The point of the conversation

wrestlebard3 Comments
Austin Wolf generates so much heat!

I’m closing down the comments on my post last week concerning speculation regarding masculinity and femininity in homoerotic wrestling.  My sincere attempt to try to have a conversation about the role of masculinity in today’s homoerotic wrestling scene continued to veer into persistently vague yet increasingly personal attacks on last month’s homoerotic wrestler of the month, Austin Wolf.  A comment that came through for approval last night got catty with me, pointing out that I was missing the point of the conversation, since all I was talking about was Austin’s wrestling.  I was in the middle of composing a cuttingly clever and brutally insightful retort when it suddenly occurred to me that the commenter (who’s comment won’t be published because of the ensuing character attack on Austin as a person) was actually quite correct on his first point.  Sure, it was my conversation to start with, and it’s a conversation happening on my blog, but the conversation was decisively on a point that is implicitly and explicitly off topic around here.  I was missing “the point” that one or more commenters are uninterested in saying anything about Austin’s wrestling, but fixated on remarkably non-specific but vehement charges about his quality as a gay man and human being off camera.

… and as for his potential in homoerotic wrestling…

Yeah.  I don’t “get” that conversation at all, and more pertinently, that’s not a conversation for this blog. I’ve never talked with Austin, so I can’t verify whether he’s an upstanding sort of guy who’s just pissed somebody off, or if he’s a royal, screwed up dick.  But except for the generous gentlemen who have agreed to be interviewed for neverland, that’s pretty much the state of things with all the wrestlers I review and reflect on.  This conversation, the conversation that I’ll continue to initiate and be happy to respond to, is about homoerotic wrestling, the professional homoerotic wrestling industry, and what turns me on.  Austin’s wrestling turns me on, and I continue to think that he’s got a huge potential, proportional to his massive muscles, for more chart topping homoerotic wrestling.  The rest is for some other forum.

Austin takes the only beating that I care about: in a wrestling match.

I’m composing my post appointing Austin’s successor as HWOTM.  He didn’t appear in a November homoerotic wrestling release, so Austin isn’t eligible for a back-to-back repeat.  So I’m guessing I’ll have less to say about him in the coming days, and I guarantee you won’t be seeing any further comments charging him with unspecified failures to gay humankind.  But comments about his work on the mat or his potential in the business going forward will continue to be welcomed, because that’s what we talk about around here.  And if Austin wants to join the ranks of the friends of neverland by giving me an interview (pass along the hint, people!), we’ll enjoy chatting with him about his initial forays into homoerotic wrestling. Period.  Until then, let’s move on and get back to “the” conversation.

I hope to see those tree trunks wrapped around many, many more heads!

…So Let’s Keep Rocking and Rolling

wrestlebard3 Comments
Not long after my recent post describing exactly what Blaine Janus and Mason Brooks did to me in their intensely sexy Gazebo Grapplers 14 throw down, I found this snapshot in my inbox along with this adorable note:
“Just wanted to say thanks for the nice write-up
 and I’m glad you enjoyed watching the match
as much as I enjoyed filming it! – Mason”
After licking my computer screen a few times, I quickly replied, and using my famous powers of persuasion (which admittedly involve a whole lot of sincere flattery), I got Mason to agree to chat with me a bit about being one of the new kids on the BG East block.  In some ways, the interview that follows picks up right where my interview with Ben Monaco left off yesterday.  Young Mason had me rolling on the floor in laughter one minute and then needing to rearrange my crotch the next minute with his razor sharp wit and extremely sexy insights into how he approaches launching an on-camera homoerotic wrestling career.  So let me be the first to introduce you to this sultry, sexy, suprisingly sinister Southern boy who, I predict, very well could take BG East by storm.
Bard: Fantastic to hear from you, Mason! And damn, boy, really, really thanks for the photo! If you enjoyed filming that match even half as much as I enjoyed watching it, I hope you had a few days to rehydrate because you and Blaine certainly wore me out. Can I share your pic on the blog? And can I start peppering you with questions “on the record?”

Mason Brooks: 5’9″, 150 lbs.

Mason: [Laughing] Please, feel free to share. I am getting in touch with my inner exhibitionist. And I’d be happy to answer your questions.

Bard: You’ve definitely got to let that inner exhibitionist out. A lot! Consider us on the record, and talk to me about your nipples (which is something I’ve never said in an interview before!). Blaine cannot keep his hands off of them. Ben Monaco privately commented to me that your nipples are “to die for.” Ben’s words were, “I know it. He knows it. That’s where he’s going to get his fans.” And I have to tell you, you’ve got seriously hot nips! What sort of “gay wrestling catnip” do you use on them to turn us all on like that!?

Mason: Well, gee, this is a first for me as well. It’s funny, aside from the piercing, which obviously gets a fair amount of attention, I’ve never thought of my nipples as a standout attribute of mine. I mean, maybe my hair, my smile, my eyes–the list goes on, as you might imagine. I guess all those dips and push-ups while watching Honey Boo Boo this summer paid off. Seriously, though, if everyone is as taken with them as Mr. Monaco, I think I’m set. He really couldn’t help himself all weekend. Not that I’m complaining, of course. If a little nipple-tweaking was my BG East initiation, I guess I got off easy. It is strange, though, that they seem to have such an effect on Canadians. It was chilly that weekend, and the cold air does seem to perk those boys up. Sort of like my nips.  Not sure about the gay wrestling catnip (although that sounds like something I need in my stocking this Christmas). Actually, just a little neosporin now and then to keep the piercing in working order, especially if someone’s had his, umm, hands all over it.

Blaine had his… hands… all over Mason’s nips.

Bard: There’s just so much material there in your answer that I’m almost speechless. Almost. So yes, let me just confirm that I’m in a growing line of guys who clearly find your nipples extremely alluring. Next, please let me also confirm that your hair, smile, and eyes are also very, very attractive, but I’ll be damned if there’s a BG East fan who’ll rip his eyes away from your hot pecs to say much more about your eyes. And finally, I’m profoundly disturbed to recognize within myself that the image of you doing dips and push-ups while watching Honey Boo Boo just completely gave me wood. My therapist and I are going to have a lot to talk about next week…. But dragging myself back on topic… as I mentioned in my review of your match with Blaine, you certainly caught me off guard. I was totally expecting to see an earnest, babyface-in-wrestling-singlet bound to be another naive rook about to be awakened to the dark truth of homoerotic wrestling at the hands of a master. Then like a cruise missile you almost instantly locked Blaine down, completely immobilized him, and went straight for a crotch claw. There’s no way in hell you’ll convince me that that was your first dance, Mason! That was an accomplished hand that so confidently, simultaneously crushed Blaine’s testicles and worked him into a drooling lather. Where have you wrestled before, and how much will I pay to see your rip-n-strip archives?

Mason sees what’s he wants and goes for it.

Mason: Okay, I must confess, this was not my first dance. I’ve done my fair share of wrestling, in and out of a singlet, and learned the ropes, as they say. None on video, unfortunately. As far as I know….  But maybe, just maybe, I enjoy it when people see my cute, innocent face and underestimate me. I think it gives me an advantage when I surprise them with my skills.  More than that, though, I’m the kind of guy who sees what he wants and goes for it. You saw him, parading his freckled cheeks around in that little see-through number.  how could I not pounce on that? Yeah, if anyone thought I was a pushover, they were in for a rude awakening.

Bard: You, my new friend, are one seriously devious little devil! I’d love to get Blaine’s take on this, but my impression is just that: he completely underestimated you. I strongly suspect that your (now) obviously misleading shy grin and a strong resemblance to Edward Norton could throw plenty of opponents off stride right around the time that you rip them apart at the crotch and claw their balls with abandon. In light of the horrific tragedy that your earlier wrestling in/out of a singlet was not captured on video, I hope BG East signed you up for many more matches to come. Having toyed, dangerously, with fluorescent blue-eyed, freckle faced, horny-toad Blaine, have you seen anything else at BG East that you hope to “go for” in the future?

“Gabriel Ross is lucky I had a plane to catch…”

Mason: You know, I’ll gladly take on (and take down) whomever they want to throw at me. Christian, Skip, Len, Lorenzo–I think all those boys need to get a taste, and I’m ready to give it to ’em, any time. The big muscleboys–gosh, I can never keep all their names straight–they don’t scare me either. And Gabriel Ross is lucky I had a plane to catch, or he would have been next on my list. I don’t care how much he bulked up, that little wanker would have ended up with a faceful of my balls. Though I’m not sure how mean I could be to him–that smile is pretty killer. As it happens, all I got to do was hug him goodbye. And cop a feel, of course.

Bard: I really, really like the sound of hotties like Lorenzo Lowe getting “thrown” at you. It makes me picture you in the ring with boys flying off the ropes, and I hope we see you in the ring soon. And as for muscleboys, I suspect that with the performance you posted against Blaine and the smack talk you’re laying down here, there could be some big muscleboys eager to get their hands on your pecs and/or your balls in their face. Personally, I’d like to take up a collection to buy Gabriel a ticket back just to see how “that little wanker” would fare in the matroom against you. It would be like a battle of the angelic babyface badboys, which sounds like a fantastic theme for a collection of matches! So if you were ever to find yourself sleepered out cold at the end of another sweaty, raunchy barnburner like you suffered at the hands of Blaine Janus, who would you prefer to wake up with his tongue shoved down your throat: Lorenzo Lowe, Ben Monaco, or Kid Karisma? In other words, twink, hunk, or muscleboy?

“Lorenzo sounds mighty nice.”

