I like not only a wide variety of bodies and builds and characters and gear and ages and races and ethnicities and scenarios in homoerotic wrestling, but I also like the combination of contrasts. Let me be clear, I have nothing against hunks squaring off against similarly fashioned hunks. But I’ve long experienced some special kink bonus about mismatches, or, more generically, unmatched pairs. For example, there’s something that turns me on exponentially about wrestlers in entirely different types of gear. One in street clothes, the other in pro trunks, for example, or one in an earnest amateur singlet and the other in a stripper thong. I’m not entirely sure why, but fuck, yes, that contrast cranks my cock with just that much more enthusiasm. It’s also relatively rare, I find. So much more often, opponents are not only dressed similarly, but even dressed in identical gear choices, just in different colors.
The Bigger They Are… stars 6’3″ Niko Knight towering a half foot taller than 5’9″ Cody Cummings
A more common unmatched pairing, which often lends itself to a mismatched pair as well, is the big vs. little throwdown. There are, of course, many ways to measure size, but on my mind today is the tall/short dichotomy. Watching a pair of hotties face off, when one opponent’s nose basically comes up to his opponent’s sternum, turn me on like nobody’s business.
Cody makes the big man his bitch!
And I’m not just talking about squashes, where big guys manhandle and abuse guys 3 weight classes below them from start to finish. I only occassionally tuck in to a big bully squash like that, but a particularly fine vintage for me is the big vs. little pairing that turns out delightfully competitive, or perhaps even tilted toward a particularly skilled little guy cutting a big man down to size.
5’5″ Jonny Firestorm stares up the half foot in height separating him from 5’11” Brook Stetson in Catch Weight 4
Perhaps it has to do with blurring the lines, this extra excitement I have for the unmatched pairs. In straight-up competitive sports, there are weight classes that control the narrative, that offer the illusion that the ultimate outcome is indicative of the better man, the skilled or more determined (or luckier) combatant. An unmatched pair of contrasting sizes may acknowledge that the tale of the tape in homoerotic pro wrestling is almost never about fair play and the raw measure of strength and skill.
In Catch Weight 5, 6’2″ Joe Robbins nearly has more than he can handle in dangerous pro Paul Hudson, standing 7 inches shorter at 5’7″
There’s attitude and lust, sadistic impulse and desire to dominate. I may still expect the smaller man to get outmuscled and manhandled, but pro wrestling has always relied on a suspension of disbelief, and when, through cunning or skill or an equalizing shot to the balls, the little guy puts a convincing hurt on his goliath, I don’t just go with it, I scream full steam ahead!
In Rough & Ready 69, Z-Man (reported elsewhere to be 5’10”) needs climbing gear just to look 6’7″ MXD in the eye. That’s a difference of 9 inches!
Particularly when it’s competitive, I definitely don’t mind it when a hot bundle of compact muscle gets a beating from his taller opponent, either. I’ve mentioned in the past how, every so often, a squash turns sour for me if it comes across as just bullying. But if the scenario sells legitimate suspense about the ultimate outcome of the match, I’ve certainly found myself getting off to a big man putting a hurt on a pint size muscleman probably as frequently as vice versa.
Z-Man may get altitude sickness hanging out in that suspended choke!
I’m not sure if I’ve come to any more clarity about my delight in a mismatched tall vs. short homoerotic wrestling match. But I know what I like, and things pump harder and hotter for me when a big guy and a little guy lock up, thrown down, and, especially, when they the winner (whichever part he played) sexually lords it over his vanquished foe.
5’11” Derek Fox thinks he’s got petite 5’5″ Drake Wild in hand in Pro Sex Fight 13.Turns out, it’s the other way around!
Having recently moved, I’m getting accustomed to a lot of new things. The weatherman keeps reporting on “thund-uh-stoams.” There are apparently 100 ticks for every human being in the region. And it’s fucking hot.
That last part makes me rethink my decision to ignore places with swimming pools in my housing search when I moved here a month and a half ago. I’ve always thought of pools as a pain in the ass. And, honestly, this climate calls for outdoor pools no more than about 25% of the year, so it seemed like a waste. But damn. It’s fucking hot.
I’m sure I’ve posted here about my ambivalence about the swimming pool genre in homoerotic wrestling, but I’m too lazy right now to look it up for you (did I mention how hot it is?). So let me just reiterate. On the con side, pool wrestling too often submerges more than half of the available eye candy. Upper bodies are privileged as the only thing we can see most of the time (and neglecting attention to hot legs is another, more global complaint I make often). There’s probably about 80% of wrestling holds that just don’t translate to a pool. A Boston crab would likely lead to manslaughter charges.
But on the other end of the ambivalent spectrum, I love wet muscles. On that point, sweat, shower scenes, and oil wrestling tweak the same kink in me that pool wrestling does. There’s also something inherently playful about pool wrestling. Watching homoerotic wrestlers do it, it certainly appears to take many of them back to the same days of juvenile, carefree summers getting yelled at for horsing around in and around the pool, playfully bullying chums by seeing who can dunk the other, games of chicken, perched on top of each others’ shoulders and seeing who can topple whom.
Kid Vicious demonstrates how standing headscissors take on a whole new significance in the pool in Wet & Wild 4
While I couldn’t stand an exclusive diet of homoerotic wrestling in the pool, like fresh corn on the cob and the sweetest of watermelons, it’s a seasonal treat that can work for me. Though I have to say I prefer it to conclude with bronzed bodies baking in the sun, making out naked poolside.
Perusing the list of June new releases in homoerotic wrestling, I was seriously torn as to who I wanted to pick for homoerotic wrestler of the month. Honestly, I was agonizing about this choice way, way more than a totally subjective, ultimately meaningless recognition like this deserves. I was charmed and turned on by so many wrestling hunks in June. There were so many former HWOTM title holders in the mix, it was guaranteed to be a tough call. But then, finally, a comment on this blog brought it all into focus for me. Someone complained that, in his opinion, I focus far too much on twinks. In fact, if I keep focusing so much on twinks, this commentator warned that he may have to stop reading neverland. Twinks, twinks, twinks, just too many twinks. And then my choice for homoerotic wrestler of the month came into crystal clear focus. My homoerotic wrestler of the month for June 2016 is…
As I’ve mentioned several times, these 4 gorgeous wrestlers put together a sensational tag team drama in BG East’s Tag Team Torture 19 that simultaneously tickled my funny bone and turned me on. They successfully construct a compelling drama rife with extravagant attitude and sweet suspense. I doubt that any of these 4 handsome studs were born when I was watching the loud, larger than life, character-driven pro wrestling of indy pro wrestling in the 1980s. Yet, somehow their tag team showdown grabbed precisely that nostalgia and wedded it seamlessly with 2016 sensibilities and technology. While my choice may irk each and every one of these fine specimens (it is hard to imagine Ty Alexander “sharing” anything at all, isn’t it?), I honestly couldn’t isolate any one performance in TTT19 as the pivotal, standout contribution to this pivotal, standout ensemble. Only twicebefore have I named more than one hunk as HWOTM, and never have I named as many as 4 co-title winners. But I’m feeling really, really good about this decision. So if you’re tired of me getting off on adorable, lean, lithe, lickably sweet twinks, pucker up and kiss my ass, because I’m lauding 4 of them.
Charlie suffers like a champ
One of the two newbies in the quartet of HWOTM winners, ginger house-on-fire Charlie Evans earned his spot on the dais based on several factors. First, his opening handstand headscissors snap mare is a work of art. It’s acrobatic and extravagant and incredibly confident. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before in a homoerotic wrestling match, and I’m crazy hot for a newbie who pulls off high quality, high impact innovation right out of the gate. And then when Charlie weathers a boatload of double-team brutality from Team Vanity, my admiration and crush on crushable Charlie steadily grows.
Twinktastic!
Frankly, I don’t really think of any of the other 3 winners this month as twinks, but Charlie? Of fuck, yes, I’d consider him an incredibly tasty twink morsel, and, clearly, I’m an unapologetic fan of Charlie’s smooth, lean body. Charlie embodies something delicately vulnerable, so lightweight that his opponents repeatedly manhandle him like a sack of potatoes. At 130 pounds, he simply doesn’t have the mass and thickness that most wrestlers use for leverage in the ring. But then again, Charlie appears made out of kevlar. Blow after blow, potentially crippling hold after hold, body slam after body slam, the ginger twink takes the hits and just keeps clawing his way back up for more. I expect big, big things out of lovely, little Charlie Evans, and I’ve got no qualms at all about him sitting his fine, fine ass on the throne as HWOTM.
