Dave Markus and Doug Acre tangle in Movimus new(ish) release
I’m late to the party, I know, but I’ve only just had time to compose my thoughts about Movimus’ Doug Acre v Dave Markus. SP, Jose & Joe have already shared their notes, so you should check out their more timely thoughts.
Gorgeous bulges on both boys!
First, I could watch Doug Acre stretching and warming up for another hour or so. Knowing what he’s packing makes it only that much more provocative when he gives his bulge a vigorous tug after stretching out his gorgeous muscles. There’s a reason Doug won the Naked Kombat Smackdown title this year. The stud is a serious, seriously skilled wrestler. His work on NK certainly demonstrates that, but the no (few) gimmicks setting of Movimus is like tossing a shark back into the ocean. All wrestling, no hype, and I’m just not sure anyone is as competitive.
Dave’s ass is one of the 7 wonders of the world, as far as I’m concerned.
Of course, Dave is a work of art as well. That ass is stunning. He looks like an Abercrombie poster come to life. Watching how flexible and ripped his physique is takes my breath away, and that doesn’t even start to describe that gorgeous face. Simply phenomenal, top to bottom, and then let’s stare at that bottom some more.
Doug is on him like glue!!!
The action is intense, lot’s of heavy breathing, and Doug is relentlessly on the offense. The way he works his way into Dave’s guard is so subtly sexy and foreshadowing. He’s like fly paper. The very moment Dave shoves one arm away, it’s like Doug is attached that much more tightly, working his way into a tighter and higher clinch on the Dave’s incredible physique. When Dave counters, Doug seems that much more solidly cemented to him, maintaining stunning balance and control and accumulating what would be an eternity of riding time, if that was relevant.
If only this were NK, and we could see Doug lick those luscious pecs!
I’m not sure what happens at the awkward scene cut around 13:45, but my hunch is that gorgeous Dave is sucking down too much air to keep going. His body may be trained to superhuman tolerances, but he’s wilting under the spell of Doug Acre. When the action picks up again, Doug is back on his feet but nearly defenseless against the crashing waves of Doug’s controlling offense. Just like that, Doug tosses the beauty to his back again. Dave defensively squeezes body scissors with all his might. And that’s a lot of might! Look at the meat in this thighs flexing! And it does appear to momentarily put the energizer bunny in slo-mo. But Doug just… keeps… coming.
He is all over gorgeous Dave!
Again, I could watch bodies like these entangled like works of art for days, but what’s missing for me is personality. When Dave starts grunting and flailing in a panic around the 16:45 mark, there’s some sweet, mostly silent drama that’s erotically charged. But the action is so straight-up, so naked (metaphorically only, sadly) that the ferocity and hunger that we know of Doug’s NK work seems largely absent. It’s a very simple tale that they tell. Not to say that simple isn’t sexy. I get off half a dozen times on that sexy sheen of sweat making Doug’s back glisten as if his entire body is getting lubed in preparation for a victory. But it’s not an NK victory. No lube is really called for. It’s not a pro victory, with strut and narrative beyond just the fact that gorgeous Dave got out hustled and outmuscled by a smaller, more skilled technical wrestler, whatever the finish actually was.
What it lacks in personality, it certainly compensates for with high class ass watching.
I’m a little fuzzy on how this match ends, because it simply stops mid-action. The web description says that it simply ends without a submission, but the editing seems odd to me (as in, why didn’t someone step into call the draw, or ring a bell, or.. something?). It is, however, a foregone conclusion, barring some act of God, that Dave’s phenomenal ass would get beat and good, because although I never see him give up, he is completely outclassed. I’d give a lot more to see these boys with more attitude, more story to tell, but even as is, it’s provocative fuel for a wrestling fetishist.
There are some wrestlers that predate my discovery of homoerotic wrestling sufficiently to be cemented in my perception as having simply “always been there.” Chuck “Flying Tiger” Collins is one of those wrestlers who had already come and gone from active duty at BG East before I ever discovered them, but at no point was he forgotten. I’ve spent considerable time in the back catalogs of BG East and the “vintage” photo montages in the Arena, and regularly has Flying Tiger grabbed me by the balls and stared me down. Gorgeous, athletic, confident, he always seemed ripped from the pages of an 80’s Playgirl cover and slapped into the middle of my wrestling fantasies. To get the opportunity to stumble across him online and swiftly apply my full-throttle appeal for an interview in an instant was a thrill, but nowhere near the delight of getting to correspond with this classic hunk and see what’s become of him, and whether he’d be willing to join the ranks of classic wrestlers making an encore appearance in the ring.
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Classic Chuck “Flying Tiger” Collins
Bard: Chuck “Flying Tiger” Collins! What an unexpected thrill and honor to get to chat with you. Classic BG East wrestling fans will remember you from the inaugural Motel Madness and many matches in the Private Bouts collection. I feel like I should know this, but tell me how you earned the name Flying Tiger.
Chuck: Bard, it’s my pleasure to get a chance to chat with you, especially since it’s been so long since I’ve done any wrestling vids. As to my name, “The Flying Tiger,” I was known for some pretty wild aerial moves in the day, so “flying” kinda stuck.
There’s a reason they called him “Flying Tiger!”
Bard: It’s sometimes tough to track when BG East matches were taped. How long has it been since you last slipped into a tight pair of trunks to grapple on camera?
Chuck: Maybe 25 years since my last filming… Wow, until I just said it, didn’t realize it was that long ago.
Bard: That’s incredible! Who was your the last opponent you faced?
Chuck: They were all great opponents. I recall bass Wallace worked me pretty hard in Motel Madness, but Kid leopard probably worked me over the hardest. Only one match on film, and it was an epic battle.
In Private Bout 6, The Flying Tiger gave Kid Leopard a run for his money……but Kid Leopard worked him over good!
Bard: It was! If I’m not mistaken, KL had several swipes at you, though only that one private bout 1-on-1. He and Raw Deal tag teamed all over you and TNT, and when you faced Andy Bailey, KL intervened in that match as well. What do you think it is about you that drew such viciousness from the heel-in-chief?
Chuck: I think it was two fold. My cocky attitude for a baby face, but my skill level backed up my words, and KL stepped in wherever he could to silence me, especially when I was beating his boys! I know in my first match with Andy Bailey, he didn’t win a fall. Totally destroyed him, and it didn’t sit well with him or KL. That’s when I think they planned on KL interfering in the second match with Andy.
Private Bout 7, Kid Leopard made sure Chuck didn’t repeat his squash of KL’s good buddy, Andy Bailey.
Bard: Fuck, I love the melodrama and larger than life personalities that make homoerotic wrestling so intense! I also have major love for hot, handsome baby face heroes like you that can more than hold their own. Who do you think carries the baton for the skilled, stacked, must-be-taken-seriously babyfaces wrestling these days?
