For the second time in as many years, I feel compelled to print a retraction/correction on comments I made about Kirk Donahue’s ass.
To catch you up, two years ago I found it highly suspicious that Kirk’s tasty little derriere somehow managed to get nominated for Best Butt for the 2014 award season, despite having appeared in only one match late that year, and despite donning gear that did not show off his ass particularly well. At the time, I ungraciously* speculated as to whether Kirk had possibly exchanged a bite of that ass to someone with influence in the nominating process, in order to weasel his way into the elite ranks. It was total gutter journalism. It was rumor mongering and likely trend setting for the rampant “fake news” epidemic threatening to topple world powers these days. I was a total bitch.
No one less than the Boss himself reached out to slap me upside the head and demand a little more respect for Kirk’s freckled cheeks. So I ate a little crow, posted a PSA acknowledging my overreach, and moved on.
Apparently, in my voter’s guide that I feverishly completed over the past week for the 2016 Besties, I returned to my old ways and came down a little hard on Kirk’s ass (which, I don’t mind acknowledging, sounds like a lot of fun). In order to counter any innuendo that Kirk has unfairly benefited from being teacher’s pet, the Boss once again reached out to insist that Kirk’s sweet cheeks stand on their own merit. In order to disprove any implication that freckled-faced Kirk is daddy’s favorite, Kid Leopard intervened on his behalf to argue against the opinion that Dudley Do-Right must’ve spread those cheeks in order to squeeze them into the nominating pool in the past. Let me just reiterate. Heel Papa himself, the Boss, the Puppet Master, he-who-makes-the-BGE-world-go-round, the Godfather of Winning at All Costs, the Daddy of Dirty Dealing who pretty much defines the scope and depth of a rule breaking homoerotic heel… Kid Leopard made an extremely rare contribution to the comments on this blog in order to rush to defend… nay, extol Kirk Donahue’s ass and dismiss any innuendo that would suggest Kirk might have “earned” special favors from someone in power.
So, for the second time, let me apologize for impugning the nominating process, the powers that be, or Kirk Donahue’s hot little athletic ass. I officially retract the statement that his ass is “fair-to-middling quality.” On the merits of Kid Leopard’s photographic evidence that he sent in a rush to defend his hot little boy, I have to concede that Kirk’s ass is clearly above average. I’d probably put it in the 65th percentile. Maybe the 70th. I can totally see why someone in charge of recruitment at BG East might feel compelled to slide their hands down the back of Kirk’s trunks and squeeze the Charmin. Whether or not it happened, and I’m not saying it did, I could certainly sympathize with a mover and shaker behind the scenes who happily accepted Kirk’s offer lick those hot little cheeks in exchange for an unearned push and teacher’s pet treatment.
And happily Kid Leopard and I are in complete agreement when it comes to Kirk’s gargantuan bulge. That monster is huge and mouthwatering, and considering how saccharine sweet Kirk is in the ring, I’d bet his cock tastes like Life Savers. If some BG East executive had, indeed, exchanged carnal favors for giving Kirk a push, I’d have totally wanted to ask him if Kirk tastes like candy. Not that that ever happened. As far as I know.
*Okay, so, all kidding aside. I can see how casual readers might mistake my good natured ribbing of Kirk Donahue as a personal attack. I continue to screen out comments to this blog that offer scathing take downs of some of the nominated wrestlers this year, and perhaps my jibes at Kirk (and KL) give you the impression that I’m good for tearing some wrestlers down in an effort to build my favorites up. For the record, I think insulting the homoerotic wrestlers who populate the industry runs counter to building up a healthy cadre of hot hunks for us to form opinions about. If we pull out the claws and start acting like the worst stereotypes of gay men by trying to eviscerate the very wrestlers who strip down, oil up, and put nearly every inch of their fine bodies into competition for our entertainment, then we will only chase off the talent (both the ones we like and those we don’t), and discourage prospective newbies from bothering with giving this industry a shot. I guarantee you that the wrestlers you would be ready to trash are someone else’s favorites, and once the insults and body shaming and ridiculousness take hold, everyone will suffer. So chill out. I’m just kidding about Kirk. I love his ass. I’d fuck his ass 7 days a week, plus twice on Sundays. If he’s into that, I hope someone gives him my number. I love that he’s willing to bring his high quality indy pro skills into the BG East ring and take such monumental, humiliating, debasing beatings time and time again, for the very reason that there’s an audience (me at the head of the line) eager to pay to watch. I’ve never actually spoken to the kid, but I respect the fuck out of him, and every other wrestler nominated or not for an award.
And I still bet Kirk’s cock tastes like Life Savers.
Tonight. Midnight. Submit your votes for the Best of BG East in 2016. I realize that I’m atypical when it comes to how many BG East matches I watch over the year, so this little voter’s guide is intended to help fill in any blanks some of you may have for lack of exposure to some of the nominees. If 2016 teaches us nothing else, it proves that nothing requires us to be educated and informed voters. However, if you prefer to vote based on something other than your cock’s reaction to one still photo, but you don’t have time to see the whole ballot of matches, feel free to consider my opinions for what they’re worth (which is relatively little, but a little more than voting with no basis whatsoever).
Let’s power through the remaining categories to finish off your ballot.
Best Mat Battle
It’s a little surprising to consider this match “from the vaults” for a 2016 award. Both Jonah and especially Cameron were so young in this match. It’s hard not to superimpose what we know about how Cameron grew up, muscled up, and launched his own production company since this match was taped. I loved this match immensely. It’s rough and raw. The boys clearly hate the fuck out of each other. Lovely, lickable twinks who may look like babies but wrestle like nasty back alley brawlers.
It’s a close call for me, but my vote goes to Kid K and Mason. Both of these beautiful boys are perennial favorites of mine, so I had very high hopes for this match going in. They didn’t disappoint, and in fact the intensity is even hotter, the bodies even more beautiful, and the mat wrestling drama even more compelling than I’d expected. It also helps that these hunks so enjoy each other’s bodies. It’s cocky and playful and reads like the hottest foreplay in history.
Similarly, I’ve never seen a match that includes JJ or Attila that fails to get me off. It’s a match up of an amateur mat champ and a ripped, acrobatic brawler. These are both thoroughbred athletes with massive egos, so the action is brutal and vicious. Not nearly as much erotic heat as Gazebo 18, but magnificent mat wrestling nonetheless.
The narrative behind Coop and Ryder’s mat tussle is great. Coop’s competitive amateur wrestling days seem so far behind him, since he’s been showing up as Dr. Cooper and dissecting opponents like a heart surgeon (aka, mercilessly) in the ring. So Jake seems to be unaware that Coop kicks ass on the mats as well. Ryder lies and cheats his way into putting the doctor into serious jeopardy, but in a lush mash up of babyface Austin and his Dr. Cooper heel alter ego, this mat battle turns nasty pro.
I’ve written a small novel about what this match does for me, so I’ll try not to repeat myself. What grabs me by the balls most is how both of these dazzlingly pretty boys show us something completely new. They’re gorgeous. The wrestling is completely ego driven. They’re gorgeous. The dialogue is sensationally sexy. They’re gorgeous. And the all in, vicous submissions are way more intense and work than I expect to see from supremely pretty boys like this. Oh, yeah, and they’re gorgeous.
Speaking intensity born of dislike, Drake and Ethan rip into each other with a passion that can’t quite be described with words. They’re mean to each other. They’re vicious and brutal. It turns sensationally sexy as the gear gets stripped, but not so much because they turn each other on, but because you get the impression that the final victory lap (after the pony ride) could very well be a domineering, taunting, sneering, contemptuous fuck. Buckets of sweat. A couple pints of tears. Lush bodies. This is a very close second choice for me.
