Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

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What a response to my offer to let you all choose the new homoerotic wrestler of the month!  116 of you registered your votes, and like homoerotic wrestling itself, there were some delightful squashes as well as hard fought, close competitions. Naked Kombat fans did not rally behind their NK pornboy entries (at least not the ones that I decided to nominate for their new releases last month). Sexy, smoldering Alexander Garrett and brickhouse terminator Tyler Saint got their asses pummeled in the polls.  The nominees from Thunder’s Arena posted only slightly better showings, with Lance Romance wooing 6 of you to vote for him and Thunder’s incredible utility player, Big Sexy, drawing 11% of the vote. But it was the Can-Am boys in a runaway squash over the rest of the field. Aryx Quinn and Landon Mycles were neck and neck for most of the polling, repeatedly leap frogging over one another to outdistance the rest by a mile. The suspense was killing me as votes kept coming up to the very last minute, but in the end, there was one definitive winner of the readers’ choice homoerotic wrestler of the month….

… Aryx Quinn.
I’ve been accused of not giving Aryx his due as a homoerotic wrestling icon with a resume a mile deep. I’m not sure where the concept of “justice” entered the conversation, considering this blog has always been about my personal tastes and biases, but I was completely sincere in nominating him as completely worthy of being at the top of the heap for his work in Pro Tag Team Sex Battle 1.  In preparation for this post, I’ve watched more of the tag team throw down between Aryx and his hunky partner Brendan Cage taking on former homoerotic wrestler of the month, Landon Mycles and his partner Jake Lyons. Aryx is a snarling, snapping, cheating, sexually and psychologically dominating, relentless pro wrestling heel. In other words, he’s our new homoerotic wrestler of the month!
Aryx and Brendan are clearly the heels in this brutality. The match takes its turns ebbing back and forth, but the badboys are never more than a couple holds and a dirty trick away from climbing back on top and beating the babyfaces into the mat.
I love the way that Aryx and his partner Brendan utilize their advantages over their pretty boy opponents to “practice” their sexual domination. Double-teaming blue-eyed Landon in their own corner, Aryx pounds Landon’s face into his crotch while Brendan dry humps Landon’s stunning ass. Shortly thereafter, Aryx choreographs the scenario of his partner perched on the ropes on the ring apron, with Aryx throwing Landon to his knees in a hammerlock and shoving the blond bombshell’s face into Brendan’s waiting, eager crotch. Landon’s suffering is just so fucking sweet (perhaps accounting for his close 2nd in the voting), but beautiful Aryx’s relish in stroking and squeezing his suffering opponent’s stone carved muscles is circling very, very close to the very heart of what moves me most about homoerotic wrestling.
With Aryx clearly alpha dog in this dog pack, it’s no wonder that he has dibs on the Landon’s rocking ass once he and Brendan have conquered their opponents in a sweat-soaked free for all. Once Jake is out cold, Landon is running on fumes even as Aryx is living large and in charge. He gives his gasping opponent an “open shot,” which he easily dodges before slapping on a rear choke. Before Landon manages to lose consciousness entirely, Aryx slips around to his front and smacks on his signature finisher at Can-Am, “the kiss of death” (where did he learn that one?). The kiss of death puts Landon out just as cold and beautifully vulnerable as his partner.
The victors divide the spoils, with Brendan owning and plowing twink Jake before the camera turns to study the artistry of Aryx’s victory celebration over Landon.  Landon and Aryx replace their partners in the ring for some mutual admiration. I’ve been crazy lately for wrestling hunks kissing (I know not everyone is into that, but I am), and the pre-sex make out between these two is very satisfying. Aryx adores Landon’s incredible body, taking his turn first at sucking long and hard on Landon’s cock before having Landon return the favor. Aryx eventually puts his spoils of war on his hands and knees for Aryx to examine and then plow his ass. And then…
… well, I haven’t seen what happens then. I’ve been watching this match in serial format on Can-Am Max, and they haven’t released what I assume to be the final clip since the last clip posted almost 5 months ago. From the preview pics on the main page, however, I’m intrigued by the possibility that Landon lures his conqueror into a false sense of security, only to slap on a buck naked “kiss of death” of his own to lay tanned and gorgeous Aryx out cold and set him up for getting fucked in return (see Arena 2 for the same plot device).
I don’t know if the turned tables are just an effort to give every corner of the audience what they want (want to see Aryx fuck? want to see him fucked? it’s all there). But I do like the drama (you know me), and I enjoy the idea of physically and psychologically dominant Aryx getting lulled into vulnerability right in the middle of sexual intimacy by the muscle stud he just conquered and owned, to be laid out and revenge fucked in return. There’s something profoundly satisfying and thrilling about watching Aryx’s loud, cocky, bullying mouth turned into a twisted groan of humiliation in the end.
Hot stuff, gentlemen! You have an excellent eye for talent. And considering the remarkably good turnout at the polls, I’m considering whether to add a “readers’ choice” award on a regular basis (feel free to weigh in with your opinions about the possibility). Considering this blog has always been primarily about my own tastes and biases (I’ve mentioned that before, right?), I’ll probably take back the reins of crowning future homoerotic wrestlers of the month, but since you seem to have had some enthusiasm about getting your opinions registered, we may see about more opportunities for a more “fair” and democratic element to reoccur.  In the mean time, all hail reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month, Aryx Quinn!

Grapefruits

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Have you voted for this month’s homoerotic wrestler of the month yet? If not, pick your wrestler of choice at the top right of this page. The poll closes tomorrow, and as of my writing of this post, it’s a barnburner battle between the Can-Am boys so far. I’m fascinated to see how the final numbers play out!

Tyrell Tomsen large and in charge against Patrick Donovan

In the mean time, I’ve been enjoying (and I do mean enjoying!) some wrestling that earned nominations for homoerotic wrestler of the month two months ago. BG East’s Wrestler Spotlight on Patrick Donovan is profoundly pleasing to me. Patrick and Tyrell Tomsen’s sun room mat match is hot as hell, and I do believe Patrick brings out the sexiest wrestling performance from muscle hunk Tyrell that I’ve seen so far (and I’ve loved Tyrell in everything that I’ve seen!).  Their bodies present a stunning contrast, with Tyrell’s thick, bodybuilder muscles and dark brown skin in as tight an embrace as physically possible with Patrick’s pale, long and lean (but muscled) physique. Patrick has become the king of pec punching, as far as I can tell, and big, meaty pecs like Tyrell’s are an incredible target for Patrick’s solid, concentrated, sadistically thrilling, drilling poundings.

Mr. Joshua and his grapefruit

It should come as no surprise, however, that my greatest infatuation is with Patrick’s ring bout against former favorite homoerotic wrestler – nonpornboy, Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!). Sweet mother of God, Mr. Joshua is driving me insane with lust! The attitude, the ass, those fucking amazing legs, the ripped abs, gorgeous pecs, and sculpted arms, combined with that coverboy handsome face works me with an intensity that makes me seriously consider whether Kid K should get demoted back out of the standings of my top ranked homoerotic wrestlers – nonpornboy division.