Christian Taylor owns the ring like he owns the HWOTM title
Christian Taylor is no stranger to the HWOTM winner’s sash. In the current quartet of HWOTM winners, Christian represents the most BG East experience, though most of that has been on the mats rather than in the ring. He’s also a standout in the crowd, standing a full half a foot taller than Charlie and taller than both members of Team Vanity. Christian grabbed the reins in the HWOTM race right around the moment when he and Charlie have cleaned house in the opening minutes of the match, full of contempt for their selfie-obsessed opponents. They each grab one of their opponents’ mobile phones and populate the photo libraries of Ty and Chase with the All-Americans’ own handsome mugs. But then Christian takes it one step further, instructing Charlie to follow his lead in taking photos down the front of their own trunks to give the narcissists some humiliation to suck on later. Babyface dicks? Fuck yes, this is homoerotic wrestling done right!
Devastated and devastatingly handsome
Christian’s ripped torso takes my breath away. If pressed to apply a label, I’d put him securely in the “jock” category. He sexes up everything he touches, and if there’s one misstep in TTT19, it’s the absence of Christian’s signature move, a long, wet, soul sucking lip lock (like seriously, show Charlie some lovin’ for taking that beating solo!). But what Christian does bring is a body to die for, a face to launch a thousand ships, and sensationally sexy focus both dishing out and soaking up pro punishment. He deserved it the first time Christian earned the HWOTM title, and he abundantly earns it again.
Chase works that appendage protruding from between his legs like a pro!
Chase Addams is the other rookie debut in TTT19, and like I said to Chase, he looks damned seasoned in his first BG East match. It would be easy to get overshadowed being the tag team partner of Ty Alexander (I think we can all agree on that, can’t we?). However, Chase carves out plenty of ring space all his own, both working independently and working off of the Trophy Boy. Chase’s full-throated commitment to his half of Team Vanity’s narcissist-off-the-rails narrative is outstanding. In the opening moments of this match, I was worried that the sexy newbie would be all flash and no go. Then he gets his turn sinking his claws deep into his babyface opponents, and… oh, fuck, no, he’s got plenty of go.
Call it what you will, this is sensational pro wrestling punishment!
But it’s Chase’s chickenwing suspended backbreaker (or, what? fuck I haven’t seen anything quite like this before) on Christian that finally convinces me that Chase is the real deal. The precision and execution of this hold is incredible. Is Chase a twink, however? I’m not really sure what silo to throw him into. He’s got a little too much muscle, and he’s way too much of a badass for me to think of him as a twink. He’s not hard enough, probably not yet toned enough to fit neatly in the jock category. He is pretty, though, and effortlessly sexy. I’d do body shots off his salted nipples in a heartbeat. So I’m fine with Chase without, as yet, possessing a label, but if you need something to call him, just call him homoerotic wrestler of the month.
All about Ty(‘s ass)
Finally, there’s Trohpy Boy Ty Alexander rounding out this foursome. This is Ty’s second drink at the HWOTM watering hole. And in TTT19, he is the “Ty-est” he’s ever been. There’s always been at least a glimpse of a narcissist in Ty’s wrestling resume, but he showed up for TTT19 in full bloom. He’s self-obsessed, raunchy, rowdy, and vicious as hell. There’s something quintessentially “Ty” about leaving your trunks pulled down your thonged asscheeks for nearly the entire match, for the sole reason that you possess Ty’s bronzed bubble butt. The Team Vanity versus the All-Americans stage dressing on TTT19 would have fundamentally fallen short if Ty had been any less extreme, any less over the top. And this is not a failure, by any means.
Christian rips Ty apart
And let’s be clear, I think Ty’s got a hot body (if you aren’t convinced, just ask him). Just like the evolution of his dangerously skilled narcissist character, Ty’s been beefing up and presenting a fitter physique in each and every match. The unapologetic narcissist in pro wrestling is pretty much guaranteed, almost by definition, to generate its own contrapuntal. Ty titillates and provokes in ways that are deceptively and carefully calculated. If you already think Ty is a hot piece of ass, then I need not argue the point further. However, if Ty irritates you, if he sort of pisses you off, if you find yourself filled with contempt for him, thinking out loud that he’s just not as hot as he thinks he is, and if, in response, you find yourself wanting to see his Trophy Boy ass beaten and humiliated because he’s just too self-obsessed, too confident, too convinced of his devastating good looks, then, again I say, Ty has done his job. That’s what pro wrestling narcissists do, they provoke you into crushing on them or aching to see them get their asses beat, which Ty does better than almost anyone. So, yeah, love him or hate him, Ty’s a chart topper and provides absolutely essential ingredients to TTT19 that earn him his full share of the HWOTM title.
So it’s an unconventional choice, but as I’ve explained often, it’s my choice. I know what I like, and that’s all this blog has been about for over seven years. You may have made a different choice, and you’re welcome to start your own blog and do just that, but here, and now, I’m more than satisfied with selecting 4 lovely, lithe, lean, handsome, delicious young studs as co-winners of the title of HWOTM for June 2016.
June 2016 Homoerotic Wrestlers of the Month: Christian Taylor, Charlie Evans, Ty Alexander, and Chase Addams
I amuse myself. I also offend, bore, irritate, and disgust others at times. I know this because I get comments to that effect on a regular basis. The liberating part of blogging about my erotic tastes and opinions, however, is that whether or not any particular reader likes what I write about, it’s really all about me (sorry Ty). So you can disagree with me, complain even, and I’m still good. As long as you don’t make racist, agist, anti-Semitic, body shaming or otherwise personal attacks. I shut down that shit on the pages of my own blog in a heartbeat.
NJustice’s bubble butt packed into the same trunks.
The flip side of that tension is that occasional experience when a reader tells me that something I’ve written turned them on, titillated, or tickled them. Like I said, it’s still all about me, but I’m happy when it turns out to be about you, as well. So it’s a nice surprise when a long-time friend of this blog reached out with a specific suggestion for resurrecting one of my favorite games here at neverland. I always suspect my polls and quizzes entertain me more than anyone else, so of course I’m thrilled to pull out a new installment of Friday Fashion, aka, Who Wore It Best.
Brute’s glutes work the full range of motion in these square cuts.
Specifically, we’ve been asked to weigh in on a particular pair of lime green and pink square cut trunks. Thunder’s Arena fans recognize this gear in a heartbeat. I believe that it’s likely that Big Sexy wore them first. Considering they keep popping up cradling the bulges and baubles of new TA competitors, I’m guessing they’re a permanent part of the TA gear closet. If those trunks could talk, I’d buy them a cup of coffee to hear what they have to say about the sensational glutes that have stretched their seams over the years.
Vinny’s muscled ass makes a big for fitting these trunks best.
While we can’t ask the trunks which body they enjoyed lifting, separating, and supporting most, I can ask neverland readers who you think wore it best. The contenders are all big bruisers. Big Sexy slid his big sexy body into these storied pink and lime trunks in at least 5 matches (currently embargoed on TA’s public store, reportedly at Big Sexy’s request). NJustice dabbled in TA competition just a couple times, but it was his Brutal mauling at the hands of Brute in Mat Wars 69 that gave us a chance to see how the pink and lime square cuts perform on the receiving end of an indy pro grudge beat down. Then again, perhaps Brute just had his eyes on those trunks, because he subsequently packed his massively muscled ass into them in Custom 28, Ring Wars 17, Mat Wars 59, Custom 31, Rough & Ready 79, and Labor Day Special. And finally big, big muscleman Vinny bulged in the pink and lime in Custom 37. They all wore them. Who wore them best? Vote below.
Big Sexy certainly wore it first, and though we haven’t heard from him in a while, we know who he would think wore it best.NJustice wore it just once, but it was certainly memorable. Memorable enough to say he wore it best?Brute has worn it most often, clearly liking how these trunks look on him. In this case, do quantity and quality amount to the same conclusion? Did he wear it best?Vinny left nothing to the imagination in the one, stunning match he wore these trunks. Did he wear it best?