We almost certainly all know what we like about liplocks. I like sweat, palpable passion, a tablespoon of aggression, and authentic lust. Here are your options.
I’m in an ethical dilemma when it comes to giving you a look at the first nominee for Hottest Liplock. BG East has an embargo on me sharing any of their pics that contain full frontal, and yet the only shots of this liplock include both wrestlers with their full-mast cocks in hand. So I’m hoping that I’ll be forgiven for cropping out the bottom of this shot, to stay within the strictly PG requirements I’ve agreed to, despite having to drop the BG East copyright at the bottom of the photo. If this photo suddenly disappears and is replaced by a puppy, you’ll know that I have been asked, and as always I’ve agreed, to a request from the copyright holder to remove the image. All that fine print aside, this is a hot liplock, right?
Sensationally sexy liplock between Christian and Calvin. The authenticity is well-established long ahead of time, as they both telegraph all along that they are turning each other on. If you still doubt it, their rock hard cocks straining the pouches of their trunks should prove the point.
My vote goes to Drake’s kiss-‘n’-pin of gorgeous newbie Nino “Babyboy” Leone. It ticks off all of my boxes, including sweat, passion, simmering aggression, and what is quite obviously open lust. This is one of the most brutal matches this year, which makes the incredibly tender ending that much more dizzying. Squarely in the homoerotic sweet spot.
When it comes to quantity, Charlie and Blaine very well may have locked lips the most in their ginger-off in the backyard. I believe Blaine gets the award for popping Charlie’s (kissing) cherry first in his homoerotic wrestling career, but Charlie is quite clearly abundantly skilled in sucking face and using it as a defensive maneuver on the mats. For kissing as chess match move, I give this liplock a close second place on my ballot.
I get the impression that I am as big a fan of Chris Xaos as most of the rest of you are of Mike Martin. So between the two of us (you, me), we should be crazy for their scorching hot mat match this year. The liplock is more teasing than passionate, for my tastes. That said, I’d change my vote for a chance to stick my tongue down Chris Xaos’ throat (well, if he’s naked).
There’s nothing teasing about Christian and Jeremy’s passion at the end of their hot and rough mat match. This is a full on make out session, and it’s lathered in sweat, and it’s got a half a cup of aggression still playing out, and I fully believe these boys are into each other. Christian is the reigning kissing master at BG East, which may work against him this time around for the potential vote splitting with his liplock on Calvin.
Best Wrestler Spotlight
It seems like a testimony to a wrestler’s marketability to get an entire DVD release devoted to one person. So the three nominees this year for Best Wrestler Spotlight represent some major fan favorites.
Biff follows up with his victory as Debut of the Year last year with multiple nominations across the ballot, including for his Wrestler Spotlight. He’s compelling and gorgeous. I actually think the strength of this collection is in the quality of his opponents, though. You get the impression everyone wants a shot at this ridiculously hot beefcake. This is a very close second place for me.
Has anyone ever starred in 3 Wrestler Spotlight DVDs before? Although this collection tends toward showing off Coop’s work as a gorgeously bashable babyface, his mat match with Jake Ryder gives some awesome flashes of Dr. Cooper hanging out his shingle. The quality of his opponents is less consistent than the other two Wrestling Spotlights, but Coop has emerged as such a fantastic, complex, competitive, multifaceted character, that I’m persuaded (just) to cast my vote for him.
Chace’s spotlight is sort of a retrospective of his career, featuring him as the go-go boy, the beefsteak, and the fitness model that he has been at different phases of his wrestling. His end of the bargain is less consistent than the other two Wrestling Spotlight stars, which is to be expected considering these matches come from such drastically different parts of his career. Still, although there’s nothing to complain about, I enjoyed Coop’s cubed spotlight the best.
Best 2016 Overall Match
Now the free for all starts. I know well that fans are fierce about their favorites, and when comparing apples to oranges, there’s no pretense of objectivity or even a measurable standard to point to. Seven times out of 10, I’m biased toward ring matches. I tend to favor big personalities and hot bodies in equal measure. I like to be surprised. I like to be made to laugh. And it is essential that I get hard. With all those biases in mind, I’ll tell you how I see the field for Best of 2016.
First on the ballot is my pick for the Best Overall Match at BG East in 2016. It’s an instant classic. It’s sexy as hell. Two incredible debuts. Drama, drama, drama. Very high quality pro wrestling. Intramural rivalries. And dick pic selfies. It’s everything I could want in a match (except for a copy of those dick pics).
A very close second place for me is this masterpiece on the mats between Drake and Skrapper. If I’d had the option, I very well might have picked this over Mason and Kid Karisma for the Best Mat Battle, but alas, the nominating committee didn’t see fit to give me the chance. The wrestling is outstanding. The erotic tension is thick and juicy. And the boys are real and beautiful. The only edge TTT19 has on this for me is the full throttle pro ring vibe.
So put Drake in the ring with Kayden Keller, and you might think I’d be unable to resist. I resist, though. It swings hard for a slasher vibe, but doesn’t quite connect. TTT19 and Drake’s work in Matmen 26 hit the bullseye better. And then there’s Drake’s gear to consider (smh).
Watching cocky indy pro Kirk Donahue get trampled by a “mere” underground phenom like Dr. Cooper is guaranteed to tickle my funny bone and get me hard. This is a magnificent beatdown and totally worthy of a shot at the title, but it just didn’t get my vote.
That’s right, haters, Drake Marcos anchors a full half of the Best Match nominees this year! I recently referred to 2016 as the year of the rookie, but it may have to be rebranded as the year of Drake. The heat is scorching in his match with Ethan. And I do love seeing bully-Ethan face off against someone who gives it right back to him. But the raw rage and bitterness don’t quite put this match over Drake’s match with Skrapper for me, and neither quite persuade me to tip them over Tag Team Torture 19.
See all my comments above about why I voted for this as Best Mat Battle, and then remind yourself that this does not take place in a wrestling ring. It’s immensely satisfying, funny, fierce and brutal, and it gets extra points in my book for Mason’s perfect (perfect) choice in undergarments. But I’m still throwing my one, lone vote to the fierce foursome in TTT19.
The real winner is you and me, of course. Such a rich, entertaining, arousing body of work from BG East in 2016 is why BG East is the first place I go for that particular mix of homoerotic wrestling that keeps me satisfied. Congratulations to all of the nominees (except for Kirk). You are, every last one of you, gorgeous to watch mix it up in the ring, on the mats, and everywhere else that the Boss’ imagination takes us. Thanks for all of the distractions in 2016 that kept me from the abyss of absolute despair over current events
You only have until the end of the day Thursday to register your vote for the Best of BG East in 2016, so I’m going to power through the remaining categories for those waiting for the completion of this voter’s guide. As always, take it with a grain of salt. My opinions reflect nothing more than my opinions. Just vote. It’s supposed to be fun. All of these wrestlers are beautiful, and we’re lucky to get to enjoy their wrestling, so heap praises on all of them.
I’ve asked for clarification on this category before, but not really gotten any. The options are matches, but they aren’t all really submission matches, so the category isn’t best submission match so much. But we don’t get to vote on a particular submission within a match. I’m sure I’m over thinking it. In any case, I’ll keep my comments brief in the interest of getting through the remainder of the ballot before the polls close.
Two sensationally skilled indy pro wrestlers add up to incredible submissions. I was torn between including a photo of this Mexican Ceiling hold or Lucky’s gorgeous stretcher, hanging from the ropes and wrenching Dick every wrong way. Very top quality wrestling, with sensationally executed submissions.
