The first time I posted about my appreciation of the value added by tan lines, I received some surprising back channel heat. There are, apparently, some guys who find tan lines unsightly. I honestly had no idea. I’ve always found them provocative and tantalizing. There’s something that much closer to naked about tan lines. They signal something vulnerable, something delicate, to otherwise hard bodied beefcake. They allude to modesty unmasked, to an uncommon intimacy shared with those who get a glimpse of them. Tan lines serve as a literal and figurative boundary, and in the homoerotic gaze, they seem to inherently speak to disregarding boundaries and propriety and self-restraint. All my respect to the hot hunks on a quest for that all-over tan, but as for me, I get an extra hard heart pump from an impossible to miss tan line!
Calvin Haynes’ sensational ass turns me on that much harder when Mason Brooks’ reveals his beautiful tan line in their match on Calvin’s Wrestler Spotlight.
Drake Marcos, bless his heart, tanned like a mother fucker before getting his turn riding muscle cherub Gabriel Cross inX-Fights 34. The bike shorts he was soaking up the sun in left an indelible mark in my memory.
When Alexi Adamov got to be the first at BGE to get his hands on Mitch Colby on Alexi’s Wrestler Spotlight, I was shocked by how enticingly distracting Mitch’s tan line is, even with all of that ripped, gorgeous, sweaty muscle everywhere to look at.
Rhino taped several matches for Thunder’s Arena sporting bike shorts tan lines that somehow make his massively thick thighs look just that much more gargantuan. Here, he’s got Scrappy draped across his shoulders like wet towel in Mat Rats 105, and somehow all I can see are those sexy-as-fuck tan lines.
I feel in my gut that Alex Oliver doesn’t really get just how crazy-sexy he is getting plowed under in a made-for-gay-eyes wrestling match. His deep, deep, dark tan contrasting with his lily white upper thighs on display in Cameron’s manhandling of the boy makes me want to lick him so, so much.
Help me out and let me know what more sexy-as-fuck tan lines to watch for in homoerotic wrestling!
I’m trying out new hashtags for the rebooted blog. Today, I’m giving #wastedWednesday a trial run. It’s an homage to that spectacularly sweet moment in wrestling when a once bold, brash, cocky competitor is out-hustled and outmuscled. In straight-up pro wrestling, a hard-bodied hunk laid waste is probably just denouement. The camera centers on the pumped victor. The story is his story. But in wrestling for gay eyes, the camera frequently zooms back in on the vanquished, savoring the sight of his humiliation. It’s as much a story about his heartbreak as it is about the winner’s celebration. I think for many homoerotic wrestling fans, seeing a muscle hunk demolished can be pretty fucking climactic (at least it is in my pants). Bulging muscles left impotent. A swollen, cock-sure ego smashed to bits. Power and promise and danger pounded into a puddle of helplessness. For my tastes, the prettier, the stronger, the cockier the waste-ee, the better. So this is my little love letter to the hot, homoerotic wrestling hunks who gave it their all and, in the end, were left unable to lift a finger to defend themselves. Let me know if you think @wastedWedensday should be a thing.
Gabriel Cross is left upended (literally) by Van Ryder in their Muscleboy Wrestling match. Gabriel’s journey from twink to muscle hunk is one of the most dramatic transformations in homoerotic wrestling history. Seeing his spectacular physique laid waste and his cherubic face out cold is so, so sweet.
Pete Sharp took BG East by storm there for a couple of years. Pete’s gargantuan package earned him an instant Best Bulge award 3 seconds after he arrived, but damn, was there even on inch of that 6’2″ blond, blue-eyed beefcake that wasn’t perfection? Show up looking like that, built like that, and you’ve got to expect some respect. But fuck, no. Not only did his one-time buddy Lon Dumont mercilessly maul the cocky hunk, but Braden Charron completed his titanic heel turn by dragging Pete’s gorgeous ass all over the ring. His tenure in homoerotic wrestling was far too brief, but damn Pete left a big impression!
W4H’s Colt vs. Drago match is the paradigmatic #wastedWednesday story. Adorable Colt uses chloroform and one sleeper after another to repeatedly make Drago’s divine muscles go slack. All 6’4″ and 240 lbs of Drago are putty in Colt’s hands. Drago rouses, struggles, starts to fight back, but Colt clamps on another sleeper, wringing the tautness out of huge, flexing muscles. Rouse, ring, repeat.
