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| BG East’s Cage Thunder |
There is a certain moment in every pro wrestling match that, without fail, always grabs my attention. This moment never fails to get my attention and always make my dick stand up at attention.
I call this moment the turning point.
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| Bulldog Barzini savors the sight of Denny Cartier reaching “the turning point” – BG East’s Fantasymen 28 |
A turning point is exactly what it sounds like—that definitive moment when you know that one of the wrestlers is finished— even if he isn’t being pinned or counted out or giving in a submission, and the match might go on for a while longer (and usually does). But that’s the moment when you know for certain who the stud is who’s going to have his arms raised in complete victory at the end of the match (or fall, if it’s a best-of situation).
I love that moment.
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| Muscle heel Kid Karisma drags muscle twink Christian Taylor beyond the turning point – BG East’s Wet & Wild 5 |
When I was growing up, professional wrestling was my porn. It still is, to a degree—only I rarely watch it on television, I satisfy my fetish with videos these days—but when I was a kid, it was a world I desperately wanted to be a part of. I greatly enjoyed the morality plays of pro wrestling matches, the struggle between good and evil, hero versus villain, rule-breaking versus following the rules. And like life, good didn’t always triumph over evil.
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| Cage Thunder soaks in the sight of his handiwork – BG East’s Masked Mayhem 6 |
But professional wrestling was also one of the very few places on television in those days where you could see scantily dressed men sweating and heaving, clinching and coming apart, entwining their bodies in an almost erotic dance. And while I always wanted the nasty heels to be punished for their dastardly ways, I also loved watching the gorgeous ones suffer at their hands. With the advent of cable television and Ted Turner taking WTBS national into a self-styled Super Station, every Saturday afternoon from three to five p.m. Pacific times Georgia Championship Wrestling aired—and I fell in lust with a gorgeously built mullet-wearing muscle boy named Brad Armstrong.
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| The muscles and the mullet – Brad Armstrong |
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| Brad Armstrong’s inspiring ass in trouble |
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| Brad’s trunks creeping up his ass as he suffers humiliatingly in the ropes |
And I also came to the conclusion that I preferred watching Brad suffer rather than being dominant in a match—which made me stop and think.
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| Brad Armstrong where he did his best work: on his back, feet pointed at the ceiling, and his opponent copping a feel of that rocking ass! |
And I realized the truth is I wanted to fuck him—in other words, I wanted to dominate him and make him submissive to me. I wanted to beat him down, make him call me sir, and when that hard muscle ass arched up in the air, I wanted to reach down and peel those green trunks off him, lube up my cock, and ride him while he bucked and writhed and moaned.
And called me “sir.”
I’m frequently accused of being a ‘body fascist,’ and nothing could be further from the truth. I actually like all kinds of men, in all shapes and sizes—what I am actually attracted to, more than anything else, is a particular attitude that a lot of wrestlers seem to have. (This is why I generally don’t give a shit about watching gay porn—very few gay porn stars have that ‘certain something special’ that gets my dick hard, and let’s face it—if you’ve seen one fuck scene, you’ve pretty much seen them all. Ty Lebeouf is a gay porn star who is one of the exceptions—and he is exceptional, although I’d much rather watch him climb in the ring.) A wrestler can have the most gorgeous body you’ve ever seen, and a huge bulge in the front of his trunks—but if the attitude I like isn’t there, he just leaves me cold. (I won’t give examples, out of respect.)
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| Porn star Ty Lebeouf: Ready to Wrestle? |
The wrestlers I like—the ones that make me open my wallet and spend my hard-earned money buying their videos—have that attitude. It’s not something that’s quantifiable or definable; someone either has it or they don’t. And there really isn’t a rhyme or reason to my attraction to them. They can be a muscle twink, like Christian Taylor, or a hot little muscle heel like Kid Karisma, or a stocky brute like Bulldog Barzini, or a beautiful babyface who has crazy mad ring skills but always loses—like Alexi Adamov.
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| Cage Thunder revels in dragging babyface Alexi Adamov well past “the turning point” – BG East’s Masked Mayhem 2 |
I like heels because the only way someone can ever fuck me is if they dominate me. And I do like being dominated. I like being forced to submit, I like being forced to scream out a submission or call my foe “sir”—and if he can beat me down that way, I’m his for the taking and he can do with me as he pleases. The thought of being worked over like that by a Bob Orton or a Stan Hansen or any number of studly heels who might not have the body beautiful you’d see on the cover of a gay porn magazine turns me on as much as the thought of beating down some beautiful babyface/jobber does.
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| A heel who could have made Cage Thunder cry, “Sir!” |
For me, that’s the answer to why people enjoy seeing pretty muscle boys just get the shit kicked out of them. Because we want to dominate them, we want to fuck them, and the wrestling match we are watching is a kind of pornographic dance of domination and submission.
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| Cage Thunder has his way with a puddle-on-the-mat, Jobe Zander – BG East’s Masked Mayhem 8 |
And I love, love, LOVE the turning point—when the heel begins to simply toy with his opponent for our viewing pleasure.
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| Cage Thunder conquers, strips, and toys with Lobolito – BG East Masked Mayhem 3 |
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a DVD to watch.
Sidelineland 