The options for sensational submissions exponentiate when you throw three highly skilled indy pro veterans in the ring for a free for all. It’s hard to beat Guido’s simultaneous camel clutch on Brute and Boston Crab on Jonny for innovation and strength. This is my second favorite submission in the mix.
Submissions fly every which way between Drake and Ethan, so it’s hard to pick out just one to highlight. I’m partial to this gorgeous figure-4 face-smothering Ethan uses to put Drake out cold. Of course, two pony rides in this match sort of epitomize submission. Extremely hot back and forth in this battle.
Again, I’m not sure which one submission to highlight, but I’m pretty sure it’s one where Skip Vance is getting his skinny ass handed to him on a platter (because that’s pretty much every submission in this match). I do like everything about this particular submission hold featured here, with Paul applying scissors, a vicious hammerlock, and grinding Skip’s screaming face into the mat, all at the same time. Art, people. Art.
Again, so many options to choose from. I’ll call out Jonny’s leg choke, over the ropes, with a pec claw chaser, but I’m nearly as much a fan of the fish hook camel clutch. And the ball bashing. And the… wait. We’d better move on if I’m getting through this voter’s guide.
Now consider the submission possibilities with 4 wrestlers in the ring, often simultaneously. This is my vote for Best Submission mostly based on how blown out of the water I was by this out-of-nowhere gravity defying torture hold from debuting newbie Chase Addams. Chase calls this hold the Will Breaker, and you should hear 6’2″ Christian crumble like shattered glass when the devastating newbie trusses him up as if he’s been doing this for decades. My second favorite submission from this match is Christian and his tag team partner Charlie teaming up to squeeze a submission out of Ty Alexander with simultaneous face-to-crotch headscissors and a Boston Crab. Tag team wrestling done so, so right in this match.
Talk about open to interpretation. Actually, I suspect most of us gauge this category based on how successfully a match got us off. So that means the criteria is extremely subjective, and guessing who may win seems incredibly difficult.
Fuck, this match is sexy. Ty is nobody’s jobber in walking this pornboy through his pro wrestling paces. The match is explicitly and directly about sexual conquest from well before these two even make it to the ring. Surprisingly deep when it comes to the wrestling drama, this is an outstanding entry into the X-Fight lexicon.
Total newbie Calvin Haynes likes the look of Christian Taylor, so he initiates the hottest foreplay on the planet: wrestling. This is another erotic-forward match packed with the drama of two gorgeous, hot studs so obviously turned on by each other. The pool wrestling is brutal. The towel off is tender. And the bedroom wrestling finale is a magnificent combination of both.
At the beginning of the match, I thought this “loser gets shaved” things was a little gimmicky. About halfway through, in the middle of gallons of sweat, I was stunned by the intensity and balls out seriousness of the wrestling. By the end, this has always been about hot, steamy, lush passion, with a little side serving of tender loving to give it that sweet finish. I think this is my second place choice for Sexiest Match this year, but buckle up, because this is not the last you’ll see of Drake in this category.
That’s right, sabotaging his own success as only Drake can, he’s competing against himself for Sexiest Match in Ring Releases 4. Incredibly compelling match with equal parts scream queens, Hitchcock, and Bel Ami. My only complaint is Drake’s gear, which mercifully gets ripped off him soon enough in the match.
Hands down, the sexiest match of the year for me was Matmen 26, between Drake and Skrapper. The match is so aggressive. It’s so intense and brutal and it careens like a runaway train into sweat soaked erotic passion so authentically. I don’t think we see nearly enough full naked wrestling in this homoerotic industry, so the portion of the match that keeps charging ahead well after they both lose their gear is so satisfying. Even though I’m a big fan of both of these boys, this match took me by surprise by how totally compelling it was, and the erotic tension from start to finish is superb.
Best Ring Match
This match is what happens when you put a big, bulging pro wannabe in a ring with a bigger, more bulging, sensationally seasoned pro. The story practically tells itself, though you have to watch it to get the bait and switch that Kelly sells so remarkably successfully. Biff suffers so sensationally that it brings a tear to my eye. This is my second favorite ring match of the year.
Again, if you want an outstanding ring match, toss two extremely experienced indy pros into the BG East ring and insist they battle until one of them wins with a 10 count. Guido and Dolph classed up the place when it comes to quality ring wrestling and pro brutality. I love the grit and egos and battle of wills. Endurance sport with thoroughbreds like this is rare and gorgeous to watch.
And then there’s that magic again that you get when you toss a beefcake wrestling wannabe in the ring with a seasoned pro heel. I always, always have a bias toward homoerotic wresting that’s more homoerotic, so this is my second favorite ring match on the ballot. Bigger than life. Beautiful as hell.
Again, my vote goes to the opening match of Tag Team Torture 19. From the opening sequence in which Charlie Evans introduces himself to BG East by perfectly executing a Ginger Snap, to the corner to corner melodrama between the teams, to the magnificent intramural contest between Team Vanity to get their opponents to name which of them hurts them worse, to Chase’s Will Breaker, to this Beauty and Beast double team combo (by the good guys, no less), this match is packed with classic pro tag team wrestling with just the right amount of homoerotic flair to make me recognize it as our own.
And then there’s what comes from throwing two pretty boys who we’ve watched grow into this business tear into each other. I don’t think of either JJ or Chace as naturals in the ring, which makes the pace and power of this ring match such a pleasant surprise. Not nearly as homo or erotic as TTT19, still there’s a big BGE stamp on this match that comes from the way these two have developed under the guiding hand of the Boss.
And now, for your consideration, the combo of an experienced indy pro jobbing for yet another pretty boy who we’ve watched grow into a magnificent BG East-style pro. I’d almost considered voting for this on the off chance that giving more praises to matches in which Kirk gets clobbered would inspire more of the same in the future. But you don’t have to carry my grudge against Howdy Doody to see a lot to like in this match, not least of which is hot muscle domination, buckets of sweat, and big vs.little boy bashing.
My least favorite category, so I’ll say the least about it. I do love a good squash on rare occasions. Not nearly as often as a lot of you, clearly, because the industry pumps out so many more squashes than I can consume. But sure, on occasion, a one-sided total mauling of one hunk by another hits some sweet notes to savor.
Kip squashed like a bug. Gorgeous. I still say that Flash LaCash is far prettier than he seems to get credit for. But it’s hard to focus on the pretty when he’s such a devastatingly effective muscle heel.
You had me at “Kid Karisma.” If anyone can carry a squash narrative and keep me engaged, it’s Kid K. He is a fucking BEAST in this match. I’d say more, but it would mostly be about Kid K’s body. This would be my second choice for this category, if pressed to have one.
My vote goes to Trey and Thrash for a few reasons. First, Trey Dixon is a god. Doomed, but a god. Thrash is outstandingly compelling. He’s another incredible debut that could easily have deserved a spot on the ballot there as well. And finally, Thrash destroys Trey in order to own him. A lack of motivation sinks most squashes for me, so when Thrash starts signaling where all this beauty bashing is heading, I’m hooked. Fuck, more Thrash. More Trey Dixon. Please.
Maybe this is my second choice. I don’t know. I will say this match turned me into a big Kelly King fan. Huge push to Biff’s consideration for Top Jobber.
I have no idea what motivates Cybertron. He’s a magnificent specimen of a man, but honestly, he won this match against Mister E about 45 seconds in. But he doesn’t stop. Why is that? Why don’t I “get” squashes more than I do?
Okay, maybe this is my second place. Whatever. I will say that it’s a little shocking that these two sensational physiques got completely shut out of the body part categories. Though I did put Viggo up for my personal “Best Legs” contest. In any case, massive, mega squash, pretty on pretty.