Mason: Hmmm, twink, hunk or muscleboy.  Is that like boff, marry, kill? It all depends on my mood, I suppose. (Sometimes you feel like a nut, and all that, right?) I wouldn’t kick any of those boys out of the ring for eating crackers, but right now I must be in a twink mood, because Lorenzo sounds mighty nice. Of course, he’d be the one getting sleepered out and waking up to me on top of him…

Lorenzo’s tongue ALSO seems irresistibly drawn toward Mason’s pecs (photo courtesy of Ben Monaco).

Bard: Well I saw a certain behind the scenes shot from Ben where you were sitting next to Lorenzo sans any pants, and you were sporting an awfully pleased grin on your face. I’m now officially advocating to see that grin on your face in a match with Lorenzo as he groggily rouses from your sleeper finisher to find your lips descending over his. Speaking of boff, marry, kill: Justin Bieber, Justin Theroux, and Justin Timberlake?

Boff. Marry. Kill.

Mason: Oh fun! Okay, first of all, my well-documented affection for Canadian boys notwithstanding, I would kill Justin Bieber, no question. Although I suspect that in a couple years, once the screaming girls have moved on and he’s still spindly and pale and the wrong side of 25, some combination of drugs and alcohol will do the job for me. Justin Timberlake’s never done that much for me, personally, but I guess I’d give him a whirl in bed. Don’t think I could marry him, though. His fashion sense irks me too much. (Ooh, you’re wearing a tweed vest and a fedora? Neato.) So that leaves Justin Theroux to marry, which sounds about right. I mean, if he’s good enough for the co-star of “Leprechaun,” he’s good enough for me. Nah, I’m kidding, he’s hot, I think we’d hit it off. As long as he’s into wrestling, that is. He seems like an interesting guy, but very serious. Eventually I’d get tired of exploring our feelings and I’d need to give those abs a working over. Wouldn’t that make a great tabloid headline? “Jen’s Heartbreak: Justin Caught with Wrestling Boy-toy.” Oh well, a boy-toy can dream….

Another wicked smart wrestling hunk:
Lon Dumont

Bard: I couldn’t agree with you more on all counts. And I can start that Justin Theroux rumor and see where it leads… never know. Damn, he’s hot. So you’ve got good hair, gorgeous pecs, magical nipples, AND insanely insightful taste in men? Damn, you’re going far! Did you have the opportunity to meet a long-standing favorite infatuation of mine when you were in Pembroke: Lon Dumont? I think you two would hit it off. You both seem particularly quick-witted and self-reflective. And he’s a god in the wrestling ring, so you can’t go wrong chumming up to Lon! Wrestling + smarts = Bard-is-infatuated. What haven’t you done yet in homoerotic wrestling that you’re itching to try out? Any particular moves, venues, gear, etc?

Mason: I did meet Lon Dumont, but just briefly. I think he was pretty busy in the ring, and I may have been headed to wash Blaine out of my hair (figuratively speaking, of course). Sounds like I should get to know him, though. I could always use a few pointers in the ring to add to my skills on the mat. What am I itching to try? You know, I’m always open to new things, especially if they make my butt look good. So, I dunno…rip and strip, oil, mud, jello? See, now I’m getting hungry. Oh, and I probably shouldn’t say too much, but it’s possible that in my next match we’ll get a little…wet?

Mail your boxes of Jello c/o Mason Brooks to:
BG East, PO Box 172, Pembroke, MA 02359

Bard: I hope you had help in the shower! Yeah, I think you and Lon could make for a very dangerous combination. If you two got your heads together, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that there’s been a major coup at BG East with you two running the show. And as for what we should expect next from you, I LOVE the sound of “wet!” And I’m even crazier for the words “oil, mud, and jello.” How incredibly old school sexy of you! I know a whole lot of wrestling fans who would blow a gasket for a rip-n-strip jello wrestling match, or a classic oil wrestling throw down. I think the time has come for those vintage genres to come back in vogue as retro-chic, and I love that you’re ready to be at the front of that line. But really, is there anything that doesn’t make your butt look good? So I think you know that I’ve also recently interviewed Ben Monaco, and Ben referred to you as “quiet and polite” to the point of being eligible to be an honorary Canadian. Has he ever actually met you?! I mean, sure, maybe you’re a little more reserved in person that you have been during this interview, but seriously… honorary Canadian!? Are you stringing him along, playing coy, in order to blow him away on the mats? Is this some sinister master plan building off of that dimple in your cheek and twinkle in your eye to lull another potential opponent into underestimating you?

Has Ben even met Mason!?

Mason: Honorary Canadian, huh? That would be quite an honor. I like hockey, beer, and flannel, and I know “O Canada” in English and French–still working on Inuktitut–so I think I’m halfway there already. I just hope the initiation ceremony involves Tyler Seguin shirtless and lots of maple syrup. As for quiet and polite, I can see how people assume that when they first meet me. I like to size up a room first, see who I’m dealing with. And hey, if people assume I’m innocent and harmless, that’s their problem. Plus I’m from the south, so yeah, probably I do have some manners deep down inside, along with a knack for making killer fried chicken. But I’m not so polite on the mat, as Mr. Monaco ought to know by now.

Bard: I’m adding “maple syrup” to the list of media within which you should wrestle. And it sounds like you’re more than halfway to Canuck-hood, eh? What part of the South are you from, and what percentage of the time that you wrestled with Ben did he spend sucking on your nipples?

Just like wrestling the pig farmer’s son!

Mason: I’m from a rural part of Virginia, where I’m pretty sure some folks are still fighting the Civil War. Very pretty country, but not much to do, unless you wanna wrestle a pig. On the other hand, sometimes you get into the Wild Turkey and end up wreslin’ the pig farmer’s son behind the barn. And that ain’t so bad. What else? Oh, right, nipples. Always with the nipples. As I recall, there was more pinching and tweaking going on than sucking, but it’s all a blur. A thoroughly enjoyable blur. Perhaps Mr. Monaco has a more vivid recollection, or maybe he was just daydreaming about the things he’d like to do with my sweaty chest.

Bard: You make pig farmer wrestling sound hotter than I’d ever have guessed! Ben was entirely mum about any activities you may have gotten up to. The nipple sucking was just my wishful thinking, though perhaps I’ve seeded the ground for future opponents you might face. I can hope. Well, Mr. Brooks, I’m convinced that we will be seeing a lot more of you in the future, based on your debut in Gazebo Grapplers 14 and your readiness to face all comers and all viscous substances. I predict that you’re going to have a big fan club, starting with nipple-obsessed Canadians and jello wrestling fans, but quickly branching out from there. Is there anything else you’d like to say to BG East fans who are about to discover that they’re Mason Brooks fanatics?

Quiet, polite, Southern boys:
probably nastier than you think.

Mason: Yeah, in the immortal words of Dirk Diggler, I’ll keep trying if you keep trying so let’s keep rocking and rolling. (Sweet jeebus, I loved that movie.) Seriously, though, I just hope the fans out there enjoy watching my matches as much as I enjoy making them, ’cause the whole experience was a blast, and I can’t wait to do it again. Oh, and watch out for quiet, polite, Southern boys–they’re probably nastier than you think.

Bard: True story: Boogie Nights is one of Lon Dumont’s favorite flicks. I kid you not. I’ve already seen quite a bit of chatter that fans are lining up for more of Mason Brooks, so we’re going to do our part. And personally, I’m hoping that there are plenty of hunks at BG East who will decidedly not take your advice about watching out for polite, quiet Southern boys, because I can’t wait to see the look of shock on their faces when you let loose. This was a true pleasure getting to chat with you! Thanks for your time, and I hope we can do this again. I’m strongly convinced that you could go very, very far in this business, and I’m not just saying that because of your entrancing nipples.

Mason: The pleasure was mine, and thank you so much for the kind words. The nipples and I are flattered.

Mason Brooks and his nipples.

Upperclassman

wrestlebardLeave a comment
I’ve marveled here already about the first two in the truly fantastic collection of BG East matches in their latest release in the Gazebo Grapplers series.  The marquee match pits Mr. Rush’s little trust fund baby, Damien Rush (looking hunkier than ever) against Canadian sex-bomb and friend of this blog, Ben Monaco.  Ben graciously sat down with me to talk about his latest outing for BG East and speculate about all sorts of hot topics concerning homoerotic wrestling.
Ben Monaco: 5’10”, 175 pounds, 100% Canadian

Bard: Ben, thank you for agreeing to another interview for the homoerotic wrestling fans at neverland. And I want to publicly and directly thank you again for all of the juicy behind the scenes news and candid pics you shared with us from the taping you did for BG East in September. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: You rock! And speaking of you rocking and that September hunk-fest in Pembroke, am I right in guessing that your most recent match for Gazebo Grapplers 14 against gorgeous trust fund baby Damien Rush was filmed at that time?

Just a little of the eye candy at BG East

Ben: My pleasure Bard! As always, you are too kind with your compliments. I’m more than happy to give the fans my behind-the-scenes look at things, having been (and still being) a homoerotic wrestling fan myself. My match with Damien was filmed during that hunk-filled weekend, you are correct. There definitely was a lot of eye-candy around during that shoot!

Bard: That’s twice in just the past few days that someone has accused me of being too kind in my compliments. I don’t think you appreciate how much I appreciate you, your insights into the homoerotic wrestling business, and your extremely hot wrestling. Speaking of which, your match with Damien was incredible! Tell me exactly, in every prurient detail, what was going through your head when Mr. Rush’s son came strutting into the Gazebo in those skin tight, royal purple trunks and his designer shades looking (though I’d have never believed it if I didn’t see it) even hotter than he did when he got squashed and stripped by Morgan Cruise last spring?

Which celebrity most resembles Damien Rush?