Chuck: Wow, there are so many talented wrestlers these days, Cameron Matthews, Jake Jenkins, and forgive me if I leave anyone out, but two that stand out now are Mason Brooks and Kayden Keller – both very talented leaning toward heels, but baby aced and great skill.
Bard: You have fantastic taste! That’s an excellent sample of very fine, skilled babyfaces. Which of those hunks would you pick to time travel back 25 years to tag team with you against KL and Raw Deal?
Chuck: Very interesting question, Bard. I would probably have to go with Cameron if I was selecting purely on talent, and he’s recently been very aggressive in his matches, so he and I versus KL and Raw Deal I think would be a great choice.
Back to the Future Babyface Tag Team to beat: Chuck Collins & Cameron Matthews
Bard: I agree, that sounds like an awesome choice. Cameron and you would make a fantastic, and stunningly handsome, tag team! There have definitely been many new names and new wrestling venues, new series and technologies shaping homoerotic wrestling over the past 25 years. What are your observations about what the biggest changes have been overall? Have they been changes for the better?
Chuck: Again, WOW, “so many changes” is an understatement. I think the biggest changes have been in technology. The quality of the product is so much better today. I was involved in the infancy of the underground homoerotic sport. HD, DVD, now streaming and downloading, all making for a better product as well as better availability. As to the wrestlers, I think they have gotten bigger, more physically developed as a whole. The only place I think some are lacking is in actual skill, very few can sell the match the way we old timers used to. Not all, but the really talented pool of wrestlers now is a small group indeed.
Bard: I don’t know how much it may be nostalgia, but I sometimes miss the rawer, rougher video quality and even the more improvised venues from earlier days. There was an intensity and edge that I don’t always sense in higher definition, where missed moves and every last blemish and mole are crystal. How did you join the ranks of BGE?
Chuck: I was introduced to BGE when I phoned KL telling him I was going to be in Mass for an extended period of time. Now this was back when Hull, Mass was the BGE home site – very primitive compared to their home base now. After a brief interview, I was set up to go up against Andy Bailey, and the rest, as they say, is history.
Bard: Had you already been a fan, then? Did you come with a wrestling background?
Chuck: I did some wrestling in school, lots of fooling around with friends, but my real background in pro was going Thursday nights down to the arena with my family to watch the matches. Some of the old wrestlers worked out at a gym I knew, and I would watch them, then I’d try to replicate what I saw. BGE just helped me perfect it all. And I was a fan of BGE, and was gratdful for the opportunity to try out.
Bard: Clearly you fit right in! Attitudes about sexuality have changed since then (in some ways, at least). Do you think changing levels of stigma in society in general have shaped some of the evolution of a gay-oriented wrestling company like BG East?
Chuck: I would hope so. I know there is a lot more openness now about being a wrestler for gay-oriented companies that are out there.
Bard: A regular theme I hear repeated from nearly every BG East wrestler I’ve talked to has been the esprit de corps that develops among the wrestlers there. Did you connect on a personal level with any wrestlers in particular?
Despite slapping Chuck down for the title in Private Bout 6, Kid Leopard remains a friend.
Chuck: Many, starting at the top with KL. We still keep in touch, not nearly as often as we used to, but every now and again. I’ll get a text from a few of the other guys every now and again, just to catch up and see what’s going on, so I would definitely agree that the camaraderie that developed between the wrestlers led to numerous friendships along the way.
Bard: Are you still in fight shape today?
Chuck: Well all depends what you call “in fight shape.” I’m currently at 150 lbs, 5’8″, and 8% body fat. I workout 5 times a week using a dumbbell routine that keeps me pretty solid. Let me send you some pics and let you be the judge.
Chuck “Flying Tiger” Collins today.Flying Tiger looks ready to rumble!
Bard: Holy shit you look fantastic! You are ripped and rocking! Any of the current crop of competitors you wouldn’t mind getting your hands on?
Chuck: Thanks, and as far as the new guys go, I’d love to get back in the ring with a bunch of them, starting with Cameron. Would love to tangle with Jake Jenkins, Ethan, possibly even Mason Brooks, Kayden Keller. And who wouldn’t want to get in the ring with Ty Alexander?
Bard: Would the Flying Tiger still be an upright babyface hero today?
Chuck: I’m thinking I’d lean more towards a babyfaced heel these days. I’ve become meaner in my old age.
Bard: I was hoping you’d say babyface heel! Can we talk a minute about exactly how you’d handle adorable Ty?
The Flying Tiger has plans for adorable rookie Ty Alexander (photo credit and thanks to Michael von Redlich)
Chuck: Sure, he’s very cocky in the ring, and the best thing to do for that is let them get confident, then turn the whole thing around on them. A low blow here or there, then a DDT for emphasis. That should quiet him some.
Bard: Hell and YES! I’d say bend that bubble butt over your knee and spank the cocky stud until he cries, too. So I realize I just have the pic as reference here, but you look completely in shape to climb back into the ring. If the call came, would you join the encore career hunk daddies like Shane McCall and show the youngsters how to sell? And could I get front row seats?!
Chuck: I’d love to. I think some of us could show these young punks a thing or two.
Bard: I can’t agree more. I have to think there’s plenty of audience for that, as well. I’m also sure I’m not the only one powerfully provoked by hearing and seeing the Flying Tiger. Anything you’d like to say to the fans who will be popping their cork to read this interview?
Chuck: Just that it’s been an honor and a pleasure speaking with you. It’s nice to know our pioneer work in the field hasn’t been forgotten, and it’s always nice to meet real fans.
Bard: It’s been a profound pleasure to chat with you, and you are most definitely not forgotten. In fact, I’m 100% certain there are all new fans and fantasies ignited by your ripped, 8% body fat, hottie self today! And seriously, although I know KL strictly forbids outside spectators at BG East matches, please lobby for me should you get the call to spank some young upstart’s bubble butt!
Chuck: Will do! And thanks again.
Chuck “Flying Tiger” Collins is still pumped and primed for wrestling action.
I’ve had an opportunity to share quite a bit of BG East reflections recently, and there’s even more to come. Today’s tidbit from homoerotic wrestlers in real life is a surprising departure from the typical neverland fare. Now, you know how I love homoerotic wrestling. And casual readers will remember well how much hot, hunky actors in mouthwatering drama can yank my shorthairs and ignite my homoerotic wrestling imagination (ahem, Alexander Skarsgård). Apropos of little, I received a notice in the mail several weeks ago inviting me to a performance of the Merchant of Venice as a benefit for the theater department of a New England university. Random? It looked like it. But then I noticed who was starring in the role of Shylock: none other than The Boss, Kid Leopard!