During my hiatus from blogging, Scrappy evolved from a naughty, pretty boy into a franchise player with the body of a god. It does not surprise me at all that he is wracking up one of the most extensive homoerotic wrestling resumes in history, across multiple companies. He’s such a fan pleaser. It probably shouldn’t come as a surprise that opponents all want a piece of him. The sight of Scrappy’s powerfully sculpted muscles gone slack and his little boy face out cold, like when Rhino makes a name for himself posing over top of him, is such a turn on.
I was an instant Alex Oliver fan from the moment I laid eyes on him wrestling as Gus Rowe for BG East. He has a perennial look of a smirking frat boy accustomed to being the hottest and handsomest, which I assume the the very vibe that makes him such a target for getting absolutely thrashed over, and over, and over again. The method of his destruction varies, as do his opponents, but the match ain’t over until Alex is out cold and ass-up. Seriously, it’s his signature finishing move. This perennial jobber just can’t lose when it comes to turning me on, with his wasted, prone body, crushed, humiliated, and helpless.
So what do you think? What wrestlers never look better than when they’re worn out, rung dry, and laid out wasted? #wastedWednesday
Wrestler4Hire has ventured into the year-end fan poll territory. They have 10 categories for you to choose from. You can register your vote here. I’m less familiar with the full catalog at W4H, so my recommendations are likely less informed than many other W4H fans. But you know me. I always have opinions. Here are your W4H Best of 2017 choices.
I’ve seen all of these contenders in action, and of course I have my favorites. But it will likely come as no surprise to regular readers that I’m voting for Lon Dumont.
I have seen all of these guys, though not in 2017 W4H matches. Just going with my gut, though, I’m always a big fan of Alex Oliver. His gorgeous ass gets my vote.
First of all… 15 nominations!? There’s some executive leadership needed in order to get this behemoth under control. I have not seen all of these guys (there are fucking 15 of them, after all), but I have seen most. It’s a close all for me between Marco and Elite Eliot. I’ll probably vote for Marco, though.
Favorite Ring Match
Ace Owens vs. Elite Eliot
Dashing Dustin vs. Dr. X
Cameron vs. Ace Owens vs. Nick Justice
Tyler Royce vs. Hugh Hunter
Cameron vs. Ty Alexander
Cal Bennett vs. Elite Eliot
Marco Thunder vs. Rendell Zebu
Tyler Royce vs. Cam Zagucci
Cal Bennett vs. Brad Barnes
Elite Eliot vs. Garrett Thomas
Nathan FX vs. Garrett Thomas
Cameron vs. Jonny Jobber
I saw only a couple of these matches, so my opinion is based on incomplete data and a lot of just who I like, rather than a studied comparison of the specific matches. With that in mind, I’ll vote for Ty and Cameron.
Favorite Mat Match
Nathan VX vs. Cal Bennett
Cameron vs. Jaxton Wheeler
Chase LaChance vs. Black Starr
Jobe Zander vs. Marco Thunder
Cam Zagucci vs. Austin Tyler
Cal Bennett vs. Zacky Darlin
Cameron vs. Jax Brewer
Tyler Royce vs. Jobe Zander
Holy shit, I saw none of these matches. I’ve got nothing worthwhile to contribute to your deliberation. Just based on who I like, I’ll vote for Cameron and Jax Brewer.
I’m supposed to say company CEO Cameron, but I’m going to say Marco.
Okay, so finally I have a ton of reasonably well-informed opinions. Chace has won this title over at BG East two years ago. I’m seriously hot for Marco, Scrappy, and Eliot. But I’m voting for Marco.
I like this category a lot. Hands down, most crotch-warming smile belongs to Blake Starr in this bunch.
Another great category. Considering forearms as well as upper arms, I’m casting my vote for Jax Brewer. Fuck, I love his arms.
I’m not really sure how to interpret this category. Future champion of what? Does W4H have a championship in contention? Future indy pro champion material? So many questions. The validity of the question is weak, but I’ll still vote for a burning favorite wrestler here, Elite Eliot.