Ben: Well, I knew I was going to be facing off with some punk. At least the Boss sent me a hot looking one. He did look at least 10 times better than his match with Morgan, I’ll give him that. One way or another, I knew that I’d have some fun with that body of his, win or lose.  I also kept trying to figure out who he reminded me of. There’s a vague resemblance to a celebrity but I couldn’t put my finger on which one. Am I crazy?

Bard: I’m sure you’re not crazy. Damien’s definitely got the face of a leading man, but I can’t put my finger on it either. We’ll have to make this a contest on the blog to identify which celebrity hunk Damien resembles most. Although you can’t put your finger on whom he looks like, you certainly did a truly inspired job of getting your hands all over Damien’s hot and hairy bod! And holy shit, when you snatched his shades off his face and made that stunning little rich boy literally whine, I nearly popped my cork before the action even started. Same for when you rip his trunks off of him – the panic in his voice suggests that this trust fund baby is entirely unaccustomed to getting his possessions forcibly removed. Was there a particular moment in this match that was hottest for you?

A good bicep really gets Ben going

Ben: He did have a whiny way about him didn’t he? Despite that, I did enjoy feeling every inch of his hairy body pressed up against mine. Favorite moment…definitely has to be the part where I ended up licking and kissing his bicep. I’m an arm-man. A good bicep really gets me going and Damien has quite the set of guns on him! Could certainly feel some other parts of MY body awakened in that moment…I mean who wouldn’t want to get their mouth on that slab of meat (among his many slabs of meat to choose from, the man is a muscle deli).

Damien can gladly park his ass
anywhere on Ben’s body.

Bard: What a beautiful way you have with words! You should blog. Seriously. And that moment when you’ve taken a serious pounding – you’re looking a little worn thin from getting repeatedly pec smothered deep in Damien’s hairy chest – and he barks at you to kiss his muscles… that’s truly an iconic homoerotic wrestling moment, I think. Were you surprised by that turn in the action? I didn’t know Damien had it in him to possess a longing for an oral muscle worship session. And then that finish, with his thonged/bare ass planted across your face… I’m swooning just a little replaying the scene in my head right now! Tell me you were holding on to enough consciousness to describe the view!

Ben: Thanks, I might just take you up on that…I could use a blog. For now, I’m content to tweet from time to time but I might venture into blogging if I have some more spare time in the new year. Damien may not have the most skills on the mat, but his continued smotherings in his sculpted physique distracted me a bit from my own skills I think. With his flexed bicep rubbed up against my face, I think I completely forgot how to wrestle. Then the ass…well, those glutes truly are a thing of beauty. Especially from the angle I was in, I got to see just how broad he was from below. Next time we meet, he can gladly park that ass anywhere he wants on my body.

Ben nearly rips Damien’s head off his neck.

Bard: I’ll link to your Twitter account here so that your neverland fans can follow you if they aren’t already. Let us know if you start blogging, because I’m first in line to follow you. I think any sane wrestling fan would forgive you for being distracted by how… intently… Damien crushed your face into his body over and over again. Hell, any sane homoerotic wrestling fan is insanely jealous! However I don’t want to give anyone the impression that this match is all about muscle worship and bicep licking. The wrestling in this match is wildly hot and majorly intense! There are moments there where I swear you’re going to rip his skull off his neck or, alternately, rip his balls from his body. With a battle that gets this heated on camera, what’s it like when they turn off the cameras and you’re sitting there in a pool of sweat with this guy who you were moments ago making scream like a whiny bitch in a spine-snapping camel clutch, or who seconds earlier had his gorgeous, bare ass planted across your face?

Ben: It actually was quite strange but I think we gained respect for each other after tearing each other apart. There was a certain chemistry bewteen us before and after the match. Who knows, perhaps a tag-team match could happen in the future.  It’ll be up to the fans to petition the Boss to see us as a tag-team I guess. Could be fun, I’d certainly be open to it. With our combined skills and muscle, we’d be pretty fierce together I think. We’d have to think up a fantastic tag-team name though.

Sex and Candy?

Bard: I’ll lobby for that tag team pairing, and I’m first on the record to vote for the tag team name, “Sex and Candy.” You’d make a blazingly hot duo in the ring! I’m picturing Damien holding them down and you feeling them up. Watch that ego of his, though. I don’t know if the concept of “sharing” was ever something this Damien’s nannies ever taught him, so trying to share the limelight with him could be dangerous. So tell me some more about the rest of the cast of dizzyingly hot eye candy that was on hand in September. You’ve told me privately that the outrageously hunky newbie that made jaws hit the floor was, indeed, Pete Sharp who also appears on Gazebo Grapplers 14. Can you name any more names for us regarding who got your heart pumping behind the scenes?

Ben: Sex and Candy! Love it! Oh trust me, I could convince him to share. Among my other talents, I can be quite persuasive in the right situations. You pretty much know all the guys who were there by now, I think I’ve told you all the names and such in that e-mail I sent you. However, one guy that I was very upset I missed was Braden Charron who showed up the day AFTER I left! I’d have killed to meet him in person and probably commit even more unspeakable acts to get a match with him. But I guess he’ll be on my hit list for another BG East session. Aside from that weekend, I did introduce two new hunks to BG East recently as well who should be making their BG debuts in the near future. And Bard, I think you know from candid pics I sent that these are two big, hot, hairy hunks. But don’t spoil the surprise right away by posting the pics I sent you.

Bard: I’m the paragon of discretion. And possibly blackmail as well, so we can discuss later what I’ll get for restraining myself from showing neverland readers the studs that you’ve recruited into the BG East ranks. Talk about jaw dropping! If there one thing that I’ve learned from our exchanges over the past few months, it’s that you’ve got an incredibly skilled eye for spotting hot wrestling talent. You also mentioned to me that there was a particular slice of rookie gold who had nipples that drove you insane in September, and I believe I’m correct in identifying said magically nippled newbie as Mason Brooks who also debuts on Gazebo 14. This is one stud-packed collection of matches! What was adorable young Mason like off camera, because on camera, he was a fucking wildcat going up against your fellow Canuck, Blaine Janus?

Nipples to make a man salivate: Mason Brooks

Ben: Of course Bard, you are a true gentleman! Indeed, you can’t tell too much from the photos, but Mason certainly has nipples that can make a man salivate. Trust me! He’s actually really quiet and polite off camera. I’m almost on the verge of making him an honorary Canadian for those virtuous qualities! His wilder side does come out on the mats for sure. We’ve kept in touch actually since that weekend. In fact, he texted me yesterday night and told me you were also planning an interview with him. So I guess you’ll have more rookie-perspective on BG East and all the goings-on behind the scenes. To add to what you said, yes Gazebo Grapplers 14 is really a fantastic video. The Boss really knows how to combine matches into a product that has something for everyone on it. I guess that’s why he’s the Boss after all!

Bard: It’s absolutely true, I’ve got Mason on the line for an upcoming rookie interview. You don’t have to convince me about his nipples. He sent me a close-up shot of his torso, and ooo-baby! Dial me up some fun! Blaine also made note of Mason’s lovely nipples in their match, as well, so clearly the boy has got some sweet morsels there that are attracting a lot of attention. Was this round of taping for BG East different for you this time, now that you’re one of the guys who’s been there before? Was there any difference in what it was like for you in action or behind the scenes now that you’re no longer a newbie? Play any upperclassmen pranks on the brand new rookies?

Ben: Well first off, yes it was different. I was in Pembroke, gay-wrestling Mecca if you will. Plus there were about 3 times more guys in the house than my last session in Florida. In action, the feeling was still the same: nerves, excitement, heart pounding, blood racing. Off camera I tried to be as welcoming to the newbies as I could. After all, I know what it’s like being the new kid in town. We all did our best to make the new “kids” welcome. Of course, some are my age or older but since they’re newer than me, I consider new guys “kids.” No pranks this time, but perhaps the next time around now that I think of it…

Bard: It sounds like there’s a great deal of camaraderie when BG East pulls together crowds of wrestlers like that. I interviewed Ken Canada who was a classic jobber from very early in the BG East days who talked about the good vibe both on camera and off, and friendships that endured even after shooting was over. It sounds like that sort of esprit de corps still exists. What do you think accounts for you all in the “business” of homoerotic wrestling building real friendships like that? I could imagine it wouldn’t “have” to turn out that way, some boys just punching the clock, some boys being egomaniacal dicks, etc. But you seem to be part of some seriously sweet community building out of these shoots.

BG East boys play hard off camera (photo via Kid Karisma)

Ben: It is very much a little community. When I was in Florida for my first shoot, there was a BG veteran Scott Williams who just happened to be visiting Florida and stopped in to check out what was going down on our shoot. Anyone who’s met Scott knows he’s a big kid at heart. Naturally, Scott and I were instant buds. We went out for supper a few nights and on random food runs for the gang too. One night at supper, Scott simply said “I’m so happy you’re part of the family!” which indeed is true. Once you’re part of BG East, once your first match is taped, it’s like being part of a family. That shared experience and bond bring us together. It’s never about big grudges off camera, it’s often good natured boys-being-boys friendship. On the mats of course, it becomes a bit more serious, but off camera there are lots of laughs and good times.

Bard: Ohmygodohmygodohmygod! Scott Williams as in Ultra Fight 2 Scott Williams!? Tall, lean, hairy chested, devastatingly handsome Scott Williams who could milk every ounce of agony out of a hold like absolutely no one else!? Scott Williams, who, after I saw him wrestle in Ultra Fight 2, shocked me to realize that I’d kick young Brad Rochelle to the curb to get my hands on his fantastically hairy pecs and nibble on that leading-man chin of his?! You’re now instant buds with that Scott Williams!? So as a new BG East wrestler you just run chores and sit around shooting the breeze with guys who have permanent positions in my pantheon of homoerotic wrestling god infatuations? My mind was just blown to bits. What an incredibly hot fraternity/family you guys comprise!