I had every intention of posting some more niche categories for you to chime in on as we look back on the best of homoerotic wrestling for 2016. But alas, time and tide await for no man. The clock has nearly run out on 2016, and probably not a second too soon. So instead of polling the readers, I’m just going to put forth a few of my own personal picks for the best in homoerotic wrestling in a few more categories almost certain not to show up in any official year end fan polls.
Fuck, I love a big, broad, thickly muscled back. I suppose a lot of guys probably don’t think of the back as a particularly lust worthy. I, on the other hand, think a hot, sexy back is immense value added. It seems far too often neglected by the gym bunny crowd, making a truly gorgeous, crafted classic V and wide wing span that much more notable. Again, for my tastes, there are mechanics involved, like proportion, shape, and thickness, but that last, little, hard-to-articulate aesthetic comes down to whether a back makes me ache to slap down a massive load across the expanse of it. So, as with everything, it’s about what it inspires in me as much as any particular objective, measurable quality that we could all agree on. My top three favorite backs in 2016, in reverse order, are as follows:
2nd runner up is Lon Dumont. So much has been said about Lon’s phenomenal abs, and deservedly so. But damn, that back is a work of art! I would love to see 2017 be the year that opponents climb into the ring with Lon and acknowledge what a hot, rocking body this magnificent muscleman possesses, and fuck, that back should be on the list of things for an opponent with taste to admire.
1st runner up for me is BG East’s muscleboy Van Skyler. He’s a dizzyingly sexy fantasyman from the front, sure, but fuck, that gorgeous back could be more perfect only with a stream of cum painted across it.
I don’t have access to better pics, but trust me, Thunder’s Arena’s Scrappy has a magnificent back. His perfect V points like an arrow that supremely fuckable ass. He’s phenomenal to watch wrestle. The attitude, the power, the beauty from every angle. But my heart rate spikes every time I see his best side. Scrappy has his admirers, clearly, but I have think that he’s one of the most underrated athletes in the homoerotic wrestling industry. He’s a handsome fucker with some sweet mat skills, but I’m waiting for him to just turn around, extend that lat spread and flex those glutes, and bring the right opponent to his knees.
Best Tag Team.
There were precious few tag team matches in homoerotic wrestling in 2016. A producer once told me that tag team matches are few and far between because it’s just too much of a pain in the ass coordinating 4 different schedules (plus the production crew). So they’re a rare treat that I, personally, enjoy immensely. So here are my top 3 favorite tag teams in 2016, picked out of some inexact formula of ring skills, beauty, teamwork and chemistry, with just a little of that extra added allure of making we want to join them in a 3 way (and I’m not strictly talking wrestling now).
2nd runner ups for me were the fascinating pairing of two sensational, iconic figures in homoerotic wrestling, Z-Man and Austin Cooper, teaming up for Rock Hard Wrestling in All-Star Brawl. I’m not convinced that they have a ton of chemistry when working together, but two hot, sexy stars this big and this popular make a sensationally sexy pairing.
1st runner ups, and thus first in line for me to climb into a petite, muscle packed, loin clothed sandwich with, are Wrestle4Hire’s Ravaging Savages, namely Zach Reno and Matt Blakewood. These bearded badasses were a thrilling surprise for me in their magnificent take down of behemoth muscle giant Mark Muscle. Despite pulling off some fabulously coordinated double teaming, I think they are just a little unequally yoked, as evidenced by Matt having to turn alpha and order Zach around a bit to finally finish off their superhuman opponent. But holy fuck, these micro beasts were a sensational turn on for me in 2016.
In what has to be the hottest, most entertaining tag team match in homoerotic wrestling this year (this decade?), ginger newbie Charlie Evans joined forces with fantasy veteran Christian Taylor to bring down the house in Tag Team Torture 19. Their opponents, newbie Chase Addams and Trophy Boy Ty Alexander, could have totally taken this award, if their out of control vanities hadn’t set them on a path to self-destruction from the start. What Team Vanity lacked in teamwork and coordination, Team All-Americans excelled at. This was such a fabulous narrative of earnest babyfaces versus narcissistic heels, with the juicy melodrama of the upstanding All-Americans suffering heaping loads of underhanded brutality, and yet enduring, having each others backs, and through raw skill, will, and teamwork staying in the fray long enough for their egomaniacal opponents to make one too many mistakes. I would pay a premium for those dick selfies they snapped with Team Vanity’s phones. And absolutely, if there’s a tag team I’d most want to join for a rip and strip, baby oiled menage a trois, in 2016, it’s Team Vanity.
I’ve had some extensive conversations with Ty Alexander about the dangerous waters of expressing strong opinions about gear. I’m no Joan Rivers, and I hardly claim any particular expertise in fashion. But I definitely know when a particular gear choice does NOT do it for me. And, occasionally, I think to myself, that hunk was made to wear that! As with everything, there are mechanical factors that go into my estimation of gear, like fit, color, and complexion. But in this case, that hard to describe, major component of what I like has to do with me deciding, at least momentarily, that a wrestler actually may be even sexier in this particular gear than out of it (trust me, that’s a rare conclusion for me). Well, at least I think to myself that I’d like to see him in it before ripping it off of him. In any case, what I think may be the most sensational gear choices of 2016 are as follows.
2nd runner up is Trophy Boy Ty Alexander. To say that a pair of trunks look like they were made to be worn by a wrestler is, quite literally, the truth when it comes to fashion-obsessed Ty. He has an immense collection of custom made wrestling outfits that he showed off in 2016. Possibly my favorite were the opal trunks he wore in his grudge match against fleeting tag team partner Chase Addams in Tag Team Torture 19. Lush fit, beautiful contrast with Ty’s all-over tan, and generously providing reading material for when he plants that ass on Chase’s face. They tell a story all on their own, which, considering Ty’s panache for storytelling in the ring, adds compelling nuance and subtext to a match.
I let my attention wander away from Jobe Zander for a while, but suddenly, in 2016, I took another look and discovered a whole new man. I’m assuming there was some nefarious transaction with Satan involved, or perhaps a genie in a bottle, to transform Jobe into the ripped sex god he suddenly is today. However it happened, I was blown away by the super-low-rise, sky blue banana hammock he wore this summer in Can-Am’s Decrotchery 14. His hot, rock hard glutes look insanely sensational, and Jobe’s masterpiece is framed like the work of art it is. The seaming, the gorgeously tight outline of his monster cock… everything about these trunks scream Jobe. A fashion critique would likely note that the pouch pulls away from his inner thigh just a fraction as a result of a fraction too little fabric to manage to cover his famously gargantuan python. But who the fuck are we kidding. That tiny gap, the shadowed space stretched too tight at the side of his crotch, is exactly what makes this gear perfection.
My choice for Best Gear in 2016 is Rafael Valmor from BG East’s Fan Fantasy 4. Honestly, Rafael had an unfair advantage, considering Kieran Dunne made him try out about half a dozen pairs of trunks before acknowledging the obvious truth that these baby blue square cut swim trunks achieved absolute perfection. The combination of that baby blue against his bronzed, Brazilian body is so fucking lovely! But it’s the cut that boggles my mind. I swear it looks like these trunks were sewn together right on his body. From the back, they dip exactly to the top of his ass crack, squeezing each gorgeous ass cheek like loving friend. From the front, they suck to his muscled, upper thighs, and then leave exactly enough acreage to let his mouthwatering bulge stick out just right. I know, I know, I keep using the word “perfection” too often in this category, but I can think of no other description for Rafael’s gear here. Kieran agrees with me here. Mouthwatering, aesthetic, masterful engineering, absolute perfection.
