There’s something of a mental patient vibe from his insanely shaggy beard and primal instincts. About halfway through this match, I catch myself no longer soaking in the sight of Mark’s divine muscle perfection, and instead licking my lips and staring fanatically at the smallest man in the mix, pale, lean, loincloth wearing Matt.

This is more a concept match than a coherent narrative. I get the impression that no one, not the wrestlers nor the producer, quite knew where this thing would go, but they knew the visual of superhuman muscle beast Mark getting swarmed by pint sized pros like Matt and Zach would be total clickbait. And, clearly, true enough, at least as far as my punching on my clicker. But the actual back and forth of the match can’t quite decide whether Mark is invincible and unbreakable, or whether the sexiest angle here is the superhuman man of steel systematically picked apart and humiliated by a couple of guys about half his size.

“Look at those big arms!” Matt screams from way overhead.

I do admire that the Ravaging Savages know what they’ve got in the ring with them. They immediately admire Mark’s fantasy body. “Oh my God, he’s strong!” Matt mutters in terror when Mark effortlessly hoists him up across his chest and does overhead presses like it ain’t a fucking thing. Because at 130 pounds, clearly, it ain’t. “Look at those big arms!?” Matt cries out to his partner, watching awestruck nearby. They don’t try to sell disdain for their opponent’s physical perfection. They don’t ignore that his biceps are significantly bigger around than their thighs. They size him up with wonder and awe in their eyes, and then go to town to determine if 2 ring savvy pros who, combined, barely weigh more than their opponent, can use their four limbs, two heads, and hunger for taking down the biggest beast of their careers to make this eighth wonder of the world their bitch.

I’m not always sure who has whom, but I can’t tear my eyes away from Matt’s bulge.

Again, there’s some inconsistency in the narrative, because occasionally Mark is laughing off their best efforts and slapping them to the mat, and at other times, seemingly far less pointed attacks from the duo leave the mighty titan literally screaming in panicked agony. I think both angles are sensationally sexy, mind you. I’m turned on sensationally by the sheer panic in Matt and Zach’s voices when Mark muscles out of their best efforts and laughs in their faces, towering over them, superhuman,unstoppable, immortal. And frankly, I lose my shit multiple times when the dime and a nickel pack animals swarm all over him, nipping and ripping and tearing until the big man goes down to his knees screaming in frustrated terror. I just wish they’d paced this match with a bit more narrative tension, slowly turning the tables from one advantage to the other, rather than flipping the script multiple times with precious little rhyme or reason.

But when it comes to constructive critiques, that’s all I’ve got, because this match blows my mind as consistently as I blow my wad. When the Ravaging Savages are all over their prey, bringing him to his knees and wrapping him up in tandem dragon sleepers, the palate is classical and epic. Mark’s face is smothered underneath both Matt and Zach’s hairy armpits, his neck bent backward viciously as the boys dig their finger tips in deep to start ripping apart that mountain of muscle. Zach digs in deep to the beast’s baby smooth lower left pec, because even extending his fingers, Zach’s hands aren’t big enough to latch on to more of the expansive pectoral than that. Matt digs his claws in past the first knuckle to both trapezius muscles, pulling backward to rip the meat from the bone. It’s lush and melodramatic and sexy as fuck!

Like I said, I also love the moments when the bullets bounce right off of the superman. Suddenly grabbing hold of his mojo after being completely debilitated, Mark just laughs as the anklebiters each attempt a single leg take down simultaneously. Unmoved, the mountain of muscle just flexes, smiling broadly at the camera, displaying his magnificent dominance with sweet notes of cocky certainty. When he turns around and grabs each of his opponents by their throats, one in each massive hand, I lose it all over again watching the massive specimen of muscle pick them up off their feet, choking, sputtering, kicking futilely in mid-air. Wow, I buy it. I so, so buy it.

I think the sexiest exchange for me is the Ravaging Savages’ corner work on the leviathan. They work him over mercilessly, climbing the ropes in order for their flexible legs to stretch up high enough to plant their feet on Mark’s throats and choke him over the top turnbuckle. Matt has his hand on my button regularly, and no more directly than when he suddenly climbs Mark’s 6’4″ frame, straddles the muscle hunk’s throat (letting his loin clothed crotch linger in the handsome stud’s face for a while), and then rolls backward, hanging from those scissors, doing stomach crunches. Yep, Mark is the obviously intended object of our homoerotic objectification, but damn it all if I’m not desperate to lick Matt’s hot, taut body like a popsicle the more that the “little guy” completely dominates and humiliates the powerhouse.

Zach takes a back seat in the action as Matt really seems to savor calling the shots and being in the driver’s seat. Zach is still bouncing around like a caveman when Matt starts barking orders at him, telling his partner what holds to apply, what views to admire, what muscles to attack. No shit, the 5’4″ feral fox basically singlehandedly puts Mark Muscle away in the final 5 minutes or so, first totally owning the meat with sensationally sexy headscissors, and eventually mounting Mt. Everest and grinding his own lovely, bulging bicep mercilessly into the muscleman’s carotid artery.

Big Mark drops to his knees, starting to fade, and Matt stays with him, cinching the sleeper tighter and tighter. Zach is still bouncing around excitedly admiring his partner’s work, but the little man kicks both of the other stud’s in the ring with him to the fucking curb. “Flex now!” Matt growls dangerously, and no shit, the physique star obeys him. “How much does it hurt!?” Matt demands. “It… hurts!” Mark chokes, turning purple and going limp.

So maybe there is such a thing as too many cooks in the kitchen, because this match hits its stride and literally goes for the jugular only when Matt Blakewood has had enough of seeing flashes of superman, starts barking orders at his partner (mostly telling him to admire his work), and then very effectively uses his 5’4″ and 130 pound (gorgeous, mind you) body to crush and dominate Mark Muscle’s 6’4″ and 255 pound muscle body.

Now, I’d love to dick slap hairy, hot-stuff Zach Reno in a schoolboy pin. I’d sell a kidney to climb Mt. Muscle and follow Matt’s lead doing stomach crunches while scissoring Mark’s massive neck. But if it’s fuck, marry or kill, I’ll put a ring on Matt Blakewood so this gorgeous, sexy as fuck little stick of dynamite pro wrestler can humiliate the big men day in and day out and dedicate them all to me.

Is that a landing strip up Matt Blakewood’s ass, or am I just happy to see him?

Ginger Uprising

September 19, 2016 wrestlebard1 Comment

The second match in BG East’s Great Outdoors 2 is a battle to determine who is red-headedest of them all. “You want to take me on and see who the top ginger is?” Charlie Evans asks his challenger, Blaine Janus. “I don’t think this is going to be much of a contest,” Charlie smirks, saying exactly what I’m thinking. “Because you’re not a ginger.”

Although I’m technically a brunette, my Scottish forefathers gifted me with a pale complexion, a penchant for sunburns, excessive freckles, and copper red facial hair, so I feel like I have something to say on the subject of gingers. Like a Catherine Tate ginger liberation comedy sketch, there’s something simultaneously silly and serious about a proud identity statement as a red-head. So when Blaine Janus shows up claiming to be the epitome of ginger hotness, just like Charlie I’m thinking, “But Blaine isn’t ginger!” Dishwater blond, maybe. Strawberry blond if we really stretch things. But ginger? Please. That bitch tans.

You had a Top Ginger wrestling match and didn’t invite Kid Karisma!!!???