Ben: Indeed, THAT Scott Williams! It is a little bit of a mind-blowing situation when you first enter the “family”. You become friends and stay in touch with this plethora of hot guys you fantasized about for what seems like your whole life. I mean, it still boggles my mind that I have Cameron Matthews’ cell phone number and a year ago I didn’t even exist in the gay-wrestling scene. BG East really is a welcoming place for all its wrestlers and that’s why I really encourage people to work for them if they have the chance. We’re always looking to expand the family with hot new guys.

Bard: I know some Cam fans who’d do some naughty things to you to get that phone number! Hell, I’d do naughty things to get Scott Williams’ phone number. Oh, who am I kidding? I’d do naughty things just for the fun of doing naughty things to you. Since I know for a fact that you’re actively and successfully recruiting new studs for the stable, what do you think are some essential qualifications for joining the family? I’m guessing the physical demands alone aren’t something that just anyone could jump right into.

Ben: You wouldn’t be the first to want to do naughty things to me and you’re surely not going to be the last [laughing]. As far as joining the ranks of BG East, no matter what I think of a guy, the final decision always comes down to Kid Leopard and/or Kid Vicious. I know they have their own demands and criteria when it comes to their selection of men. As for me, what I tend to look for is a love or interest in wrestling at the very least. From there, I specifically try to hone in on looks or types of guys that aren’t already present in the active roster on BG East. Why would I try to recruit another Skip Vance? There’s already one! I try to find something completely new and original in either style or personailty. Plus, if I can imagine myself hitting the mats with a guy, he’s already got a head start. And as for experience levels, if the guy is relatively new, I certainly don’t mind sacrificing some time to train privately with him…as was the case with my two recruits…one of which is my personal trainer.

Doing naughty things with Ben Monaco

Bard: I’m certain that I’m in a long line of guys thinking about what naughty things to do with you! Since you brought it up, I’ll just say that I’ve seen a photo of your personal trainer, and I’m breathless in anticipation of seeing him wrestle! I love your approach to thinking about looking for wrestlers who bring something new and original to the scene. That’s one thing that I think BG East does possibly better than anyone else – recruit a broad variety of wrestlers across all sorts of measures, including appearance, wrestling experience, and personality. So as always you’ve been incredibly generous with your time in taking my questions again. Now that we’ve grown to know more about you in the past 6 months, what’s one more thing that fans may not yet know about you that you can tell us? Is there one more little personal detail that you can share with us to satisfy our fixations on a new wrestling fantasyman?

Ben: Always happy to take the time out for an interview with you. Now for one last little detail…hmmm…well, I guess a personal detail that I can share is that I’m single [winks]. But I suppose it’s also worth mentioning, more on the wrestling side of things, that my two recruits only have one match under their belts as of now and are itching to get even more. My trainer especially is looking for someone big enough and man enough to toss him around. Keep in mind, he’s 5’11” and 195lbs of solid, hairy beef.

Bard: Well I hope you’re single because you chose to be, because otherwise, that’s just bat shit crazy. Next interview, we’ll have to explore in more detail what qualifications it would take to get your hot ass off the market. Just to make neverland readers hate me a little (more?), let me point out that I’m looking at a photo of your personal trainer right now and swooning… a lot. However, I will honor your request not to post this photo of one of the meatiest, muscliest, hairiest cuts of prime beef I’ve seen flexing in a long, long time. I hope you’ll keep us posted about your ongoing adventures in homoerotic wrestling and recruiting. I’m following you on Twitter, and I’m crossing my fingers, hoping you start blogging on your adventures soon!

Ben: I will try to start up a blog ASAP. For now, time for me to get my winter boots out! It’s snowing here in Montreal! Have a good one Bard and we’ll talk again soon.

Ben beats the cold with memories of hot times at BG East!

Man Enough

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Our Google overlords bless us with a fickle blogger interface that frequently leaves me cursing.  Typically, I think, the frustration is almost entirely on my side of the computer screen. Occasionally, however, it seems to impact neverland readers.  One reader has repeatedly pointed out that the automatic program for verifying that people who attempt to comment are, indeed, human beings, can sometimes present such blurry and obscure text to try to decipher that it’s nearly impossible.  Sorry for that. I wish I had some control over those things.  I also recently discovered that someone attempted twice to post a comment on a recent session of gushing of mine over reigning (for one more day) homoerotic wrestler of the month, Austin Wolf.

Austin Wolf not masculine?

I approved the comment, after some pause, however I don’t see it anywhere on the blog itself.  It’s in my “approved comments” list, but doesn’t show up in any post I can find.  The pause came because I’ve been rejecting comments lately that seem to me to be bitchy criticisms of wrestlers’ bodies or personalities.  Too fat.  Too skinny.  Not butch enough.  I know that a lot of the homoerotic wrestlers I write about also read this blog, and I don’t want them reading that crap.  But I went ahead and approved this comment that referred to Austin as “sexy enough, if only he weren’t so femme in person…. He is not nearly as masculine as the image he is trying to portray,” the commenter reported.  There’s just so much there to think about.  Setting aside my first question, “when have you seen him in person?” and my second question, “isn’t every expression of masculinity (or femininity) an image, a mere portrayal, or as Judith Butler has called it, a “performance?”  Whatever.  So Austin isn’t as masculine in person as he seems to appear on camera.  I guess my real question is, so what?

Rusty Stevens: masculine enough for you?

Now I’m not trying to take this commenter to task.  At all, really.  I approved the post because it provoked me to think deeper about masculinity in homoerotic wrestling.  I mean, sure, hypermasculinity is a pretty well-worn trope on our scene, so I would be entirely unsurprised to discover that any number of the meanest, baddest, most dominatingly butch heels in homoerotic wrestling history are, in their personal lives, light in the loafers and sassy as blown glass.  I don’t care what they may get up to on their own time, I might say.  Just tell me that powerful story of domination and submission, power and suffering, agony and arousal that I love so much, and what do I care how far from the mark that wrestling persona is to how they act when their sipping apple martinis at the piano bar?

Xavier: Does body hair make the man?  Big muscles?  Facial hair?

But even that isn’t really where I settled with this comment about the purported incongruity between Austin’s presentation of masculinity on and off camera.  No, I found myself challenged by the idea of masculinity itself.  We’re clearly not in a post-gender age, of course, but as for me (and I’ll speak solely for myself here), I’m not sure I’ve got the clearest hold on what comprises the polar opposites of masculinity and femininity as far as homoerotic wrestling goes.  I know of big, burly muscle bear-looking bruisers who snarl and spit and I think, hot damn, that’s one hot bit of masculine hunkiness!  But if the same burly bear wears a pink cardi and giggles like a girl when Glee comes on, I’m still fully prepared to objectify him as a no-holds-barred object of my lust.

Lon Dumont: Smooth as a baby’s bottom and over-the-top masculine in the ring.

And there are relatively petite, smooth, boyishly beautiful wrestlers who wink and grin, and when slam an opponent into the turnbuckle or bash him across his knee in an over the knee backbreaker, I think, hot damn, that’s one hot bit of masculine hunkiness!  Deep bass Boston voices.  High pitched Southern accents.   Pretty in pink.  Dangerous in black.  Go-go-boy.  Construction worker.  Limp wrist.  Football fan.  Facial hair.  Man-scaped.  Do they have a cock and tell me a hot, hot wrestling story?  I’m in.

Damien Rush was quoted recently as saying, “Let me smother you with all my masculine hair!”

So if Austin Wolf cracks an opponent’s spine over his knee, claws his crotch mercilessly, then schoolboy pins the punk with his big, gorgeous cock slapping the loser’s cheeks back and forth, and then gets up, showers off with 5 different skin care products and quotes Bette Davis movies over cosmos with all the rest of the girls… well, fuck.  It just occurred to me that I think that’s even HOTTER!

Tell me again how I’m not masculine enough for you, bitch!

Homoerotic wrestling likely reifies stereotypes of masculinity (and, by default, femininity) in many, many ways.  But I think, and I hope, that it blurs some of the old standby stereotypes as well.  I like the idea that the same mass of 6’4″ sculpted muscle can threaten to rip an opponent’s head off in a camel clutch and the next day sing along with show tunes in the car as he goes antiquing with his gurl-friends. I harbor a deep seated and not at all sublimated sexual fantasy of the rise of the muscle sculpted sissies who may be as pretty as a prima donna, but will fuck you up in a heartbeat in the ring.  Maybe I’m too old.  Or too young.  Or just don’t have the good taste to want to cling to the sharp, clean lines of gender stereotypes any longer.  But even if Austin Wolf were a flaming queen, he’d drain me dry time and time again as long as he racks another wasted loser across those mile wide shoulders of his.  Hell, I’d pay a premium, in fact!

Ask Hoop right about  now if Austin is masculine enough for him.

Masonry

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Adorably Mason Brooks looks like he just stepped off the train.
Ben Monaco, bless his soul, mentioned in his embedded report from the front lines of a marathon BG East taping bonanza in September that there was a particular new slice of of babyface gold with magic nipples.  No, he clarified, it’s not the same jaw droppingly hot muscle-face that boys were sneaking peeks out of the 2nd story windows to watch his photo shoot in the backyard.  That stunner, we’ve since learned, was pretty Pete Sharp (who hates being called pretty).  No, there was a different magically nipped newbie who Ben mentioned will grab attention right around and to either side of the sternum area.  I don’t yet have independent verification (though I’m working on Ben to give me an interview any day now), but I’m strongly compelled that said rook is lean, lovely Mason Brooks, also seen in a behind-the-scenes candid shot from Ben’s camera that weekend.
Accomplished erotic wrestler Blaine Janus is unmistakably happy to see his rookie opponent.