We haven’t had fun with a Friday Fashion post in a while, so let’s take a look at two wrestlers who showed up in the same gear, and ask ourselves that crucial question, “Who wore it best?” This time around, we dip into the quickly growing catalog of matches from producer Cameron Matthews available on Wrestler4Hire. Two of my favorite wrestlers from that site, Alex Oliver and Joey Angel, donned the same blue wrestling singlet with an asymmetrical sash of white color diagonal across the midsection. As for me, I’m infatuated with both of these sensationally sexy boys in any gear they want to show up in. I’d love to see some muscle worship of both of these different body types, and if Cam needs a blogger fan to help out with that post-match, either nursing bruised muscles or devoutly lauding their victorious physiques, he knows where to reach me. In particular, I think Alex and Joey possess two of the sexiest asses in wrestling these days, and if there were any justice at all in the world (increasingly doubtful), we’d get to see Kid Karisma join Alex and Joey for a 3-way three-for-all to determine the undisputed, cross-federation global champion for best butt. Until that time (I’m not holding my breath), let’s focus on Alex and Joey, and the bold challenge they pose one another by sliding their gorgeous bodies into the very same sensationally snug wrestling singlet. Check out their matches on W4H, consider the photographic evidence I’ve captured below, and vote for who you think wore it best.
Here on the left, Alex gets stretched out by Brendan Cage, showing off Alex’s hotly muscled fratboy body from the front. On the right, Joey nearly gets his bodybuilder arms ripped out of their sockets by the Mountain, demonstrating how Joe’s shorter, but beefier build makes the same singlet stretch and bulge with subtle differences.
Again on the left here is Alex showing off the most spectacular feature on his truly spectacular body, that incredibly beautiful, round, muscled ass. On the right you can see from behind Joey similarly bent forward, his bodybuilder glutes bulging, the length of the legs of the singlet stretching farther down his relatively shorter stature.
On the left, Alex is laid out, suffering like a champ, and looking in need of some blogger fan loving to rub out the muscle cramps and bruised ego he’s been left with. On the right, Joey is flat on his back, squashed like a bug, and similarly primed for his beautiful body, now battered and vulnerable, to get the muscle worship adoration he so abundantly deserves.
My recent forays into Cameron Matthews underground site Wrestler4Hire gave me a hard, hard case of the hots for both Alex Oliver and KARN. So I decided two great tastes like that surely had to taste great together, and sat down for a look at a high art concept showdown between these two fantasy men.
I feel like I need to start by saying what an insanely sexy mother fucker KARN is. He isn’t as ripped as he was in his match against Flash LaCash, but he’s sensationally gorgeous. He stood a fraction of an inch closer to the razor this morning, and the clearer view of his square jaw confirms my suspicion that he’s even more handsome than I originally estimated. In black trunks and boots, he’s a stunning vision of a pro bad boy, with lightly hairy legs and high end ink up and down both arms. His legs are not as developed as his upper body, which is, of course, the cliche mistake of countless young hunks before him. Someone’s got to exploit that weakness at some point. But I’ve got quite a fan crush on the big man, I’m not ashamed to say.
I feel like I need to start with adoring KARN because once again, despite my sincere efforts to not let it happen, Alex Oliver’s ass steals the show for me. Alex is bronzed and silky smooth. He has a fratboy-in-over-his-head vibe about him, primal, barefoot, and talking such sensational trash. He’s not nearly as heavily muscled as KARN. He’s got to be giving away 30 pounds. The W4H roster doesn’t list KARN’s weight, and it says Alex is 205 pounds, which is simply implausible. He does, however, have sensational, thick, smooth legs that honestly put KARN’s wheels to shame. His brief blue trunks stretch at the seams around his round, beautiful ass cheeks. And there I am again, infatuated with the aesthetic marvel of Alex Oliver’s ass. I keep promoting the hashtag #AlexOliversAssforPresident, and I think if more people tuned in to his wrestling, it would really have a serious chance of picking up popularity.
Their confrontation is not quite what I was expecting. Based really, really loosely on Irving Berlin’s “Anything you Can Do” show tune, KARN and Alex do a dramatic reading of the opening lyrics. Alex looks like he’s eating shit as he does it, feeling embarrassed at the cheese factor. KARN fucking sells it like a pro. With just that much context, they decide they need to square off in a series of manly competitions to determine which of them can do anything better than the other, which I’m not sure speaks to an inherent underlying homophobia at quoting show tunes, or a hardcore homoeroticism at being so motivated by a Broadway musical.
It’s an open faced flex off to start the salvo. Alex faces the camera and flexes his guns. Sweet, appetizer size meat. I’d lick him like a popsicle, given the opportunity. But then KARN steps in front of him and, ka-boom, flexes his huge, tatted, worship-ready biceps. They show off tris, most musculars, etc., etc. Judging by Alex’ sour grapes trash talk, I think he comes to the same conclusion I do, that KARN definitely did that better. If Alex had merely insisted on comparing lower body development, I contend it could have been a different story. If they’d just turned the fuck around and showed off their asses, this would have been an instant check in Alex’ column. But no. In the display of upper body muscle development, KARN owns it.