It should come as a surprise to no one familiar with BG East that KL is an accomplished and acclaimed figure in the dramatic arts. Just as no one should be surprised that he can portray a classic figure of complex villainy like a headliner. I mean, did you see his appearance in Wrestlefest 2, when he “presented” the lifetime achievement award to DW by bashing the astonished hunk in the head with it (how dare anyone presume to win a lifetime achievement award before The Boss does!?)? KL’s flair for the dramatic is what makes the Contract series such a popular odyssey, culminating in the monarch himself literally mounted upon his throne, with his henchmen forcing a humiliated babyface hero to kiss his feet (well, really culminating in the hero’s retribution of flushing the monarch’s head in the bidet and ripping up the accursed contract forevermore!).
While I was sadly unable to get my ass into a seat to see this performance, I did score some production shots from Shylock himself. A local paper noted that this was KL’s reprisal of the role of Shylock, after having played the part first at age 14. Seeing these stills from the stage is such a trip! The mash-up of Shakespeare and pro wrestling seems, on the one hand, entirely improbable. Then again, on the other hand, have you seen much Shakespeare!? The nuance, the bluntness, the sadism, the humor even in the darkest tragedies… the costumes! Of course these two worlds merge seamlessly in the artistry of the man who Shane McCall recently summed up with the wisdom, “Make it and make it BIG, and do everything you can to be sure it sells!”
Shylock (The Boss)
Possibly the first portrayal of Shylock by the Boss?
Arguably even more titillating for this homoerotic wrestling fan were the photos of the parade of homoerotic wrestlers who paid homage to The Boss by soaking in the work of the Bard (the other one) brought to life by master showman himself, Kid Leopard. I posted a leaked preview pic of one of those collections of homoerotic wrestler theater-goers about a week ago. Here are just a few more of the hot hunks of wrestling who know good drama when they see it.
Ty Alexander, Kayden Keller, Kid Leopard, and Brad RochelleKL and Brad seem to have patched up their differences… for now…Jonny Firestorm was on hand for the performance as well.
Dark Rogers there to laud the Boss!Kid Vicious enjoyed the evening as well.
I’m deeply cynical about professional theater reviewers, but I couldn’t help but be fascinated by what a crew of beautiful, thoughtful homoerotic wrestlers might have to say about the Merchant of Venice and the performance of The Boss. I’m still soliciting reviews, but here are a few that I’ve collected thus far, including profound surprises and insights.
“It was good! Every time he did one of his finger waving poses, I was like, damn, I’m gonna be on the other end of that since I’m kinda the new houseboy. But the entire cast was great. KL really fooled people, too. He brought Shylock to life really. With his actions and with his accent. He was supported by an amazing cast, also.” – Ty “the New Houseboy” Alexander
“Enough comedy to keep the audience from being weighed down by the drama of debt, marriage and potential death, but not so much as to keep us from caring or fearing for the fates of some of the characters. The Boss takes his Shylock and makes him just sympathetic enough, albeit lacking in ethics, that we enjoy his scheming nature as much as we disagree with it, at least until we find fault in his pursuit of revenge which comes across more petty and spiteful than is justified. It adds complexity to a character that has at times been portrayed altogether comically or else monotonously evil. We learn to hate him for his actions rather than simply accept that we are supposed to hate him for his label as villain. Admittedly any impression of the Merchant of Venice is unlikely to remain uncolored by modern social views. Shylock is hated as much for his heritage as for his business dealings, and the laws in the time of the play’s setting prevent him as a Jew from most professions apart from moneylending. His grievances seem legitimate since his rival is a merchant that lends money freely to people so they need not be indebted to Shylock: good for them, but this does directly deprive Shylock of his livelihood. Taken out of context or rather in a modern context, the characters come off fairly prejudiced, and Shylock’s greatest fault is simply pursuing his vendetta to the death of his rival, the sins of wrath and pride as it were.” Drama Critic Kayden Keller
“Shakespeare wasn’t really brought to my attention until I was old enough to chose my own reading material. I had zero exposure to the arts growing up in the city and being in public schooling. I do like theater and like the interesting plays that have depth. The Merchant of Venice is one story that I have always thought had great depth and complexity. KL as Shylock was fantastic. His acting, delivery, and overall GRAVITY on stage was wonderful. I think it’s a great part for him, the perfect part really. All the players did well, and overall it was very well done, but for me KL as the heel was a rock star. The staging was pretty simple in normal lighting, but somehow worked out surprisingly well. The performers made very good use of the space, and it turned out to be very dynamic. As far as ties go, I typically don’t wear them, but I don’t mind dressing up on occasion. As far as being ganged up on, we all had an understanding that the day way about KL, Shylock, and Shakespeare. If any or all of them want to take other issues up with me, we can do it in the ring.” – Brad Rochelle (responding also to my question of whether The Boss and his boys capped off opening night by ganging up on dapperly dressed Brad)
If I can beg reviews out of Kid Vicious, Jonny Firestorm, Dark Rogers, or TNT Horrigan (who I’m told attended, though doesn’t appear to be in any of the photos I managed to track down), I’ll be thrilled to post them as well.
Before I let this night with the Bard go, I also feel compelled to reflect on the humanity of the men (I so often playfully call them boys, but make no mistake, these are all men) who step so masterfully into our homoerotic wrestling imaginations and move and motivate and draw out of us astonishing depths of pleasure, humor, outrage, and awe. Occasionally I deny comments to this blog from people who take it upon themselves to level unconstructive and quite personal criticisms of the stars of homoerotic wrestling fare, tossing catty comments about bodies, proportions, intelligence, and even deeper aspects of character. In the years since I began blogging about homoerotic wrestling, I’ve been profoundly humbled and deeply honored to get to speak with several and meet a few of them face-to-face, and without fail, every one of them delighted me as an interesting, 3-dimensional, highly intelligent human being who, oh, by the way, can turn my crank in the blink of an eye with their stunning good looks and willingness to star in hot wrestling dramas. Not to name names or specifics, but these gentlemen also have insecurities and self-doubts, but at no point am I aware of any homoerotic wrestler who has in some way deserved to be treated as anything less than a delightful human being. These are athletes and artists, sons and brothers, scholars and innovators, and as richly nuanced and full of surprises as anyone else that you or I care about and respect deeply. What these photos and reviews highlight for me is that what makes the art on stage (and in the ring) so compelling is almost certainly related to the depth of character and artistry of these men off stage (and out of the ring), but we who sit in the seats should not permit our suspension of disbelief to confuse the reality that the objects of our wrestling fantasies are flesh and blood, with talents and interests and insights that we will likely never witness from row J seat 15 or from the confines of our wrestling viewing lairs. From The Boss to each of these wrestler-reviewers to every homoerotic wrestler I’ve ever met, I am profoundly honored by the opportunity to not just be a fan of your wrestling, but of your humanity as well.