The first BG East staple to get his fingertips on Mason’s nipples is astonishingly blue-eyed Blaine Janus, facing the raw rookie in Gazebo Grapplers 14.  My question is whether Blaine is horny for anyone who steps on the wrestling mat with him, or whether he has some sway with the BG East back office boys to get to handpick the hotties he faces.  Because one thing seems as regular as rain, Blaine is HOT for his opponents.

Blaine is very, very happy to get his hands all over Mason Brooks.

Mason is no exception to this rule.  There’s a hunger in Blaines’ eyes the moment he struts onto the mat and finds young Mason stretching his muscles.  Blaine also seems to have a taste for the freshest meat, wanting to be first to put his scent on debuting rookies like Mason.  The moment the action begins, the look of a starving man eyeing a T-bone washes over Blaine’s face as the anticipatory grin slowly stretches from ear to ear.  He wants this handsome boy in his hot wrestling singlet.  He wants to muss up his gelled hair.  He wants to dial up those nipples with both hands.  He wants to make this gorgeously innocent rookie sweat buckets so that he can skip the lube and slide straight into place.  And as is Blaine’s way, he’s not going to be happy until he’s been the first at BG East to taste this hot rookie’s sweet, sweet lips.

Not so fast!  This rookie isn’t so innocent after all.

But wait.  Did I refer to Mason Brooks as innocent?  Mere minutes into this match, the rookie neutralizes Blaine’s offense, takes him down, uses his surprisingly powerful legs to wrap up the veteran’s arms behind his back like a twist tie, and then, with a confident, easy grin of someone who’s been down this road before, he wraps his fingers slowly around Blaine’s pouch, pauses a moment, and then squeezes. I guarantee you Blaine did NOT see this coming!

Blaine wants Mason to get a good taste of humiliation.

So lovely Mason Brooks isn’t as green as we might have thought.  That doesn’t mean, of course, that Blaine Janus is any less dangerous, or passionate, as we’ve come to know and love.  I’m guessing Blaine has been in psychoanalysis, because he seems to have fully embraced his oral fixation, specifically his fixation on sweet Mason’s mouth.  Mason does not make it easy, but eventually, carefully, with several starts and stops in the mean time, Blaine finally manages to slide into place in a fantastic folded schoolboy pin, pivoting his hips forward into Mason’s face.

Surprisingly ripped Mason serves up his own dish of humiliation!

Even when young Mason was stretching out before the match, I thought this kid was delightfully handsome.  He exudes a sort of “high school kid makes a bid for erotic wrestling fame” sense about him.  He’s extremely lean.  He looks so young.  But when Blaine forcibly yanks Mason’s singlet straps off his shoulders and peels him down to bare torso, I have to reassess the situation.  Holy shit, this kid is hot!!!  His pecs are seriously sweet, and damn it all if Ben wasn’t absolutely right, there’s just something about those nipples that makes me have to swallow.  “Mouthwatering” is a good start at describing them, but just a start.

Blaine cannot keep his hands (and claws) away from the rookie’s meaty pecs

Blaine sees it too.  He grows fixated on pushing those alluring buttons on Mason’s surprisingly meaty pecs.  He also relishes clawing the big, broad, strong pecs themselves… and clawing the kid’s crotch… and taunting, daring, luring the hard fighting rookie to give Blaine’s nips some oral attention in return.

Mason’s got the situation well in hand!

But I tell you, Mason is no varsity standout thinking that amateur wrestling credibility will automatically translate to the BG East Gazebo.  The kid has either done this before, or he’s a fucking savant, because Mason draws a straight line between seriously vicious underground wrestling tactics (crotch claw, face-to-crotch head scissors, both at the same time, etc.) and homoeroticism.  He’s got a great poker face that leaves me wondering just what’s going on inside his head as Blaine gets more and more erotically explicit in his wrestling assault.  Is he flattered?  Is he as turned on as his opponent clearly is?  Or is he just one fabulously focused competitor with a truly awesome rookie arsenal for playing a randy veteran like Blaine like a player piano?

Nighty-night, Mason!

There’s nothing you can take for granted about where this match is headed, because neither hunk looks ready to admit defeat.  They get deliciously sweaty.  They’re clearly starting to wear each other out as the minutes grind by in one test of strength and skill after another.  Blaine’s got a tiger by the tail, and hard pounding Mason is just not the doe-eyed, barely legal amateur-in-over-his-head that I (or I’m guessing, Blaine) thought he was at the start.  No, he’s a seriously sexy tactician with a ground game of both amateur and underground wrestling skills that are an intoxicating mix with his unflinching, cool as ice demeanor.   Even when Blaine catches him off guard in a beautifully intimate sleeper and the rookie starts to slide into Neverland, I’m still left guessing whether Mason is as hot for this type of wrestling as he is hot at it.

The thrill of victory… the agony thrill of defeat…

Then he rouses at the touch of Blaine’s lips on his.  His hands rest at the base of Blaine’s ass.  His mouth opens slowly, but hungrily.  Mason’s on board, boys.  And with a solid foundation already in place, paired with some intimate tutoring sessions from the likes of Blaine and the other boys at BG East who I’m certain will want a piece of this kid, I think Mason, and his nipples, could make a very, very big name for himself with fans of unmistakably gay homoerotic wrestling.

Destiny

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Well, my review yesterday of Thunder’s Arena’s Halloween Havoc match between Brendan Cage and Braden Charron generated the thoughtful conversation and, perhaps, a little bit of controversy.  Controversy is probably much too strong a word for it, but it’s a word that sounds like something serious and important happened, so I’ll stick with it just for the gravitas.  However, no one seemed to be too negatively provoked by my marveling at Thunder’s Arena’s Austin Wolf doing Randy Blue a few days ago, so for the moment, I’ll go back to more unanimous territory there.

Austin Wolf wrestles himself

Yowza!  I still haven’t re-upped my “premium” membership in RB, but I just discovered that my lapsed pay membership from years ago reverted to a free “basic” membership that gives me free preview pics and videos.  Score.  So I’m able to get my hands all over portions of Austin’s delightful performances, including both his solo video and his (by all appearances) aggressively hard pounding sexual domination of Nicco Sky.

Nicco Sky isn’t sure what he signed up for when Austin shoves him to his back
The closest that Randy Blue appears to get to stroking my wrestling kink with Austin is that he seems to shove and bully Nicco a bit.  Hot? Yes.  Wrestling, not quite.  He pins Nicco’s wrists over his head and climbs on top, a little fear playing across Nicco’s face as the 6’4″ muscle monster mounts him without a smile.  Damn hot? Hell yes.  Wrestling?  Still not quite.
Does this shot come in a wall-size mural format?
I’ve only seen the preview (I’m still toying with where to squeeze money out of my porn budget), so I don’t know exactly how the boys choreograph the approach to this truly awesome work of art constituting a bearhug/cock-suck/rim-job combination with an added bonus of enjoying the sight of Nicco massaging Austin’s beautiful glutes in the palms of his hands.  Wildly erotic?  Oh, fuck yes!  Wrestling?  Well, I need more context, but bear with me here…  Paint out the living room, the sofa, the rug, the sketchy art, the lamp, the houseplant.  Now paint this scene inside a wrestling ring, Austin’s feet planted in damp sweat stains, Nicco’s wrestling trunks ripped to shreds near one corner, and Austin’s trunks carefully folded on a top turnbuckle.  With me?  Why has this beast not yet been seen climbing into a wrestling ring!?
“The Wolf” would make an epic fuck-stakes finisher!

This standing fuck similarly strokes me so close to my wrestling kink that I’m left a little breathless.  Do the same background readjust, and slap the title “Catchweight XXX-Fight” on it and tell me how I’d be able to do anything other than slap Skrapper’s ass into 2nd place and crown a new favorite wrestling pornboy!? Seriously, crowdsource this question for me: has there been a standing victory fuck like this celebrating an all-stakes homoerotic wrestling ring match?  Because if not, this finisher could easily be dubbed “The Wolf” for all eternity… if a producer with vision signs this stud and get’s those gorgeous glutes inside a pro wrestling ring!

Sign this muscle hunk up yesterday!
So perhaps we don’t all agree on the line that wrestling for a gay audience shouldn’t cross when it comes to potentially sublimated wrestling kink.  But surely, in the name of all that’s good and beautiful, we can all agree that this gorgeous ass, in full contact, fuck stakes ring wrestling, would be a stroke of pure genius, can’t we? 

Austin surely knows the fickle tastes of gay fans.

Oh, who am I kidding?  There’s nothing that we can get 100% of gay men to agree on, even gay men who all have a particular hard spot for wrestling.  Austin Wolf is a slam dunk for me.  I’m tempted to just state imperially that he is, objectively, an essentially perfect specimen of a hunk who everyone in the universe MUST agree would make an earth-shattering, game changing character in the world of dicks-out homoerotic wrestling.  I will this to be true for you, dear reader!  I could be adamant, bordering on shrill, in pursuit of opening your eyes to the Platonic ideal embodied in every inch of Austin Wolf’s body and wrestling demeanor.