There are a series of increasing-contact feats of masculinity and virility. Push ups. Sit ups. Arm wrestling. I’ll cut to the chase and slap down the spoiler that KARN continues to fucking own it. He’s just too fucking big and brawny for this to have gone otherwise.
It’s a little plodding for this wrestling fan, mind you. The heat is at low simmer with insufficient character motivation to really sell me hard. However, what does sell me hard as a rock is the sound track. Holy shit. The trash talk is edgy and nasty. If they’d competed over who trash talks the best, Alex would have been the shocking upset victor in that competition. He repeatedly calls KARN a pussy and a little bitch. There’s a relentlessness about his verbal assaults that legitimately steals the wind out of KARN’s sails each time he demonstrates his physical superiority. But the real cock stroker here, besides my fixed gaze on each and every view of Alex sensationally fuckable ass, is the non-verbal audio. When they flex off, they’re fucking working so hard that they grunt like gym bunnies pounding out that last rep. There’s deep, nourishing heavy breathing as both beefcakes apply pressure to each test of strength. I may have to make the groaning, grunting, and gasping for every last ounce of advantage my new ring tone. It’s probably the most directly erotic element of this match, which may sound like an undersell, but seriously, close your eyes and listen and I swear to the wrestling gods you’ll picture KARN ripping off Alex trunks and riding that executive level ass like a scene from Looking.
The real wrestling fetish fuel starts with the bearhug challenge. It’s Alex’ idea, which blows my mind just a bit. After getting outmuscled every fucking which way, he thinks of the bright idea of seeing which of them can wring out the most bearhug submissions within five minutes. Have you not seen the artillery KARN is packing in his upper arms, Alex!? I’m staring to think Alex is a masochist. And, frankly, that thought turns me on. A lot.
The bearhugs are pretty lush and juicy. Those porn grunts and groans and gasps of what could easily be either/both pain or pleasure sell them like pros. Both studs look incredible from behind. I probably don’t need to it say again, but I will, that Alex’ quivering cheeks are pure platinum as he’s sucking on the agony, getting flung from side to side in KARN’s gargantuan bearhug. But it makes me gasp when Alex latches on the same hold and actually hoists the big, big muscle beast up on his feet. KARN’s bulging, muscled back is about 5 miles wide, and when all that muscle is suspended there, his knees digging into Alex’ waist to try to take the edge off, and Alex laughs like an evil little mother fucker… Shwow.
KARN is an indy pro wrestler, however. So he turns the tide and then crashes down again and again all over Alex’ lovely, lithe body. The final bearhug count is 4 to 1 for KARN. “What do you know, I win again,” KARN crows, flexing and strutting. “I guess I can do anything better than you.”
Finally, Alex starts to innovate the theme in a way that wrestling skill and superior muscle mass won’t be quite as decisive. “I bet your pussy brain can’t go for oxygen longer than I can!” he snarls. And just like that, we’ve got the choking game going on (kids, do NOT try this at home!). Since Alex has been such a loser so far, KARN lets him take the first shot. He sits on the mat, letting Alex wind his right arm across the front of his throat. There’s something incredibly sexy about the open willingness to let himself be vulnerable. Alex powers up. KARN’s arms pump upward in the air defiantly, but soon enough (50 seconds, to be precise, since they use their iPhone stopwatch), KARN’s huge, hot, illustrated muscles sag and go limp. Out cold. Sweet Jeebus, I have a fleeting moment of hope that Alex will drop the pretense and just rip KARN’s trunks off and use the opportunity to school the muscle head pro for the rest of the 10 minutes left in this match.
But. No love. KARN rouses, shakes out the cobwebs, and takes his turn on the now compliant fratboy with the golden ass. Like the pro he is, KARN pulls Alex off his ass, letting him hang there in the sleeper, using gravity to exponentiate the pressure across the kid’s carotid. 46 seconds later, Alex is limp and in a heap. And, not that I really expected it, but just to confirm, KARN does not take the opportunity to rip Alex’ trunks off and fulfill my fan fantasy of seeing those sweet cheeks bare and raw.
So, just to review, KARN has won everything. He has demonstrated in over half a dozen ways that he can, in fact, do anything better than a frustrated, potty mouthed Alex Oliver. So what does he do? He offers to go all or nothing for one final competition. Nut shots.