I’m doing a little backfill in order to catch up with the homoerotic wrestler of the month appointments. I was out of pocket much of May with the move, but I’ve tried to go back and survey the new releases that came out that month. I’m sure I haven’t sampled all of the contenders, but I’m more than satisfied with one particular wrestler who caught my eye earlier this year, and in the month of May showed up with a set of assets seemingly custom ordered to my kinks and tastes. The belatedly lauded winner of my personal choice for homoerotic wrestler of the month for May 2016 is…
Talon sinks in deep against the smart-assed rookie Jet
I haven’t had my eye on Thunders in a while, but several recent additions to their roster have been calling me back like the Sirens’ song. Siren-in-Chief for me has been the still frame bodybuilder Talon. Standing 5’11” and a reported 209 lbs of lush, ripped muscles, he’s a beautiful babyface beefcake with curly auburn hair and, in this match, a full beard. I’m infatuated with his aesthetics. His superhero proportions, the tats, his vascularity. If this dreamboat has any muscle worship products anywhere on the net, I’m hoping fans will point me in the right direction. In his “Special Edition” match against meatscicle Jet, both musclemen start out in street clothes, which, as I’ve mentioned before, holds some inexplicable erotic value added for me. In particular, Talon’s plaid dress shorts make my heart skip a beat in anticipation of the bright yellow underwear peaking out the top. The promise of rip ‘n’ strip wrestling will always force a double-take from me, but particularly when the boys are as beefy and pretty as Talon and Jet, the promise of forced disrobing instantly turns the burner up to high for me.
You know those baggies won’t last long
“Who do we got here? Hey, Bud,” Talon acknowledges his opponent stretching out across the room from him. “Going to pump up over there? You’d better pump up an extra 20 pounds, maybe.” The locker room smirks and trash talk zings fly back and forth as the shirtless studs check each other out. There’s a simple who’s is bigger, who is badder pretense to the pre-match pre-heat. I typically like a little more context, but with two boys so closely matched in beauty and size, a straight up “let’s see who’s better” will work in a pinch. When they lock up, collar and elbow, there’s a lot of sweet, powerful muscle pushing and pulling, balance tested, tolerances pressed, until abruptly Talon yanks down the rookie’s baggy trunks, scoring points (with the fans, at least) first.
“So that’s what you’re into, huh?”
“So that’s what you’re into, huh?” Jet asks, looking over his shoulder and letting his opponent get a long, hard look at his sensational ass suction packed into his electric blue trunks. “Yeah,” Talon answers, signaling a second time that he very well may know his audience. When Jet turns around and steps out of his baggies, his seriously ample package suddenly takes center stage. As they lock up again, the new kid’s hammer swings and shimmies excitedly. Abruptly he snags his bodybuilder opponent in a grunting reverse bearhug, pulling Talon up high off his feet and shoving his hips forward, resting Talon’s muscled ass cheeks across his hips just right.
“So you like bearhugs, huh?”
As far as I’m counting, Talon gets credit for both of them getting stripped, pausing the action to squeeze his massive thighs out of his dress shorts. Without breaking character, it’s as if the bearded beefcake acknowledges what I’m here for, and that is to see two magnificent bodies locked in wrestling combat in as little clothing as possible. “So you like bearhugs, huh?” Talon asks a half a second before shooting low and driving up hard to capture the stud puppy in a tit-for-tat reverse bearhug. He holds it twice as long, parading the kid around, his granite glutes flexing hypnotically.
Talon enjoys trying to rip this prettyboy’s face off.
The shit turns sexy has hell when Talon throws the boy down, then drags him back up by his hair. “Get up! Since you like to talk so much, let’s talk!” He sticks his fingers in the side of Jet’s mouth and yanks, looking for sure like he’s about to rip the handsome rookie’s face right off. He flexes his mammoth bicep in the kid’s grimacing face, before throwing him face first to the mat and laughing at the feel of humiliating this slice of beefsteak.
Talon’s cum face, for sure.
Talon goes for Jet’s lower body next, pounding the stud’s knees into the mat, “Yeah, I like it a lot better when you’re not talking,” Talon taunts, grabbing hold of the trash talk reins with both hands while his opponent chokes on the pain. He offers to help work out the kinks in Jet’s bad knee, helpfully locking in a Boston crab and positively basking in the glow of dominating the gasping muscle stud beneath him. Everything is working just right. Jet’s quivering package hangs low between his capture legs. Talon’s flexed pecs and gargantuan shoulders flush red, while Jet’s ankles, locked up tight beneath Talon’s underarms, make the veteran’s already huge biceps flex still bigger. But it’s that look on Talon’s face that makes me hit rewind and watch this moment a few more times. I don’t know it from first hand experience, mind you, but I’d bet money that look of ecstasy and exertion washing across Talon’s face is exactly what he looks like when he’s shooting his load (all over my chest).
Speaking of shooting a load…
Talon’s ankle lock is next up in his tour of corporal punishment, twisting like a screw top and making the rookie writhe. The hold is excruciating and we can savor it long and slow as he milks it with the fortitude of a much more mature man. Every twist and turn, every shift to apply more torque, shows off Talon’s fantastic muscles glistening with sweat. When he lets up, climbs to his feet and surveys the damage, the battered rookie starts to smart off. But that’s cut short as Talon drags him by a fistful of hair into what I think of as the first of two premiere money shots in this match, this one being standing headscissors. Everything about this hold is perfection. The way Jet’s back arches and bends in pain, the decadent deliberateness of Talon’s beautiful, slow application of pressure crushing the kid’s skull, and, yet again, the incredibly patient, generous pace by which Talon milks this magnificent muscle feast moment so long, so beautifully. Fuck, it’s worth me breaking down and trying my hand at giving you the first ever animated gif on this blog.
“I hope you have a nice view of my ass up there, pretty boy!” Jet chokes out a pitiful attempt at saving face, considering his face is at that very moment squashed like a bug between Talon’s mammoth quads. Talon doesn’t confirm or deny it, though frankly the real benefactors of those wanting a view of Jet’s stuck, squirming ass are the fans (again, thanks, Talon!). The veteran just bears down that much harder until the bitter, nearly broken young stallion trapped between his thighs can’t talk any longer.
Jet’s rocket gets launched.
A lovely conventional bearhug sucks the fight right out of Jet, setting him up to be served up like Thanksgiving turkey in a breathtaking over the shoulder backbreaker. That pendulous package suddenly starts to steal the scene again, jumping and quivering at the apex of Jet’s tortured arch. Finally, Talon slams the whimpering meatscicle to the mat again and starts flexing in victory, because that beefstake is officially done medium rare.
Talon’s looking right at you, gay wrestling fan!
Then there’s the second money shot of the match for me. The newbie doesn’t know when to quit. Interrupting Talon’s expertly earned victory poses, the kid climbs weakly back to his feet once again. The camera zooms in on Talon’s face as the veteran looks right into my eyes, gives me an acknowledging nod and a knowing smirk, and abruptly turns around and nearly decapitates Jet with a fantastic blindside clothesline.
So, yeah, in Special Edition, Talon manhandles me every bit as completely as he does that flat-footed lucky bastard Jet. Accompanying Talon’s fantasyman physique is what seems like an innate respect for those of us on this side of the camera, quickly stripping them both down to skivvies, delivering long, lustful, ecstasy-milking holds that show off his and his opponent’s gorgeous assets to perfection. Jet tries to taunt the veteran into what could easily have turned into a no-homo game of chicken, which would have turned me off instantly. Instead, Talon smirks, gives us a wink, and crushes the smart-mouthed kid into a silent stupor so that we can watch a few final moments of Talon showing off his gorgeous, sweaty muscles in victory for just you and me to enjoy. At nearly $26 for less than 12 1/2 minutes of action, this is pricey fare. But for pulling me right onto the mats with him, for delivering muscle dominating punishment like a champ, long, slow, and unflinchingly thoughtful for the admiring eyes on this side of the screen, Talon is May 2016’s homoerotic wrestler of the month.
Talon – Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month for May 2016
Often it’s hard to notice the absence of a thing. For example, out of over 7 years of blogging, feeling like I’ve said it all, knowing full well I’ve repeated myself often, I often don’t catch what I’ve neglected to mention. For example, it appears I’ve almost never mentioned how soon after discovering the liberating world of companies specializing in wrestling for gay eyes, combing through the catalogs of Can-Am, BG, and BG East, wanting to watch and own everything but having the resources for ordering up just a couple at a time, I purchased Can-Am’s Young Musclestud Wrestling 3 out of my instant infatuation with dazzling pretty boy Maverick.