The homoerotic wrestler platonic ideal: Austin Wolf
Every so often I get a comment or an email essentially laying out precisely that argument for some hot stud I’ve horribly shortchanged in my reviews.  I’ve been called ignorant, tasteless, blind… any number of supposed deficiencies have been proposed to explain why my tastes are so impaired as not to recognize the perfection of the object of someone else’s raving fanaticism.  So I’ll try not to insist that you’re seriously damaged if you don’t jump on the bandwagon of pleading with the powers that be to transform this muscle god into the homoerotic wrestling god that he was meant to be from birth.  You don’t have to agree with me here.  I’ll be okay with it if you aren’t as much an Austin Wolf fanatic as I am.  But for those of you who are, and I know you’re out there, write your favorite producer of homoerotic wrestling products today (and tomorrow) and tell them to find this hunk of meat and get him in the ring.  He’s got a date with destiny, and I’m telling you, remember the title “Catchweight XXX-Fight!”

"Remember, it’s wrestling!"

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Brendan Cage earned his homocredibility in the work he did in the ring for Cam-Am.  In Pro Tagteam Sex Battle 1, the handsome stud teamed up with porn tidal wave, Aryx Quinn, to physically, psychologically, and yes, sexually dominate mouthwatering former homoerotic wrestler of the month, Landon Mycles/Marcus Mojo and his partner Jake Lyons.  Brendan likes cock.  He also clearly likes pounding his cock up the ass of hot muscle hunks.  So when Brendan invaded the living room of Thunder’s Arena, I took notice.

Brendan Cage pays $400 for 25 minutes of “wrestling” with Braden Charron

Brendan brings the most overtly homoerotic element to Thunder’s Arena that I’ve seen yet.  For example, in Halloween Havoc 2012 he apparently went on the internet and found Braden Charron, looking as hard and ripped as we’ve ever seen him, advertising for some private, recreational wrestling services.  The offer of $400 by Brendan lures beautiful Braden to the Thunder’s mat room, where a hungry Brendan instantly begins to devour the tanned muscle god with his eyes.  “Pretty, pretty nice,” Brendan says with his mouth, though his eyes are screaming, Fuck, yes!  “You know a little bit about wrestling?” he asks.  Of course you and I know that Braden knows a lot about wrestling.  Or, at the very least, we can testify that Braden has logged some crazy hot hours in the ring and on the mat, for the most part getting his juicy muscle ass squashed in one bashing defeat after another at the eager hands of some of BG East’s most fierce grapplers.  “Are you ready to earn your $400 today?” Brendan asks, giving Braden an unsolicited, hearty squeeze of his huge, sculpted tricep.

“Remember, it’s wrestling!”

“Remember, it’s wrestling!” Braden cautions. “This isn’t a muscle worship thing!” And therein lies the paradox.  Thunder’s Arena is unquestionably about both wrestling and muscle worship.  It’s unmistakably pitched directly at a gay wrestling kink audience.  But typically Thunder’s relies on us to read between the lines, to supply our own heat to the pounding muscles of their strong suit: massive, meaty bodybuilders going toe-to-toe in mostly fun-and-games wrestling with frequent drift into selling competition, egos, and lusty desires to dominate.  It’s wrestling.  Undoubtedly.  It’s also “a muscle worship thing,” despite Braden’s protest.  But lately Brendan Cage is connecting the implicit and explicit stories written into the fabric of Thunder’s Arena more openly and enthusiastically than I’ve seen before.  In some ways, he embodies the role that Thunder’s plays in the homoerotic wrestling genre, creating a virtual universe in which straight bodybuilders grapple lightheartedly in g-strings and speedos, explicitly staying this side of “straight” wrestling, while giving an unmistakable nod to the other side of that line, where the homoeroticism of wrestling draws those like you and me.  Brendan’s frequent eyebrow wags at the camera are not-so-subtle signals that he’s turned on by beautiful Braden.  He’s offered $400 for a private session not just to wrestle, but to feed a hunger for getting his hands all over big Braden’s famously hot bod.  In short, Brendan is one of us, my friends, and he’s slipped in the back door of Thunder’s Arena to enjoy the fratboy hijinks there the way you and I have been imagining for ourselves for years.

Braden cops a feel, here or there, tempting Brendan farther down the path…

He wraps his arms around Braden  almost lovingly and turns him to the camera.  Brendan’s bright, blue eyes give us a knowing wink as he reaches around and feels Braden’s famously luscious pecs.  “Remember… wrestling,” Braden warns.  “I know, I know… I’m just fucking with you,” Brendan says with a smirk, wagging his eyebrows at the camera once more.

“Yeah, I’m ready, but this ain’t touchy-feely!”

It’s Brendan’s $400, so Braden obeys his instructions to get down on all fours.  Brendan slides in behind him, pressing his crotch against Braden’s fantasyman ass and sliding his hand slowly around the muscle hunk’s narrow waist in order to squeeze his right pec.  “Just let me know when you’re ready,” Brendan purrs.  Braden growls threateningly, “Yeah, I’m ready, but this ain’t touchy-feely!”  “I know!” Brendan grins, “this is the position you get in.  This is called the opening stance.”  He digs his fingers into Braden’s massive traps.

There’s a fine line between a passionate hug and an erotic bearhug.

“Is this opening stance or a massage!?” Braden protests again.  But he doesn’t flinch, really.  He doesn’t shove Brendan’s exploring hand away.  So Brendan slaps Braden’s ass. When Braden doesn’t complain, he slaps it again.  “Cut the shit, and let’s wrestle!” Braden snaps, his patience finally wearing thin.  He wants to wrestle, and just playing a game of ass-grab isn’t on the menu (so maybe it’s actually Braden who’s really “one of us” in this scenario!).

“You really don’t like this!?” Brendan asks incredulously.

They do wrestle, and it’s hot action.  Brendan hoists his musclebunny off his feet in a lovely bear hug, before slamming his back to the mat and mounting his ass provocatively.  He spends a lot (alotalotalot) of the 24 minutes of this match mounted across Braden’s back, shoving the muscleboy’s face into the mat and grinding his crotch into Braden’s bubble-muscle-butt.  He keeps dialing up the sexual tension, groaning lustfully as he pumps his hips, until he crosses some invisible line that pisses Braden off.  Where is that line, up to which Braden will permit Brendan to stroke, squeeze, and grind, but beyond which he’s not willing to go, even for $400?  That’s pretty much the eternal question gay man have been asking through the ages, haven’t they, playing fratboy hijinks with their macho buddies, psychologically masterbating off of the sublimated intimacy while upping the ante, bit by bit, to test whether the defensive heterosexuality is merely a veneer overtop of a deep down cocklust?

“Yeah, come on, that don’t bother ya!”

Braden catapults Braden off of him when near-pin morphs into a some rousing worship of his massive biceps and sculpted pecs.  “That’s not my thing!” Braden protests.  “If I wanted a massage, I’d go down the street.”  “Take it easy man, take it easy,” Brendan smirks, reminding Braden he’s earning $400 to walk that fine line with him.  Brendan’s rides the wave across most of the best of what Braden offers, including those mountainous biceps and pecs, but also including slapping and even kissing his ass. “You really don’t like this?” Brendan asks, his crotch pressed tightly against Braden’s ass as he squeezes tight to a full nelson.  “Really?” he repeats incredulously.  Braden complains, “I just thought we were gonna wrestle!”

“Oh, yeah, it’s just wrestling, man!” Brendan mocks.

Of course, 30 seconds later, Braden is the one who’s the first to rip off his opponent’s baggy shorts to reveal Brendan’s speedo underneath.  The smile that stretches across Brendan’s surprised face is priceless.  He spins around in shock and gives Braden another appraising look.  Is he, or isn’t he?  Just how far can he take this mouthwatering brick house?!  “Oh, yeah, it’s just wrestling, man!” Brendan mocks, even as Braden immediately starts to protest that he’s just here for above board athletic competition.  Sensing a green light to go another block, Brendan returns the favor and peels Braden down to a bikini-bottom.  “This is good!” Brendan laughs.  “You’re having fun with me right? You’re having fun?”  Braden isn’t exactly enthusiastic in response, but he doesn’t quite give his lustful benefactor the red light, either.

Brendan leans in extra close in a distracted test of strength

A test of strength looks like Brendan is in way over his head as Braden begins to power up, but when the salt-n-pepper daddy leans in and rests his cheek on the muscleboy’s flexing pec, Braden loses his concentration and quickly ends up on his back again.  “Look at that muscle!” Brendan marvels, pinning his opponent’s wrists to the mat.  He leans in and kisses Braden’s right bicep.  “Does that bother you?” he asks, doing the same to the left bicep.  He slides his hips forward and rests his pouch on Braden’s chin, laughing.  “You gotta admit, this is pretty fun!”  Braden grimaces and turns his mouth away, but he doesn’t exactly “say no.”  “Does that bother ya?” Brendan asks, slapping Braden’s cheeks with his cock stretching the fabric of his speedo.  “Yeah, come on, that don’t bother you.  I know how you are.”

“I’ll keep feelin’; you keep squeezin’!”

Braden acknowledges the attention that Brendan is paying to his stunningly hot legs and offers his benefactor the opportunity to feel their power in a headscissors.  “Yeah, okay!” Brendan accepts eagerly.  Brendan strokes his opponent’s muscles wrapped around his skull lustily, making Braden threaten to squeeze harder.  “Go ahead!” Brendan says through clenched teeth.  “I’ll keep feelin’, you keep squeezin’!”  The headscissors turns into a schoolboy pin, with Braden slapping his low-hanging pouch across his opponent’s cheeks in retribution.  “Remember that? This is the way you like it, right?” The smile stretched across Brendan’s face is a crystal clear answer.

This is, most definitely, the way Brendan likes it!

What else do you get for $400 and 25 minutes with Braden Charon?  Brendan requests the pleasure of being captured in Braden’s side headlock and trying to escape.  Braden crushes him mercilessly, though the proximity of Brendan’s captured face to his opponent’s bulging pouch doesn’t seem to be entirely “punishment.”  Later, Braden allows Brendan to stroke his washboard abs for a few seconds before saying, “Okay, that’s enough of that.”  Stroke his abs? No, but Braden will let you punch his abs.  And he’ll raise his arms and let you lift him off his feet in a bearhug, and then treat you to the same just to show you what it feels like to have all that muscle wrapped around you.