Mr. Joshua pins Patrick with his #1 asset

While not as stunning a visual contrast as Patrick’s pairing with Tyrell, Mr. Joshua and Patrick are well-formed, distinct wrestling characters that so many of us have come to know and lust after. The latest incarnation of Patrick is that of a serious, dangerous heel who has learned from years in the business the finer arts of physical punishment. Patrick is a viper. His lip curls in concentration and practiced focus as he dominates Mr. Joshua’s incredible body. He clearly enjoys his work, but he’s not at all light-hearted. He’s deadly serious, even as he slaps down thick sarcasm and taunting. Everything from Patrick is in the service of conquering his opponent. An early flurry of offense catches Mr. Joshua flat-footed, and Patrick puts him on his back folds his legs up to his ears and slides his crotch forward to shove his balls into Mr. Joshua’s face humiliatingly.

Patrick introduces Mr. J to teabagging

“Mr. Donovan!” Joshua gasps and sputters. “You know I don’t like being teabagged!” And there, you can see that Mr. Joshua has an entirely different ring demeanor. Even on his back with his sweet, sweet ass splayed vulnerably in his opponent’s control, Mr. Joshua is a smart ass. I mean that with complete love and respect, mind you. Mr. Joshua is through-and-through a smart ass. He loves the one-liners. He clearly, intensely loves to dominate. I’m captured in this match by his laughter. He laughs domineeringly, of course, but there are more than a couple of moments when he’s got Patrick in a really, really bad way, completely in his control and squirming in agony, and Mr. Joshua chuckles long and sincerely. Mr. Donovan may be all about getting down to business, but Mr. Joshua wants to stop and smell the roses (and the humiliation) along the way. He wants to have some fun (in the nastiest, meanest, most dominating and humiliating way possible) as he does what he does best: turn me on!

Patrick, channeling Bard, with more than a handful of Mr. J’s pride and joy

Mr. J’s cocky clowning seems to get under Patrick’s skin, and the lean veteran appears to work fixedly on the task of pounding the shit-eating grin off his opponent’s gorgeous face. A nasty slap to Mr. J’s hot pecs seems to do the trick. Mr. J clearly takes offense, and his smile fades in a mix of anger and pain. He retaliates with a sweet, loud crack across Patrick’s ass that even hurts just watching it. Patrick doesn’t manage to beat the smart ass out of him, but he effectively puts Mr. J on notice that any lapse, any loss of focus in order to showboat and monologue will earn him swift and painful punishment.

Patrick & Mr. Joshua make me a believer in spandex

I’m generally not a fan of spandex leggings on my wrestlers, but both of these boys do absolute wonders squeezed so tightly into their mid-level gear. The shiny fabric sculpted to Mr. J’s glutes like a layer of paint is completely hypnotizing. After a couple of minutes, I’ve decided that Patrick and Mr. J are already making me fire on all cylinders even with so much of their beautiful legs covered. That does not, however, make me any less exultant at the rip and strip angle of this match. When Patrick pulls off Mr. J’s training pants, my heart skips a beat. “Fine,” Mr. J. concedes without appearing too concerned or surprised by Patrick’s determination to strip him. “Take them off. I know thats what you’ve beeen wanting to do anyways.” And for that, Patrick is nothing short of my own personal avatar in his bout.

Mr. J is more than eager to do some stripping of his own

Mr. J’s smart mouth and all of those other components of his alchemy over me are in full force in this match. Every time he shoves his hand down the front of his trunks and adjusts the ballast therein, my familiar lust/hate relationship with Mr. J comes to the foreground. Either he’s smuggling a porterhouse steak down there, or he’s got mammoth balls that I’m desperate to get a gander at.  When he bodysplashes on top of Patrick, followed up by repeatedly pounding himself, cock-to-cock into his agonized opponent, yet again my identification with Patrick is almost desperate.

Nowhere else in the world I’d rather be!

The tables turn repeatedly in this match in such a way that I genuinely didn’t know which way the wind would finally blow, which is a plot that I appreciate A LOT in wrestling. I like a little suspense. I enjoy being surprised. I appreciate it when I find my loyalties, loves and lusts toyed with by the ebb and flow of a match back and forth, as I find myself torn between wanting more of both sides of the battle.  But when Mr. J turns on the afterburner and eventually begins to pick Patrick apart with glee in his voice and an extra bounce in his chuckle, he has me as completely at his mercy as he eventually has Patrick. The figure-4, face-to-crotch head scissors that Mr. J treats Patrick to goes on for days and transports me body and soul into Patrick in that moment.

Since trunks can’t quite contain him, why, oh why,
does he continue to wear them?!

Once Patrick can’t peel himself off the mat, Mr. J does his customary shoving his hand down the front of his trunks. This time, however, he takes some time to gently massage his testicles, recovering from some particularly vicious assaults by his opponent. Mr. J marvels that, “When you’ve got balls as big as grapefruits, that hurts!”  As Mr. J stands in the center of the ring, staring at the defeated body of his unconscious opponent, he once again digs around in his trunks. And in what I believe might be the first real glance we’ve ever had, his right testicle slides out of his trunks and hangs there for a while before he realizes it and manages to shove it back into its pouch. While possibly not literally of grapefruit proportions (or bowling ball proportions that I’ve suggested in the past), it’s obvious that Mr. J has no need to stuff his trunks with a porterhouse. He’s got major league beef all his own down there.

Mr. J enjoys bondage play and humiliating spitting on poor,  pretty Patrick

The end of this match continues to push the fantasy that Mr. J has inspired in me for his entire career. His decision to tie Patrick’s wrists to the middle ropes and his ankles to the top ropes in the corner nearly makes me lose consciousness from the violent redirection of blood flow in my circulatory system. Then, Mr. J’s choice to grab a bottle of water to spit on his opponent’s helpless, hunky, conquered and splayed body is over the top erotic. But then, when Mr. J turns out the lights and angrily demands that the camera crew get the hell out as he climbs back into the ring to continue the story with Patrick off camera… well, I’ll just say that I’ve got at least three bodily fluids escaping simultaneously and spontaneously.

No…… where….. else!!!

Most of Mr. J’s matches leave me powerfully satisfied (and completely exhausted), and this one is no exception. The pairing of two pros with such extensive resumes is genius. More to the point, it’s a beautiful example of allowing homoerotic wrestling genius to tell its own story, to prod and provoke, to erotically inspire with literalism and fantasy, to know its fans, respect them, and tell a story ripped from our (or at least my) fondest imaginings.

Now, let’s see Mr. J drop the trunks entirely… and keep the camera rolling for the post-victory celebration!

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month – You Decide!

wrestlebard6 Comments

My thanks to all of you who expressed concern about my absence from posting for several days. It’s nice to be missed! Same old story… work, travel, crappy internet access, paying bills… It’s past time for Z-Man to pass the homoerotic wrestler-of-the-month title on to the hottest wrestling hunk to turn my crank in a new release in October. But frankly, to be entirely honest, I feel a little stumped this month because I simply haven’t had much opportunity to sample new releases lately. What with all this work and travel, most of my homoerotic wrestling fare has been relatively old school products that I trust as staple fare. So for the first time, I’m asking you to help me sort through the field and figure out who deserves to be homoerotic wrestler-of-the-month for a new release performance in October.