Maverick: 5’11”, 180 lbs, green eyes, 25 y/o
Sometime between Top Gun and the underground alter ego of Tony Nese, there was this ridiculously delicious All-American hunk of man meat and Hollywood prettiness wrestling under the call sign Maverick. There were actually several wrestlers on Young Musclestuds 3 that turned me on from the catalog photos and descriptions, but my heart’s desire in ponying up the cash for this collection was crazy-beautiful Maverick.
Chris Duran: 5’9″, 185 lbs, green eyes, 24 y/o.
Speaking of crazy, Maverick’s singles opponent in YMW3 was what Can-Am described as “quirky” Chris Duran. Built like Conan the Barbarian’s little brother, as dazzlingly pretty as Chris is, he makes a good call in ceding the pretty boy role over to his opponent and throwing himself full throated into his “mentally unstable” gimmick. Before the action starts, he’s singing to himself, lounging in the corner, picking out ear wax and eating it. When the bell rings, he dances and twists aimlessly in and out of his opponent’s reach, and when he secures an immobilizing armbar on his confused opponent right out of the gate, Chris’ face twists into a Joker grin as he leans forward and threatens to kiss the pretty boy’s coverboy mug (fuck, yes). A sensationally toned muscle body like Chris’ belies a methodical commitment to the long game that’s surely completely incompatible with the unhinged, impulsive, fly by the seat of his pants character in the ring. Nevertheless, paired with Maverick’s heroic uprightness and show-stopping beauty, Chris’ irrational antics and maniacal offense come across as dangerously dastardly.
Maverick’s quads rock!
But like I said, it’s Maverick’s babyface beauty that reached right through my computer screen and grabbed hold of my wallet with one hand and my cock with the other. He wrestles in tangerine trunks and black boots. He possesses sensationally ripped, smooth legs and a dancer’s ass that will not be contained. Maverick has that thick, dark brown hair cut in the early-90’s anti-mullet, trimmed super tight across the sides and back and shaggy on top. Happily for everyone (but Maverick), the glam rock mental patient drags him by his perfectly useful shock of hair early and often.
“Come and take a walk with Daddy!”
Maverick suffers like the bitterly frustrated muscleboy he is, his beautiful muscles taut with resisting the madman’s offense. Early on, Chris has the babyface on his stomach, straddling Maverick’s small waist, holding on to a hammerlock and waving his free hand overhead like a rodeo bronco rider. “How’s it feel to be rode, boy!?” Chris shouts with glee. “Here, come and take a walk with Daddy,” Chris demands, dragging Maverick to his feet by the armbar and using and Irish whip to send the battered babyface sprinting into and then bouncing off of the ropes at serious speed.
Maverick shows off his glam rock opponent’s ripped bod.
Off the ropes, Maverick executes a pro level clothesline that slams the villain to his rock hard glutes. “What about that, hippie mother-fucker!? Huh!?” the gorgeous hero snarls with righteous indignation. He’s got a lazy Texas drawl that cups my balls just right (think Matthew McConaughey monologuing in Magic Mike). Although he has that heroic square jaw and dimpled cheeks, Maverick isn’t above retaliating with hair pulling and taunting trash talk of his own. But he never initiates that underhandedness. Like the magnificent babyface hero he is, he steps into the muck only far enough to keep up with his amoral tormentor.
Maverick roped and tied up like a calf back on farm
The story hinges on the judicious application of athleticism and technical wrestling by the gorgeous babyface farm boy counterbalanced by the unpredictable absence of concern for life or limb (of either of them) by the almost as lovely glam rock villain. Maverick is choked across the rope, with Chris’ fantastic muscled ass bearing down across his back. The babyface is stretched out and displayed to perfection in a crucifix pin, while his dangerously disturbed opponent does leg raises and narrates the exercise in a Richard Simmons’ imitation. The villain kicks him when he’s down, taunts and torments body and soul, and our smooth, charming knight dances on the edge of despair.
Maverick twists Chris’ neck like he does when he wrestles the steer back home
The first fall belongs to the villain. Maverick is absolutely outmuscled and outwrestled to the point that I’m almost feeling embarrassed for him, with all that dazzling beauty and gorgeous physique tied up and tenderized like raw meat. The hero comes out guns blazing for the second fall, manhandling the maniacal muscleman with a graceful hip toss and a thunderstorm of leg drops and knees raining down on Chris’ bulging right bicep. He isolates the arm with studied expertise, employing hammerlocks and armbars to apply steady pressure to the wounded appendage.
Maverick is used to being in total control
Maverick’s handsome face gets pounded into the turnbuckles so often, you just know that Chris is fully committed to beating the pretty right out of him. And that is, of course, the only true and right narrative that can make sense of all of that leading man beauty and classic fitness mag magnificence on Mav climbing into a pro wrestling ring. Can one man have it all, beauty, brawn, and confident athletic prowess that propels him to own the ring like he owns every room he walks into and every heart he instantly woos into total submission with his dimpled cheeks and built-for-erotic-worship physique? It’s hard not to root against the darling cowboy who has never, in his life, heard the word “no” before.
Maverick cops of feel of that muscled ass, like you get to do when you’re in charge
Like a lot of homoerotic wrestling from the early days (and not so uncommon still today), fortunes turn on a dime. Wasted warriors who one second struggle to pry their sweat soaked bodies off the mat, the next second are executing gravity defying flying drop kicks. Maverick takes the second fall with a fuck-I’m-no-rookie ceiling hold, not just executed to perfection but ante-upped by yanking on the glam rock madman’s out of control hair. Chris takes command to start the 3rd fall, but both ripped boys turn the heat way, way up as the momentum teeters back and forth. Maverick’s intensity triples, and I love the display of dominating control as he scoops his opponent up and holds him in mid-air, high and helpless, letting the blood rush to Chris’ head a few seconds before slamming him down to his muscled back with authority. Chris seems to be taking it personally, his shenanigans seeming much less arbitrary and much more competitive. A shocking snap mare reversal sends the babyface hero slamming to the mat, and Chris takes a lap to catch his breath and taunt. “I guess this long-haired hippie just kicked you in your redneck ass, huh?!”
Musclestuds careening to a climax
As beautifully fit as they are, both muscle studs are coated in sweat and sucking down air as the 3rd fall careens out of control. But impressively, if anything the pace speeds up. The holds and escapes, moves and reversals strike like lightning, over and over. There’s a little less taunting because they’re out of breath and suddenly seem more intent on claiming the decisive third fall victory. In the rough and raw battle between a righteous, achingly pretty Texas farmboy and his magnificently ripped, mentally unhinged glam rock opponent, there are no draws. There’s no sportsmanship or hard won respect. Just one infinitely fuckable hot body twisted and tortured with nothing left in the gas tank to prevent him from screaming his completely humiliated final submission.
Classically stunning from every angle
Against 99.9% of the pro wrestlers I’ve ever seen, I’d have spent this entire post swooning over the physical perfection and unselfconsciously enthusiastic, over the top sell of Chris Duran. But even now as I return to this sentimental favorite from so many years ago, it’s the babyface hero Maverick who holds my attention and demands my erotic fascination most. It’s quite a trip, re-watching this match so many years later. The homoerotic wrestling industry has come a long way, and the diversity of bodies and talents and characters has happily expanded greatly since the early 90s. These days I like a little more context and story behind a match than this one offers. I enjoy more slow boil and teetering, nuanced momentum. But even now, I look at both Maverick and Chris Duran and I think they have stunningly high quality physiques and gorgeous good looks. They’re unselfconscious about the ring, the cameras, or the pretense. They strut and suffer like champs, and they hold the suspense of a classic pro wrestling match with lush sell and endearing commitment. And though there’s no explicit erotic content, the trunks wedged high up both top notch asses and the intense focus on both physical and psychological domination leave me persistently crushing on the viewer-supplied fantasies of where all this near naked, intimate musclestud combat might go when the cameras are off and the victor takes full possession of the hunk he’s bested.
Someone with impeccable taste (he reads neverland) put me on to fresh meat at UCW. Kevin Lin is sensational to look at, and, I’m happy to report, he’s damned exciting to watch wrestle. This spring, Joe posted a review of one of Kevin’s earlier matches, in which Derrick Cole apparently steamrolled right over him. As the camera comes up on UCW #471, Kevin is visibly battered, rubbing his sore muscles and licking his wounds (metaphorically) from Derrick’s beating.