My plate was full in October, but I still managed to take a pretty broad sampling of the new homoerotic wrestling releases. With BG East’s catalog 105, the field was already packed with satisfying hotness, but of course Jose documented that there were in fact 87 new releases from at least 12 different producers. Full disclosure, I did not watch all 87 matches. Some of these fine purveyors of wrestling are not in my regular queue. As I’ve mentioned before, my resources (both financial and temporal) are limited. But designating a homoerotic wrestler of the month is not science. It’s thoroughly and unabashedly biased, informed entirely by what turns me on most among the matches that I have the opportunity to enjoy. With that disclaimer made (again), let me turn my attention to crowning my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month for outstandingly provocative October match performance…
Someone is, at this very moment, complaining that Drake had an unfair advantage because he had the opportunity to demonstrate to me, in person, just how provocative his wrestling work was in October. See my disclaimer above and let it go. While the pleasure I had to encounter Drake in the ring during my BG East – South campus pilgrimage certainly looms large in my thoughts, first and foremost Drake wins this month’s title for his work in X-Fights 38.
“Jake falls for Drake’s charm offensive.”
The back cover of the DVD already had me chuckling and aroused. “Jake falls for Drake’s charm offensive,” the caption reads underneath a shot of Drake and his opponent, Lorenzo “Jake” Lowe glistening with sweat and making out in the mat room. Drake’s talents run deep, of course, but I have to agree whole heartedly that one of the most disarming (and dangerous) assets the Cheshire Cat brings to a match is that fucking charm. It’s conveyed in steady eye contact, a subtly seductive tilt to his head, his sharp and savvy wit, and, of course, that nearly constant dimpled grin on his handsome face.
The backstory on X-Fights 38 is eerily familiar. “It’s pretty easy to talk trash when I’m about 900 miles away,” Drake smirks as they stare one another down on the mat. “But now that I’m here, what are you going to do?” It wasn’t deliberate, but that was almost precisely the backstory and dialogue that constituted the wrestling foreplay between me and Drake later in October. Clearly it’s a potent lure that the Cheshire Cat baits his hook with, all handsomeness and disarming charm with full throttle trash talk to stoke a virtual opponent into a sweat-soaked, erotically charged, IRL wrestling battle.
Drake grabs the throttle almost instantly scoring the first fall.
LJL, fans know, is unfailingly dangerous. The lightweight has a stunning record of toppling (and absolutely grinding into dust) much bigger muscle boys. However, about 3 minutes into this match, LJL finds his grinning, charming opponent not only countering his expertly executed offense, but abruptly rolling him into a nut-cruching Boston Crab. Drake sits low, really leaning back and making LJL’s lower lumbar creak with agonizing tension. LJL, the master executioner, astonishingly taps out with a note of panic in his voice as Drake absolutely glows with pleasure. Oh, yeah. I know where you’re coming from, LJL.
Soon enough, however, Drake takes a boatload of torture because, after all, this is LJL. Long limbs and an energizer bunny battery do not spare the Cheshire Cat from being worked into a major lather quite quickly. Both of these boys are pouring sweat minutes in, which always increases my erotic engagement. And speaking of erotic engagement, these boys latch their claws on each other’s cocks and balls from start to finish in this bout.
Drake relishes the opportunity to document his destruction of LJL by posting this mid-match video online (Karma’s a bitch, eh, Drake?).
Things turn particularly sexy, in my opinion, and for Drake ominously foreshadowing, right around the time when the Cheshire Cat rolls LJL into a rear naked choke, reaches for his mobile phone, and starts taking selfie video of his Cheshire Cat grin next to LJL’s oxygen-deprived face. “Exclusive for drakefuckingmarcos.blogspot.com!” Drake crows. “Here I am with ‘Jake’ Lorenzo Lowe, and I’m making him my bitch! Smile for the camera,” he laughs at his trapped opponent.
LJL documents the truism: Payback is a bitch.
Online taunts turning into a mobile-phone documented reckoning at BG East South?! Oh, Drake, it was a very busy month for you, wasn’t it? And similarly to a certain ring match later in the month, Drake soon enough finds his taunts and bluster catching up to him as LJL starts to maintain momentum and work the Cheshire Cat into more and more compromised positions. The blurring of combat and erotic lust is pitched beautifully in this match. The boys use their bodies to dominate and torture and somewhere, almost imperceptibly, their bodies become focused entirely on giving and receiving pleasure. Those big doe eyes of Drake’s suck LJL right in as Jake can’t help but taste those lips. He rides Drake’s dripping torso, peeling those pink trunks off, feeling that body. Drake gives himself over to his opponent’s control, and when LJL is fully engaged, Drake rolls on top of him, lips locked, hands stroking, crotches grinding intently.
Not so fast, LJL!
And then Drake replaces his lips with the palm of his hand stretched across LJL’s mouth and nose. That sly son of a bitch was, indeed, working his charm offensive all along, luring LJL into a defenseless position. LJL slowly, reluctantly slips into unconsciousness with the Cheshire Cat perched atop him as pleased as can be, returning the favor of peeling of his opponent’s trunks. Where does combat end and carnal lust begin remains the question as both of these delicious boys bring incredibly accomplished “charm offenses” to bear. The question of who will be erotically lulled into a vulnerable enough place to be decisively conquered, with photographic evidence in hand, and finally led from the mat by his cock is uncertain almost to the bitter end.
So much trash talk silenced as Drake is forced to suck on LJL’s bicep.
But as with all things, there is a naked, drenched, humiliated end, and if you can run a simple correlation on Drake’s win-loss record, you can guess whose cock is the leash for whom. LJL is handsome as hell as always, devastatingly dangerous and deadly serious. But the Cheshire Cat is just having more fun. His humor and charm propel this story powerfully. Drake’s full throttle passion for homoerotic wrestling is like a wave crashing over and over again upon the mat (and his opponent), and his intensity and intelligence raise this far above what I often expect in a carnally explicit X-fight.
October’s Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month: Drake Marcos
And, sure, it doesn’t hurt that I have my own photographic evidence that trash talk from 900 miles away is a lot easier for a certain Cheshire Cat than facing a challenger on the mats. But when it comes to picking which homoerotic wrestler appearing in an October new release entertained, provoked and aroused me most, there’s just no contest. He may be this blogger’s bitch, true, but he’s also without question this blogger’s homoerotic wrestler of the month: Drake “Cheshire Cat” Marcos.
Wait, how did that photo get into this blog post?! That’s not from X-Fights 38. Oh, well…
I woke up to a deep and dark funk in light of the election results across the country yesterday. These are dark days, I fear, and I’m desperately in need of a hero to fight off the villains who are robbing us blind. Fortunately, this Halloween seems to have brought out the superheroes from among the ranks of homoerotic wrestlers, and I for one am relieved to have these gorgeous hunks suit up to slap down the bad guys. Because there are so many fucking bad guys. In Congress!