Here are my nominees. As I mentioned I’ve only looked longingly at most of the marketing for these matches. But based on my tastes and biases, I’m narrowing the field to these fine studs. Consider the options thoughtfully and then vote in the poll at the top right of the screen. You don’t need to have seen a wrestler’s October release to vote for him. Just vote once, and feel free to lobby for your favorite hunk in the comments below.  Here are your options:
Alexander Garrett
Alexander Garrett – Naked Kombat October 26 – This is one of the few new releases I did watch this month, and I was delighted by the rookie debut of tall, dark and handsome Alexander taking it personally when he grapples long and hard (and in oil!) against is boyfriend. His boyfriend wins the match, but my eyes were riveted on Alexander, making him my first nominee for wrestler-of-the-month.
Aryx Quinn
Aryx Quinn – Pro Tag Team Sex Battle 1 – Release dates of Can-Am always confuse me, because I enjoy most of my Can-Am fare on their subscription site, which sometimes releases videos earlier than when they show up on the open access site. Anyhow, I don’t think I’ve nominated anyone from Pro Tag Team Sex Battle 1 yet, and it’s completely worthy of a nomination (or two). From the snips I’ve seen of this match, Aryx Quinn is mean and in charge as usual. Frankly, I love him barking instructions domineeringly at his own partner the most, but the wrestling, the concept, and the execution are hot.
Landon Mycles
Landon Mycles – Pro Tag Team Sex Battle 1 – My other nominee from this match is Landon Mycles, who you might decide deserves a second homoerotic wrestler-of-the-month title on his mantle.  Landon (aka Marcus Mojo) is gorgeous, enthusiastic, and he does a wonderful job of crossing the line back and forth between aggressive wrestling action and erotic body worship.
Tyler Saint
Tyler Saint – Naked Kombat Occtober 5 – Tyler is a wrestling veteran musclegod cyborg who inspires pure terror in his NK opponents. The concept of Tyler teaming up with Blake Daniels to obliterate a couple of dumbfounded twinks in front of a live audience has all the ingredients of a Bard-favorite… but I haven’t had an opportunity to actually appreciate this match yet.
Lex
Lex – Thunder’s Arena No Holds Barred 14 – This is another match I did see, and as much as I appreciate Z-Man as a crafty veteran initiator, I was completely captured by Lex’s smoking hot gorgeous-as-hell ass. All those teeth, all that muscle, some sweet wrestling including flying scissors, and I’m a fan of Lex! You?
Lance Romance
Lance Romance – Thunder’s Arena Bearhug Challenge 1 – Speaking of jaw-droppingly gorgeous asses! I haven’t seen this yet, but I’m powerfully moved by the pics in Thunder TV of Lance’s muscle-on-muscle squeeze fest. I have no idea if this muscleboy can wrestle, but I’m desperately hoping so.
Big Sexy
Big Sexy – Thunder Arena Bearhug Challenge 1– From the A-side of the same product as above, Big Sexy always, always, always grabs my attention. I think Big Sexy has never owned the title of homoerotic wrestler of the month around here, which begs the question, is this his month?
So vote for who deserves the laurel leaves this month, and let me know why I ought to laud the wrestler of your choice. If your favorite who appeared in an October new release didn’t make the list, feel free to let me know how I missed the boat. I’ll leave the poll up for a couple of days to give you an opportunity to consider your choices carefully.

Battling Boyfriends

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Naked Kombat this week is billed as a battle of boyfriends. It seems that NK veteran, Mike Rivers, talked his incredibly hot boyfriend to an NK appearance. This concept probably has been done before (though I can’t put my finger on it), but certainly it’s not been done to death. And even if it were for nothing but innovative spirit, I’m loving it.

However, it’s got more than innovative spirit. There’s a whole lot going right here. Mike taunts his rookie, greek sculpture of a boyfriend relentlessly. Whether or not the boys are actually boyfriends, it does seem to me like there’s an extra bit of intimate familiarity between the two. And Alexander Garrett has an accent (always value added!). And there’s oil.

Yes, this is a grocery list of some of my staple homoerotic wrestling favorites, capped off by one seriously gorgeous mammoth cock on Alexander (if this man isn’t already a dildo model, he should be).  It’s a relatively close contest, in which Mike’s experience matches Alexander’s superior strength. In the end, fans of muscleboys going down will be very satisfied.

The sex round, often my least favorite chapter, is interestingly uncharacteristic. There’s an obligatory spanking in lieu of a pony ride (got to be one or the other, right?), but completely understandably, winner Mike wants his victory prize to be fucked by Alexander’s astonishingly beautiful cock. The drama at the very end is awfully compelling, as Mike grabs Alexander by the hair, calls him a loser, and then tenderly adds, “but I love you.” To which Alexander climbs to his feet and spits on his boyfriend/conqueror’s back.  Sweet, sweet drama, boys! The post-match interview is also sweet… less hot, but sweet. I’d love to see more boyfriend battles and the drama that ensues (and more of Alexander, please!).

Giving it a Tug

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More shots like this from the filming of Henry Cavill as the Man of Steel just keep winding me up harder and harder! Holy. HELL. I don’t know what Superman plot features so much facial hair on Clark Kent, but this look is really, really (really) turning me on!

I haven’t pictured hot Henry as sporting a full beard in my homoerotic wrestling imagination… yet. With these images seared into my retinas and filed away as priceless memories in the erotic stacks in the back of my brain, I’m strongly suspecting he’ll show up with lots of fur the next time he graces the pages of the Producer’s Ring (which, by the way, Google techs now tell me should be up and accessible for everyone who was recently having trouble accessing the site).

Henry Cavill with a full beard is also sending me diving into my search engines for some homoerotic wrestlers with beards. I’m not talking goatees, though I have been known to have a major crush on a goatee before). Not the soul patch (god forbid). Not the stash (though I must say I’d be up for a ride on this one…). Know what? I’m finding them a rather rare species.

Is it the stubble burn of close contact and lots of friction that makes them unpopular? I see tons of boys with enough stubble to hurt when rubbed the wrong/right way. But to really qualify as a “beard,” and not just a lazy ass 5 o’clock shadow, I’m finding precious little.  There are some “sculpted” beards that just barely qualify in my book. BG East’s Jarel Andretti, for example, has a pencil thin outline that stretches from his sideburns all the way to his chin. Same goes for his beefy opponent Jaguar, depending on the lighting. So I’ll give them partial credit for the beard (and say, yes, yes that’s one hot jobber beatdown!).

Thunder’s Arena has a whole bunch of boys who look like they just got lazy with the razor that morning, but a few who clearly have put enough forethought into sculpting the buzz to just barely skate across the line into beard territory. Big, beautiful, bubble-butted Dozer for example.

I’ll even give massive and gorgeous Mario a nod as a bearded beast, perhaps not because his facial hair looks entirely intentional, but because he’s fucking huge and I’d be afraid that he’d crush me like a grape for implying that his scruff doesn’t count.