Like me, Axel likes what he sees
Puppetmaster at UCW, Axel (aka Ethan) shows up with some sympathy and understanding. “Trust me, I’ve been on the receiving end of Derrick’s punches and all his shenanigans,” Axel pats Kevin on the back affectionately, “and, yeah, it’s rough.” I’m much more accustomed to seeing Axel as a vicious heel from BG East and Rock Hard Wrestling, so I’m instantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. Both boys are geared up, Axel in nondescript kelly green trunks and Kevin in what very well may be the best fitting gear of the year, sensationally tight red trunks that can’t quite cover the rookie’s ass cheeks bulging out the top. There’s a number 15 screen printed across his glorious ass, which coincidentally is the score I’d give Kevin’s fucking hot bod (on a scale from 1 to 10).
Lesson #1: the OTK backbreaker
“I’m here now,” Axel consoles the new kid, “so I’m going to help you become a better wrestler, all right?” Again, knowing what a vile, sadistic prick he is in other shops, I keep screaming at the screen, Don’t trust him, Kevin!!! But as the coaching session unfolds, Axel is a self-restrained, if harsh, taskmaster. The nasty first lesson is an introduction to an OTK backbreaker. Regular readers know that and OTK is probably my very favorite pro wrestling hold, and sweet Jeebus, luscious Kevin looks delicious arched high and bulging significantly higher. Honestly, I’m just sure that Axel is going to punch him in the balls and proceed to maul the kid mercilessly, but no. He shows him how headbutts to the gut and a deep pec claw can double down the effectiveness of the hold, but then drops him cold and instructs the rookie to give the hold a try on him.
Yeah, Kevin can do that just fine!
I’m still screaming, Don’t trust him, don’t trust him Kevin!!!, but then Axel permits himself to be hoisted up in a cradle and pounded down across the newbie’s knee. But here’s where things get really interesting for me. Kevin fucking beats on Axel’s exposed gut like he’s pounding in a nail. What’s more, he fucking loves this! I mean, the shining smile stretched across the newbie’s handsome face harkens to some kid opening a Christmas present that he wanted so bad he’d been too afraid to ask for it for fear of the devastation of potential disappointment. He likes the feel of another man wriggling on his line, groaning and grunting in response to the new kid’s ministrations.
Kevin on magnificent display
I don’t know what Kevin Lin’s backstory is, but he was born for homoerotic wrestling! Axel seems to sense how quickly the hot kid is soaking up his lessons, because after just a couple more controlled experiments of tit for tat, coach says it’s time to just see where this whole thing goes unscripted. All told, this is definitely a narrative built around the contrast between one of the most experienced underground wrestlers in the business facing one of the least experienced. Axel owns him hard, testing the muscle stud’s tolerances, daring him to submit, while quietly urging him never, ever to give up. Kevin soaks it up a like a punishment sponge, breaking out into sweat and screwing up his gorgeous face in agony, but refusing to give to punishing hold after punishing hold.
Just like this, right coach?
While Kevin is clearly a rookie, this is also, obviously, not his first rodeo. Axel didn’t teach him that neck wrenching standing full nelson, nor the silky smooth transition to the mat for a full nelson/scissors combination. And even more impressive, that glaring, gloating, crotch-ripping spladle he applies wasn’t on Axel’s menu either. He demonstrates his quick mastery of each of Axel’s demonstrations, as well. He locks down that elbow snapping armbar like he’s been doing for it for years. And that single leg crab with a twisting ball claw chaser? Yeah, Axel’s inner heel shows through, monologuing how he hates to play it dirty, but feels “compelled” to introduce the newbie to the darker side of what he may face in underground matches. But even that, quick-study-Kev eventually circles back around and shows coach he was taking notes, grinding the fuck out of Axel’s testicles and making him scream.
That wink at the camera owns my soul!
The star of the show for me, however, isn’t Axel, and it isn’t Kevin’s gorgeous face or surprising flair for cranking on the punishment. It’s that magnificent ass escaping the confines of his suction packed trunks over and over again.
That. Ass!
Holy fuck, I had to text my buddy who recommended that I check Kevin out and lament that this review was taking me forever to write because Kevin’s ass keeps distracting me. Don’t get me wrong, he’s gorgeous from head to toe. The world has been sorely lacking in seriously competitive, incredibly handsome, Asian muscleboy homoerotic wrestlers, and Kevin is every one of those descriptors. His quads are monsters, and the heft and jiggle of his relaxed pecs make me drool. And that bulge! Fuck, it’s no wonder Axel gets his hands on that prominent package so early in the game. But the showstopper here is that magnificent, muscled, round ass.
Newbie probably didn’t need a torture rack, but he got one.
Coach is harder on the new kid than he probably needs to be, strictly speaking, but adorably eager Kevin leaves on very good terms with Axel. My perpetual suspicion that Axel is going to bully his way into another lopsided squash over someone completely outmatched is unwarranted. Like me, the face of UCW appears to see a whole lot of promise in young Kevin Lin, and just like I’d like to do, he offers the kid a shoulder to lean on as they make their way to the locker room post-match (I’d have also pulled out the baby oil to massage out those kinks and tight muscles). There’s a raw edge to this hazing that keeps the heat at a sizzling simmer, but it stays true to the genre of an enthusiastic breaking in of a dazzlingly beautiful, fantastically fit muscleboy with more enthusiasm than know-how.
Hard lessons learned up close
But sure as kids’ gotta learn, there will be coaches with just a leading edge of sadistic joy in teaching them. I’m instantly a Kevin Lin fan, and I’m praying to the homoerotic wrestling gods that we get to see all of that beauty and wrestling potential unleashed in a wrestling ring sometime soon, and not as some wilting lotus flower of a stereotype, but as an honest to the homoerotic wrestling gods bulging beefcake with a taste for putting on the hurt. If Axel honestly takes him under his wing and shows him the ropes, holy fuck, watch out boys. There are a couple of monster quads on their way that will seriously fuck you up. In the meantime, my gratitude to Axel (and my apologies for continuing to doubt his sincerity) for repeatedly and persistently showing off the very, very, very best sides of muscleboy rookie Kevin Lin!
Kevin’s ass spills out again.Axel spanks the moneymakerJust ‘cuz.Magnificent.
So much virtual ink has been spilled over the opening match in Tag Team Torture 19, I figured everything that could be said has been said by now. You’ve heard my opinions, Alex’s opinions, Joe’s opinions, and most recently, Wrestling Arsenal’s opinions on the classic confrontation between star spangled All-Americans Christian Taylor and Charlie Evans facing off agains Team Vanity, Ty Alexander and Chase Addams. But of everything that’s been said about this match, one thing we haven’t heard is what the wrestlers themselves might have to say about this much lauded new release. I’m tickled pink camo to report that both members of Team Vanity agreed to sit down with me and reflect on what went right and what went wrong for them in Tag Team Torture 19. I was so pleased that Ty and Chase were willing to set aside the bad blood that boiled over between them on camera to team up again for this interview. But not everything that tore them apart in TTT19 is exactly put back together again, and things go off the rails before the interview has even started, as you’ll see. There were hard words, hard feelings, and hard cocks (well, at least mine) by the time this chaotic twofer interview concluded, so buckle up, whip out your “selfie stick,” and enjoy the hard sell charm offense of 2015 Jobber of the Year Ty Alexander and dangerously charming newbie Charming Chase Addams.
Team Vanity: Ty Alexander and Chase Addams
Bard: I haven’t seen any sign of Ty yet.
Chase: Late as usual.
Bard: Well, let’s get this started, and hope that Ty shows up sooner rather than later. It is a great pleasure to get to talk with you, Chase!
Chase: Pleasure is mine.
Bard: You made quite an impression on BG East fans with your stunning debut on Tag Team Torture 19. I don’t know that I’ve ever heard of a rookie debuting with two matches on one DVD before. How was it for you to get introduced to the meat grinder that is BG East competition?
Chase shows off his “different set of skills” all over Christian.
Chase: Not going to lie, it was a bit nerve racking. I’m not exactly your cookie cutter BG performer. I definitely brought a different build and different set of skills to the ring, and I wasn’t for sure how well received it would be. But so far everyone seems to be responding pretty positively to me.
Bard: Uh, hell yes! All the buzz that I’ve seen and heard has been very positive. So what are some of those different skills that you’ve brought with you to BG East, and where did you learn them?