Kayden Keller reveals his secret identity: Super Sexy SuperboyLook at the shoulders on this kid! Villains step back!I’m I’m not mistaken, Robin’s jobberboy alter-ego very well may be adorable Ty Alexander!Unmasked, it’s definitely Ty to the rescue.It’s Superman vs Batman, the next generation! Can’t we all just get along!?Maybe a little next incarnation Night Wing can save the day.Hey, I recognize that not-so-secret lair!
Wait, staring down from above at those lips, checking out those abs, I’m having flashbacks to recently putting Drake Marcos on his back in the ring!
Night Wing rocks. I hope he’s better at conquering the bad guys than Drake is.
Wolverine always turns me on, particularly when it’s a certain homoerotic wrestling heel selling the look.The size of the villainy today calls for the big guns. Bear daddy Shane McCall, save us!
My pilgrimage to the holy sites of BG East’s south campus was this fanboy’s dream. The sites and smells and vicarious thrills of walking in the footsteps of so many beautiful homoerotic wrestlers kept the pressure in my crotch dialed way up. And just when I was fully engaged, Drake Marcos slyly laid down the gauntlet, challenging me to wrestle. Just to draw out the tease a little longer, I suspect, he first took me to one of the local gay bars frequented by BG East boys. Seductively, the Cheshire Cat swatted my wallet away when I went to buy drinks, insisting on picking up the tab. Chauffeur, tour guide, and he pays for the drinks?! This kid is just way too generous to be anything but ground beef in the brutal world of BG East. Again: adorable jobber.
Yeah. Those trunks. Definitely.
The Cheshire Cat left it up to me to pick the venue and gear for our little reckoning. Venue was, of course, the BG East ring. There are just way too many fantasies in my DVD collection and in my fondest dreams to pass up the opportunity to climb through those ropes. I’ve never been much into a gear fetish, so I wasn’t nearly as invested in that choice. I wore a simple pair of blue trunks. But I did request that Drake wear that pair of pink and white square cuts that won him a Friday Fashion poll victory a few months back. He grinned knowingly and fished them out of his bag. The very same trunks that he wore to defeat adorable Ty Alexander in Babyface Brawl X. The same trunks that he’s sporting in BG East’s current catalog release of X-Fights 38. Well, at least Drake wore them to start the match, before LJL ripped them off his body and choked him with them.
These pink and white square cuts won Drake a Friday Fashion poll victory, but they weren’t so luck once Lorenzo “Jake” Lowe got a hold of them.
For the record, Drake is every inch and ounce the tightly packed stud that he appears on camera to be. He’s lean and strong from head to toe, of course, but it’s his long, strong legs that I’ve always appreciated most. I’m sure it was me staring at his hot legs that left me distracted enough for the sly punk to catch me off guard and shove me into the ring. Heel cred or just a bitch move? The jury was still out for me.
The Cheshire Cat has his own blog that he hollowly promises to update, so I’ll let him tell his side of the story, should he finally get around to it (blogging is harder than it looks, eh, stud?). Credit where due, Drake used his height, weight, and considerable experience advantages to rock me on my heels early going. I can’t say I was surprised by the intensity of the kid’s offense, because if you’ve watched one of his matches, particularly his thumping of Ty, you can’t miss how effectively he uses his long limbs to swarm a smaller opponent. I was anticipating a little “welcome to the ring, Bard” hospitality as I relished this moment of standing where so many erotic fantasies have occurred. Drake had been so damn hospitable all day, so unfailingly accommodating this entire visit. Tossed into the ropes and getting my abs pounded about 20 seconds in drove home that point that I’d begun to suspect. Adorable, attentive, overgenerous Drake was a set up all along.
I’m not ashamed to say I was flat-footed and, literally, on the ropes for a while as the Cheshire Cat smirked and taunted. “Where are all your words now, Bard?!” Trying to catch my breath, the sexy bastard threw me to the mat and snapped those hot legs around my gut and squeezed. No shit, that hurt. A lot. That fucking grin on his face kept hovering just overhead, because he clearly enjoys watching an opponent suffer as much as we’ve seen him clearly driven wild by his own suffering. Well, at least he enjoys watching a particular homoerotic wrestling blogger suffer. The pain was a bitch for real, but I wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity presented by these long held body scissors to get a lingering feel of Drake’s thighs. Fuck, they rock.
Drake wins the tale of the tape when it comes to a lot of things (younger, much more experienced, trained by the best, longer limbs, more body weight), but I’ve got to be brutally honest here, I’ve got him beat in upper body strength. Sucking down a little air and getting my bearings, I pried his ankles apart and rolled out. Again, I should’ve known better than to expect a half a second to catch my breath, because I’ve watched his relentless offense plenty of times. Still, he knocked the wind out of me as soon as I was up on my knees, tackling me back to the mat and wrapping his arms around my throat, cinching up tight for a choke. Aw, fuck. I kept my chin tucked until those luscious legs suddenly snapped around my torso again, grinding into my kidneys. My reflex to arch my back earned me his forearm pressed squarely across my throat. I was toast. I held out awhile just to make the Cheshire Cat have to work a little longer, but soon enough, I tapped out.
Again, if he was half as generous as he’d been all day, I might have been extended the courtesy of a few seconds to catch my breath and nurse my wounded ego. Instead, Drake was on offense again about 3.4 seconds after releasing that chokehold. Seriously tired of getting my ass manhandled, I flipped the kid to his back and hooked one of those sexy, long legs, rolling him onto his shoulders. The punk taunted my offense condescendingly. “Seriously, Bard? You’re trying to cradle me?” He flexed his core, extending his legs in a bid to pop free. However, someone may need to do a little more core strength training, because although he rolled out of the pin, he didn’t fight his way free of the cradle. I let him writhe and wriggle futilely for a minute. When he settled down, I slid forward into a schoolboy pin. Drake Marcos, flat on his back, staring up at his opponent’s crotch. Yeah, I certainly knew I wasn’t the first to be taking that ride.
I was, however enjoying the view of that shit-eating grin struggling to stay in place in this humiliating position. In fact, I was enjoying it a little too much. My weight too far back, the Cheshire Cat snapped those fucking long legs around my ribs and rolled to his side. Back in yet another bone crushing body scissors!? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I did treat myself to squeezing the boy’s flexing glutes. If I’m going to get wrung dry by those legs, I might as well get a little (lot of) brief thrill from the predicament. His knees dug into my lower rib cage hard. He snickered right about the time my eyes were rolling into the back of my head, sucking down a whole lot of pain. I held on a while, but those scissors took me right over the edge this time. I tapped out again.
I was feeling seriously dehydrated. I called for time to suck down some water. Not to toot my own horn, but when I’m not on pilgrimage to BG East, I lift weights 3 days a week and swim at least a mile and a half every other day. So I was genuinely shocked to find that about 15 minutes in the ring with Drake was pushing my endurance hard. I knew this was going to be hard work, of course, but damn it all if it wasn’t tapping my reserves fast. Drake, however, was fresh as a daisy and tackling me to the mat again about 4 seconds after I finished my cup of water.