But the real rare breed in this zoo is the full, furry, lumberjack beard like Mr. Cavill is sporting these days. The thick, hairy fur that typically accompanies hairy pecs and legs – that’s the stuff that I’m jonesin’ for right now. Ace Hanson’s appearance against Uno, for example, comes to mind. So sad to see Ace has been moved to the ranks of “alumni” since I checked out of Thunder’s last spring.

Hairy beast Rex reminded me of Steve Reeves playing Hercules in the films that turned me gay (not really). But really, Rex does give me a Steve Reeves hit, just like he gave Sledge a picture perfect bone crushing bearhug in Bodybuilder Battle 35.

Naked Kombat’s Scout has to be mentioned for the manly facial hair. He simply doesn’t have the porn body (well, not the gay porn body) that I tune into NK for, but in the sport of spotting the rarified form of a beareded homoerotic wrestler, Scout gets a nod.

Possibly the hottest bearded wrestler I’ve had the pleasure to watch (over and over) is the one hit wonder from Can-Am’s Montreal Muscle Bear Fights, Bruno Sinclair. His battle with silky smooth studpuppy Ricardo Dias puts me in precisely the same mood as where I’m picturing Henry Cavill heading in my homoerotic wrestling imagination.  There have GOT to be more bearded homoerotic wrestlers out there. Who am I missing?

And finally, I simply have to say that it’s as if Henry is reading this blog. Just when I was complaining that there are simply not enough pin up shots of hot hunks from behind in order to marvel at a wide, rippled muscle back, our future Mr. Man of Steel goes and lingers like this long enough for several camera shots. Full nelson, anyone!?

Bodies Over Time – British Invasion Edition

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Henry Cavill has been intruding into my erotic imagination for quite a while. When the fashion model landed his starring role in The Tudors, the battle of pretty versus pretty between Henry and Irish badboy, Jonathan Rhys Meyers was hot and heavy… in my imagination. The boys had to sort their shit out by climbing into the wrestling ring and beating each other senseless until big, beautiful Henry was  conquered, claimed and tamed by troubled wild child Jonathan. As 16th century aristocratic playboys, my homoerotic wrestling imagination couldn’t help but picture the both of them as babyface twinks with gym bunny chasers.

And there’s nothing at all wrong with that! Slender, smooth bodies with a few aesthetic curves and firm muscles are entirely lustworthy for my tastes.  Sure, I like a hard wrestling hunk with thick muscles, bulging pecs and biceps, and thick and crushing thighs, too. I can also go for seriously big, powerful muscle daddies with hairy pecs and meaty muscle bellies. But I can take a lean, long, smoothly sculpted babyface twink with long eyelashes and a naturally round ass – no doubt about it.

But there’s been a torrent of shirtless pics of hunky Henry flooding broadband recently, and holy fuck! Twinky little Henry has been working out and growing up! That long smooth torso has tightened up quite nicely. For almost released Immortals, Henry’s sweet, sexy chest is now bulging with hot, sharply defined pecs. The boy’s abs not only sport a six pack, but he’s got obliques, and that’s damn hot!  His arms now have not only shapely bulges, but he’s got the vascularity that seriously works me hard.

Now I’m not so naive (I am naive, but just not so naive) as to miss the strategic make-up and post-production manips that make chisel-chinned Henry look a bit harder and more defined than perhaps he really is. But this is simply not the twinky fashion model body of yesteryear. The shoulders alone make it impossible for me to picture Henry in quite the same way that I used to (as satisfying as that was).

And that BACK! There are not nearly enough pin-up shots of hunks from behind… and by that I don’t just mean a chance to size up the ass (though that’s hugely important), but a broad, muscled, powerful back capped by ripped, rock hard deltoids and mountainous trapezius muscles are astonishingly erotic. I love the view from the front, but I find the view from behind every ounce as arousing, calling to mind what I’d see moments before locking him up tight in a full nelson or cutting off his air supply in a ferocious rear choke… or, for that matter, squeezing those hot hips in my fingertips as I drive home my victory fuck, occasionally stroking the rippled muscles laid out before me.

My homoerotic wrestling imagination cast Henry as the prize in a team match between the pairings of Henry and Jonathan versus my picture of Sean Maguire and his bear cub Gerard Butler.  The Tudor twinks put up an admirable fight, but there’s no way that ring battle wasn’t going to end with Jonathan tied helplessly into the corner, watching Henry conquered and tagged as the newest member of the Maguire/Butler cub pack. 

And because a hot, erotic wrestling threesome haunts my fantasies, I also pictured Henry and Gerard teaming up against the muscle gods Joe Manganiello and Mehcad Brooks. In my imagination, Henry is eager to please his senior pack mates, and in turn, Gerard and Sean keep a couple of firm, but doting hands on their boy. Under their tutelage, Henry starts packing on his aforementioned muscle mass and develops a taste for bringing down big muscle studs. So, sure, Sean’s “coaching” ringside makes the cub pack victory a little less than above board, but Henry’s insistence on climbing on top of conquered behemoth Joe and pounding one (well, several) out all over the giant’s epic pecs ends up turning the spotlight squarely on the lustful potential of the up and coming fashion model turned subscription channel pretty boy turned gym bunny powerhouse. Sure, perhaps Joe’s striking, superhuman physique might jump to mind first at the mention of the words, “Man of Steel.” But it was Henry that caught the right eyes and got the nod to play the all-American muscle hero (in both the real world and in my imagination).

And now we see what Henry’s been up to since getting the Man of Steel nod. Sweet JesusMaryandJoseph! This is a man (and no longer can I bring myself to call him a boy) on a mission! This is serious, serious beef, my friends! Those hot, hairy pecs take my breath away, followed closely by still more oxygen deprivation thanks to the boulders he now calls shoulders and the veiny, softball size biceps.

Tell me a rip-n-strip fantasy doesn’t possess you at the sight of this shot from the set! Soaking wet and with a full beard doesn’t hurt one bit, either.  I’ve got a strong suspicion that sooner or later, we’ll see an astonishing fourth appearance of this worship-worthy muscle man appearing in my homoerotic wrestling imagination, and it could very well be that sweet little Henry may have outgrown his daddies. Strutting around with all that beef, it’s a mystery to me whether Gerard and Sean could possibly still keep the collar on such bear daddy potential.

That’s not to say, of course, that there aren’t plenty of big burly muscle men that want to be dominated.  And in muscle-hugging spandex with a big broad back and an amazingly luscious ass, the Henry of my homoerotic imagination could very well be more than happy to remain part of the cub pack, with that ass firmly in the possession of his pack masters. He’s handed over his loyalties in the past, though. In the wrestling drama in my personal fantasies, it has yet to be seen whether the new incarnation of Henry as a major league muscle man would want to keep his place in the pack, trade up to be a bear daddy himself, or become a lone wolf answerable to know one.

Wherever his career and physique take him next, Henry Cavill remains an amazingly hot commodity. I had an itch for him bad when he was lean and lithe. I had a major crush on him as a smooth, gym bunny with a snarl. And I’m profoundly inspired by the sight of him with massive, hairy, poundable pecs, mile-wide shoulders, and biceps ready to crush some skulls.