The second thought that runs through my mind as this battle to determine who is the top ginger at BG East is equally incredulous. Namely, where the fuck is Kid Karisma!? I think both Blaine and Charlie are playing with fire by seemingly ignoring my running favorite homoerotic wrestler and all around fantasy hunk muscleman red-headed bad boy, Kid K. I mean, he’s just over in the Gazebo, which can’t be more than 50 feet away! Blaine experienced the dangers of locking horns with Kid K in Gazebo Grapplers 16, and long story short, learned the hard way that Kid K can kick his ass. Charlie, on the other hand, has yet to face the karismatic one, and if ever there were a battle of the gingers, I think there may be no two better specimens of fire red-headed hotness. And, oh fuck, Charlie would get served up like bloody steak tartar (I’ll take an order of that, please).

However audacious the explicit stakes of this match, the second match in Great Outdoors 2 is crazy sexy, punching so many of my buttons that I lose count. To start with, the boys wrestle in jeans. Ohhhhh, fuck that sexy. I’ve had a special nitro button for wrestling in jeans every since I first saw Chip Slater and Jeff Kenny tear into one another in denim (and tear each other out of denim) in Matmen 13. Charlie and Blaine do the genre proud with full throttle aggression and serious pro wrestling moves, straining the seams of their Levis. Charlie is a pale vision of white hot sexiness in his jeans as he’s pounded down hard in an OTK breakbreaker. For my tastes, the jeans come off way too early, frankly. I love the sense of impatience implied by the boys ripping into each other before they bother with stripping down to gear with better range of motion. It’s impulsive and rash and aching for the fight.

While not a squash, Charlie takes the blunt end of the stick throughout about three quarters of the contest. There’s something achingly vulnerable about the super flyweight brawler that makes it look like fate when a bigger opponent like Blaine absolutely muscle bullies him all over the place. The sexiest hold for my tastes in this match is the repeated variations on bearhugs that Blaine locks Charlie up in over and over. Most notably is the incredibly delicious hammerlock bearhug, with Blaine just needing one hand to lock his opponent’s wrists behind his back (so fucking vulnerable!). With his free hand, Blaine aggressively grabs Charlie by the chin and locks lips. I swoon. Fuck, that is so sexy.

The lip locks fly free, which is another favorite element put to fantastic use in this match. The red-headed contenders are into each other early and often. I LOVE seeing Ever Ready bunny Charlie macking like a player and sucking face hard and enthusiastically. When Blaine takes the first submission, forcing Charlie to kiss his biceps, then his lips, Charlie throws himself into the task with abandon. He’s so damn eager. So hungry. There’s moment there when Blaine is grinning ear to ear getting so fiercely muscle worshipped and sexed up good by the randy flyweight that I think this wrestling match is about to fly way off the rails and the boys are just going to rip off their trunks and fuck. Frankly, I think Blaine thinks that too, by the look of total shock on his face when Charlie suddenly spins behind him and locks on sensationally vicious neck crank.

Blaine’s erotic offense turned against him

While I think the element of Charlie Evans as a sly seducer is solid gold, Blaine is pissed. I mean, once he submits (because he left himself so completely compromised by the erotic offense of Mr. Gingersnap), he goes on a raging rampage. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Charlie hold up his hands pleadingly, “I feel like I took advantage of you.” The devilish grin across his face sort of undermines the sincerity of the apology. “No one does that to me!” Blaine growls furiously. “No one seduces me! I do the seducing!”

“No one seduces me! I do the seducing!!!”

It’s about time someone successfully turned those tables on the strawberry blond Canuck. Rafael Valmor nearly pulled off the seduction submission on Blaine way back in Undagear 18, but Charlie is apparently the first to pop Blaine’s cherry when it comes to wearing him down with a debilitating erotic offense. I think it’s the ginger factor. Who can withstand a hot, red-headed liplock?

The rest of the match is total hell for poor Charlie. Blaine throws his lovely ass all over the place, slamming him down, dragging him back up by pec claws, then slamming him back down again. It’s a little intoxicating watching the momentum an opponent can work up on little Charlie. More closely matched bodies just couldn’t pull off the incredible bullying and breathtaking power moves that Blaine works on Charlie, at least not with this pace and persistence. Those magnificent bearhugs just make me lightheaded. Traditional. Reverse. Inverted. Inverted reverse. With and without hammerlocks. With and without liplocks. I don’t think I’m reading into things when I say that it’s the reverse bearhugs that Blaine seems to like best, planting Charlie’s ass right on top of that swelling Canuck cock and jerking and shaking him mercilessly. “Just like Raggedy Ann!” Blaine laughs, invoking still another ginger icon.

There’s a climax, namely Charlie obediently gasping out the reply “Blaine, Blaine, Blaine” when the Canuck has the rake handle pressed across his windpipe and demands to know, “Who’s the real ginger!?” But then there’s this tantric multiple climax, as Blaine delights in sleepering his flyweight play toy out cold, only to rouse him with increasingly erotic alarm clocks. Kisses wake Charlie up first. Fuck, what a way to wake up! When he’s put out again, it’s a schoolboy pin with Blaine’s bulging crotch slapping him in the face that startles Charlie to consciousness. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what a way to wake up!

Sweet heat throughout this match. Charlie is a revelation, bringing the seduction and attitude that make me believe boys are going to line up to beat his lovely, lean rookie ass. Blaine is his typical intense self, which is always sexy. There’s something about his look that seems different to me, though. Honestly, I don’t think I would have recognized him if his name wasn’t on the DVD cover, but I can’t put my finger on what it is. He’s about the same build. We’ve seen him leaner and harder, but he’s a sexy, sultry handful (as evidenced by Charlie’s enthusiastic body worship moments). But. What? I’m just not sure what it is that doesn’t come across as Blaine’s typical hot, deceptively pretty self.

Charlie weaves ginger magic worshipping Blaine’s body

In any case, jeans, liplocks, erotic offense, and sensationally hot, climactic mat wrestling make this a hit for me. And please, please someone get me an invitation to the next erotic ginger Wrestlefest in which Charlie, Blaine and Kid Karisma go all out in a three-way ring battle. The Scot in me is already fully erect in anticipation.

Look at the marks on Charlie’s back? Now THERE’S a real ginger!

“It’s all about exposing the body”

September 16, 2016September 16, 2016 wrestlebard2 Comments

It says something that my review of Wrestler4Hire’s KARN vs. Flash LaCash match has taken me three days to write. Specifically what it says is that I keep getting interrupted by orgasms.

karn10 — KARN Alexander: “Dark, Sexy, Bad Boy.”

Flash, I’ve seen half a dozen times, and I find him sexier every time I see him. I’ve admired KARN in still frame for quite some time, but this is somehow my first chance to see him in action. Some of W4H’s roster profiles are extensive, almost existential in contemplation of the character, strengths, and flaws of a wrestler. KARN’s profile just says, “Dark, Sexy, Bad Boy.” What more do you need to say, really?

There’s a lot of provocative mystery about KARN Alexander. For example, why are all the letters in his first name capitalized? How tall is he? By inference and cross reference, I’m guessing he’s around 6’1″ or 6’2″ since he looks a shade taller than Flash in this match, and at BGE Flash is listed at 5’11”. But that’s mostly guesswork. The hot, hard facts are that he looks luxuriously long, sensationally muscled, and built for punishment.