Best Wrestling Character
I think of this last category like picking Miss Congeniality, only most of the time, the most compelling, sexiest wrestling personalities in homoerotic wrestling are decidedly uncongenial. As a fan, I talk about this aspect of wrestling often, the sell, not just of any particular move or hold, but of the wrestling story as a whole. There are plenty of homoerotic wrestling matches that seem to pop up out of nowhere, with the combatants’ motivation for stripping down to their barest essentials and beating the living fuck out of each other remaining mostly a mystery. But there are some sensationally entertaining hunks on the scene who absolutely emote. They set the table for us, sometimes with dialogue and explicit backstory, but often with just a smirk and a sneer. I love wrestlers who can convince me that they aren’t just waiting to clock out, but that they’re motivated and passionate about working up a sweat and settling some score. This is less about being a heel or a babyface or a jobber, but about conveying the virtual world in which hot hunks in the briefest of trunks defy gravity, obliterate the conventions of common decency, and pit nothing but their bodies and cunning against one another for a reason. That’s fucking sexy as hell for me. So here are my top 3 wrestling personalities who did all of that the best in 2016.
I’ve missed seeing more of Aryx Quinn in homoerotic wrestling lately, but even showing up relatively rarely, he tears apart the competition in body and soul. As my 2nd runner up for best wrestling character, Aryx could easily drive fans wild with just that rocking body and those incredibly devastating wresting skills. And yet, every time he shows up, he brings that sexy as fuck, sneering, domineering, trash talking attitude that typically conveys a crystal clear motivation to rip an opponent apart in order to fuck them senseless in victory. I’d argue there’s no other wrestler in competition today who inhabits quite the wrestling character that he does with such supreme success.
My 2nd runner up for Best Wrestling Character is Kid Karisma. Kid K consistently conveys a transparent motivation for throwing down, built on several interlocking factors. He loves the way he looks, glistening with sweat and showing off his magnificent muscles, having beaten an opponent to submission and flexing over top of him. He clearly loves the way it feels, possessing another man, bending and breaking him, milking whimpers and screams out of him. Kid K sells a particularly sweet vintage of sadism without a hint of maleficence about it that’s incredibly novel and compelling. And, at least 2 times out of 3, he wrestles because it turns him on. So often, after ripping a lucky bastard apart piece by piece, you’ll catch Kid Karisma climbing on top, saddling up, and smacking down a lusty, passionate kiss. Both in his wrestling work and in conversation, he consistently comes across as a hearty partier, a prankster and a smart ass, who wrestles for the sheer pleasure of it.
Best Wrestling Character in 2016 for my tastes was Matt Thrasher. Again, like Aryx and Kid Karisma, Matt inhabits a relatively unique persona in the business, I think. Particularly in his work for Muscle Domination Wrestling, Matt is the Daddy’s Home franchise. He’s gorgeous, of course, but he absolutely owns the salt ‘n’ pepper daddy beat in today’s industry. Youngsters of all shapes and sizes keep throwing themselves in his way, calling him old, calling him grandpa. And with patience born of experience, Matt chuckles, and then turns the ageist bullshit on its head by beating the living fuck out of every ankle biter he meets. He’s bulging and hairy and sweats like a Margarita in August, but its the way he carries that off in his seasoned, savory picking apart of young bucks that makes him such a phenomenal character. He’s never impulsive. He’s deliberate and decisive. And he persistently possesses the sexy, compelling character motivation of crushing the dreams of youth as he turns cocky kids into his sniveling bitches.
So those are my picks for some of the aspects of homoerotic wrestling that I, personally, key off of, but which don’t tend to find their way into end of year fan polls. Feel free to praise any wrestlers who you’d have picked for these (or any other) category in the comments below. And happy new year, people. Here’s to a hope and prayer to the homoerotic wrestling gods that we all survive 2017 with a few civil liberties left.
I think I may have become too serious in the past 41 days or so. Sure, I believe the very fabric of our fundamental social contract as a modern society is unraveling. And, yeah, I have to acknowledge that I’ve been feeling happy not to have children to worry about suffering in the coming new world disorder. But there’ve got to be some reasons to smile these days. As if reading the secret thoughts of my darkest hours, a long-standing, anonymous, yet dependable friend suddenly reached out and dropped a boatload of candid, behind-the-scenes photos smuggled off the sets of BG East, starring some of the most sensationally sexy wrestlers on the planet taking a little off the cuff joy in life.
OMI (Our Man Inside) has long been aware of my pleasure at seeing candid images of the heroes, villains, and whipping boys who star in the homoerotic wrestling fantasies that I enjoy so much. Far too easily, we who are fans can forget that there are actual people behind the made-for-pro wrestling characters and storylines that we tune in for. Too often, we take our prerogatives as consumers too literally. We collapse the people who put in the time to craft their bodies for wrestling sport entertainment into the products they star in. So we too often feel free to critique not just the products, but the people. We act as if it’s our right, from the anonymity of our side of the computer screen, to trash people based on our tastes and preferences in wrestling entertainment, dismissing the people themselves as worthless if we judge their wrestling products or performances to be uninspiring. I delete comments from the pages of this blog when I think they’ve stepped over that line, because that’s not what this blog is about. People can, and do, do that anywhere and everywhere else on the internet. This blog is about celebrating the industry, promoting the best of what I enjoy in homoerotic wrestling, and encouraging producers and wrestlers alike to continue to titillate and innovate for a homoerotic wrestling sensibility.
So I particularly enjoy these candid shots that give just a glimpse of the men behind the masks (whether literal or figurative). I know that there are some who would likely prefer not to see behind the curtain. I respect that. But these rare glimpses of these hot hunks’ humanity make me love this industry even more.
We don’t have to like them all. Fuck, that’s the whole point really. Some of the hottest wrestling happens when hunky characters who I despise lie, cheat, and steal their way into contention in the ring. The rules of polite (straight) society do not apply in the homoerotic wrestling universe in which these magnificent men show up and throw down, putting bodies and egos and sometimes even their asses on the line in these Greek melodramas that we enjoy so passionately. In that world, these men can fly. They can be broken to pieces and pick themselves right back up and battle on with nothing but sheer will stitching them together. In that world, they’re devious and diabolical. They’re naive and gullible. They’re virtuous to a fault and psychologically flawed to perfection. In that world, they may or may not even be aware that we are crushing on them, debating about them, pulling for or rooting against them. They are apart from us, operating by different rules, and the distance can make us imagine that our estimation of them, in this world, also need not abide by conventions of common decency.
But in this world, they’re guys like you and me. Well, guys who probably work out more, eat better, and, if they’re any good, train to wrestle beyond what 99% of fans ever do. But in my experience, they’re just guys, most of whom are charming and complex, a patchwork of pride and insecurity, just like all of us who are afflicted by this human condition.
And in these waning days of 2016, I could probably use with more glimpses of genuine humanity. I wish every one of these smiling studs success and good fortune in the coming year. I want them to know that they are appreciated, even beyond being adored by those of us who are fans. When they’ve peeled their bruised and battered bodies off the mats, when the cameras are off and the street clothes are on, when they clock into their day jobs where people don’t even know that they are phenomenally sexy fantasymen with superhuman strength and skill when they strip their hot bodies down to supertight trunks, I hope their lives are filled with happiness. They are beautiful and brave, powerful and provocative. They’re terrifying and titillating, inspiring and inciting. They turn us on and transport us to a world in which our fantasies of gorgeous gladiators locked in erotic combat play out, live action, before our very eyes.