Whatever lies ahead in his career in this reality, his career in my homoerotic wrestling universe is red hot!

Swag

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A while back I solicited advice about a quandary. I have only so many resources compared to the wealth of homoerotic wrestling products one can choose from. In fact, in fine tuning my budget in these relatively lean times, I decided that I needed to drop one of my subscriptions. I invited readers to let me know where they think the smart money goes when it comes to subscription homoerotic wrestling.  A lot of you had strong feelings. Never let it be said that gay wrestling fans aren’t loyal! In the end, I decided that based on my tastes, priorities and financial analysis, I would continue to subscribe to the membership sites for BG East, Can-Am, and Naked Kombat, but dropped my subscription to Thunder’s Arena.
Auditions 2011 – Part 6 – Z-Man in trouble against rookie recruit Crush

Of course, I immediately began second-guessing. Naked Kombat has not been sparking my imagination like it used to. Should I have put my non-membership homoerotic wrestling purchases into the financial formula as well, potentially sacrificing DVD and download purchases (such as those I occasionally buy from Rock Hard Wrestling) instead of a subscription? And what could fill the void left by no longer having regular access to marvel at Big Sexy’s ass!?
Big Sexy’s gorgeous ass in jeopardy for butting into The Boss’s Audition 2011
Astute readers noticed that my recent ode to reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month, Z-Man, included some late-breaking photos from Thunder’s Arena. It turns out that Thunder’s Arena missed me, though I’m sure not as much as I missed them (and Big Sexy’s ass).  The brains behind the brawn at Thunder’s, Mr. Mike (though I picture him with big hairy pecs and a hot muscle bear belly), contacted me recently with the offer to enjoy Thunder TV, the Thunder’s Arena membership site again, complimentary for 6 months.
Angel welcomes talk, dark and very handsome rookie, James to the Thunder’s mat
There are two strings attached to my complimentary Thunder’s TV access. 1) I give my honest reviews of Thunder’s Arena wrestling releases in an effort to inform neverland readers about matches they might want to check out for themselves. I’ve never agreed, at any point, to anyone, to give a positive review to any wrestling matches that I don’t genuinely enjoy. I continue to think of this blog as just one man’s musings about what turns him on. So I’ll never say that something turns me on when it doesn’t. Regardless of the  price of a product, regardless of the pressures of rabid readers incensed that I don’t give enough respect to their favorite wrestlers, I strive always to just call it like I see it.
Sledge appears sick of all this attention paid to Z-Man lately in the upcoming release,
No Holds Barred 15 (photo previews available at Thunder’s TV)
String 2) attached to my complimentary Thunder TV membership is that I will clarify that of all the incarnations of Zack Vazquez, Zack Johnathan, Zack Holt… it was Thunder’s Arena that was the first to dub him “Z-man.” Despite Z-Man bringing the same nickname with him to BG East, the wrestling career indexed under “Z-Man” started with Thunder’s Arena. Fair enough.
Sexy, sweaty Sledge examines the target of his fury
My complimentary Thunder TV membership isn’t the only free wrestling entertainment that I’ve been handed.  After around 735 posts over the past two and a half years, and with a recent average of over 2,500 page hits a day, my fanatical adoration for homoerotic wrestling has come to the attention of several companies.  I’ve occasionally been surprised to receive unexpected, unsolicited downloads or DVDs with an invitation to enjoy them and write a review. I’ve even been offered the opportunity to name some of the products on my wish list, in order to continue to spread the news about the wrestling that inspires and feeds my lusts. The saying, “kid in a candy store” comes to mind!
Z-Man offers rookie recruit Lex a free shot in No Holds Barred 14
In case anyone is concerned that my integrity may be compromised by accepting free stuff from invested parties, I have a couple of responses. First, I’ve never accepted money for anything I’ve done on my blog. My enrichment from wrestling companies has always been in-kind. If I didn’t like what they were producing, it wouldn’t be much of an incentive to get access to more wrestling that I didn’t enjoy. Second, and likely most importantly, I do not claim or strive for anything like journalistic objectivity. Frankly, I don’t actually believe in the concept of objectivity, philosophically speaking. But practically speaking, neverland has always been about my biases, my particular tastes, my personal, subjective kinks and quirks. It’s ALWAYS about what I’m partial to. This accounts for everything that I bother writing about on the pages of this blog. It also accounts for my apathy in response to criticisms that have come my way complaining that I’ve shortchanged someone else’s favorite wrestlers and matches.  I experience no anxiety or concern about the fact that my favorites (i.e., my biases) don’t always coincide with everyone who reads neverland. For a more complete reiteration of this theme, consult the “Diverse Tastes” guest contributor series from this past summer.
My newest infatuation – Lex (love those thighs!)
So thanks, Mr. Mike, for the generous offer! I’m already newly in love with Thunder’s rookie Lex, with that hot bod, handsome, freckled face, mouthFUL of teeth, Texas accent and fantastic bronze tan lines framing that rocking, lily white ass! Even better, despite some obvious nervousness in his first on-camera appearance getting initiated by aforementioned Z-Man, Lex’s wrestling is highly entertaining. He suffers like a champ, and he demonstrates delightful skill in telling the story of the cocky, new generation badass. “It’s time for you to learn some new moves, punk!” he snarls with a sadistic grin as he hip-tosses Z-Man like a sack of potatoes. Those legs!!  A flying body scissors from a hot, young Texan!?  I’m seeing double vision with Lex superimposed directly on top of the image of Kevin Von Erich hanging off the side of a standing opponent, crushing the life out of him with those iron clad thighs. He wrestles better than your average rookie, but Lex inevitably gets schooled and conquered by the crafty, hot-bodied veteran willing to introduce Lex to an “old” move of a double ball claw.
Z-Man teaches rookie Lex that success in Thunder’s Arena
will take more than good looks, a hot body, and “new moves”
Nice!

A Rose, By Any Other Name

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My reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month is none other than the irrepressible Z-Man… aka, Zack Johnathan, aka Zachary Vazquez, aka Zack Holt. There are more incarnations of Z-Man than I can keep up with, but it is entertaining to keep trying!

Z-Man faces “Ace” – Thunder’s Arena’s Easter Bash 2008

I’ve mentioned before that my first introduction to Z-Man was on Thunder’s Arena. The “playboy model does underground wrestling” concept was quite the hook. Thunder’s website shows the cover for Mat Rats 9, but a click through says the product no longer exists, which is sad because I’m hopelessly nostalgic about my homoerotic wrestling. What I remember about Z-Man’s first match against Alexander (the Great) is that I had to watch it a couple of times before I could get past Z-Man’s smirking and clowning around in order to really appreciate the homoerotic wrestling fare. Happily, I got there, not the least of which thanks to Z-Man’s luscious, sculpted body getting pummeled and humiliated.