Having watched this match from start to finish, I think KARN is essentially what we’d get if Michael Phelps took up homoerotic pro wrestling (yes. please.). He has a deep, bass voice and a ruggedly handsome face that very well could be the most expressive face in pro wrestling. He has lean legs and a long, ripped lower torso that makes his huge pecs and mountainous shoulders look somehow disproportionately massive, which is sort of how I read Michael Phelps, as well. And the most provocative reveal of this W4H match against Flash LaCash is the fact that KARN is, apparently, a highly accomplished erotic dancer.

karn2 — “Why don’t you try one of these right here?”

I buy it. Fuck, I’d buy season tickets for the club where KARN takes off his clothes while swiveling his narrow hips. The tone of the opening scene is a little over the top, sort of comic book comical, with the dark, sexy bad boy in a vest, tie, wrestling trunks and boots, practicing his ~~striptease~~ dance moves. The tone throughout the match is similarly just over the top, as Flash asks for dance lessons and gets a whole lot more than he bargained for.

karn3 — “No, no, no, get it ALL the way out there!”

I’m familiar with Flash as an unstoppable pro heel machine from his work at BGE, so seeing him get manhandled and pounded like an impotent bitch against a bigger, more confident, more cocky ring master gives me a special buzz all its own. I’m sort of expecting heel Flash to come screaming out, even as he admiringly asks KARN to join him in the ring and show him some dance moves. But no, Flash seems to sincerely want to break into the erotic dance biz. And, for the record, I’d buy season tickets for that, as well.

karn4 — “You think you’re going to just come in here and take my spotlight away?!”

“It’s all about exposing the body,” KARN explains as he slowly, seductively unbuttons his vest. “Why don’t you try one of these right here,” he offers, lacing his fingers behind his head and slowly swiveling his narrow hips. Flash gives it a self-conscious try, but his teacher is quick to point out his shortcomings. “No, no, no, you’ve got to have better form. Get it all the way out there,” he demonstrates again, exaggerating the forward thrust of his bulging crotch.

karn5 — “It’s all about exposing the body.”

When Flash tries to tackle the second lesson (finger snapping pelvic thrusts), KARN abruptly drops him with a sucker knee lift to the gut. “You think you’re going to just come in here and take my spotlight away!?” KARN snaps. “I don’t think so!”

karn21 — “How am I supposed to dance with a broken fucking leg!?”

What follows dances metaphorically along the straight edge of pro wrestling combat and slightly humorous performance art. The boys never break character, but they also never quite shake the sense of a junior high skit when it comes to following through on the erotic dancer lesson shtick. “You’re not going to be a great dancer without any legs!” KARN snarls, using those fabulously long, strong legs of his to lock down a fantastic figure-4 leglock. “You’re going to break my leg!” Flash protests. “How am I supposed to dance with a broken fucking leg?!” With that devilish smile, KARN replies, “You’re going to have to figure that one out.”

The marriage of homoerotic pro wrestling and male erotic dancing is time honored, and KARN brings some sweet innovation to connect those dots. “I just wanted to see some moves,” Flash whimpers, struggling for air with KARN kneeling behind him tightening up a choke hold. “Some moves, huh?” KARN considers. Suddenly he throws another one of those delicious pelvic thrusts, pounding his crotch solidly into the middle of Flash’s muscled back. A cock hammer to the back might not be the most debilitating pro wrestling move, but the look of shocked agony on Flash’s face sells me that KARN’s hammer swings just fine. “How about that move!?” KARN asks.

There’s a lot of dialogue. I know some fans find that annoying, but I’ve got a long record of finding cocky, clever trash talk very much value added. “You still want to dance?” KARN asks, jerking Flash back and forth in a bearhug like a rag doll. “Dance for me!” he orders, and the personal note to that command makes swoon. When he suddenly swings his protege around and squeezes into place a reverse bearhug, another one of those crowd pleasing pelvic thrusts to Flash’s rock hard ass makes me cry out louder than Flash. “Ahhhh,” KARN groans with pleasure, “there we go!”

karn15 — KARN is ready for his close up, Mr. Matthews.

Production wise, there is some off camera conversation in the background, like a low buzz the last half of the match, which is a little distracting, but not loud enough to actually hear whatever is being said. I believe there’s just one camera cut in the entire 29 minute match, which is pretty fucking incredible when you think about it. The one camera cut is in service to getting the camera in position for some sensational close ups of the muscle crunching action, so I’m all on board for that. When KARN suddenly scoops Flash up and twists him into place, cradled in his arms, holding him there, I feel like I’m close enough to stretch out my tongue and lick the sweat from the crevice between KARN’s lush pecs. Then he pounds Flash’s lower back down onto his knee, and both magnificent physiques fill the frame beautifully.

“How did you like that move?” KARN asks even as he’s prying his opponent backward across his thigh. “I put a little spin on that.” Still clinging precariously to the erotic dance lesson narrative, Flash gasps (still racked backward in that OTK, mind you), “Do you think I’ll be able to spin like that one day?” KARN thinks about it a second, still shoving downward on Flash’s chin and knee, “Possibly, but not likely. Nobody can spin like I can.”

karn23 — KARN’s log, hot body is all OVER Flash!

This is a lot of nearly non-stop pro wrestling packed into 29 minutes. W4H members can watch it in the Member Videos section for now, and if you enjoy handsome, tall, sensationally fit muscle boys going at it, even half as much as I do, this is one to watch. It’s a squash, mind you, which I’m in the mood for relatively rarely. But there’s something about the boys commitment to narrative, the male erotic dancer run amok scenario, that grabs me and holds me just right.

karn30 — Like Michael Phelps climbed into a pro wrestling ring

And I just need to say it again. Fuck. Me. Karn Alexander is insanely sexy. I know not everyone is into tats like I am, but as for me, his ink sleeve is gorgeous and the tats on both arms show off his bulging biceps to perfection. I’d love to see him in trunks with about 2 inches lower rise across his lower abdomen, but otherwise, he is a pro wrestling fantasy man dream for me. I don’t know if Flash will ever get his groove on to strip for tips, but the next time KARN swings on a pole at a gay club in the Northeast, I’m draining my bank account for cash to stuff down his pouch!

Honey-Dipped Returns

September 12, 2016 wrestlebardLeave a comment

The third match in Austin Cooper’s unprecedented third Wrestler Spotlight release from BG East pits the golden boy against Ronnie Pearl. This is only Ronnie’s second BGE match, and I, for one, have been anxiously awaiting his return to the ring. His debut against Cybertron in Ringwars 21 a couple of years ago was a massacre. It was one of those pro matches where I catch myself thinking, “Oh fuck, that’s got to be a trip to the emergency room!” To call it a mismatch would be like calling a 2×4 a mismatch for the buzzsaw that sliced it in two. Ronnie was a full half a foot shorter and a mind-boggling 65 pounds lighter than his muscle monster opponent, and the newbie’s fancy footwork and eager earnestness amounted to a steaming pile of shit in the face of Cyberton’s devastating power, maniacal mercilessness, and surprisingly high quality pro wrestling skill.

But, fuck, I had a total fan crush on Ronnie before it was time to scrape his hot, muscled bod off the mat. Damn, he’s beautiful! He’s sensationally fit, muscled up just enough to combine serious power with fantastic fitness and flexibility. He’s crazy handsome, with lush, thick lips that scream for kissing. And yes, I saved the best for last, Ronnie’s luxurious mane of long, curly hair calls to mind an 80’s glam rocker, just as it demands to get pulled and yanked and stepped on in the low down trenches of a muscle monster heel beat down. And he had flair. He had timing. He had an excellent ring presence, and without muttering more than about 3 syllables the entire match (other than his incoherent screams of panicked agony), Ronnie presented a full, three dimensional character profile with nuance and panache.