What the fuck, KARN!? I mean, sure, it’s super sexy how cocky and confident you are. I admit to being charmed by your playfulness, determined to keep Alex in the game to torture him a little longer for my pleasure. But all or nothing? And based on that impossible-to-predict quality of tolerating ball torture?! You are one sensationally pretty, manly, meaty muscle head, but I also suspect you are a compulsive gambler. Because you just gave away the farm on total chance.
The final 10 minutes or so are a pro wrestling duel to the finish, each hunk spreading his legs wide, sucking down the anticipation, and taking really, really nasty shots to the testicles. Suddenly, the salesman of the month becomes Alex. I swear to the wrestling gods, when KARN place kicks his balls like kicking a 50 yard field goal, I buy every fucking last second of it. Alex does that choking, half laughing thing you do when it hurts so bad that it’s almost funny how desperately you’re sucking on it. He’s in the fetal position, choking and writhing on the mat. He rolls over onto his knees, but because his hands are still clutching his jewels, he’s resting on his face. That’s right, his ass is in the air, and I’m writing in #AlexOliversAssforPresident on my ballot.
“OH, my God!” Alex shouts when he’s able to breath in a lungful of air again. “Holy shit! I think they’re fucking stuck inside me!” His running commentary on the damage that’s just been done to him is so, so fucking hot. “Are you fucking kidding me? A kick!?” he complains like a bitch. “That’s a TKO to my fucking nut sack!” KARN laughs genuinely. My read of this entire moment is that Alex seriously took a nasty shot to the balls, and they rolled with it, letting us see Alex actually throbbing, bitter, and bitching. And I think the depth of misery from the fratboy with the golden ass truly tickles his pro wrestler tormentor, because this is not a stage laugh. KARN is genuinely amused, perhaps a little embarrassed for delivering the legitimate bump.
So the boys go back and forth with the nut shot competition until one of them can’t get up again. Victory is declared. Irving Berlin is paraphrased once again. It’s a little more like a performance art piece than a wrestling match, but there’s enough there, and the performances are sufficiently compelling, and the bodies are rocking my world just right so that even a highly predictable erotic wrestling fan like me gets enough to put me over the top. If you’re looking for a straightforward pro wrestling vibe, this match may not be it. If you’re looking for speed and wrestling holds (other than tests of strength, sleepers, and bearhugs), be forewarned that the repertoire is limited and the pacing is more like frat house hijinks than a fully committed pro wrestling narrative. But if you like the bodies and personalities of KARN and/or Alex Oliver, if you like some sweet improv and heart wrenching sells, and if you get off to the more subtle delights, like genuine gasps, agonized grunts, and big, hot hunks yelling “Spread ’em,” to each other (and being obeyed), saddle right up.
And if there were ever ass cheeks more in desperate need of being bared than Alex Oliver’s, I’ve never seen them.
Wrester4Hire has made a new batch of matches available for members to view, so I sat down to take a look at Alex Oliver (aka Gus Rowe via BGE) and Damien Rush (MDW, BGE) in Knocked Out. The two hunks also square off in a publicly available match for sale on W4H, but Knocked Out is an erotic horror fantasy all its own.
If I’d known the plot of this clip ahead of time, honestly, I probably wouldn’t have watched it. It’s a torture flick, nearly a snuff film, really, as “psychopath” Damien kidnaps gorgeous Alex from his very own car and deposits him in the middle of a wrestling ring for 20 minutes of total terror. That’s the story arc, really. As a fan of competitive matches and relatively few “gimmicks,” this match seems like it isn’t in my wheelhouse. And yet, holy fuck, I was turned on and breathless nearly from start to finish. Who knew!?
One element that cranks my engine from the get go is something I’ve talked about a couple of times recently. Even in the car, Alex is in street clothes while his kidnapper is geared up in a black wrestling singlet. The focus on clothing at the start somehow massages me right below the balls just right. Alex looks like every frat boy on the planet, out cold on his back in the middle of the ring in jeans and an Abercrombie t-shirt. When Damien sets up his office (a brief case full of chloroform, chains, sparring gloves, and duct tape), the contrast between homoerotic fantasy heel Damien and vulnerable, ripped from the Real World Alex is lush.
Equally titillating is the moment that Damien gets down to business unbuckling the unconscious stud’s belt. He violently rips apart Alex’ jeans, quite literally ripping them off his sweet body. “Oooooo,” Damien coos with unmistakable lust, “looks like you’re nice and prepped.” Alex’ long, thick, smooth legs and ultra low rise designer briefs are apparently all the prep that Damien could hope for in a victim.