So did Drake turn out to be something other than the jobber I’d flattered for so long, or was he a different creature all together? That depends on how you deploy the term. If by jobber you mean a pushover, no contest, lamb to the slaughter, then absolutely not. Drake is not a that species of wrestler by any stretch of the imagination. If, however, by jobber you mean a wrestler who however much looks like he’s got a fighting chance sooner or later is destined to get crushed and humiliated, well…
After the water break, the match turned back and forth a lot more evenly than it started, thankfully for me. True, I was introduced to Drake’s balls in more than one face to crotch headscissors. Then again, I returned the favor, and before the Cheshire Cat choked on my balls, I’d slipped around to his sweat soaked back and snapped on a sleeper. If you know Drake’s work at all, you know the kid has a major weakness for being sleepered, not because he can’t defend against them, but because he just plain gets off on them so hard. The punk was visibly ambivalent about being unable to escape, and when I added a little leverage with some scissors of my own, Drake took a brief Cheshire Catnap. I finally enjoyed the opportunity to catch my breath, stretched out across his back.
When he roused, the energizer bunny was back at it soon enough. I lost my grip at one point (the punk sweats like Niagra Falls), and found my way briefly into a camel clutch. The boy couldn’t maintain it, though. He stopped me dead in my tracks several times once he discovered that working my nipples just right can momentarily paralyze me. The bastard was like a dog with a bone once he figured that out. But this was heading one way, and I’d already long known a few of Drake’s override switches. With his noggin trapped between my knees and my hands around his throat, the BG East battler lost all self control and couldn’t keep his hands off himself. And once he was careening down that path, he was wide open to find himself dragged to his feet and trapped in the ropes, spent and helpless.
Don’t fuck with this blogger, Drake.Are you listening to me, jobberboy!?
So if by jobber you mean an earnest wrestler who, even when he starts strong, ends up his opponent’s plaything on a string, then perhaps you might have to agree with me that Drake is, indeed, a very sweet jobber. If you by jobber you mean a young stud who, regardless of all the advantages in the world, ends up hung out to dry in a tree of woe, well then, I think you and I are are talking the same language.
Hung out to dry.Just a handsome, helpless jobber doormat.
And if by jobber you mean a confident young scrapper who, nevertheless, gets owned, flat on his back in the middle of the ring, too wasted to notice his opponent is documenting the moment to provide evidence of precisely who is the sweet jobber in this blogger v jobber scenario, then sure, I think we are coming to an agreement here about the Cheshire Cat.
One last, decisive Cheshire Catnap for Drake Marcos.
And finally if by jobber you mean a conquered stud who is so thoroughly owned and laid waste that those fashion forward pink square cuts get ripped off his bod and stuffed in his no-longer grinning mouth, then put a fork in it. And Drake. Because that jobber looked sweet enough to spread on buttered toast by the time I was done with him.
In the battle of blogger versus jobber, this is how it ends.
Once roused and able to climb back out of the ring, Drake was again hospitable and gracious. Of course, having just been force fed his humble pie, that wasn’t so surprising after all. I just need to say two things to Drake now as I wrap up my reflections on my pilgrimage to BG East South. 1) Thanks so much, buddy, for everything, because this was an unbelievably enjoyable visit from start to finish, and that’s entirely due to my sexy ass, sly, handsome host. And 2) I so very much told you so, sweet jobberboy.
Now that’s fashion-forward! Drake Marcos never looked so good as out cold, flat on his back, stripped naked and force fed humble pie… and his trunks. By me.
The Cheshire Cat really does grin almost all the time!
Drake Marcos extended gracious courtesy and generosity as he hosted my visit to BG East’s south campus recently. Nowhere in sight were the bluster and strutting he demonstrated online for the past year or so. “Bring it, Bard,” he’d snarled during my threesome interview with him and Mason Brooks last February, “your writing won’t save you on the mats. Let’s do this!” But he was all dimpled smiles and earnestness when he treated me to breakfast at a greasy spoon frequented by BG East boys between taping matches. There was nothing but open faced hospitality as he drove me to the BG East arena to let me soak up more secondhand homoerotic wrestling hits. I have to admit I was feeling pretty certain that although young Drake clearly doesn’t like to admit it, he was way too straight-laced, way too considerate, way too self-deprecating to be anything other than a perpetually doomed jobberboy.
The proprietor’s hand was evident everywhere.Now, that’s what I call art!
Kid Leopard himself had shared with me behind the scenes shots of the recently developed arena facilities of BG East, so it was both intensely familiar and deeply provocative to stroll through. The walls are plastered (tastefully) with eclectic and stimulating wrestling art. Pro posters, comic art, a few classic works. There was no mistaking that the same guiding hand that placed such a distinctive stamp on BG East’s Boston area compound had decorated this place. As I experienced during my pilgrimage to BG East north, everywhere I turned was a hot graphic allusion to precisely what turns me on.
Which hot wrestling asses have sat on those couches!?
Drake described for me the way the facility is used during a typical taping session for BG East. There are frequently many wrestlers on site at the same time, but with one match being taped at a time, the lounge area is populated with hot hunks in gear hanging out, shooting the shit, reading, checking texts, whatever. It’s that downtime, I’m guessing, that has much to do with the camaraderie and esprit de corps that so many BG East wrestlers have described for me during my interviews. For a fan like me, of course, I just kept imagining whose gorgeous asses had graced this furniture, and tried to restrain myself from burying my face in the plush cushions.
Mat Room South
I was a little shocked to find that the mat room looked exactly like I pictured it. Pretty much every other venue I’ve toured left me with the impression of distorted proportions. The pool over at the bungalow seemed a little smaller than it was in my mind’s eye, for example. BG East’s northern compound mat room outside of Boston was incredibly tight for the illusions created by camera angles and intimate holds. But the mat room in the south campus arena was exactly like I pictured it.
The same mat room where Mason Brooks introduced long-suffering Drake to the screaming edges of passion and punishment. Remember that nipple torture for later…
And, of course, so many arousing images were superimposed on my vision, like Drake getting tagged and bagged by Mason Brooks in Passion and Punishment. It was spotlessly shiny and smelling of diligently applied cleanser, of course, but I couldn’t help but feel a little bit of awe, and stirring, at the gallons of sweat, tears, and cum that have fallen on that mat. Hell, the tears Drake alone has shed there could probably fill a saltwater aquarium!