Chase: I’m definitely very pro orientated, without having been a pro on the indy circuit, like BG normally brings in. I haven’t had the time traveling around and performing, so I had to practice over and over again in the ring in St. Louis until everything got perfect
Bard: You’re a mid-West boy?
Chase: Heartland born and raised. I’ve only lived near St. Louis for about two and a half years now.
Bard: Have you always been into wrestling, or is this relatively new?
Chase: I’ve always been a wrestling fan. I grew up on guys like Bret Hart. I was too young, in my parents opinion, to watch the Attitude era, so I got to start watching it again in about 2002, I think. Randy Orton and Evolution were becoming a thing. So no, this isn’t new for me.
Bard: You look pretty damned seasoned in TTT19. That was some fine, technical wrestling. Who would you say your style is modeled after?
Chase is partial to a joint snapping armbar.
Chase: I think my style is a bit of a mix. I see something that someone does that impresses me and I add that to my list. Currently, I’ve been watching a lot of Zach Sabre Jr, and Becky Lynch lately. Something about armbars are so simple and so effective.
Bard: You nearly rip apart more than a couple of arms in TTT19 with those armbars and wristlocks. Was it all science and calculations for you, or did you enjoy putting a hurt on your opponents?
Chase: I go in with a game plan, but if something else seems to work better, I can be a little flexible. If there is blood in the water, I go right for it.
Bard: That definitely shows. The match description on the website suggests that Ty gets some credit for bringing you into BG East. How did your relationship with the Trophy Boy come about?
Things Fall Apart
Chase: I met Ty through a former BG wrestler, and he introduced us. Ty and I kept in touch, and he was a pretty strong advocate for bringing me into the company.
Bard: It should come as no surprise to fans for me to reveal that things go south for your tag team relationship. I mean, it turns really, really ugly there. I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised that Ty is, thus far, standing us up for what had been agreed to be a joint interview. Are things still icy between the two of you?
Chase: I’m fine with everything. His ego is probably still recovering from the two matches. It is unfortunate that he couldn’t bother to show up for this. It’s disrespectful to the both of us really.
Bard: I know well that Ty has a very sizable ego. In your working relationship with him, as brief as it was, how would you handicap the Trophy Boy? What would you say is his biggest asset in the ring, and, conversely, what would you say is Ty’s biggest weakness?
Chase: I’m sure in his opinion his biggest asset would be his ass. He seems to find a way to get it hanging out every match…the entire match. He gets so caught up in himself that it really hinders him.
Ty: [arriving and interrupting] I’m here now, so you can start the interview.
Chase: So glad you could be bothered to join us.
Bard: I’m glad you could make it after all, Ty!
It takes time to look this good.
Ty: Sorry, Bard. I spent all night picking out my week’s gear. Gotta look amazing in the ring. Takes a lot out of a guy. Had to get that beauty sleep in, and I mean, come on! It takes time to look this good. So you can understand, I’m sure. Also had to polish my multiple awards. Debut, wrestler of the year, and all that. You know how it is.
Chase: And, my point is proven.
Bard: [laughing] Interestingly, Chase was just sharing that he thinks your obsession with your ass may be your biggest weakness when you climb into the ring. How you feel about that?
Ty: How can an ass like this be a weakness!? Oh, Chase is here too, huh [just noticing]? Yeah, I totally forgot about that one. I mean he did get a close up look of it.
Ty’s assets
Bard: [laughing] Too true! Your tag team opponents shoved your face right between Ty’s bubble cheeks, Chase. Is Ty’s ass as phenomenal as it’s made out to be?
Ty: [interrupting as Chase starts to reply] I can answer that. Yes, yes it is. I mean look at this! It gave Kid Karisma competition finally for best ass. And sorry, Chase, when your photos have as many admirers as mine do you will understand being fashionably late.
Chase: When you’re a professional, you show up on time.
Bard: Okay, this is going to get out of hand, I can tell. So, Ty, since I gave Chase a chance to handicap you, what would you say are Chase’s biggest asset and weakness as a ring rookie?
Ty: Assets? Hmm. Have to think about that [tapping his chin, looking stumped].
Bard: Seriously, you have nothing complimentary to say about your tag team partner!?
Team Vanity doesn’t know what just hit them (each other).
Ty: I’d say Chase is an amazing wrestler. There is no doubt about that. But that’s just it: he’s a rookie. I mean so many rookie mistakes. I mean, who falls for the oldest trick in the book of tripping over a foot?! Seriously!? Also that ghostly lack of a tan. I’m sure Charlie can see him coming a mile away.
Bard: Well, I suppose that answers the assets and weaknesses question. What would each of you say are the ingredients of a successful tag team?
Ty: Matching outfits, of course! Gotta coordinate everything perfectly. The look. The attitude. That’s why I tried to groom Chase in the best way possible: in my image. I mean, come on, look at that look! We looked awesome!
Chase: Synergy is important. The two involved need to be on the same level. When one is dragging the other along by his overly tan hide, it gets a little strenuous on the other.
Ty: Yeah, you were a good bit under my level, thanks for admitting that.
Bard: Well, both of you have put your finger on my next question, which is where did Team Vanity go off the rails? So much promise. Fabulously matching gear. Serious ring skills. But those All-Americans seriously own you both at multiple points in your match. What went wrong?
Ty: Another thing a tag team needs is concern for their partner, which I had. Chase took a hit to the face, and who was there to look and make sure nothing happened? Me, that’s who. The poor guy would have been lost without me.
Chase: Such a caring partner. Especially with the elbow drop across my face
Ty: I only did it to reset you nose after the little ginger bitch hit you. I was helping! I’d say things fell apart with Chase being a klutz and ramming his face into my balls when he tripped over Christian’s foot. A concerned partner would have also tried to pull my trunks up, but I also understand how distracting it could be. It happens.
Bard: What do you think was the nail in the coffin of Team Vanity, Chase?
Ty: That nail of a nose in my perfect ass [cough, cough].
Chase: When he decided to attack me, aka, the elbow to my face.
Ty: I told you, I was trying to fix your nose!!! No appreciation from these rookies, I swear. Try to help them, and they think you attack them, ugh. No trust at all.
In the grudge match that follows their tag team debut, it’s not always clear who has whom!
Bard: [laughing] So, can we talk about your singles match, that followed that fateful tag team car crash with the All-Americans? You both look incredibly evenly matched for the first third of the match or so. Were you surprised by how close that match was?
Chase: I felt bad during the first part of the match. His bruised ego and all. I was holding back for his sake.
Chase leaves bruises.
Ty: Bruised ego, huh? Not at all. My ego is in tact. What wasn’t was my body after you caused more damage than our opponents during our tag team match. Busted lip, sore ass, welt on my head, sprained ankle. I couldn’t take pics all day, damn it! But to answer the actual question, Bard, I wasn’t so surprised. After all, he was emulating me.
Bard: Now that sounds serious, if Ty wasn’t physically able to take selfies.
Ty: I know! Don’t worry, though. I have made a full recovery
Chase: [rolling eyes] Joyous.
Ty: Shut up, Chase! I should have known you were up to no good. Wearing all that camo. Sneaky son of a bitch. See, Bard, gear obviously makes the match. He needed to cheat by wearing camo. It even helped hide that bleached body of his.
This grudge match is personal!
Bard: [laughing] Well, I think that answers my question about any ongoing bad blood between the two of you. I’m trying not to include too much of a spoiler here for fans who haven’t seen the matches, but it shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise that you both suffer hard at each other’s hands. They say no one can hurt you worse than a lover, and I’m wondering if something similar holds for pro wrestling. No one knows how to hurt you worse than a tag team partner. Do you think you two could ever patch things up and give the tag team circuit another try?
For the record: Chase will NOT worship the ground Ty walks on.
Chase: Ty seems to want to “mold me into his image.” I’m not down for that. I don’t plan on having my career being based off of being Ty’s tag team partner. I’m skillful enough to stand on my own. Ty likes to call me “this rookie.” I haven’t been doing this for a decade, but I have been doing this on my own for the past two and a half years. This isn’t my first rodeo, and it won’t be my last. So, in short, Ty can go find someone else to worship the ground he walks on.
Ty: You know what? Fine, you ungrateful ass. I will! There are tons of BG East prospects who would kill to tag with me. I was going to give you a second chance. Give you an opportunity to try your own thing, but please, by all means, see how far you go, little man. And two and a half years!? Ha! Please, I’ve been doing it way longer than you, buddy.