Wrestlers, when you’ve had your spine snapped in an OTK backbreaker and punched in the testicles until you’re a screaming, writhing mess on the mat, after you’ve gotten us off with your beauty and your might, I hope the world is kind to you in the coming year. Thanks for smiling. ~Bard
We’re so close to award season and nostalgic retrospectives of the year in review that I can taste it. Remember 2016, back in more innocent times? After Obergefell, but before Emperor Palpatine was elected as Supreme Chancellor by the gullible representatives of the Galactic Republic? I think I’ll always look back on 2016 as good old days. But as we prepare our hearts and minds for the supremely sobering task of registering our votes for homoerotic wrestling favorites in this era when winners and losers all admit that democracy is a sham, I want to offer a send up to a category that we seem to never get to vote on. Best legs.
I sort of assume I’m one of about 4 gay wrestling fans who seriously get off on hot, powerful legs. This assumption is based on several pieces of evidence. For one, as I mentioned, there’s never a category in the year-end polls for legs. Asses, sure, but anything at lower altitude is always neglected. Further, scanning the “muscle” section of BG East’s Arena galleries, I find that there are literally 21 galleries devoted to abdominal muscles, more than 15 galleries highlighting arms (and most of the generic galleries are all about biceps), and at least 10 galleries specifically about pectoral muscles. Look closely for legs, and I can find 2 galleries, and most of the pics don’t even include full length looks at wrestlers’ legs. I have to deduce that there simply is not a raging market obsessed with wrestlers’ legs the way that I am, because otherwise, the industry would pay much more attention to hot, sexy legs.
I’ve bitched before about the way that cameras consistently dissect wrestlers at mid-thigh or higher, as if the only objects of erotic lust exist north of there. There are billions of close-up pics of pumped, peaked biceps filling the camera frame. Side chest poses and most muscular poses draw the gaze irresistibly to big, bulging, pumped torsos, but 9 times out of 10, those pin-up beefcake shots crop out 75% of a wrestler’s legs (there’s lots of math there, sorry). So I concede that I must be a rare breed who swoons like a Victorian at the sight of full, powerful, pumped quads and thick, broad calves. When we’re treated to hot shots of scissors and leg chokes, apparently the rest of you are fixated on some element other than those sexy as fuck legs pulsing with punishing power. Clearly, I must be the only one with a running fantasy (starring an ever revolving cast for the male lead) of having my erect cock squeezed to climax between the rock hard quads of a wrestler with killer lower body credentials.
Of course, as with everything, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Personally, I like legs strong, which means that hot legs can come in different proportions and sizes and still check my box. This also means that the degree to which a pair of legs may turn me on is likely (and I’m sure often is) enhanced by the sell of their opponent. But as for sheer aesthetics, I can’t get enough of big, thick quads with massive, low hanging tear drops. I particularly key off on legs with monster quads and multi-headed, shapely calves stacking up a rock hard foundation.
For the 12 or so of us who would, if offered, lap up more focus on hot, sexy legs in this business, I thought I’d offer a send up to the homoerotic wrestling legs that grabbed my attention in 2016. Just for kicks, I’m including a poll on the BG East contenders highlighted below. Someone is going to bitch about the whole thing being rigged. Probably it’ll be the winner. What the fuck ever. Who did I miss?
So let’s take a look at the BG East boys whose legs made me do a double take and whip out my notepad. In alphabetical order. Vote below.
I hope everyone had a shocking Halloween. I’m also hoping to get another photo report from our favorite homoerotic wrestlers who delight in dressing up and showing us their costumes. In the mean time, I was mulling over a topic I’ve touched upon tangentially in the past, that seems particularly relevant this time of year: terror.
I should confess I’m a terror movie junkie. I tend toward the mind-fuck variety of horror flicks, particularly the sacrilegious, but the raw, mass body count movies are also on my list. I like the extra heavy heart pump they inspire. Even when I know the outcome, I can feel the blood pulse harder through my veins when I’m watching good, terror inducing entertainment
So it’s a short hop to thinking about the element of terror in homoerotic wrestling entertainment. Just like in a good horror flick, terror is a delicate ingredient. You can’t throw in too much, too soon, or the escalating adrenaline drops from habituation. On the other hand, too infrequent, too improbable (hello, Paranormal franchise, I’m looking at you) and the heat doesn’t have time to reach a boil. And under or over sold, and the whole suspension of disbelief comes crashing down in a heap.
But in homoerotic wrestling, when done right, it’s incredible value added for my tastes. When a brave, cocky, impenetrable stud throws himself into the fray, gets outmatched, gets convinced that he could very well get broken, broken into, or crippled for life, the unfolding drama is sensationally arousing to me. He’s got to believe he’s going to make a respectable showing to start with. And then, incrementally, he’s got to be dragged to the despairing, horrifying truth that he’s getting owned, and his opponent is just nasty enough to seriously jeopardize life and limb. And then, that juicy, potent psychodrama has to play out on his face, in his eyes, in the rising octaves of his screams and choking sobs.
When done right, I get that same adrenaline pump I do when I’m watching fine horror. That, paired with hot, hard bodies and the inherent eroticism of grinding, crushing, dominating wrestling, and I’ll swing for the fences every time.
Interestingly (for me, at least), I occasionally stumble across this ethical dilemma in seeking out terror-rich homoerotic wrestling fare, when I come across the implicit threat of rape. On the one hand, rape is not sexy. In real life, it’s vile and destroys lives. I don’t enjoy it, and don’t get aroused by it in gay porn. Frankly, it creeps me out. On the other hand, in addition to being terrorized by threats to life and limb, homoerotic wrestling terror at least occasionally drifts into the psychodrama of sexual violence. Threats that revolve around “what I’m going to do to you when I’ve beaten you to a pulp,” start down that path. Hell, every so often there’s the pretty explicit dialogue about how a victor will fuck his cowed conquest like the spoils of war. And, all that I just said on the first hand notwithstanding, I fucking get off on that.
Of course Naked Kombat pretty much is all about sexual domination as the spoils of erotic wrestling. But there’s an implicit contract in the fighter’s opening introductions. They’re signing up for this. They know the stakes are win or be fucked, so it’s more like high stakes gambling than actual rape. The loser my not enjoy it, but the bitterness and brutality are mostly about the humiliation of the loss, not about being involuntarily fucked. And the more recent post-match testimonials almost always make explicit that the everyone involved had a grand old time.
Can-Am has come pretty close to explicitly centering a narrative on wrestling as pretense for sexual assault. Their Wrestle Bait release made me check my political correctness credentials a few times, for example. The plot, as I remember, is that a sadistic jail guard (Jobe Zander) gets his psychojollies off on forcing inmates to wrestle for fuckstakes and freedom. Jobe literally holds a gun to their heads and coerces them to strip, beat the shit out of each other, and then have the winner force fuck the loser. If they don’t fight hard enough, he threatens to shoot them. So, guns turn me off. The threat of watching someone get shot turns me way off. The implication that the losers in each Wrestle Bait match are getting fucked against their will tugs at my conscience. But despite myself, even as I question my moral compass, I’ve pounded out dozens of times to that shit. In my defense, it was the first time I ever saw Rusty Stevens or David Taylor.
But I don’t have to have boundaries crossed for the terror ingredient to spice up my favorite homoerotic wrestling fare. It’s the terror itself, rather than any questionable-consensual sex act, that’s the common thread. So when it dawns on one gasping hunk that he’s got no shot of winning, and in fact has a very good shot at spending a few nights in the hospital, and that recognition visibly washes across his face… fuck. When a sniveling pretty boy literally tries to flee the scene, crawling on his hands and knees in a primal effort to distance himself from his natural predator, I’m so sold. When he chokes and quivers on the fear, when he weeps and begs, abandoning all pretense to dignity, when he out and out screams because he’s certain he’s about to break for real, that will top me off every time.
So today, I salute the homoerotic wrestling scream queens who toy with my moral compass and somehow shove their hands right down my pants by selling out and out terror as a device for propelling a wrestling match to a screaming, pleading, magnificent conclusion.