Dangerously Beautiful, meet Dangerously Beautiful

My review of that match concluded where this one starts off: wanting to see much, much more of Ronnie Pearl. Unlike his ill-fated outing against Cybertron, this match up against Austin, going full-on babyface, is, on the surface, pretty even. They’re almost exactly the same height and weight. At first glance, they’re about equally as fit, tastefully muscled, and pretty. When they approach the ring from opposite directions, they play up the precisely matched pair they make, climbing into the ring in synchronized, mirror image mode, checking each other out with equal coolness and calculation. For Austin, Ronnie is another in a long line of hot, hardbodied hunks vying for the expansive piece of real estate that Austin has claimed as his own as resident hard-hitting, prettyboy heart throb. For Ronnie, Austin must look like lunch meat compared to the massive, terminator style cyborg who pounded Ronnie into jelly the last time he climbed into this ring.

The promise of experienced, confident pro wrestlers who can wrestle skillfully and both look like babyface superheroes while doing it is aptly met in this match. The BGE website explains Ronnie’s obvious experience and mature ring presence, despite his rookie status at BG East, as evidence of Ronnie’s valedictorian performance at a regional wrestling school a couple of years back. Wherever it comes from, his decisive speed and crippling offense is a work of art. Particularly after having just moments earlier seen Austin run circles all over, around, under and on top of his mat opponent in the previous match, it’s incredible to see Ronnie strike like lightning on the goldenboy. Seconds after the bell rings (very pro), Ronnie ducks behind and gut wrenches his opponent off his feet, slamming Coop like a sack of flour. In a flash, Ronnie is on his back, spinning around almost faster than the eye can track, and significantly faster than Austin can defend. Again, if you watch this DVD straight through (allowing for significant opportunities to jerk off several times along the way), you will have just seen Austin do this same swarming, dominating display spinning like a top on Jake Ryder’s sweaty backside.

Ronnie is out to cripple the reigning golden boy.

So Austin isn’t going to have a leg up in speed. And despite the face value differential in documented ring experience, he also does not have any sizable advantage in technical skill. Ronnie is methodical in executing a vicious, masterfully executed offense. His wristlock drops Austin, gasping, to one knee. The wristlock advances up the arm into an armbar, twisting savagely on the goldboy’s elbow joint. The wild haired hottie works it viciously, twisting and bearing down with is bodyweight until Coop is flat on the mat and wailing like a wounded animal. Then with shocking deliberateness, Ronnie hops up on his fingertips and then rains down a series of nasty knee drops into Coop’s bicep. A completely gratuitous slap to the face shocks Coop out of the moment, but then Ronnie’s crank into a hammerlock shoves the goldboy right back into the cold, hard truth that Ronnie Pearl very well may be about to, fair and square, beat the living fuck out of him.

Ronnie might want to think twice about initiating a hair pulling match.

Happily, Austin has an answer or two for Ronnie’s savage romp. When the wild haired hunk starts to drive Coop’s gorgeous face for a pounding into the turnbuckle, Austin muscle blocks him and effectively counters with a momentum sucking elbow strike to the gut. In the spirit of “anything you can do,” Austin grabs a huge fistful of Ronnie’s gorgeous long locks and crushes that sensational kisser I was just talking about into the same turnbuckle that Ronnie had tried to mess up Coop with.

Ronnie uses the ropes to devastating effect.

The match spins quickly into seriously nasty shit. So fast, Ronnie celebrates dropping Coop to the mat with a sucker knee-lift to the lower gut by promptly standing ON Austin’s throat and pulling on the nearby rope to crush Coop that much more savagely underfoot.

Two can play the game of using the ropes to devastating effect.

Not to be outdone in viciousness, Coop starts with a standard knee lock that makes his opponent scream. Austin’s sensational upper body bulges and strains as he leverages all of that mouthwatering muscle to hyperextend Ronnie’s knee. Seamlessly, Coop rolls him to his stomach and transitions into a single leg crab on that same knee. Ronnie is already screaming like bitch, but Coop has one more plot point to drive home. He drags Ronnie to the edge of the ring and ducks outside, draping that same, assaulted leg over the middle rope. Suddenly, Coop hangs there, his whole 180 pounds ripping Ronnie’s tendons and ligaments apart while the wild child SCREAMS!

Austin puts Ronnie’s gorgeous ass in jeopardy.

If you’re like me, and you enjoy a suspenseful match, tuck in. Either Ronnie or Austin could pull this off convincingly, and the meaner they get, the more I can believe that they both want it just as much as the other. In the end, they both work off the same playbook, each of them targeting exactly one particular knee of the other to fuck up until only one of them can stand, much less continue to fight, much less walk away from the ring with his dignity intact.

Ronnie is determined to break that leg off completely at the knee!

The final submission is screaming and desperate. I genuinely think this may be another one of those emergency room matches by the sound of anguish. But the hot, muscled, magnificently handsome mugger does not give a shit by this point in the raging boil of egos. “Winner!” he points to his own pretty face and sweat soaked, worship-worthy muscle body, before strolling victoriously out of the ring and leaving his opponent severely damaged in his wake.

h0321_lg — Someone very well may need knee surgery before the day is out.

God, this match is intense and riveting! The drama is compelling. The competition is raw and believable. The bodies are absolutely gorgeous. And, like I said last time I fell in lust with Ronnie Pearl, the only thing that might make this hotter would be a bottle of honey and my tongue licking every bulge and crevice.

Oh, fuck, I want to be this glam rocker’s top groupie!

Just me. Destroying you.

September 9, 2016September 9, 2016 wrestlebard3 Comments

Wrester4Hire has made a new batch of matches available for members to view, so I sat down to take a look at Alex Oliver (aka Gus Rowe via BGE) and Damien Rush (MDW, BGE) in Knocked Out. The two hunks also square off in a publicly available match for sale on W4H, but Knocked Out is an erotic horror fantasy all its own.

If I’d known the plot of this clip ahead of time, honestly, I probably wouldn’t have watched it. It’s a torture flick, nearly a snuff film, really, as “psychopath” Damien kidnaps gorgeous Alex from his very own car and deposits him in the middle of a wrestling ring for 20 minutes of total terror. That’s the story arc, really. As a fan of competitive matches and relatively few “gimmicks,” this match seems like it isn’t in my wheelhouse. And yet, holy fuck, I was turned on and breathless nearly from start to finish. Who knew!?

A homoerotic wrestling sadist rips another hunk from the real world.

One element that cranks my engine from the get go is something I’ve talked about a couple of times recently. Even in the car, Alex is in street clothes while his kidnapper is geared up in a black wrestling singlet. The focus on clothing at the start somehow massages me right below the balls just right. Alex looks like every frat boy on the planet, out cold on his back in the middle of the ring in jeans and an Abercrombie t-shirt. When Damien sets up his office (a brief case full of chloroform, chains, sparring gloves, and duct tape), the contrast between homoerotic fantasy heel Damien and vulnerable, ripped from the Real World Alex is lush.

Equally titillating is the moment that Damien gets down to business unbuckling the unconscious stud’s belt. He violently rips apart Alex’ jeans, quite literally ripping them off his sweet body. “Oooooo,” Damien coos with unmistakable lust, “looks like you’re nice and prepped.” Alex’ long, thick, smooth legs and ultra low rise designer briefs are apparently all the prep that Damien could hope for in a victim.