$200, right?

“Come here, man.  That’s good.  That was very fun!” Brendan finally embraces his wrestle rentboy, slapping him on those pecs he so admires.  But wait, was it $400 or $200 they agreed on?  When Braden confesses he doesn’t actually have $400 on him, he may have crossed the line once and for all.  Trying to bargain Braden down after the fact earns a suddenly panicked Brendan a fireman’s carry out of Thunder’s Arena to be forcibly transported to the nearest ATM to pay up.

There’s a morality tale or two in this match.  There’s something here to be said about the dangers of playing the “just how straight are you?” game with your buddies.  Of course, real fans who know of Braden’s work from his Randy Blue days know that he’ll go a lot farther, but presumably $400 won’t cover the ground he staked out for RB.   I also think there’s a morality tale about walking that delicate line between appealing to a homoerotic wrestling audience while simultaneously appealing to a more closeted, just-this-side-of-the-line gay audience whose closet boundaries may be less threatened by strictly straight-up wrestling than full on porn.  It’s a dangerous line to walk, with pitfalls both for straying too close or keeping too safe a distance away from the line.  I have to think that there a lot of you who are like me (and Brendan) who harbor a serious lust to see the beautiful bodybuilders of Thunder’s Arena more exposed, infused with more erotic content, slapped down, felt up, squeezed and kissed in exchange for suffering domination at the hands of a randy wrestling opponent.  I for one am glad to see someone like Brendan Cage facing the danger head on and pushing that line (both Braden’s and Thunder’s).

Dicks Out… Now!

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Homotrophy is a regular read for me.  Like, daily.  Like, multiple times a day.  I don’t actually know whether neverland is a regular read for Homotrophy, but if it isn’t, then there must be a homoerotic wrestling god in heaven, because just yesterday Homotrophy featured a completely gratuitous and seemingly random full-frontal pictorial expose’ of none other than my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month: Austin Wolf.

Reigning Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month: Austin Wolf

I have been, in the past, a subscriber to Randy Blue, but my heart is really rooted in wrestling (or, rather, my hard-on is really rooted in homoerotic wrestling).  While Randy Blue has produced some very notable entries into the homoerotic wrestling sidedish menu, it wasn’t enough to keep me sated.  But having Homotrophy point out that my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month is a Randy Blue model strongly tempts me to re-up.

Now THAT’S what I’m talking about!!!

I noted in my essay crowning Austin as this month’s HWOTM that his unlikely defeat at the hands of rosy-cheeked cherub-bomb, Dominic, featured some impressive evidence that Austin is packing major league heat in the front of his trunks.  Now we’re unlikely to see exactly what’s filling Austin’s pouch so impressively at Thunder’s Arena because, so far, Thunder’s doesn’t do nudity.  However, this is clearly not Austin’s hang up, as evidenced by his proudly displaying his beautiful meat for Randy Blue as covered by Homotrophy. Seriously.  That’s fucking gorgeous!

More than two handfuls of fun

One thing that both Thunder’s and RB-via-Homotrophy both capture is the fact that my reigning HWOTM is just… damn…. HUGE!  Thunder’s clocks him in at 6’4″ and 235 pounds.  For Randy Blue, Austin has done a solo video, but the cover for his first hardcore action with RB is what grabs my attention with both hands.  The cover to the preview video features gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous Austin naked with his shoot-partner Nicco Sky in an inverted bear hug, Austin’s face in Nico’s ass and Nico’s lips wrapped hungrily over Austin’s big, beautiful rod while Nico simultaneously squeezes Austin’s luscious cheeks. Wait, how much is a Randy Blue membership again?

…never works his abs, my ass…

Austin is another example of a gorgeous hunk clearly open to exposing all of the fantastic assets that genetics and hard work have given him (I don’t believe for a second the Randy Blue bio that claims Austin never works his abs… I call bullshit… and I’ll say it to his face… preferably with his thighs wrapped around my head and my mouth shoved hard into his balls).  And Austin is even, obviously, equipped and willing to perform the beautiful dance of gay sex on camera.  And yet his appearance in the homoerotic wrestling universe has thus far been G-rated (well, counting the massive excitement of Hooper when he faced Austin, let’s say rated-PG).

Someone NEEDS to wrestle this monster to the mat!

Get this man and his full monty on camera in full-fledged, unabashed, every inch homoerotic wrestling action, people!!!  Now Thunder’s Arena and I have come to terms with the scope of Thunder’s work.  I know that they consider their specialty being in the “implicit” realm of homoerotic wrestling, and they recognize that I always, always, always long to see some of their brightest and best talents more explicitly erotic (though Brendan Cage is stroking a sweet spot that I’ll talk about more in the next couple of days).  I realize that Thunder’s wrestlers aren’t all porn stars, and they aren’t all interested in appearing on a website that’s more explicitly homoerotic.  Gray area huge, let’s just admit it.  However, when you’ve got someone with the obvious… talents… of Austin Wolf, there’s a moral imperative to set this massive muscle beast free on the dicks-out universe of homoerotic wrestling fanatics!

This man was born to cock wrestle!

I want to proudly point out that I was totally turned on and fully a fanatical admirer of Austin Wolf’s before I ever saw his incredibly beautiful cock unencumbered.  That deep, rumbling bass voice of his can make me hard with my eyes closed.  The tummy tat alone makes me involuntarily stick out my tongue.  His beautiful nipples, big, bulging pecs, astonishingly hot, athletic legs, and the veins on the backs of his hands and hairy forearms all drive me crazy, and that’s with his trunks on.  Put this boy on a mat (or better, for my tastes, in a ring) and don’t stop taping until he’s de-trunked, fully aroused, and replaying that inverted bear hug/standing 69 on a totally wasted, dominated, conquered and humiliated opponent, and this power hitter will be a master of the universe!  At least the universe of homoerotic wrestling fanatics.  All hail my homoerotic wrestler of the month, and sign this gorgeous beast to a strip stakes x-fight… yesterday!!!

Pretty Pete Sharp

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There’s a new stunning hunk in town: Pete Sharp.

Ben Monaco, bless his soul, was the first to give me heads up that there was about to be something big and shiny landing on the scene at BG East.  Ben reported after the now famous, blisteringly hot marathon of taping in Massachusetts two months ago that one particular tattooed adonis newbie was so smokingly hot that wrestlers were literally stealing glances out of the upstairs windows to get a first look at him during his solo backyard photoshoot.  With the release of BG East’s Catalog 96, we now know who the scene stealer is: painfully pretty Pete Sharp.

What do you notice first?

Many things might grab your attention about lovely Pete… oh fuck that, you and I both know that we were both immediately transfixed by this pretty boy’s MASSIVE package!  I mean, sure, when you’ve picked your jaw up off the floor, you’ll get a little lost in those baby blue eyes and handsome features of a 1950’s Hollywood leading man.  Yep, you’re going to marvel at this tanned stud’s sweet proportions, mouthwatering pecs, luscious arms, and I lose all self-control when he flexes those tree trunks he calls legs.  And yeah, without a doubt, that’s a top notch ass screaming (SCREAMING I say!!!) for a mercilessly stunning spanking.  But interspersed throughout that virtual tour of his astonishingly hot body, we both know that you were repeatedly double-checking if that mass of muscle hanging between his legs was as big as you remembered it from 5 seconds earlier.  Wow.  Yeah.  Um, wow.

The look in pretty Pete Sharp’s eyes says it all… well, that and his massively stuffed pouch.

The masterminds behind the scenes tapped long, sexy, Christian Taylor, a former homoerotic wrestler of the month on this blog, to break-in this epic rookie in Gazebo Grapplers 14 (which could possibly qualify as sexiest compilation from start to finish of any homoerotic wrestling collection).  I’m totally making up the back story that Christian’s beau, scrappy Skip Vance, was just off camera hoping for his lover to conquer this Greek god and put him out cold so the two of them can tie him down and get their four hands all over that impossible to overstate bod.  This imagined trophy take down does not materialize, sadly, but both of these on-camera grapplers get their hands all over each other.  That massive hulk of a pouch protruding from Pete’s crotch is like a third participant in this match.  When he wraps handsome Christian up in a standing full nelson, there’s Christian suffering, Pete threatening to break him to bits at the shoulders, and Pete’s package pressed tantalizingly against Christian’s ass.  I’d still love to see Skip in this mix, but even without him, that’s still an awfully incredible threesome!

Christian puts the rookie on perfect display!

Christian, bless his soul too, works his ass off making sure to show off Pete’s best sides.  The smooth, tanned stud spends a great deal of time locked up tight and split nearly in half, with his remarkable manhood framed front and center.  And the still-frames don’t capture the kinetic qualities that make Pete about 1,000 times hotter in motion.  That tantalizing mass in his trunks jiggles.  It swings and sways.  When he moves suddenly, it bounces heavily, proving via the laws of physics that there is NOT just some sock stuffed in there, but rather that’s more than a mouthful of real man dragging Pete’s waist band downward.

Pete presses his advantage

That third party in this match, Pete’s powertool, spends a lot of time smashed beautifully between the rock of his muscles and the hard place of Christian’s long, lean, powerful bod.  There was clearly some codicil in Pete’s contract in which he stipulated that Christian would not get aggressive with that humungous vulnerability dangling between his meaty thighs, because there’s just NO other explanation for how Christian managed to go from start to finish in this match without grabbing hold with both hands (because it would require two!) and milking this adonis’ moneymaker in one raw-nerve screaming hunk submission after another.  That’s not to say, however, that Christian has no contact with the trunk monster reaching out from Pete’s crotch at all times.  Pete may be going for the cover to pin Christian’s shoulders to the mat, but it’s hard not to be fixated on the sight of Pete’s pouch grinding into his opponent’s midsection, stretching the tight confines of the metallic gold fabric like an animal struggling to escape captivity.