Z-Man v Alexander “the Great” (the rematch) –
Thunder’s Arena’s Halloween Havoc 2009

Z-Man has long been arguably the linchpin of Thunder’s Arena.  At last count, he has starred in an astonishing 52 Thunder’s Arena wrestling matches!  His wrestling resume with Thunder’s alone is far too long to examine in much detail (and still manage to do the work that pays my bills to buy more homoerotic wrestling products!), but suffice it to say that Z-Man has wrestled, quite literally, a ton of wrestlers (cumulatively measured).  He’s pounded the mats with many of the wrestlers who inhabit my go-to list of sure-fire homoerotic wrestling satisfaction, including Frank the Tank, Ace Hanson, Ice-Man, Mr. (Christopher) Bruce, Cody Nelson, and two beautiful throw-downs with the most aptly named Big Sexy.

Z-Man v Big Sexy – Thunder’s Arena’s Revenge Match

Holy shit! What a line-up! Z-Man has had that handsome face of his crushed, crunched, battered and beaten by a venerable pantheon of some of the most arousing wrestlers at Thunder’s! And he’s still showing up for more!!! He’s been putting a new round of Thunder’s hopefuls through their paces for their most recent “Auditions” series, including beating the lovely (LOVELY) ass of freckled, tattooed, scruffy, mohawked, big-toothed Texas-leaguer rookie, Lex.  It’s just impossible to see Z-Man any longer as the naive narcissist whose body and spirit must be broken in proportion to his cocky swagger and self-worship. Z-Man’s a veteran now, and I like the sub-text that underneath his big mouth and perpetual adoration of his own body is a genuinely dangerous character whose turn it is to bring to heel a new generation of sexy young meat.

Z-Man auditions Lex – No Holds Barred 14

So Z-Man’s Thunder’s Arena filmography is, all by itself, of epic proportions. He’s a fixture in homoerotic wrestling, even if we were to just stop there. But of course Z-Man hasn’t stopped there, so neither should his fans. The first cross-over I caught Z-Man in was his appearance at the inauguration of Rock Hard Wrestling as Zack Johnathan. The plot was built around the idea that Z-Man saw himself as the definition, the epitome of Rock Hard Wrestling. He was the franchise, and the rest of the first generation RHW wrestlers should kiss his perfect, round ass for the opportunity to be propelled to fame on Z-Man’s coat tails (really, someone should plant their lips on this perfect glutes!).

Zack Johnathan v Brody Hancock – Rock Hard Wrestling

Again, at RHW Z-Man has faced some of the top-tier, go-to wrestlers that I can turn to just about any day of the month to grab hold of my wrestling kink so pleasingly. RHW’s translation of Z-Man into the ring was pure genius, for my tastes. My preference for ring wrestling has long been documented, and Z-Man bouncing off the ropes, getting his face pounded into the turnbuckles, and getting beaten into the canvas turns… me… ON! For RHW, Z-Man’s appeared as a ring-wrestling fantasyman against the fantastic likes of Ray Martinez (aka, Rio Garza), Troy Nelson, and 3 separate encounters with the magic biceps of Brody Hancock (aka, Reese Wells). 11 more wrestling matches (and counting?) show up on Z-Man’s resume from RHW.

Zack Johnathan & Cody Nelson v Brody Hancock & Troy Nelson –
Rock Hard Wrestling

The concept of Z-Man teaming up with Cody Nelson (who he would later wrestle against for Thunder’s Arena), against Cody’s brother Troy Nelson teamed with Brody is nothing short of brilliant homoerotic wrestling drama! The plot of a big brother egging on his playboy model partner to crush and humiliate his “little” brother’s sweat-soaked muscle physique is pure, unadulterated gold.

Zack Holt bares all for Mark Wolff’s Nubreed 8: San Diego

Had enough of Z-Man? Overexposed? Lagging fan enthusiasm? Not a chance when it comes to Z-Man. Just to give his bread-and-butter fan base a taste more, he can be purchased in full monty glory over at Can-Am, appearing in Mark Wolff’s softcore series, Nubreed. While we’ve come to associate Z-Man with Florida, Nubreed pictures him in San Diego, posing provocatively, stripping his clothes, and stroking his pretty cock (with an atypical outward bend when erect!). I’ve since found more softcore shots of Z-Man from nearly every angle elsewhere from other publications (which don’t seem to have any association with wrestling, so despite his naked beauty, my interest wanes there).

But there’s STILL more! Just this year, Z-Man migrated to the homoerotic wrestling producer that consistently turns my kinked crank hardest, BG East.  I was highly skeptical of this move. When I first heard rumor of it, I seriously doubted whether Z-Man could lift his wrestling game to the level that I come to expect of BG East products. Sure, I knew he’d look smokin’ hot. I figured he could take some pounding. I hoped he could dial down the clownery long enough to let me get seriously hot and bothered.

Z-Man v Patrick Donovan – BG East’s Sunshine Shooters 4 

Happily, Z-Man met BG East more than halfway. He lifted his storytelling to new heights in his mat tussle with homoerotic wrestling veteran Patrick Donovan.  Z-Man pleasingly surprised me by taking some fantastic pounding into those punching bag pecs that leave the pretty boy bright red and stroking his muscles in agony. He also made me swallow my bitchy, armchair criticisms by delivering hot, beautiful, arousing wrestling.

Z-Man (where his face belongs) v Kid Karisma – BG East’s Fantasymen 33: Muscle Pros

BG East then tossed Z-Man into the ring with my current top contender for the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy division: Kid Karisma. As I mentioned above, Z-Man (or almost anyone, for that matter) in the ring makes my blood pump twice as hard as any other geography. This match made my head swim for so many reasons, including Z-Man taking to the air, getting pounded in the turnbuckle, trapped in the ropes, and tossed from corner to corner. Kid K’s delight in slapping Z-Man’s wedgied, gorgeous ass, sitting his world-class bubble butt on Z-Man’s gorgeous face, AND rubbing his crotch in Z-Man’s nose all made me more passionate for Z-Man than ever before, and propelled Kid K into the top 2 of my reigning favorites ranks.

Z-Man v Skrapper – BG East’s Mat Scraps 1

But it was Z-Man’s latest mat match against sexy…as…HELL Skrapper that earned Z-Man the title of my homoerotic wrestler of the month AND earned Skrapper elevation to top contender for the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy. And now, I see Z-Man running new recruits through the ringer at Thunder’s Arena again. Wow. That’s a long, storied, and incredible career, any way you measure it.

This exhausting review of Z-Man’s career highlights for me two key points about the long-coming homoerotic wrestler of the month. 1) Have you noticed that Z-Man’s fitness doesn’t seem to waver an inch? Clearly, this man has no soul left to call his own, because he simply must have sold it to the devil to have a perennially ripped to shreds muscle body like that. I suspect that he may never appear in a “bodies over time” installment here at neverland because his body seems to remain unchanged in every tasty detail! In addition to the bill of sale that must exist between Z-Man and Satan, this also likely testifies to the fact that Z-Man is a ferocious self-trainer, a gifted body sculptor, and in possession of iron-clad willpower and focus.