[Cue choir of angels] The Ring!The climax of the tour for me was, of course, the ring arena. Regular readers know of my partiality for the pro wrestling ring in my homoerotic wrestling fantasies. The ring itself seemed every inch the size and scope I remembered from so many scenes of erotic domination, but somehow it fills the warehouse that it inhabits a bit more than I’d pictured. The BG East masterminds have maximized the square footage devoted to the ring, making me a little awestruck at the camera angles and perspectives they manage to capture with the spare inches available outside the ring apron. With the Cheshire Cat standing right beside me, I couldn’t help picture Drake’s Drubbing at the hands of Jonny Firestorm in Custom Combat, winner of the 2012 Fan Poll for Best Squash of the Year (of course, it was Drake that got squashed. Again. And again.). So much brutality and destruction! What a hotly suffering jobber!
Drake wept like a soul-crushed jobber babe in Jonny’s countless machinations of humiliation and destruction.
Drake had to interrupt the tour to scrub the ring. It’s apparently a task he’s been assigned by The Boss, to keep the facility spotless. As he scrubbed away like a good jobber, Drake explained that when the facility isn’t being used to tape BG East matches, it’s rented out for private events and personal wrestling rendezvous by locals (or those traveling through).
Choreboy keeps it clean.
After choreboy was all done, we sat and talked for hours about a ton of shit, most of which I’m expressly prohibited from sharing on the pages of this blog. My scrupulosity is my bane, clearly. The Cheshire Cat would tell me juicy anecdotes from on and off screen BG East moments, and then pause reflectively and add, “of course, you can’t share that on your blog.” Me and my fucking integrity. I got the impression that Drake was happy to download a ton of behind the scenes stunts and quirks, confiding what mat match created such a racket that the boys waiting their turn in the lounge found themselves laughing so uncontrollably that they had to flee the building for fear of blowing the taping. “But, of course, you can’t share that on your blog.” I was cataloging juicy gossip about the good, the bad, and the downright prickish among BG East wrestlers and hopefuls. “But, of course, you can’t share that on your blog.” I heard Drake’s personal impressions of dozens of the dozens more wrestlers who he’s met, worked with, and tried to avoid. “But, of course, you can’t share that on your blog.”
It began to dawn on me after, quite literally, hours of hearing homoerotic wrestling buzz off the record that the rising pairing of frustration and arousal that was making my crotch ache may not have been all that unintended by the Cheshire Cat. I began to suspect that, knowing of my commitment to confidentiality, the tease of so many stories that I was not allowed to share may very well have been a strategy from the dimpled stud sitting across from me, stretching out his long, sexy legs, working me into a lather and then swearing me to secrecy. What had appeared as an overabundance of generosity and frankness… wait, was I getting played!?
“So, all that talk about wrestling. Are we really going to do it, or was that just talk?”
We hadn’t talked about the gauntlet Drake had laid down so many months ago at all so far this entire time, until suddenly he stopped dishing and smirked at me. “So, all that talk about wrestling. Are we really going to do it, or was that just talk?” Wait, was all this just foreplay, astonishingly spot-on foreplay aimed at stoking the vanity and arousal of a particular wrestling blogger known for loving the behind-the-camera dish, and then leaving me erotically frustrated, irked even, in order to lure me into the ring?
My first glimpse of Drake Marcos was him sandwiched between Blaine Janus and Red Baron in a Kid Karisma photo.
It all started so swimmingly, when I first laid eyes on young Drake Marcos, prior to his on camera debut for BG East. He appeared in a mix of photos from Kid Karisma’s pics from a weekend of wrestling for BG East. I called out the then-unknown handsome stud; Drake reached out; I hit him up for an interview instantly; he repeatedly chided me during the interview for being too complimentary, too flattering, which was just not the case because I think the stud is devastatingly handsome. But somewhere, something went awry. Oh, let’s be honest, there was a very particular point at which Drake turned chilly toward me. It was when I was enjoying a threesome interview with both Drake and Mason Brooks, during which I commented that he has a fan following as a “sweet jobber.”
Inexplicably, Drake bristles at being called “a sweet jobber.”Drake promised there was a special “present” just for me under his tree.
Of course, I thought I was being deferential, complimentary, even, when I asked young Drake about being a rising fan favorite jobber at BG East. Clearly, that’s not the way my question was received, however, because the Cheshire Cat’s irrepressible smile disappeared in an instant and the earnest grappler bristled. His string of early career squashes aside, Drake promised that he was honing his craft and improving every day and every match, and I should be prepared to bank on the promissory note that he would cash in the day he scored his first, decisive match victory. Then, of course, Drake made another promise last Christmas, apparently still bristling (though with that dimpled grin back on his handsome face), when he told me he had “a present” under his tree particularly for me to open.
In the subsequent months, more words were exchanged. A rookie no longer, Drake continued to issue the vaguely threatening invitation to come on down and see the “present” he was dying to deliver to me as, apparently, his chief blogger and critic. Critic!? Me?! I’ve been fawning over his Fugelsang-esque hot looks from before I ever knew his name or saw him in square cuts. However, no amount of deference or flattery could sway young Drake’s intent on unwrapping for me some of what he perceives to be retribution for my flagrant audacity in lauding his jobber cred.
Honestly, I’m not sure the young stud quite knew what to say when I pointed out a while back that I would be in the vicinity of BG East’s south campus around the same time he would this fall. The jobber stuttered more than a little, but caught in a web of his own making, Drake eventually agreed that the time had come to set aside childish taunts and schoolyard threats and sort out just what it was he felt obliged to “deliver” with a real, live, hot blooded homoerotic wrestling blogger standing in front of him.
Uh-oh, Drake. Online taunts and threats won’t help you now.
My recent rendezvous with Drake Marcos marked what feels like my second pilgrimage to the holy sites of homoerotic wrestling. My first pilgrimage I documented about 3 years ago, when I had an opportunity to spend time in the Boston area and even scored myself an invitation to visit the Boss himself where so much magic has happened and continues to happen. Not nearly so perversely hotheaded or constitutionally delicate as his online persona, this pilgrimage to BG East’s Florida campus was hosted by a genuinely gracious Drake Marcos who devoted a ton of time and attention to showing me the holy sites while other BG East regulars all happened to be out of town.
How much hotness has set that pool boiling!?
Prior to opening their newest wrestling facilities in the area, many BG East Florida matches were filmed at a particularly picturesque, canal-side bungalow with a screened in pool and carefully kept gardens. The grounds themselves pulse with the echoes of so many beautiful BG East boys posing dockside.
Echoes of hot hunks sunning on the dock and wrestling in the backyard were everywhere.That dock.
I had a momentary impulse to lick the very palm tree that vicious Bobby Horton momentarily tied Mitch Colby to in Backyard Brawls 5, bashing the fitness model fantasyman like a tormented St. Sebastian, before Mitch turned that shit right back around and threw Bobby to the grass, flexing his hot, muscled, tanned body in the young hunk’s face.