“Ooooo, looks like you’re nice and prepped!”

“Where the fuck am I?!” Alex mutters in a panic as he starts to come to. “You’re in my house,” Damien answers coldly. “Time to wake up. Nap time is over. Fun time is just beginning.” He pries the nearly naked hunk backward into a dragon sleeper, even as Alex gasps in horror, “Oh, GOD!”

“What did I do to you!?” the captured stud cries with a note of pleading in his voice. And here’s where the genre of the match comes into clearest focus. Damien replies, “You didn’t do anything to me. But I’m going to do a lot to you.” Think Saw. Think Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs. This is a random act of horror. “You fucking psychopath!!!” Alex screams, again with just a note of horror, as if appealing to a shred of humanity left in the monstrous heart of his attacker. There is no shred. When Alex frantically slaps the mat while Damien gags him with his own belt, wrenching his neck backward, Damien chuckles. “What are you doing? Tapping!?” He rolls his eyes with contempt. “This isn’t a fight. This is just me destroying you.”

Headscissors, hairy pecs, and a chloroform chaser.

Although Knocked Out is considerably more a domination fantasy than a wrestling match, Damien’s use of wrestling holds and the ring ropes to torture his prey are just enough to stroke my kink. Full nelsons, sleepers, abdominal claws and grapevines bury deep into Alex panicked psyche. For no good reason other than terror, Damien grinds the toe of his boot into his nearly defenseless victim. When Alex tries to fight his attacker away with a flailing fist, Damien grabs the arm and pounds the wrist across his knee, threatening to break it in order to force the fratboy not to interfere with Damien’s “work.”

By far the climax of this match (well, I climaxed. Twice. And that’s just on the first viewing), is when Damien duct tapes Alex’ wrists to the ring ropes as the fratboy sits dazed in the corner. When the captured stud tries to use his only free appendages to defend himself, Damien then duct tapes his right ankle to the ropes, and then cranks open spread eagled Alex’ fabulous legs and uses the kid’s own belt to truss up his left ankle to the rope. Damien takes a step back to admire his handiwork. “Look at that!” Damien says almost breathlessly, brimming with admiration. “That is just… SO… beautiful!,” the psychopath gushes, reading my mind. Again, I say, I am shocked at how completely turned on these guys make me without an ounce of competitive narrative. I just keep gasping in awe at how sensationally hot Alex’ gorgeous body is carved up and served raw. I haven’t had this much empathy for a psychopath since Dexter went off the air.

There’s one glaring missed opportunity in Knocked Out that has me shouting at the screen by the end. While I find the repeated use of chloroform redundant (I lose count around 6 times it’s put to use on the fratboy), the real misstep here is how precious little we see of Alex’ magnificent ass. I mentioned how much that ass grabbed my attention when he debuted with BG East, and the glimpses we do get of it in Knocked Out confirm the prime real estate that his mouthwatering cheeks are. I recently announced that I thought Cal Bennett had one of the most fuckable asses in the business, and I’m saying here and now that I think Alex’ glutes belong right up there at that same level. And while I am dizzied by his thick quads and lickable six-pack, I’m slightly embittered by how little camera time there is for Alex’ amazing ass.

Not to say that there’s a lack of attention paid to Alex’ ass. I think the second most evocative moment in the match comes right near the end when Damien has him in a reverse bearhug. Again, we get a great view of the fratboy’s gorgeous frontside, but, come on! A standard bearhug would have shown off that ass so sensationally! But still, it’s not like Damien’s overlooking the goods. When an exhausted Alex bends forward over his tormentors fists locked across his lower abdomen, Damien growls, “Right where I like it!” Several pelvic thrusts, pounding his crotch into the fratboy’s epic cheeks connects all the dots here.

Lest I neglect all of the most important parts, let me state the obvious when I say that Damien is a hot, hairy, fantasy heel. The contrast of his hairy muscles against Alex’ baby smooth body is yet another unmatched pairing that works sensationally for me. I have to admit that I think few muscle hunks suffer as desperately and provocatively as Damien does when he’s on the receiving end, but he does a great job as the maniacal tormentor in total control here.

So, although I’ve mentioned often how qualified is my enjoyment of an occasional squash, and how I’ve tried to parse apart the genres of domination kink and wrestling kink, despite myself, I loved Knocked Out. I’m looking forward to seeing more of Alex Oliver, preferably from behind. I’d love to see more of this ripped-from-real-life-and-dropped-into-the-homoerotic-wrestling-universe scenario, and next time let’s see the involuntary hunk wrestle in street clothes just a little bit, driving home this great real life/fantasy tension. But in the mean time, I’m going back to enjoy Knocked Out more before it’s pulled off of the W4H member video rotation!

The Doctor is In

September 8, 2016 wrestlebardLeave a comment

I knew that Austin Cooper was popular, but damn? Three Wrestler Spotlights!? I totally get it, of course. Coop is delicious, and he’s grown into a solid utility player, convincingly showing up as a babyface hero, a pretty boy jobber, and, on rare occasions, a sensationally nasty muscle heel. Of the options, personally, my heart skips a beat when Dr. Cooper is in the house.

Austin’s badass heel persona (or is it that fragment of his split personality?) earned the nickname Dr. Cooper when he pounded lovely Leo Tomasi’s face into the turnbuckle until his nose started bleeding in Jobberpaloozer 13. With a sadistic flair that I didn’t know Austin could execute, he planted the lovely jobber into a tree of woe. “We’ve got to invert you to stop that bloody nose,” he laughed. Apparently repeatedly dragging Leo’s head off the mat by his hair and then dropping the back of his head down over and over again is another old family remedy for staunching a nose bleed in Austin’s family. “Just call me Dr. Cooper,” Austin declared, mauling his opponent mercilessly and seemingly charged up that much more at the sight of blood. “Here to help you re-Coop-erate!”

Dr. Cooper applies direct pressure to the wound.

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen full-on Dr. Cooper show up quite as exquisitely as he did in that magnificent brutalizing of Leo Tomasi. But I live in hope of another house call from the doc, because I don’t know if I’ve ever been as entertained and turned on by Austin as when he went full throttle heel.

In his unprecedented third Wrestler Spotlight, he’s up against three very different opponents, and there are three different iterations of Austin who show up. He comes closest to channeling Dr. Cooper again in the second match, when he takes on Jake Ryder on the mats, so today I want to start by savoring that one from the new BG East catalog.

“So… do you want to forfeit already, or do you want to actually go through with this?”

The scene opens with Jake warming up as Austin enters the mat room. Austin points out that they can hear a pro match happening next door, which is somehow an instant turn on for me. I’m not exactly sure of the math, but somehow, knowing that at that very moment there were two hot, hard hitting, loud BG East matches taping at the same time doubles my erotic interest. Having visited BG East South and been given a personal tour of the facilities by studpuppy Drake, I can picture just how close the ring and the matroom are, and it makes total sense that a particularly rambunctious match in either one would likely be overheard in the other.

“What’s this!? This is not amateur style!”

The narrative of Austin and Jake’s mat match is sweet. Jake apparently hasn’t done his homework, so he doesn’t realize that he’s stepping onto the mat with a highly competitive former amateur wrestler in high school. Apparently Jake skipped over the part in Austin’s highlight reel when he quite literally spanked the sweaty, jockstrapped ass of his former high school wrestling buddy, that “other” Jake, Jake Jenkins, on the mats. No, Jake Ryder only knows of Austin’s ring work, and he seems genuinely surprised to hear from Austin that he was first an accomplished mat wrestler.