“Where the fuck am I?!” Alex mutters in a panic as he starts to come to. “You’re in my house,” Damien answers coldly. “Time to wake up. Nap time is over. Fun time is just beginning.” He pries the nearly naked hunk backward into a dragon sleeper, even as Alex gasps in horror, “Oh, GOD!”
“What did I do to you!?” the captured stud cries with a note of pleading in his voice. And here’s where the genre of the match comes into clearest focus. Damien replies, “You didn’t do anything to me. But I’m going to do a lot to you.” Think Saw. Think Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs. This is a random act of horror. “You fucking psychopath!!!” Alex screams, again with just a note of horror, as if appealing to a shred of humanity left in the monstrous heart of his attacker. There is no shred. When Alex frantically slaps the mat while Damien gags him with his own belt, wrenching his neck backward, Damien chuckles. “What are you doing? Tapping!?” He rolls his eyes with contempt. “This isn’t a fight. This is just me destroying you.”
Although Knocked Out is considerably more a domination fantasy than a wrestling match, Damien’s use of wrestling holds and the ring ropes to torture his prey are just enough to stroke my kink. Full nelsons, sleepers, abdominal claws and grapevines bury deep into Alex panicked psyche. For no good reason other than terror, Damien grinds the toe of his boot into his nearly defenseless victim. When Alex tries to fight his attacker away with a flailing fist, Damien grabs the arm and pounds the wrist across his knee, threatening to break it in order to force the fratboy not to interfere with Damien’s “work.”
By far the climax of this match (well, I climaxed. Twice. And that’s just on the first viewing), is when Damien duct tapes Alex’ wrists to the ring ropes as the fratboy sits dazed in the corner. When the captured stud tries to use his only free appendages to defend himself, Damien then duct tapes his right ankle to the ropes, and then cranks open spread eagled Alex’ fabulous legs and uses the kid’s own belt to truss up his left ankle to the rope. Damien takes a step back to admire his handiwork. “Look at that!” Damien says almost breathlessly, brimming with admiration. “That is just… SO… beautiful!,” the psychopath gushes, reading my mind. Again, I say, I am shocked at how completely turned on these guys make me without an ounce of competitive narrative. I just keep gasping in awe at how sensationally hot Alex’ gorgeous body is carved up and served raw. I haven’t had this much empathy for a psychopath since Dexter went off the air.
There’s one glaring missed opportunity in Knocked Out that has me shouting at the screen by the end. While I find the repeated use of chloroform redundant (I lose count around 6 times it’s put to use on the fratboy), the real misstep here is how precious little we see of Alex’ magnificent ass. I mentioned how much that ass grabbed my attention when he debuted with BG East, and the glimpses we do get of it in Knocked Out confirm the prime real estate that his mouthwatering cheeks are. I recently announced that I thought Cal Bennett had one of the most fuckable asses in the business, and I’m saying here and now that I think Alex’ glutes belong right up there at that same level. And while I am dizzied by his thick quads and lickable six-pack, I’m slightly embittered by how little camera time there is for Alex’ amazing ass.
Not to say that there’s a lack of attention paid to Alex’ ass. I think the second most evocative moment in the match comes right near the end when Damien has him in a reverse bearhug. Again, we get a great view of the fratboy’s gorgeous frontside, but, come on! A standard bearhug would have shown off that ass so sensationally! But still, it’s not like Damien’s overlooking the goods. When an exhausted Alex bends forward over his tormentors fists locked across his lower abdomen, Damien growls, “Right where I like it!” Several pelvic thrusts, pounding his crotch into the fratboy’s epic cheeks connects all the dots here.
Lest I neglect all of the most important parts, let me state the obvious when I say that Damien is a hot, hairy, fantasy heel. The contrast of his hairy muscles against Alex’ baby smooth body is yet another unmatched pairing that works sensationally for me. I have to admit that I think few muscle hunks suffer as desperately and provocatively as Damien does when he’s on the receiving end, but he does a great job as the maniacal tormentor in total control here.
So, although I’ve mentioned often how qualified is my enjoyment of an occasional squash, and how I’ve tried to parse apart the genres of domination kink and wrestling kink, despite myself, I loved Knocked Out. I’m looking forward to seeing more of Alex Oliver, preferably from behind. I’d love to see more of this ripped-from-real-life-and-dropped-into-the-homoerotic-wrestling-universe scenario, and next time let’s see the involuntary hunk wrestle in street clothes just a little bit, driving home this great real life/fantasy tension. But in the mean time, I’m going back to enjoy Knocked Out more before it’s pulled off of the W4H member video rotation!