Bard: Now that’s a definitive “no!” Based on what I’ve seen, I’d say you definitely have everything you need to stand on your own, Chase. You mentioned early on, before Ty arrived, that you don’t have a typical physical build for BG East wrestlers. Can we talk about your body just a bit?
Chase: Sure thing, Bard.
Ty: His body!? Huh, please. You really think that can stand up to Kayden, Guido, Kid Karisma? Ha! They would snap him like a twig.
You aren’t looking at Chase’s shoulders, are you?
Bard: So, sure Ty, chime in here, but I want to talk about the fresh meat on the table, namely, Chase’s body. Personally, Chase, I think you’ve got a sensational body for pro wrestling. And you know what discerning eyes BG East fans have. I know what I like about your body, but what are you particularly proud of about your physique, Chase?
Ty: I’ll keep my comments to myself. No matter how much of a disappointment he is, I can’t deny Chase the compliment that he has a nice body. Trust me, he does work hard.
Chase: Well, I’m constantly striving to be better, but I’m told I have nice shoulders [laughing].
Bard: I could see that, Chase. Your shoulders are sexy. You also have unquestionably sexy nipples. I’m hoping that you and Mason Brooks square off at some point for a sexy nipple contest.
Mason and Chase need to settle this in the ring!
Chase: I would love to face Mason over who has better nipples! I’m sure that’d be fun!
Bard: Uh, fuck yes, that would be fun!!! Oh, you mean for you? Yes, I get the sense that wrestling Mason is intensely pleasant and painful all at the same time. Can you talk more about what you meant when you said you have a “different build” than most wrestlers at BG East?
Slender with a bit of mass.
Chase: I’m more slender, but I still have a bit of mass on me. It’s like I’m the best of both worlds combined.
Ty: [laughing] Best of both worlds? You’re in your own little world, that’s for sure.
Bard: Like I said, I think you’re mighty fine, Chase. I do think that some BG East fans key in on one particular body type. Some like the massive bodybuilders. Others get off on bear daddies. Some like the fashion models. As for me, I savor them all. And I think you bring a great look and a very sexy bod to contribute to the mix. Ty brought up the challenge that you face now that you’ve been introduced to the ranks of BG East, namely big, bruising heels with boatloads of wrestling experience and anywhere from 30 to 60 pounds of muscle mass advantage over you. Have you thought about how you’d handle the big, big bad boys at BG East?
Ty:I think a BG East veteran would be skeptical of his ability to handle the bigger guys, that’s for sure.
Chase: There is plenty more of me that the audience hasn’t seen of me yet.
Bard: Well, I for one am eager to sample more. I think you may want to watch your back, though. Ty seems to be nursing a grudge.
Ty: Not at all. A grudge? Never! Never that. [laughing evilly] I mean, why would I plot the downfall and pain of someone who I eagerly wait to see again soon?
Chase: He can be bitter and butt-hurt all he wants. I don’t mind.
Ty: Bitter and butt-hurt? [laughing] Please, just you wait, you little wannabe pretty boy. I have personal connections inside BG, and with the Boss. You think you can take on some of the bigger guys, be my guest. I can’t wait to see the result. I’m sure Boss Leopard will have a few things to say about your bitch attitude
“lift, crunch, press, fuck”
Bard: So, Ty, what about you? I recently described you as seeming to be in the process of becoming your truest self. Your wrestling skills, your body, your attitude… you’ve been on a steep climb in your career thus far, and you’ve been making huge advances. That said, your actual success in the ring has been limited. What’s in store for you?
Ty: For me? Oh, lots in store for me. I have been working hard with people from all over getting tips and training more with the Boss and Firestorm. Can I help it that people love me when I get my ass whopped? Not really, but those are what the Boss gives me for opponents. Bigger guys that some of the smaller ones are too afraid to face, because the Boss knows I can take it. That being said, you have seen two total pieces so far of my expansive Trophy Boy collection. There are many colors of the rainbow, and with my new attitude, outlook, and training, I’m gonna be way more aggressive and more cocky. I’m not afraid of anyone. And I know what “assets” I have to work to my advantage.
Ty’s not afraid of the big boys!
Chase: Everyone deserves to feel special, even Ty. I’m sure Ty is going to continue his transformation into becoming the Kathy Griffin of BGE. All talk, all annoyance, all day, everyday.
Ty: Ha! I’m not D-List, Chase, I’m all A-List! Buckle up, little man. And buckle up, fans. There is a new Ty in town, and he’s here to stay.
Bard: I think you both have very, very bright futures ahead of you. Ty, if you could give one piece of advice to Chase as he looks to take his next steps in his wrestling career, what would it be?
Chase: Oh, this ought to be good.
“This ought to be good.”
Ty: Watch your ba….. I mean, um, work hard keep training and get better.
Bard: [laughing] Sounds like good advice, Ty. Chase, as someone who has studied the sport extensively and worked closely with your former tag team partner here, what advice would you give to Ty at this point in his career?
Chase: Say your prayers, take your vitamins, stay in school, don’t do drugs. If he hasn’t learned anything by this point, he’s not going to. He’s been doing this for so much longer than I have, yet I’ve surpassed him in skill. Not much I can do for that.
Ty: Cocky little shit. I can’t wait to see you get your ass beaten. In fact I want a front row seat.
Chase: Only if we can find a muzzle for you.
Ty: Been there done that in a match.
Bard: Sage advice, all around. Well, I for one am truly sorry that Team Vanity seems to have run its course so soon. I loved your chemistry, and I’m sorry that more tag team opponents won’t get the opportunity to get ripped apart by the two of you in tandem. However, I am anxiously anticipating the next chapters in both of your wrestling careers. I hope you’ll both stay in touch with me and let neverland readers know how things are going for you on and off camera as things unfold for you.
Chase: Anything for you, Bard.
Bard: Hey, now. Keep talking like that, and I bet you’ll get very glowing reviews, Chase!
Ty: Always pleasure to interview for you, Bard. Even if the co-interviewee is Chase.
Bard: You’re a force of nature, Ty. I’m glad you were able to join us after all. This interview was a little like herding cats, but I was delighted to get to talk to you both. Thanks for letting fans in on a little more of what goes into the epic rise and fall of such a promising tag team!
Chase: Thanks again, Bard.
Ty: Later.
The future looks bright for Chase Addams and Ty Alexander.
Can terrifying be sexy? Uh, have you seen Christian Bale in American Psycho?! Ryan Reynolds in the Amityville Horror remake? Luke Evans in Dracula Untold? Clearly, gratuitous sexiness in horror entertainment is not just for adolescent straight boys.
The desperate edge of Ring Release 4
Which brings me to my next (largely rhetorical) question: is there a place for terror in homoerotic wrestling? As major fan of both genres, my knee jerk reaction is to say “of course.” But reflecting deeper on the question, I suspect that the issue may likely be yet another us/them divide in gay wrestling. Dabbling in the crossover, however, BG East’s Ring Release 4 tests precisely those waters.
Drake doesn’t know what’s about to hit him.
In the trope of a slasher flick, Drake “Don’t Call Me Jobber” Marcos is the virginal (uh, yeah) victim who doesn’t realize the terror he’s about to face. He’s irked in the ring, having been stood up for a match. Just when he decides to walk away and pound out a frustrated solo (okay, I added that last bit), the lights in the ring room go out. “What the fuck!?” the Cheshire Cat whines. “Are you kidding me with this shit?” There are ominous sounds of chains clinking, the squeak of the jostled ring ropes, the sudden, still silence of impending doom.
Kayden is prepared to get off on the terror.
When the lights come on, heel pup Kayden Keller is suddenly standing right next to him, wearing sensationally sexy, slick, black square cuts and a hungry grin. What follows is a barrage of rage, fueled by bitter rivalry and some private grudge. The virgin (uh-huh, sure) Drake is quickly suffering hard, caught off guard and at a distinct size disadvantage. There’s an atypical edge to the attack. Kayden’s big hands wrap around Drake’s throat early and often, throttling him, pinching off his carotid, severely restricting air to the lungs. “You’re starting to piss me off,” Drake croaks with false bravado. “You’d better shut your mouth,” Kayden advises with a chilly calm that signals his certainty that there’s just one outcome fated for this match, with the only question being the degree to which Drake will be tortured.
Stuck between a couple of rocks and a hard place.