The third match in Austin Cooper’s unprecedented third Wrestler Spotlight release from BG East pits the golden boy against Ronnie Pearl. This is only Ronnie’s second BGE match, and I, for one, have been anxiously awaiting his return to the ring. His debut against Cybertron in Ringwars 21 a couple of years ago was a massacre. It was one of those pro matches where I catch myself thinking, “Oh fuck, that’s got to be a trip to the emergency room!” To call it a mismatch would be like calling a 2×4 a mismatch for the buzzsaw that sliced it in two. Ronnie was a full half a foot shorter and a mind-boggling 65 pounds lighter than his muscle monster opponent, and the newbie’s fancy footwork and eager earnestness amounted to a steaming pile of shit in the face of Cyberton’s devastating power, maniacal mercilessness, and surprisingly high quality pro wrestling skill.
But, fuck, I had a total fan crush on Ronnie before it was time to scrape his hot, muscled bod off the mat. Damn, he’s beautiful! He’s sensationally fit, muscled up just enough to combine serious power with fantastic fitness and flexibility. He’s crazy handsome, with lush, thick lips that scream for kissing. And yes, I saved the best for last, Ronnie’s luxurious mane of long, curly hair calls to mind an 80’s glam rocker, just as it demands to get pulled and yanked and stepped on in the low down trenches of a muscle monster heel beat down. And he had flair. He had timing. He had an excellent ring presence, and without muttering more than about 3 syllables the entire match (other than his incoherent screams of panicked agony), Ronnie presented a full, three dimensional character profile with nuance and panache.
My review of that match concluded where this one starts off: wanting to see much, much more of Ronnie Pearl. Unlike his ill-fated outing against Cybertron, this match up against Austin, going full-on babyface, is, on the surface, pretty even. They’re almost exactly the same height and weight. At first glance, they’re about equally as fit, tastefully muscled, and pretty. When they approach the ring from opposite directions, they play up the precisely matched pair they make, climbing into the ring in synchronized, mirror image mode, checking each other out with equal coolness and calculation. For Austin, Ronnie is another in a long line of hot, hardbodied hunks vying for the expansive piece of real estate that Austin has claimed as his own as resident hard-hitting, prettyboy heart throb. For Ronnie, Austin must look like lunch meat compared to the massive, terminator style cyborg who pounded Ronnie into jelly the last time he climbed into this ring.
The promise of experienced, confident pro wrestlers who can wrestle skillfully and both look like babyface superheroes while doing it is aptly met in this match. The BGE website explains Ronnie’s obvious experience and mature ring presence, despite his rookie status at BG East, as evidence of Ronnie’s valedictorian performance at a regional wrestling school a couple of years back. Wherever it comes from, his decisive speed and crippling offense is a work of art. Particularly after having just moments earlier seen Austin run circles all over, around, under and on top of his mat opponent in the previous match, it’s incredible to see Ronnie strike like lightning on the goldenboy. Seconds after the bell rings (very pro), Ronnie ducks behind and gut wrenches his opponent off his feet, slamming Coop like a sack of flour. In a flash, Ronnie is on his back, spinning around almost faster than the eye can track, and significantly faster than Austin can defend. Again, if you watch this DVD straight through (allowing for significant opportunities to jerk off several times along the way), you will have just seen Austin do this same swarming, dominating display spinning like a top on Jake Ryder’s sweaty backside.
So Austin isn’t going to have a leg up in speed. And despite the face value differential in documented ring experience, he also does not have any sizable advantage in technical skill. Ronnie is methodical in executing a vicious, masterfully executed offense. His wristlock drops Austin, gasping, to one knee. The wristlock advances up the arm into an armbar, twisting savagely on the goldboy’s elbow joint. The wild haired hottie works it viciously, twisting and bearing down with is bodyweight until Coop is flat on the mat and wailing like a wounded animal. Then with shocking deliberateness, Ronnie hops up on his fingertips and then rains down a series of nasty knee drops into Coop’s bicep. A completely gratuitous slap to the face shocks Coop out of the moment, but then Ronnie’s crank into a hammerlock shoves the goldboy right back into the cold, hard truth that Ronnie Pearl very well may be about to, fair and square, beat the living fuck out of him.
Happily, Austin has an answer or two for Ronnie’s savage romp. When the wild haired hunk starts to drive Coop’s gorgeous face for a pounding into the turnbuckle, Austin muscle blocks him and effectively counters with a momentum sucking elbow strike to the gut. In the spirit of “anything you can do,” Austin grabs a huge fistful of Ronnie’s gorgeous long locks and crushes that sensational kisser I was just talking about into the same turnbuckle that Ronnie had tried to mess up Coop with.
The match spins quickly into seriously nasty shit. So fast, Ronnie celebrates dropping Coop to the mat with a sucker knee-lift to the lower gut by promptly standing ON Austin’s throat and pulling on the nearby rope to crush Coop that much more savagely underfoot.
Not to be outdone in viciousness, Coop starts with a standard knee lock that makes his opponent scream. Austin’s sensational upper body bulges and strains as he leverages all of that mouthwatering muscle to hyperextend Ronnie’s knee. Seamlessly, Coop rolls him to his stomach and transitions into a single leg crab on that same knee. Ronnie is already screaming like bitch, but Coop has one more plot point to drive home. He drags Ronnie to the edge of the ring and ducks outside, draping that same, assaulted leg over the middle rope. Suddenly, Coop hangs there, his whole 180 pounds ripping Ronnie’s tendons and ligaments apart while the wild child SCREAMS!
If you’re like me, and you enjoy a suspenseful match, tuck in. Either Ronnie or Austin could pull this off convincingly, and the meaner they get, the more I can believe that they both want it just as much as the other. In the end, they both work off the same playbook, each of them targeting exactly one particular knee of the other to fuck up until only one of them can stand, much less continue to fight, much less walk away from the ring with his dignity intact.
The final submission is screaming and desperate. I genuinely think this may be another one of those emergency room matches by the sound of anguish. But the hot, muscled, magnificently handsome mugger does not give a shit by this point in the raging boil of egos. “Winner!” he points to his own pretty face and sweat soaked, worship-worthy muscle body, before strolling victoriously out of the ring and leaving his opponent severely damaged in his wake.
God, this match is intense and riveting! The drama is compelling. The competition is raw and believable. The bodies are absolutely gorgeous. And, like I said last time I fell in lust with Ronnie Pearl, the only thing that might make this hotter would be a bottle of honey and my tongue licking every bulge and crevice.
I knew that Austin Cooper was popular, but damn? Three Wrestler Spotlights!? I totally get it, of course. Coop is delicious, and he’s grown into a solid utility player, convincingly showing up as a babyface hero, a pretty boy jobber, and, on rare occasions, a sensationally nasty muscle heel. Of the options, personally, my heart skips a beat when Dr. Cooper is in the house.
Austin’s badass heel persona (or is it that fragment of his split personality?) earned the nickname Dr. Cooper when he pounded lovely Leo Tomasi’s face into the turnbuckle until his nose started bleeding in Jobberpaloozer 13. With a sadistic flair that I didn’t know Austin could execute, he planted the lovely jobber into a tree of woe. “We’ve got to invert you to stop that bloody nose,” he laughed. Apparently repeatedly dragging Leo’s head off the mat by his hair and then dropping the back of his head down over and over again is another old family remedy for staunching a nose bleed in Austin’s family. “Just call me Dr. Cooper,” Austin declared, mauling his opponent mercilessly and seemingly charged up that much more at the sight of blood. “Here to help you re-Coop-erate!”