The first glimpse of Dr. Cooper comes out when Austin asks Jake if he’d prefer to just walk away. Knowing what he now knows, Jake is generously given the opportunity to forfeit and back away with a little less dignity but, yet, his body still in tact. “No, I’m totally game to go through with this!” Jake insists, clearly already insulted and determined to show the golden boy up.

On the one hand, Austin’s fixation on proving his amateur credentials by having a “clean” match might suggest that it’s his babyface hero personality in charge on this day. He insists that they shake hands. He demands decorum and a conforming to the specific rules of amateur wrestling competition. After just a couple of minutes, during which he takes Jake to the mat and controls him like an Olympian, there’s a sense that this match could fall into the category of upright babyface gets upended by an unrepentant rulebreaker, especially when Jake slides Austin into pro body scissors and locks his ankles, crushing the goldenboy’s midsection in blatant disregard for freestyle rules. “Fuck your rules!” Jake snarls when Austin complains like a simpering bitch.

Coop crushes Jake’s face against his massive chest

But, like I said, it’s Dr. Cooper who showed up to play. When Austin insists that they push reset and recommit to a “clean” match (Jake rolls his eyes and extends his hand disingenuously), Coop grabs the hand and follows up with a nasty heel strike to Jake’s lower abdomen. Jake is nearly lifted off his feet, sent slamming back first into the wall, before the doctor throws him to the floor and cranks on a headlock, grinding Jake’s nose into Austin’s massive pecs. “I know you didn’t mean that,” Austin snarls.

0216_lg — Coop starts to impress upon Jake the mistake he’s making in disregarding amateur wrestling rules.

The hybrid of amateur mat wrestling and pro wrestling is sensational to watch. We’ve seen in the past that Jake is a dangerous bad ass, himself, so when the pretense of rules and sportsmanship gets rubbed away, it’s a nasty, mean, vicious pit fight. The sure and steady hand of Dr. Cooper isn’t always present. He submits to Jake moments before he’d have been choked out cold, for example. Jake makes him hurt. He’s unnecessarily rough. He crushes and punches and taunts like he’s taking out revenge on the high school jock who bullied him way back. A particularly shining moment occurs when he controls Austin’s ankles with the golden boy flat on his stomach. Hooking Coop’s ankles beneath his armpits, Jake lifts the hunk’s big, powerful legs, folding him up the wrong way, bending Coop’s lower back at a sick angle. Jake leans forward, grinding his fists into his opponent’s torqued back viciously. And then, like the avatar of every homoerotic wrestling fan on the planet, Jake shifts his grip and palms those world class, award winning glutes on Austin, digging his fingertips into two of the sweetest cheeks on the planet.

Jake begins to get Austin’s ass into position.

But when the tide slowly turns Austin’s way, I love seeing Dr. Cooper really go to town. Like a sensational heel, he narrates his crushing offense, explaining to Jake each step along the way what each hold and maneuver is, detailing his mastery of both amateur and pro wrestling techniques. It’s an amateur wrestling clinic, with Jake owned and pinned repeatedly (like, I think I counted 6 pins!). A single leg cradle. Small package. A crotch-ripping spladle showing off the sweat stained crack in Jake’s briefs. And then Coop punches him in the chest, rips him apart limb from limb in a sensational surfboard, and finally wraps him up with a bow in an intimate, long, lingering figure-4 sleeper.

“You’re going to hate life a little bit when you wake up,” Austin taunts even as Jake kicks and flails futilely. Jake’s eyes roll into the back of his head right at the moment that he mutters bitterly, “I hate… you!” Without another word, he’d body goes slack with Austin’s beefy calf pressed so securely against his throat.

“You’re going to hate life a little big when you wake up.”

A few more summary points that I’d like to mention… You know the shit gets real when the singlets get ripped off and the boys start taunting each other about their fashion forward undergear choices. Jake is fucking ripped. Like, I have not appreciated his aesthetics nearly as much as I did in this match, and if by chance he’s still feeling sore after this match, I hope someone will let him know I’d be happy to rub him down with a bottle of baby oil and several of my eager appendages.

I’ve got that bottle of baby oil in hand, Jake.

But this is a fantastic Austin Cooper match precisely because I sort of forget by the end of it all just how dazzlingly pretty Coop is. I mean, sure, I still want to drizzle him with honey and lick every inch of his bulging muscles, but it’s his power and control, his delight in taking ownership of his opponent, the way he viciously molds a serious competitor, slowly but surely, into an impotent practice dummy, that brings me to an explosive finish.

I hope he lets Dr. Cooper open up a practice full time. I know there are fans who are devoted to one or more of his other personalities. But for me, there’s little as pleasurable as watching an achingly pretty blond muscle boy tap into his inner bad ass and absolutely go ballistic on an opponent.

Will Breaker

September 6, 2016 wrestlebard3 Comments

I saw on Jonny’s blog that he’s booked big Biff Farrell and Charming Chase Addams for some Firestorm custom taping next week. Of course, Biff’s been turning heads and making wrestling fans drool (me included) for well over a year now, but I’m captivated by the house on fire that is Charming Chase, not only appearing in two matches in his BG East debut, but already getting called up for custom taping to make fans’ fantasies come true. That’s already a seriously impressive start for the young stud!

Chase made a big impression in TTT19. Just ask Christian’s abs.

There’s a sweet, sexy irony about a vicious, dangerous, merciless pro wrestler who calls himself “charming.” Charming Chase Addams embodies that very sweet irony. One of the very few hunks featured on these pages to earn the title of Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month for his debut match (albeit, he shared the honors), Chase certainly grabbed my attention this summer in Tag Team Torture 19.

Someone is about to cum right here, and it isn’t Chase (hint: it’s me).

There’s something loud and despicable about him as one half of doomed Team Vanity. Then when he opens up distance in his grudge match with is tag team partner, Ty Alexander, I catch several glimpses of brilliance from the sexy newbie He likes dishing out the hurt. Not like a sloppy drunk gagging for a shot, but more like a wine connoisseur, controlled, attentive to nuance, savoring every sip and mouthful of his opponent’s suffering, letting it roll across his tongue. He finishes by stretching Ty out in another of his infinite variations on an armbar, both of them standing, Ty bent forward. The newbie stretches out his long leg and presses the sole of his boot into Ty’s cheek. Suddenly, the newbie falls to his back, pulling on that armbar so that his opponent’s face slams hard into the bottom of Chase’s boot. Ty is out cold, and I completely buy the execution of this finisher for its precision and viciousness. A hot, new stud with a command of the ring and a total disregard for the life or limb of his opponent, AND who calls himself Charming Chase? Fuck, that’s rich and so delicious.

Oh. My. God. Are those leopard print briefs!!!!?

Then again, I have to admit that I did find Chase remarkably charming in my interview with him (and eventually, Ty joined us as well). There were earnest and sincere notes making his big talk and raw ambition come across as complex and evocative. In a couple of sidebar conversations since, Chase has continued to charm, and with just the right application of compliments and respect (all genuine), I’ve coaxed from him both a few private pics and his permission to share them here with you.

For the record, this is Chase’s Will Breaker.