Christian restrains himself from going for the gold.

And Pete’s body scissors comprise one of the most astonishingly sexy homoerotic wrestling images I’ve seen in a long, long time, with his gorgeous body flexing and his sneering, perfectly white teeth flashing confidently.  But even though Christian doesn’t go for the gold by yanking on that emergency exit handle, just trying his best to pry Pete’s legs apart inevitably brings Christian’s hand in contact with the intrusive presence of that huge pouch.

Lip-smackingly lovely muscle ass!

Who do I have to fuck to get Pete Sharp on a long-term contract to launch a long and (I guarantee) wildly successful homoerotic wrestling career?  Because I’d love the leisure to study this stunning specimen in infinite detail and from every angle over and over, including that lip-smackingly lovely muscle ass!  I want to linger on those glutes, to marvel at the mountains of muscle there on his backside that need to get clawed, first above board and then with a couple of expert hands slid down inside those tight trunks.  I want to contemplate his glutes more… but fuck me if I can rip my mind away from projecting inside of Christian’s head as he feels Pete’s huge pouch grinding against his ass right there in that full nelson.

Like Christian, I’m appreciating this view a lot!

Pete Sharp’s rookie debut is truly a thing of beauty.  I’m right beside those other BG East wrestlers who were irresistibly drawn to pull back the curtain to soak in the mind-boggling beauty that this man embodies from head to toe.  I haven’t really mentioned his wrestling yet, which is uncharacteristic, so let me just marvel that the boy is every bit as strong as he looks.  He’s already got a solid mat game that suggests this is most certainly not his first time putting a lucky bastard on his back.  And he’s just plain fierce, clearly taking it personally and refusing to concede until Christian absolutely and entirely locks up this muscle monster like a vice.  But that massive package is nothing short of epic, and I’m on my knees and praying like a son-of-a-bitch to the homoerotic wrestling gods for one, simple, unavoidable, pristinely perfect true and right thing to occur: Sharp and Goodman vs. Taylor and Vance.

"Kids these days…"

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I’m enjoying a rare opporuntity I have to thumb through my archives and pull out some homoerotic wrestling gems that I didn’t have time to fully appreciate when I got my hands on them in busier days.  Take, for example, BG East’s Matmen 23, featuring two friends of this blog, Kid Karisma and Skip Vance, making sweet, sweet music in a certain Florida sunroom.

Kid Karisma can’t wait to get his hands on Skip’s “cute” hair.

“Um, elementary school is the other block,” Kid Karisma smirks when achingly adorable Skip Vance struts onto the mat with an eager grin stretched ear-to-ear.  Despite Skip giving up 35 pounds to his muscle bulging opponent, it’s not hard to understand that big smile.  I know of dozens of fans who would stand in line all night for some alone time with Kid K’s muscles.  Sure, you have to assume Skip knows he’s going to get bashed.  In addition to being one of the best jobbers on the planet (I’m buying anything and everything this boy sells!), he also clearly gets major kicks out of taking a beating.  All arrows are aligned in one direction that entirely explains Skip’s shit-eating grin: Kid K’s stunning body, soul-crushing ego, and erotically charged wrestling style are perfectly tuned to Skip’s fondest fantasies.

Kid K puts Skip in one compromising position after another

“You think I’m scared of you, big boy!?” Skip laughs.  “Do I look scared!?”  No, Skip does not look scared.  Skip’s charm is exactly that.  Look vulnerable?  Absolutely.  Mouthwatering?  Definitely.  Scared? Not for an instant.  When Kid K refuses to take him seriously, Skip dials up the heat another notch.  “Are you ready to get your ass beaten?”

Skip’s got Kid K right where he wants him!

Yep, I’m with Skip.  It’s hard to consider a Kid Karisma match for more than about 5 seconds before remarking on his ass.  It is AMAZING.  It’s almost certainly the glimpse of that thong underneath his trunks, visible where his ass crack cannot be covered by the outmatched black fabric, that makes Skip blurt out in the middle of his beating, “Fuck you, dude! If you wasn’t so sexy…” What, Skip?  You’d enjoy the complete demolition you’re suffering a shade less?  But more pertinently, I find it highly erotic and refreshing for wrestlers to acknowledge the cold/hot, hard facts, like saying out loud the most obvious-yet-unspoken fact that Kid Karisma is wildly sexy!

“Scream LOUDER, boy!”

For all his ego crushing taunting, Kid K points out his own highly erotic facts, as well, referring to achingly adorable, innocent-looking Skip as incredibly “cute.”  Of course, Kid K says the word “cute” with a lip-curling sneer and seems to feed off of his contempt for adorability to fuel an incredibly hot session of complete, humiliating domination.  “Scream louder!” he demands at one point, with his rugby thighs squeezing tightly around Skip’s narrow waist.  “Scream LOUDER, boy!!!” he roars, bearing down harder with his scissors and crushing out Skip’s wailing obedience.

“Can you see these abs, or is my cock in the way?”

Skip spends a whole lot of time flat on his back in repeated Kid Karisma schoolboy pins.  In the 3rd (or 20th) time, Kid K flexes his gorgeous guns and then runs his fingers down his washboard.  “Can you see these abs, or is my cock in the way!?,” he asks before crawling his hands forward across the mat and grinding his crotch into Skip’s trapped face.  Feel sorry for Skip?  Don’t.  Most moments like this, even when he’s clearly choking on the pain, that shit-eating grin is still plastered across the lucky kid’s face.  “Kid’s these days,” Kid K marvels at Skip’s obvious relish for soaking up punishment.

Skip momentarily obeys

It’s not a 100% Kid Karisma offensive match.  After Skip obeys his opponent’s command to peel off Kid K’s black trunks to reveal the “surprise” underneath (packaged in a leopard print thong), Skip reaches up and claws the karismatic one’s pouch viciously, bringing the bully to his knees in agony.  Skip still has enough in his tanks to put the pedal to the metal and make the most of Kid K’s breathlessness.  He folds him up in a gorgeous ass-to-ceiling small package, pinning Kid K’s ankles to the mat above his head.  “Is that all you got now!?” Skip demands, delighting in spanking that glorious ass.  “You smell that, fucker!?” he snarls, grinding his crotch in Kid K’s face in retribution for the karismatic indignities suffered earlier.

“I said LOOK!”

This match opens up a fascinating side to Kid Karisma that I haven’t noticed before.  It was probably there all along, but it didn’t grab me before this match.  Kid K wants, nay, needs to have a witness to his stunning beauty and power.  “Look at this,” he demands in yet another schoolboy pin, flexing his powerful biceps.  Skip doesn’t respond quickly enough, so Kid K grabs his head and yanks it off the mat to give him a closer look.  “I said, LOOK!” he barks.

Skip can’t take his eyes off of Kid Karisma’s “best” side

“I’m looking! I see it! I like it!” Skip sputters back obediently.  Later, Kid K spreads his awesome lats and turns his, arguably, best side toward his opponent as Skip struggles to peel himself off the mat after giving away yet another submission.  “Do you see that?” Kid K asks, looking over his shoulder.  Skip is just trying to shake the cobwebs from his rattled brain.  “I asked if you were LOOKING AT ME!” Kid K threatens.  “I see it!  I see it!” Skip pleads.

“Do you like that? To feel those arms around you?”

An exquisite rear bearhug shows off both Kid K’s power and Skip’s vulnerability and sell.  Kid K lifts him entirely off his feet and marches him around the mat for days, crushing him and owning him completely. “Do you like that!? To feel those arms around you?” Kid K wants to know.

My personal favorite Kid K maneuver

A late inverted bearhug from the karismatic one leaves him open for a suspended headscissors from Skip’s always dangerous legs, combined with another vicious ball claw that drops Kid K to his knees again.  But Skip is far too wasted by this point to do anything at all with the momentary advantage.  Kid K is back on his feet and locking down another in a series of standing scissors (my personal favorite Kid K torture device!) to make Skip howl in agony while leaving Kid K’s arms free to flex and admire himself in the mirror.

The perfect pin

A figure-4 choke caps off 8 unanswered submissions that Kid K racks up, but really, the last 10 minutes or so are pretty much one long series of Skip slamming face-first into that wall.  Kid K drags the lucky, lucky jobber across the mat, smothers him with his crotch, and slaps down a 10 count final fall victory.  He admires his handiwork by flexing for the mirror with his boot grinding into Skip’s crotch, but Skip’s too far out of it to even flinch.  The karismatic victor claims Skip’s lost trunks as a trophy, but then reconsiders.  On one knee, he leans in and plants his mouth across the slack lips of his beaten opponent.  Slowly (it’s almost a half a minute of face sucking), Skip rouses in what has got to be the absolute best way to wake up in the history of waking up.  Hell, if you’re going to take his trunks, why not just toss the adorably ripped jobber over your shoulder and take him as the sweetest trophy of all?

Best way to wake up ever invented!

Wow, wow, wow.  There’s much, much more to enjoy in this match than even this major league spoiler details.  Sign me up for the petition to see a follow-up three-way (let’s be honest, 2-on-1) between Kid Karisma, Skip Vance, and Skip’s lover, Christian Taylor.  And in the mean time, beautiful work boys, and no wonder Kid K remains at the very top of my list of favorite homoerotic wrestlers!

Talk about a trophy!