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen full-on Dr. Cooper show up quite as exquisitely as he did in that magnificent brutalizing of Leo Tomasi. But I live in hope of another house call from the doc, because I don’t know if I’ve ever been as entertained and turned on by Austin as when he went full throttle heel.
In his unprecedented third Wrestler Spotlight, he’s up against three very different opponents, and there are three different iterations of Austin who show up. He comes closest to channeling Dr. Cooper again in the second match, when he takes on Jake Ryder on the mats, so today I want to start by savoring that one from the new BG East catalog.
The scene opens with Jake warming up as Austin enters the mat room. Austin points out that they can hear a pro match happening next door, which is somehow an instant turn on for me. I’m not exactly sure of the math, but somehow, knowing that at that very moment there were two hot, hard hitting, loud BG East matches taping at the same time doubles my erotic interest. Having visited BG East South and been given a personal tour of the facilities by studpuppy Drake, I can picture just how close the ring and the matroom are, and it makes total sense that a particularly rambunctious match in either one would likely be overheard in the other.
The narrative of Austin and Jake’s mat match is sweet. Jake apparently hasn’t done his homework, so he doesn’t realize that he’s stepping onto the mat with a highly competitive former amateur wrestler in high school. Apparently Jake skipped over the part in Austin’s highlight reel when he quite literally spanked the sweaty, jockstrapped ass of his former high school wrestling buddy, that “other” Jake, Jake Jenkins, on the mats. No, Jake Ryder only knows of Austin’s ring work, and he seems genuinely surprised to hear from Austin that he was first an accomplished mat wrestler.
The first glimpse of Dr. Cooper comes out when Austin asks Jake if he’d prefer to just walk away. Knowing what he now knows, Jake is generously given the opportunity to forfeit and back away with a little less dignity but, yet, his body still in tact. “No, I’m totally game to go through with this!” Jake insists, clearly already insulted and determined to show the golden boy up.
On the one hand, Austin’s fixation on proving his amateur credentials by having a “clean” match might suggest that it’s his babyface hero personality in charge on this day. He insists that they shake hands. He demands decorum and a conforming to the specific rules of amateur wrestling competition. After just a couple of minutes, during which he takes Jake to the mat and controls him like an Olympian, there’s a sense that this match could fall into the category of upright babyface gets upended by an unrepentant rulebreaker, especially when Jake slides Austin into pro body scissors and locks his ankles, crushing the goldenboy’s midsection in blatant disregard for freestyle rules. “Fuck your rules!” Jake snarls when Austin complains like a simpering bitch.
But, like I said, it’s Dr. Cooper who showed up to play. When Austin insists that they push reset and recommit to a “clean” match (Jake rolls his eyes and extends his hand disingenuously), Coop grabs the hand and follows up with a nasty heel strike to Jake’s lower abdomen. Jake is nearly lifted off his feet, sent slamming back first into the wall, before the doctor throws him to the floor and cranks on a headlock, grinding Jake’s nose into Austin’s massive pecs. “I know you didn’t mean that,” Austin snarls.
The hybrid of amateur mat wrestling and pro wrestling is sensational to watch. We’ve seen in the past that Jake is a dangerous bad ass, himself, so when the pretense of rules and sportsmanship gets rubbed away, it’s a nasty, mean, vicious pit fight. The sure and steady hand of Dr. Cooper isn’t always present. He submits to Jake moments before he’d have been choked out cold, for example. Jake makes him hurt. He’s unnecessarily rough. He crushes and punches and taunts like he’s taking out revenge on the high school jock who bullied him way back. A particularly shining moment occurs when he controls Austin’s ankles with the golden boy flat on his stomach. Hooking Coop’s ankles beneath his armpits, Jake lifts the hunk’s big, powerful legs, folding him up the wrong way, bending Coop’s lower back at a sick angle. Jake leans forward, grinding his fists into his opponent’s torqued back viciously. And then, like the avatar of every homoerotic wrestling fan on the planet, Jake shifts his grip and palms those world class, award winning glutes on Austin, digging his fingertips into two of the sweetest cheeks on the planet.
But when the tide slowly turns Austin’s way, I love seeing Dr. Cooper really go to town. Like a sensational heel, he narrates his crushing offense, explaining to Jake each step along the way what each hold and maneuver is, detailing his mastery of both amateur and pro wrestling techniques. It’s an amateur wrestling clinic, with Jake owned and pinned repeatedly (like, I think I counted 6 pins!). A single leg cradle. Small package. A crotch-ripping spladle showing off the sweat stained crack in Jake’s briefs. And then Coop punches him in the chest, rips him apart limb from limb in a sensational surfboard, and finally wraps him up with a bow in an intimate, long, lingering figure-4 sleeper.
“You’re going to hate life a little bit when you wake up,” Austin taunts even as Jake kicks and flails futilely. Jake’s eyes roll into the back of his head right at the moment that he mutters bitterly, “I hate… you!” Without another word, he’d body goes slack with Austin’s beefy calf pressed so securely against his throat.
A few more summary points that I’d like to mention… You know the shit gets real when the singlets get ripped off and the boys start taunting each other about their fashion forward undergear choices. Jake is fucking ripped. Like, I have not appreciated his aesthetics nearly as much as I did in this match, and if by chance he’s still feeling sore after this match, I hope someone will let him know I’d be happy to rub him down with a bottle of baby oil and several of my eager appendages.
But this is a fantastic Austin Cooper match precisely because I sort of forget by the end of it all just how dazzlingly pretty Coop is. I mean, sure, I still want to drizzle him with honey and lick every inch of his bulging muscles, but it’s his power and control, his delight in taking ownership of his opponent, the way he viciously molds a serious competitor, slowly but surely, into an impotent practice dummy, that brings me to an explosive finish.
I hope he lets Dr. Cooper open up a practice full time. I know there are fans who are devoted to one or more of his other personalities. But for me, there’s little as pleasurable as watching an achingly pretty blond muscle boy tap into his inner bad ass and absolutely go ballistic on an opponent.
Having recently moved, I’m getting accustomed to a lot of new things. The weatherman keeps reporting on “thund-uh-stoams.” There are apparently 100 ticks for every human being in the region. And it’s fucking hot.
That last part makes me rethink my decision to ignore places with swimming pools in my housing search when I moved here a month and a half ago. I’ve always thought of pools as a pain in the ass. And, honestly, this climate calls for outdoor pools no more than about 25% of the year, so it seemed like a waste. But damn. It’s fucking hot.
I’m sure I’ve posted here about my ambivalence about the swimming pool genre in homoerotic wrestling, but I’m too lazy right now to look it up for you (did I mention how hot it is?). So let me just reiterate. On the con side, pool wrestling too often submerges more than half of the available eye candy. Upper bodies are privileged as the only thing we can see most of the time (and neglecting attention to hot legs is another, more global complaint I make often). There’s probably about 80% of wrestling holds that just don’t translate to a pool. A Boston crab would likely lead to manslaughter charges.
But on the other end of the ambivalent spectrum, I love wet muscles. On that point, sweat, shower scenes, and oil wrestling tweak the same kink in me that pool wrestling does. There’s also something inherently playful about pool wrestling. Watching homoerotic wrestlers do it, it certainly appears to take many of them back to the same days of juvenile, carefree summers getting yelled at for horsing around in and around the pool, playfully bullying chums by seeing who can dunk the other, games of chicken, perched on top of each others’ shoulders and seeing who can topple whom.
While I couldn’t stand an exclusive diet of homoerotic wrestling in the pool, like fresh corn on the cob and the sweetest of watermelons, it’s a seasonal treat that can work for me. Though I have to say I prefer it to conclude with bronzed bodies baking in the sun, making out naked poolside.