One thing I’ve learned about Chase, both during our interview and in conversations since, is that he is a serious student of professional wrestling. So he’s been quick to point out when I, armchair commentator that I am, haven’t gotten things quite right. For example, I gushed about this sensational hold he locked Christian Taylor up in. I described it something like a suspended surfboard or some such nonsense. I actually have a tough time describing everything that’s going on in this hold, because like Chase himself, the hold is complex and nuanced. There are about 5 joints being cranked on all at once as Christian hangs in this position. It gives a hit of defying gravity, or perhaps a puppet master pulling on his plaything’s strings. In any case, Chase informed me that whatever I call it, he calls this hold the Will Breaker.

Take a look at the Will Breaker from another angle, because it’s fucking art, people.

And there’s no question, he breaks Christian’s will down like a battering ram when he snaps the Will Breaker on to that long, luscious frame Christian has. I love this hold for a lot of reasons, but first and foremost, it’s indicative of a serious wrestler. You don’t just stumble into this hold. It’s not like anyone would impulsively give this a shot right in the middle of a competitive pro match (not to mention, one’s debut). No, the Will Breaker is something that a serious student of pro wrestling would think through, perhaps diagram first, then practice with a friend, then practice with an enemy before pulling off in the middle of the unpredictable ebb and flow of an actual match. And the fact that Chase has named it suggests pride in his work.

What’s rock hard, jutting up from between Chase’ sexy thighs, takes both hands to handle, and gets him (and me) off? A Harm-bar.

Similarly, Chase politely pointed out that he refers to this particular armbar variation as his Harm-bar. If you saw TTT19, and particularly if you heard the screams of Christian Taylor going from hot jock to panicked, wounded animal, you know why he calls it that. Personally, I love this position for the unmistakable phallic reference.

So in summary, he’s got a long, sexy body, a loud, super-aggressive attitude, a passion for putting on the hurt, and an earnest devotion to mastering the execution of a growing arsenal of debilitating pro maneuvers. AND he reaches out to politely correct the record when sloppy wrestling bloggers like me don’t get it quite right. Maybe it shouldn’t come as such a surprise that he’s been on the scene less then 2 months and already has two published matches, a HWOTM title, a published interview, and a standing appointment to star in some lucky fan’s custom wrestling fantasy.

Keep it coming, Charming Chase. I can’t wait to see what’s in store for you next!

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

September 1, 2016 wrestlebardLeave a comment

August seems like it flew by. I’m slowly starting to climb back on top of my typical homoerotic wrestling viewing schedule, so I feel like I’ve got a relatively good handle on the field from which to pick a homoerotic wrestler of the month from among the new releases in August. I’ve crushed on this particular fantasyman before, awarding his first HWOTM title almost exactly 2 years ago. Maybe it’s something in the air this time of year. Or maybe the circadian rhythms of my libido make me crave a hot, sexy, salt and pepper muscle daddy in the ring right about now. Whatever the reason, I was deeply moved by the new homoerotic wrestler of the month around these parts…

…Matt Thrasher.

Screen Shot 2016-07-30 at 12.32.29 AM — Matt catches Tank with his pants down.

I’m infatuated with Matt’s anchoring of Muscle Domination Wrestling’s Daddy’s Home series (currently on sale when you bundle all of Matt’s appearances in the series). In Daddy’s Home 6 released in August, Matt once again arrives at the MDW ring in street clothes to find his next opponent to make into his new boy. I was just recently writing about the curious kink I have for mismatched gear, and the opening scene here captures exactly what I’m talking about. Rookie tank is nearly naked in his jock strap and nothing else. Matt looks like he just walked off the street in a baggy t-shirt and khaki walking shorts. And the side by side makes me instantly hard. Big Tank somehow looks vulnerable, exposed. I suppose, he’s literally caught with his pants down, and by doing nothing but wearing clothes, Matt immediately possesses the upper hand.

Screen Shot 2016-07-30 at 12.34.14 AM — Speaking of possession…

Not that I’m unhappy when Matt soon strips out of his street clothes and starts to mold Tank into a Daddy’s boy. Matt has come a long way in wrestling skill and storytelling since I started licking my lips at my first sight of him years ago. In Daddy’s Home 6, he is the steady, mature hand constructing the narrative tension, controlling the pace, pushing the story forward. Of course, I’d be happy to pour chocolate sauce all over Tank’s smooth, massive muscles and lick him clean, but he’s so fucking raw. He’s flat footed and slow. His balance is shit, and he’s got zero offense, unless you count the insistent allure of his muscled glutes demanding so much of Daddy’s attention. So it’s a relatively heavy burden Matt has to carry, crafting this into both a wrestling contest and a cub collaring.

Screen Shot 2016-07-30 at 12.40.27 AM — It takes a steady, mature hand.

However, Matt is more than up to the task. He masterfully manipulates the punk ass newbie. Tank comes across as dead weight quite a bit of the match, making me that much more in awe of the variety of humiliating positions Daddy Matt muscles him into. Ostensibly, what Matt wants from this match is respect. Tank smirks at the beginning, wondering if an “old guy” like Matt can really teach a young, virile muscle beast like him anything of use. So, on one level, the parade of sexually vulnerable, brutally humiliating positions Matt marches him through is an object lesson.

Screen Shot 2016-07-30 at 12.37.24 AM — Look at how much Matt has to teach you, boy!

But at a deeper level, the story is about Matt getting turned on and determined to add this new muscle punk to his growing collection of daddy’s boys. This part of the story is slightly more subtle. Slightly. At no point does Matt say, for example, I’m going to beat you into submission, boy, and fuck that prime beef ass today, tomorrow, and anytime I damn well please. But watching Matt climb on top of his back, press his big, sweat stained pouch down between Tank’s cheeks, and then flex his hips, grinding with a breathless groan, the message is delivered loud and clear.

Screen Shot 2016-07-30 at 12.41.19 AM — Do not mess with Daddy!

In an industry that seems to me to follow so much of gay male culture in overemphasizing youth and still frame beauty, Matt Thrasher is a delightful breath of fresh air, as far as I’m concerned. I can count on one hand the number of homoerotic wrestlers old enough to take pride in a few grey hairs, currently competing. Frankly, I’d donate a kidney to see Matt tag team with another devastatingly sexy muscle daddy. If I were his agent, I’d have Shane McCall or Scott Williams, or perhaps Brendan Cage or Mitch Colby on the phone to line up a Daddy Team to spank the virgin asses of a couple of young gym bunnies drowning on their on testosterone and sense of invincibility.

Screen Shot 2016-07-30 at 12.40.58 AM — Right at home!

In the mean time, Daddy’s home. So all you tough, hot boys too young to know what’s good for you step right up. ‘Cause there’s nothing quite like getting owned by someone old enough to be your father, and there’s nothing sexier than getting your ass pounded by a reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month.

Matt Thrasher – August 2016 Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

Lessons in Hard

August 22, 2016 wrestlebardLeave a comment

I’d wager to bet having Lon Dumont in your corner increases your chances of pro wrestling success by a factor of 10. Lon disclosed in my interview with him several years back that in his very early years of coaching, he had a hand in shaping the foundation of the babyface dynamo Cameron Matthews, and just look at all that Cameron’s accomplished on the scene! In addition to wrestling around the world and starring in dozens of blockbuster homoerotic matches for BG East, Can-Am, Thunder’s Arena, and the predecessor to Movimus, Cameron now runs Wrestler4Hire, a growing player on the homoerotic wrestling scene, featuring high quality indy pros as well as established studs from other homoerotic wrestling companies. I’ve sampled Cameron’s products in the past, before the formal launch of W4H, and liked what I saw. So I recently signed up to sink my teeth into the meaty membership catalog and see what the newest kid on the block (although captained by one of the most established and productive kids of all time) is offering to the scene.