The bitterness between them almost makes this feel like a tag team match. Just when you think there’s got to be an ebb to the intensity, a coming up for air, instead there’s a fresh boil of rage bubbling up. Kayden’s long, lovely, strong legs shackle his victim into helplessness. Putting on a brave face, Drake tries to punch free of bodyscissors. Suddenly, Kayden flexes his gorgeous quads, and his victim goes rigid with agony. Drake climbs to his knees, determined to pry his tormentor’s knees apart. Again, Kayden’s quads turn to granite, and Drake arches backward, screaming in a mixture of terror and disbelief of the debilitating power crushing him.
Not going down without a fight
If the comparison of Ring Release 4 to a horror movie holds, think in terms of Scream, where the serial killer takes a beating along the way. Drake uses his sultry, sexy legs to break another potentially crippling hold, and suddenly the Cheshire Cat is grinning on top of a schoolboy pin. “What is that Michael Myers shit, sneaking up like that?!” he shouts into the villain’s face with fury.
“Come on, bitch! All of that black gear, who do you think you’re fooling?”
I’m particularly a fan of Drake’s legwork, having felt the bruising power in his scissors myself. With Kayden’s right arm locked up high and tight between Drake’s lightly hairy thighs, the Cheshire Cat viciously hyperextend’s his attacker’s elbow. Momentarily, Kayden’s red-eyed rage disappears behind squinting agony of his own. “Come on, bitch!!!,” Drake roars with frustration, latched on tight to a thin hope of defying fate. “All that black gear, who do you think you’re fooling? Fucking give up, bitch! You’re mine!!!”
The waves of terror keep crashing into Drake’s naked body
I always love it when Drake crows and struts, riding a wave of offense, even though you and I know (and I think, deep down, so does he) that every effort he makes to grab for the ring, every taunt, every small act of mercilessness, is just digging his own grave deeper and deeper. Although Kayden may not be invulnerable, fuck me, he’s so damn long and strong! When he methodically works his way free from his victim’s clutches, the soul-grinding brutality is awesome. He rips his victim’s gear off (thank the homoerotic wrestling gods for that!). He plants Drake naked and dripping with sweat across the middle turnbuckle, prying the Cheshire Cat wide in a sweetly vulnerable spread eagle. The heel pup salaciously and sadistically tortures his victim with deep, digging claws and tormenting punches designed for the delivery of exquisite agony rather than strictly for submission. Only half conscious, Drake instinctively sucks at Kayden’s nipple shoved in his face.
“…with your teeth!”
Drake probably thinks that his total submission will earn him reprieve. He can be adorably naive like that. Kayden demands that his victim unzip his overpacked pouch with his teeth. On his knees, Drake obeys, gasping just a bit when Kayden’s big, fully erect cock comes bouncing out in his face. Savoring the moment free of corporal punishment, Drake sucks down a mouthful of meat, silently pleading, bargaining, promising that he can sate his tormentor’s hunger willingly.
Soul sucking torture
The explicitly erotic elements that unfold in Ring Release 4 are loveless and every bit as bitter as every act of open faced aggression in this match. I think the iconic moment in the whole scenario is when Kayden takes his prey to the mat with another lush, sweaty, naked bodyscissors. Drake writhes and screams on his back, signaling with crystal clarity the possibility that Kayden’s crushing quads might just inflict mortal damage on one or more internal organs, if not snap the Cheshire Cat cleanly in half. Drake’s mouth gapes open, focusing on nothing but surviving the agony. And then Kayden reaches down with his left hand and starts to pump on Drake’s fully erect cock. I love that look on Drake’s face, as his eyebrows screw upward, looking like his head is about to explode with the combustible mix of too much pain and too much sexual pleasure bearing down on his mortal body. Kayden eagerly leans in and plants a wide open kiss, as if sucking down the soul of his gaping victim. The ecstatic bounce and quiver of Kayden’s power tool communicate just how satisfying it can be for a bloodthirsty sadist, when a plan comes together.
The nightmare is far from over
For the record, Drake submits last then cums first. Kayden then cranks out what looks like about a pint and half of heel juice all over the wrestling mat. I bet Drake thinks, right about then, that he’s survived this near death experience. That chain suddenly wrapped around his throat, dragging his wasted, naked body from the ring, suggests Drake’s nightmare has only begun.
Drake’s gear is ONLY good for choking him with it.
So, I love the raw edges and full-on commitment in Ring Release 4. As has been pointed out by others, both Kayden and Drake are perennial favorites of mine, anyway, but I really enjoy the scorching heat and desperate edge of terror that they toy with successfully throughout this match. I count just a couple of dings to the content, including Drake’s gear, which I frankly hate, and perhaps a tad too much vulnerability from Kayden to completely sell this sense of fated horror that I was hoping for. If ever there was a genre in which a squash made perfect sense, I think this would be it.
Pain. Pleasure. Terror.
Physically, my infatuation with both pairs of gorgeous, strong, long legs in this match is just that much more intense. My growing crush on Kayden’s beautiful ass also gets a big boost in and out of his gear in the match. Hot, long held, relentless wrestling action, magnificent sell, and a compelling narrative make this a pleasing hit for me.
Every so often I find myself in a conversation with another wrestling fan about what makes homoerotic wrestling “gay.” I’m not in the camp that would argue that all wrestling is particularly homoerotic. I’ve seen some wrestling that I would classify as thoroughly and tragically straight. An occasional wrestling match explicitly marketed toward us gay fans of wrestling will even strike me as not gay in the least. Which, of course, raises this persistent and recurring question of what makes some wrestling “gay.” I’ve said in the past that I think it’s the queer eye watching a match that ultimately qualifies (or disqualifies) a wrestling match as homoerotic. Thus, a wrestling match doesn’t have to climax in fellatio or anal penetration for me to find it outstandingly homoerotic. For that matter, I’ve enjoyed watching two wrestlers who I’m pretty damn sure are, on their own time, straight as rulers, engage in entirely non-explicit, classic pro wrestling, and peg my homoerotic meter hard. Then, of course, there’s the distinction between a wrestling match that’s explicitly gay as opposed to a wrestling match that’s homoerotic.
There are a lot of moving parts to deconstructing what makes a particular wrestling match gay (or straight, for that matter). But I recently found myself arguing that one component that transforms wrestling into homoeroticism (and not just being gay), is that iconic barometer of male erotic attention: the erection. I’ll add it to my swelling collection of homoerotic wrestling if I get hard watching it. Even faster, I’ll drop it in the “homoerotic” side of the equation the moment I see one of the wrestlers sprout wood.
Lance Jeffers crotch monster stole the show in Wrestle Shack 6
I’ve had a few conversations with experienced, gay professional wrestlers from BG East about the topic of erections in the ring (or on the mats). Clearly, the heat of competition, the conspicuousness of a camera crew, or perhaps the camera itself can be a cold shower to gay wrestlers who happily report getting hugely turned on by wrestling on their own time, but don’t quickly rise to the occasion when the cameras are rolling. But thankfully, the pro wrestling erection is not all that hard to find at all, and I send up a little cheer and prayer of gratitude to the homoerotic gods every time I spot one.
Wade Cutler added impressive bulge to his already bulging body in his Hard Pros matches.
I’m definitely not a size queen, but it is true that more massively endowed members are more readily spotted, particularly when the trunks are still on. And I really love what a big, growing, stretching, swelling cock looks like straining at the seams of beautifully snug wrestling gear. It’s often (not always) value added for me when a raging erection is openly acknowledged and a full-on plot device in a wrestling match. That said, there’s something poignantly, intensely erotic about the unmentioned special guest that shows up unannounced, obviously born of an unspoken, deep down, honest to the wrestling gods erotic enthusiasm for muscle pounding wrestling.
It’s all about the magnificent, massive, pounding cocks in Cockfight 2
So, sure, I could conceive of wrestling that’s gay and yet not all that homoerotic (though just knowing that wrestlers are gay likely tips the scales on my side of the screen). And I treasure many wrestling matches between ostensibly straight wrestlers who, nevertheless, crank my erotic fantasies with both (all four) hands hard. But a surefire element that never fails to make me claim a wrestling match as my kind is a hard, bulging, visibly swelling erection (preferably two or more) that stands as a living, weeping embodiment of what has made wrestling an erotic obsession of mine all my life: it’s a fucking fantastic turn on.
Lucky rookie Frank Daly found out what effect wrestling Kid Vicious can have on him!
Rick Hunter discovered how excited Kid Vicious was to wrestle him in Wrestle XBrian Baxter points right.
Sidelineland 