Z-Man v Rocky Brick – Thunder’s Arena’s Bodybuilder Battle 16

And 2) I’ve never noticed before the midas touch that Z-Man has in relation to my own homoerotic wrestling attentions. While I’ve been long critical of what Z-Man brings to the table (before more recently, at least), it appears that Z-Man either has such an extensive wrestling resume that he was bound to wrestle opponents that have long driven me crazy with lust OR (and I freely admit, more likely) while Z-Man hasn’t always left me sold on him as a homoerotic wrestler, he has nevertheless been selling me all along on his opponents. That’s a skill set that I admit that I have a bit of a blind spot for.  I’ve clearly long enjoyed and been turned on by watching hard, hot hunks punish Z-Man for (in my mind) his wrestling shortcomings. Both Kid K and Skrapper were propelled into the top ranks of my overall favorites on the strength of their wrestling against Z-Man.

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month – Z-Man

So maybe there wasn’t really a method to his madness, but it’s impossible to miss the fact that Z-Man has been a fixture in my homoerotic musings and fantasies for long time. Whether it’s despite himself, or because he’s a profoundly skilled craftsman in the erotic arts of turning gay wrestling kinksters on by deserving to be punished for weak salesmanship, thus pushing opponent after opponent onward in my estimation as objects of homoerotic wrestling lust – Z-Man has earned my respect. I’m always at the mercy of a gorgeous hunk who can tell a wrestling story with his beautiful body, and Z-Man is doing that with flash and skill that rises above the crowd of boys lobbying for our affections lately. I look forward to Z-Man continuing to add to his epic resume, hopefully with new twists and turns in the plot, but always with the face of an adonis and the unbelievably constant body of a god.

Don’t let that flat-chested bitch beat you!

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The Rock Hard Wrestling tag-team match pitting former homoerotic wrestler of the month Jake Jenkins and his frequent friend and foe, Austin Cooper against twink scrappers Cliff Johnson and Nick Collins has been up for a while. However, my pennies have been diverted elsewhere, so it’s only now that I’ve had an opportunity to dip the ladle back in the gamey elixir of Rock Hard Wrestling’s unique talents at filming hard, devastatingly handsome hunks laying down some pro-style maneuvers.

Like the past several RHW matches I’ve watched, I’m giving this tag-team bout a thumbs up. There’s a glaringly weakest link in this mash up that you can’t miss. What the hell was little Nicky Collins thinking climbing into the ring against the experience and outrageously gorgeous muscle physiques of Jake and Coop!? Cliff, while still seeming to me to qualify for twinkdom, has a nasty attitude of a heel to make his slender form seem somehow that much more potently dangerous. Cliff is a cocky son of a bitch. He’s mean. He’d like nothing better than to dominate and humiliate a couple of fitness model pretty boys who think that a competitive amateur wrestling resume can translate into the professional wrestling ring. I get Cliff’s motivation. Little Nicky, however? He’s nervous. You’ll see what I mean. No doubt, he’s got a poker face, but he’s got tells you can see a mile away. When he’s leaning across the top rope, taking a breather while Cliff is getting tossed, slammed, pummeled and crushed inside the ring, I swear you can see it written on little Nicky’s face: damn, glad that’s not me. As a lamb led to slaughter, little Nicky Collins is perfectly on cue.

Jake Jenkins continues to captivate me. Perhaps the homoerotic wrestling world might be divisible into Jake-fans and Coop-fans. It seems to me that I see devotees of each who don’t seem nearly as interested in the other. If the world were that simple to dichotomize, I’d be squarely on the Jake Jenkins side of the fence. The face, the body, his adrenaline on turbo boost, his ass… in this tag-team match, Jake also reminds me of another reason that I’m so turned on by him: that mouth.

The action in this match is well-paced. The boys use about 80% of the ring, and there’s a healthy mix of amateur and pro wrestling moves as they inhabit territory in mid-air, on their feet, and down to the mat. Within the first 5 seconds, Jake and Coop are cheating, with Coop pounding Cliff into the unfriendly corner where Jake locks him up from the ring apron to leave him defenseless against his partner’s assault.  As often happens in RHW action, the tables turn on a dime (sometimes leaving me feeling a little whiplashed, in fact), and Cliff illustrates his hottest move: with one arm wrapped around Austin’s throat from behind and the other controlling Austin’s left arm behind his back, Cliff drops to one knee, driving Austin’s lower back squarely down on top of Cliff’s bent knee (when he pulls this off on Jake late in the match, you can see why it’s even more devastating on a shorter opponent!). It’s a sweet move that looks like it really hurts, and Cliff repeats it often. The golden boy looks like he’s got nothing to counter it, in fact, which inspires Jake, watching on with concern, to bark encouragement from the corner. “Come on Coop! Don’t  take that shit from him. Make him sniff your ass!”

The greatest tragedy of this match is that when all is said and done, the boys-wonder have neglected to follow through and make Cliff sniff Austin’s ass. However, there’s plenty of storytelling still to come. Each time one man gets the upper hand and exploits his advantage to the point of cocky arrogance, it comes back to bite him in the ass. With Coop’s number on speed dial, Cliff delights in hurting the big blond beauty. For his troubles, as soon as Jake tags in, he scoops Cliff up in his arms, lunges backward and flings the lean and mean one over his head, slamming him to his back.  As payback for Jake taking some extra liberties rubbing in the domination over Cliff, little Nicky (inexplicably) exhausts and schoolboy pins Jake, pounding his pecs for days. Now, my armchair assessment is that Jake could eat Nicky for afternoon tea and still have room for a porterhouse steak. However, the sound of panic rising in Jake’s voice as he cries for some underhanded interference from the ring apron makes me swoon just a little. “Get him off me!” Jake pleads/demands of Coop. “You’re close! Get him off me!”

With the badboy interference from outside the ropes pushing the reset button, little Nicky suddenly has a giant target painted on his ass. Jake controls the nervous one with exquisitely commanding strength and focus. Folding up Nicky’s legs and prying them upward in a nasty-looking backbreaker, Jake revels in the sight of the twink pounding his fists into the mat helplessly. “Eat the mat!” Jake chuckles as he shoves little Nicky’s face downward with his right forearm. A few seconds later, he’s tossed Nicky to his back, rolled him up with Nicky’s ass pointed at the ceiling, and pinned his shoulders to the mat for a leisurely three count pinfall with Cliff looking on from the ring apron in disgust.  “That’s how you do it in Jake Jenkin’s house!” Jake declares.

The start of round 2 finds wiry Nicky slipping behind Jake and wrapping a sloppy choke across the muscle stud’s throat. The look on J’s face is priceless (10:13), as he smirks at Coop and rolls his eyes in contempt for the twink backback he’s got on. A second later, he bends forward, sending unprepared Nicky head over heels and slamming to his back with a gasp.  As I said, little Nicky is the weakest link by far, both in selling and in keeping pace with quality wrestling of the other three. His primary arsenal is that schoolboy pin and flurry of fists to Jake’s pecs that he comes back to a couple times more. He takes some nice punishment, especially from Jake, and 7 times out of 10, he sells some satisfying suffering. But the pec punching offense wears a bit thin, and the boys-wonder thankfully make him pay for his lack of creativity.