W4H has a provocative pro feel about it. Even the occasional mat match has pro attitude. There’s also a strong whiff of overflowing testosterone, with big, beefy bros messing around at the chapter house, but knowing full well the cameras are rolling and the audience is whipping out their dicks. If Rock Hard Wrestling and Thunder’s Arena had a baby, it’s be a lot like W4H (I’m probably not the first to make that analogy, but I think it’s apt).

Well-known pros pound the mat for Cameron at W4H

With Cameron’s extensive connections in indy pro and homoerotic wrestling circles, the roster is pretty fucking amazing. There are up and coming, quickly rising indy pro stars showing up against sex wrestling veterans. And knowing Lon Dumont and Cameron go way, way back, little wonder Mr. Dumont shows up frequently on W4H. Even less a wonder, knowing my perpetual infatuation with the wrestler-turned-bodybuilder-turned-wrestler, I was immediately drawn to one of Lon’s match on W4H to enjoy first.

Brad Barnes is strong, but can he wrestle?

Coach Lon has apparently taken Brad Barnes under his wing, and holy fuck, it’s about time. Brad is as beautiful as they come. You can see Brad go full monty and jack off at Randy Blue. He has a sensational sexiness about him, built like Adonis and sporting a painfully pretty face with a superhero square jaw and leading man cleft chin. However, all that magnificent, mouthwatering muscle and beauty have been, at best, a liability in his homoerotic wrestling appearances to date. He’s so fucking pretty and so completely ill equipped to seriously defend himself in a wrestling match. You get the impression that the long, long line of opponents who have beat his pin-up boy ass senseless never, ever get tired of owning all that hollow promise and impotent raw talent.

So thank the homoerotic wrestling gods that Lon has accepted the job of whipping the jobber Adonis into shape. As A Hard Lesson Learned starts, Coach Dumont is urging big Brad on as the kid does sit-ups. Lon is dishing out well-earned praise, liberally spiced with smart ass backhanded compliments (just the way I adore him). But despite Lon’s credentials as a physique star and personal trainer, not to mention his illustrious career heeling like a mother fucker for multiple indy pro circuits, Brad seems somehow a tad… ungrateful. It’s hard to put my finger on it at first. Lon has to remind the beefcake to show him the respect of calling him coach. There’s a spring in his step missing as he slowly rises to follow Lon’s instructions. But when he implies that Lon may not be strong enough to pick up the heavy bag that Brad has, moments ago, hoisted overhead, his contempt for coach really rings out. Not strong enough?! Are you fucking kidding me?! Have you seen Lon’s ripped, stage-ready physique and mountains of bodybuilding trophies!?

Don’t worry, Brad! Coach just needs to test your core strength.

It seems like Brad senses he may have crossed a line, because when coach orders him to test his abs by lying on his back (so Lon can gingerly drop the heavy weight on him, simulating the bodyweight of an opponent), Brad looks nervous. “Just don’t drop it on my nuts,” the jobber beefcake insists. He again expresses concern that coach may not be strong enough to handle the equipment. But he need not worry. Lon can handle his equipment like champ. He can also hoist high a heavy bag and slam it with authority into the unsuspecting gut of an ungrateful trainee.

“Ahhhh, FUCK, DUDE!” Brad screams, clutching his gut. Lon follows up with a stomp to one of the kid’s hamstrings. “Dude, what the fuck!!!?” Brad protests. Lon follows up with a stomp the chest, slamming his trainee to his back hard. “Don’t question my leadership skills, Brad!!!” Lon screams, slapping the kid’s ridiculously handsome face. “That is NOT something you want to do!” Lon unzips his warm-up jacket and peels it off, showing off the master-carved torso that has made me swoon for years. “Coach Dumont does not take kindly to that kind of activity!”

The heel clinic Lon treats Brad to is classic Dumont. He pounds fists into the kid’s gut with abandon. He chokes the kid with is bare hands. Ominously, coach picks up Brad’s ankles, spreads them wide, and then drives his full bodyweight down, pounding his knee into the prettyboy’s testicles. “Why don’t you try a sit up for me now, Brad!?,” Lon yells furiously. “How do you like my coaching style, Brad?!,” Lon screams in his face as he’s twist-tying the screeching manboy into an abdominal stretch.

Perhaps Brad is, finally, learning something from the avalanche of heel abuse he’s received up to this point, because he knows enough about pleasing fans to use Lon’s ridiculously long locks to pry his way free from one hold. He latches hold of Lon’s balls with a claw that elevates the heel’s typical baritone to a wailing countertenor. Brad racks coach across the top rope, bouncing him up and down on his balls a bit, to drive home the fact that he has, indeed, been taking notes.

I probably ought to be getting off on gorgeous Brad getting his big, bulging muscles owned like a bitch, but regular readers will be completely unsurprised to learn that I cannot take my eyes off of coach. When he has Brad screaming incoherently in a camel clutch, it’s Lon’s magnificent chest and shoulders that bring a tear to my eyes. I know that it’s Brad’s bubble butt that I probably ought to be obsessing over, but it’s Lon’s zero-bodyfat glutes I can’t stop staring at as he digs a wedgie out of his crack.

I’m aware that Lon’s incessant, smart ass banter and perpetual psychological warfare make some fans absolutely hate him with a passion. Knowing Lon, I suspect he’s sort of proud of that. As for me, a match like this one demonstrates why I think Lon remains one of the most entertaining, provocative, engaging personalities in the homoerotic wrestling ring, and why I continue to submit my resume for the job of rubbing baby oil into every last one of his beautiful muscles before every bodybuilding competition and wrestling match. At the end of the day, I don’t know if Brad Barnes has what it takes to really benefit from coach’s lessons, but as for me, today, tomorrow, always, count me as a lifelong member of Team Dumont.

For the record, A Hard Lesson Learned (copyright 2014) is one of 9 “new” videos available for streaming for the price of membership at W4H. There are also dozens of photo galleries of many more matches available for members to peruse for the price of admission. The roster is pretty damn charming, with brief, one-sentence character descriptions (presumably in Cameron’s own words… Lon is described as “The most intelligent wrestler on the roster,” so maybe they’re Lon’s words), along with the vital stats that, inexplicably, turn me on. There are also dozens more videotaped matches for streaming or download for an additional price or the purchase of credits, that will cost you between $9.50 and and $12 per credit, depending on how many you buy (and it looks like most matches cost 2 credits for download). The math seems to me to be getting complicated. There’s a 3-day streaming rental option for a break in the purchase price. The combination of abundant photo galleries and relatively few full matches seems pretty typical of the industry these days, though it is frustrating to feel like you just ponied up for sizable membership dues and then have to dole out more for access to 90% of the catalog. But, like I said, I don’t think W4H is remarkably dissimilar to other sites with membership upgrades.

The production quality is solid. It’s not the most polished you can find. It’s certainly not the roughest. There aren’t many close ups so the effect is sitting ringside, which has both its value added as well as its drawbacks. Just one camera, but also almost no cuts, so the narrative feels fresh, the gasping and clawing their way off the mat feels authentic. This match is right around 20 minutes in total, including the opening “coaching” session, which looks right around the average run-time for most of the matches in W4H.

I’ll keep exploring W4H. Like all of the homoerotic wrestling productions I follow, I certainly want it to succeed, so I’m keeping my eyes open for value, quality, and innovation in what can feel at times like an increasingly crowded field of homoerotic wrestling productions.

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