Mitch Colby and Bobby Horton made the most of the landscape.So much hot BG East wrestling and domination have occurred here!Kid Vicious rocks Lobolito in the pool
We know the matches that have taken place in that pool and poolside, including this summer’s Wet & Wild 7 tourney which earned fiercely hot Trey Dixon July’s homoerotic wrestler of the month title here at neverland. Lobolito got the full-on Kid Vicious bash-rinse-repeat cycle in Wet & Wild 4, tortured with such an exquisite intensity in those same waters that I swear I could almost hear the screams of pain still echoing off the pool deck (seriously, has KV ever looked hotter than muscled up and dripping wet in that match!?).
So many sizzling matches have taken place on wrestling mats set up poolside, such as Kid Karisma dragging Christian Taylor’s lovely, long body in, then out of the pool in Wet & Wild 5, working Abercrombie-boy Christian over until both studs had to retire indoors for Kid K to savor the spoils of victory in air conditioning. I’ve spent so many hours watching footage from that screened in pool that it felt like I was cozying up in profoundly familiar surroundings.
I stood right here where Mitch & Derek tore each other up!The Cheshire Cat
And speaking of those indoors, I also got a long, lingering look at the sunroom, the site of a dizzyingly hot catalog of matches that are never far from the top of my cue. Right here’s where Mitch Colby and Derek da Silva, one of the hottest combinations in history, absolutely crushed one another’s balls until both were writhing in pools of sweat and ecstasy in Crotch Crushers 1. Here’s where Mitch also confronted the only wrestler to compete with him as the longest running title holder of my favorite homoerotic wrestler title, Rusty Stevens, leaving me apoplectic for weeks afterward with the sheer hotness of the score settling in Breaking Point. BG East fans will be unsurprised to hear me say that the sunroom is tight quarters. Most every sunroom match I’ve seen has involved catching inadvertent glimpses of the film crew reflected in the wall of mirrors on one end. There’s an architectural intimacy that I think explains why just about any pairing of hardbodied hunks there has an extra hit of sexual tension.
Drake was ridiculously charming, solicitous even as we toured the place. I was beginning to think the young buck’s bluster and ballyhoo online was thinly veiling a genuinely sweethearted gentleman. He was kind and attentive, anticipating my questions and interests, playing a gracious host and placing my need to reverentially soak in the setting of so many homoerotic wrestling fantasies deliberately and lingeringly at the forefront of his priorities. In other words, it wasn’t long before I was convinced all over again that young Drake Marcos was, indeed, a dyed-in-the-wool, hardwired, cradle-to-grave jobber, through and through. However, when the tour continued on to the newest BG East facilities not far away, I started to suspect that there may, indeed, be more to this adorably dimpled Cheshire Cat.
I know for a fact that this ridiculously handsome collection of smartly dressed homoerotic wrestlers were NOT in residence at BG East South recently (more on that soon). In the mean time, can I just say how extremely erotic I find it to see smoking hot wrestling hunks like these guys in street clothes? Unlike the contraband that “Our Man Inside” smuggles out of BG East for us to savor, this pic came directly from the Boss himself, treating us to what looks like a night out with one of the sexiest posses on the planet. I get a strong hit of Clark Kent about these boys all dressed up with someplace to go. I’m sensing hard feelings engendered by Brad Rochellegiving Kid Leopard a swirly have been ironed out. That, or else dimple-chinned Brad may be just about to get dragged across the floor by that tie and triple-teamed by the Boss and his new crop of BG East henchmen. And speaking of the henchmen, I repeat myself I know, but it bears repeating: hunks in glasses drive me CRAZY! Holy shit, Ty Alexander and Kayden Keller in specs are insanely sexy. Kayden appears to have missed the dress code memo, but I’m not about to be the one to diss the heel-rising’s fashion sense. Then there’s delectable little Ty, looking like he just strolled off the stage of Newsboys. And finally, the Boss, with a goatee and a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin that makes it certain that no one would be fooled by the suit and tie to mistake him for anything other than a raging heel.
Fuck, I seriously hope that this ended in a 3-on-1 brutal beatdown. And that someone recorded it.
There’s a deep comic book nerd lurking inside this homoerotic wrestling fanatic, and no one strokes that part of me harder than Eye of the Cyclone. This week’s newest chapter is the “Hard as Ice” comic starring smoking hot hunk babyface hero SubZero.
As is so often the case with mouthwatering muscle hunk heroes like SubZero, he’s in serious jeopardy as the Xtractor, the sadistic supervillain, is stomping the living shit out of SubZero’s hot, latexed body from top the bottom. His pristine silver and baby blue skin tight suit is getting soiled underneath the dirty boots and oil stained hands of the bloodthirsty (well, I’m guessing his thirsty for one bodily fluid or another) bastard.
I know there are a lot of wrestling fanatics particularly into trampling, and Xtractor clearly has you kinked sadists in mind as he pounds that big, weighty combat boot over and over into the ripped hunk, backward to front, top to bottom. The superhero is stunned and dazed, not able to summon his super freezing superpower to defend himself. All the muscle, all those skills, that smoking sexy goatee… none of it amounts to more than a beautifully bulging doormat.
But here’s where things get interesting. So far, this could be some straight-up comicon b-side, but it turns out, to Xtractor’s astonishment, the more SubZero gets trampled by that big hard boot, the harder his dick grows. Hello! Our handsome hero suddenly grabs his raging cock and strokes himself harder and harder, even as he starts to worship that massive, torturing boot pinning him to his back. Holy fuck! SubZero loves this shit just as much as you and I do!
No, I mean seriously, SubZero loves this shit every bit as much as you and I do, and that’s his real secret power. Because the harder his cock grows, the more his super freeze batteries get recharged. And by the teaser of this photo, you can tell, his super freeze batteries are HUGELY recharged! The sultry, hot hunk blasts his torturer into the wall, driving freezing blasts into Xtractor, starting with his crotch. It also helps the super freeze juices (ices?) to keep flowing for SubZero to continue stroking his cock and playing with his own balls. Now that’s a superhero I can get behind! I mean, really, really closely behind.
That fucking coward Xtractor manages to teleport his sorry, beaten ass out of the picture before SubZero can freeze his poor, stunned, limp dick off. Our hero his victorious as he rolls on his side, clutching his battered chest, showing off that mouthwatering ass. There’s not an inch of this luscious stud that I’m not ready to massage soothing, recuperating oils into to aid in his recovery from this epic battle from which he and his raging cock have decisively emerged victorious. But wait, the scene is “…to be continued…” Xtractor has left some vile looking mechanical device behind, positioned ominously right next to SubZero’s gorgeous ass cheeks (where I, by all rights, ought to be!). The hard, horny superhero doesn’t see it! Oh shit, this isn’t over!!!!
There’s so much more to see and read of this and hundreds of other hot superhero/supervillain homoerotic battles at Eye of the Cyclone. They continue to serve up something I just don’t see replicated anywhere else. If you’re even half the nerd I am, you owe it to yourself to check them out.
Sidelineland 