The other three relative veterans dial up the storytelling, pretty much redeeming little Nicky’s performance as far as I’m concerned. While it’s primarily little Nicky punching Jake, Cliff gets in some gratuitous shots as well. When Coop tags in, he’s determined to even the score and defend his partner’s honor (now that’s sexy!). “You going to hit my guy like that!?” Coop shouts down into Cliff’s face, tit-for-tat schoolboy pinning the lean wrestler and delivering a barrage of retributive pec punches. Cliff is nearly pounded a couple of inches into the mat beneath Coop’s big, beautiful body and jabbing fists. “Yah!” Coop crows, climbing off his dazed opponent. “You aint hittin’ nobody now!

With little Nicky in his corner leaving the storytelling to more expert hands, Cliff battles his way back to his feet and drops big Coop with some choice strikes. “You slap me like a bitch, huh?” he growls furiously.

“You are a bitch!” Coop shouts from one knee, letting his mouth keep writing checks even while Cliff is cashing in on a growingly arrogant beatdown.

But it’s Jake’s mouth that works me hardest, as he jumps into the battle of words from his position in the corner, waiting to enter the fray. “Don’t let that flat chested bitch beat you!” he shouts encouragingly to Coop.

While this match is not seamless, and there are several moments when the boys have to remind one another where the story arc is taking them next, the final 45 seconds are beautifully executed and majorly hot. The muscle stud victors finally start firing on all cylinders, and with all 4 men in the ring at once, Jake and Coop deliver side-by-side, simultaneous offenses like synchronized swimmers.  With little Nicky draped across Jake’s huge shoulders like a mink stole, and bitter-in-defeat Cliff screaming in pain racked across Coop’s sculpted body, my anti-heroes delight in humiliating the outmatched, outmuscled team and, they absolutely pulse with testosterone as they flex and taunt overtop of the battered losers. Hot, hot story, boys!

Respect

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Attila Dynasty is The Man. I knew from his debut BGE match against one of my perennial crushes, Denny Cartier, that Attila was going to be a wrestler to keep an eye on. He gave Denny a run for his money, despite all those acrobatics of his not really being up to the challenge of Denny’s technically superior mat skills. But Attila has a swagger, a cocky confidence that’s exponentiated by his truly astonishing command of that supple, sexy, incredibly flexible body. It’s not just the handstand push-ups he can pump out like he’s tying his shoes. Attila has an amazing awareness at all times of where his center of gravity is. I mean, every single moment, you can see in the way he holds his body, the way he flies, ducks, lunges and tosses that he is at all times precisely and exquisitely balanced.

Attila’s follow-up to his Backyard Brawls debut sheds perhaps a little more light on how it is that this lean, handsome stud has such a preternatural awareness of his center of gravity. In the Science of Scissors, Attila climbs into the pro ring (hallelujah!) and pits quads against quads with the big, dangerous likes of one of Joe’s rookie crushes, Trent Blayze. Trent possesses and advantage of over 45 pounds and 5 inches of height over strikingly beautiful Attila. You have to hand it to Trent that he has a point as he looks skeptically at Attila as the two are warming up before the match and asks, “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

Yes. Yes, indeed, Attila Dynasty is ready for this. This match is a delight on multiple fronts. If you like a big v small match, or slow Southern drawl v broad Boston accent, or pounding mat worker v high flyer… so much kink to tweak in one match! And what sneering Trent learns early and often is that Attila’s legs may be smaller, but their made out of fucking steel!

Another thing that we all learn early and often in this match is that quite possibly, Attila’s freakish mastery of his center of gravity has to do with the seriously astonishing ballast he stores beneath deck! Is that a ship’s anchor stuffed down his trunks, or is he just really, really happy to be wrestling?! Yes, yes, the advantage teeters back and forth in this bout (no squashes here). It’s a contest of endurance both explicitly and implicitly when it comes to the Science of Scissors. And yes, yes, Trent looks like he could split timber with the vice he applies with those massive legs of his. And absolutely, yes, you will be awestruck with the ability of acrobatic Attila to exploit the ring to the fullest advantage a hard, body-aware, fearless terrier like he is can. But let me just cut right to the chase here: I don’t know if that two-by-four stuffed down Attila’s trunks is actually wood, or if he’s just so incredibly endowed that fully flaccid he still displaces that much water. Whether he’s literally turned on or just has a disproportionately blessed endowment to begin with, it’s hard to miss the most astonishing feature of these 27 and a half minutes. Attila may be the little guy in this match, but there’s nothing little about the outline of his cock stretching his blue trunks in all the right directions!

Joe will probably smack me upside the head for saying this, but for my tastes, there’s one superstar newbie in this match and he’s attached to a baby blue clad python stuffed down his trunks! Regular readers will back me up when I say that 7 times out of 10 I’m an ass man. My eyes automatically check out a beautiful ass about 3.76 seconds before they assess the crotch. And Attila’s tight, athletic ass is incredibly pleasing. However in this case, I’m simply stunned and helplessly hypnotized by this boy’s massive member.

In an attempt to make this review slightly about more than Attila’s hypnotizing cock, let me highlight a few moments in this match that entertain me most.  Pretty early in the match Attila has Trent captured in a face-to-ass scissors with Attila scaling the top ropes like Spiderman. He makes this look like a stroll in the park, but damn! Try it! That’s an astonishing feat of strength and balance anyway you look at it. And his cock is already bulging and stretching his trunks stunningly as he’s perched in mid air.  The whole thing is beautifully capped off by Attila twisting his body off the rope, sending big Trent flipping through the air and landing hard on his back. Hot damn! Another moment that yanks my kink hard is a move that always, always, always arouses me. Attila has Trent’s neck scissored from behind (his bulge resting like a quarter pounder on the back of Trent’s head). He’s already secured yet another scissor-submission, but Attila refuses to let go until he’s planked, stretched out with Trent’s face captured a half a foot or so off the mat. With a little extra “umph,” Attila lifts his hips and then drives them downward, crushing Trent’s face into the mat. Hot damn, again!!! I could also comment on the mind blowing (and it wasn’t just my mind that blew!) maneuver in which, having been tossed outside the ring, Attila holds onto the bottom rope and lifts his legs over his head to capture Trent’s head in still another submission as the boy wonder hangs upside down, resting on the top of his head (sounds thin? I tell you, I buy it!). But let me just wrap up with an image that lingers long and hard. “Little” Attila exhausts the big, slow Southern boy and finally knocks that bastard out cold with his final skull crushing face-to-crotch scissors (for which I would imagine there’s a line a mile long to take his place now!). The fiery, hot acrobat bounces in excitement at the sight of his opponent flat out cold. He’s bubbling over with cocky swagger. Spontaneously (every appearance to me, at least) Attila plants his hands on either side of Trent’s head and does another rock solid handstand, dipping low until his mouth is inches overtop of the loser’s lips. “How do you feel, huh!?” Attila snarls down into Trent’s slack face. “How do you feel, huh!? Yeah, he can’t say SHIT!”

In the end, Attila tugs down the front of his trunks and points out the tattoo across his very very lower abdomen. He’s got “Respect” inked like a banner overtop of the huge bulge hanging beneath. Truer word never spoken (or written), Attila! Cannot wait to see more!