Riding Him Like a Pony

I was chatting with someone last night when the topic of getting choked in the ropes came up (you know, like it does).  I know there are wrestling fans who are far more into the fantasy of choking, but I certainly get it.  The element of control is so seductive when one hunk is literally rationing the air supply of his opponent. “You’ll breathe when I say you’ll breathe” is such an intimate, inside-out type of corporal domination. In any case the phrase, “choked in the ropes and riding him like a pony” came up, which sent me tracking down that particular moment in homoerotic wrestling archives. So much intimacy. Such control. So much humiliation. Sweet.

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This was the first image that came to my mind, of a raging, dominating rookie of the year Brad Rochelle in Wrestlefest 2 choking Patrick Donovan in the ropes, sitting on his shoulders as their fellow BG East wrestlers parade by slapping the wasted jobber in the face.
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Seems like something about gorgeous Patrick Donovan inspired many opponents to climb on board his sweaty, sexy back and shut down his windpipe. Here Jarret Cole saddles up in Patrick’s Wrestler Spotlight DVD.
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Beau Hopkins feels the weight of gorgeous Vic Silver bearing down on him in Can-Am’s Canadian Musclehunk Wrestling 5.
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Less riding the pony and more surfing the sucker, Colt Stevens crushes Gage Cordona’s throat underfoot in Rock Hard Wrestling’s Explosive Encounter.
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Dick Rick added a little torque hanging from the ring apron while choking the fight out of beautiful Mike Pitt in Ringwars 16.
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Can-Am’s Rush is the pony here, with Jay Moore reigning him in hard in Lean & Mean.
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Bodybuilder Larry Janson is as humiliated as can be with irrepressible Brian Maxon holding him place with just one boot in Maxon vs. Janson.

Man of my dreams

 

Scott “Man-of-my-Dreams” Williams
 
Someone reminded me this weekend of my simmering wrestling crush on BG East classic hunk Scott Williams. Similar to how I recently mentioned that I have this distorted perception of Kayden Keller’s height (he always seems smaller in my mind), I think of Scott has having a much longer wrestling CV than he actually does. He stars in just 5 products between catalogs 14 and 25, including his ensemble appearance in the spotlight feature on Philly’s gay amateur wrestling club, Meet the Spartans.

 

It wasn’t always trash talk and derision between Shane McCall & Scott Williams
 
When I had the titillating pleasure of interviewing and being provoked by classic hunk Shane McCall, I mentioned my slackjawed crush on Scott, knowing that the 2 of them horsed around together in the Spartans. My reference to “Scott man-of-my-dreams Williams” got quite a rise out of Shane, who couldn’t resist dishing out some trash talk for his former rival. But I stand by the statement of fact that I have held, for quite a long time, and continue to hold a fanatical infatuation with the beauty, power, and wrestling style of hotty Scotty.

 

Classic wrestling hunk
 
Having been sent down memory lane, I’ve been browsing clips and pics of Scott and instantly getting that swelling feeling in my crotch. Aesthetically, physically speaking, there’s something both classically handsome and atypically tantalizing about his appearance. I say classically handsome because of his gorgeous proportions, his thick, ultra lean muscle mass, the jaw and chin of a Hollywood leading man and the nose of a toga clad Roman aristocrat. My tendency (certainly not 100%) to prefer smooth, lickable muscle men notwithstanding, there’s an effortless, masculine perfection about Scott’s thorougly coated, impeccably groomed hairy torso.

 

Hair, muscles and sweat in all the right places
 
At the same time, I say Scott speaks to me as an atypical wrestlng fantasyman mostly because of his bare pate, which is a downright novelty in homoerotic wrestling circles. There’s something effortless and real about a sizzling hot wrestling hunk with a bald head. Scott’s calm, sneering, underspoken confidence translates into over the top hypermasculinity, not just because of his rocking hot muscled body, but also because of that unapologetically muscledaddy smooth scalp. My hunch is that Scott isn’t all that much older than I am, but premature baldness made him always, from my earliest introduction to his wrestling, a mature, wise, worldly fantasyman that has always and will continue to make me infatuated with any “seasoned coach” wrestling character (hello, Mitch Colby).

 

Scott makes it hurt!
  
I’m sure I’ve mentioned Scott’s sell before, but fuck, I’m on a roll now, so I’m mentioning it again. I absolutely love the way he milks a hold. There are a lot of wrestlers (or at least guys wrestling) for whom I struggle to suspend disbelief. They apply an armbar or wristlock and we can all plainly see there’s no actual pressure on the joint. I never had to suspend anything other than my impulse to pull my hair trigger watching Scott Williams wrestle. He puts his opponents’ joints through their range of motion, so that when abruptly the lucky stud in his clutches goes from halfheartedly groaning to suddenly choking out a cry of pain an octave higher and 20 decibels louder, you can believe that shit just hurt. When any part of some fortunate fuck gets trapped between his wiry, crushing thighs, Scott works every inch of his body into screwing down those crushing scissors as tight as humanly possible. His hips twist to add pressure, he transitions his upper body from angle to angle to dig his legs as deep as possible into every available inch of flesh and muscle.

 

I can’t help but pucker up!
 
And then that face. Holy fuck, that face. When he purses his lips in concentration and effort, I’ve got a ravenous need to lock lips with the handsome hunk. He’s not the most demonstrative in his sell. There’s a slow simmer about him that doesn’t rely on a bullhorn to convey his emotional state. Rather, steering with such an even keel, every subtle smirk or gasp, every gutteral grunt speaks louder than most wrestlers’ screams and incessant monologues. You can see every fucking muscle fiber on his fabulous body because he’s just that amazingly lean, so Scott doesn’t need to growl like the Incredible Hulk to signal with complete clarity that he’s flexing, squeezing, pressing, or crushing.

 

Talk about a babyface hero!
 
And then that smile knocks my knees out from underneath me. Completely disarming. The kind of face that young, ambitious bucks would bust a nut to get the chance to see deliver an approving look, a nod of respect, a seriously appraising eye.

 

Like me right now, Scott looks like he needs to towel off
 
I’ve heard from the grapevine that Scott continues to wrestle in private, or in front of custom cameras in  command performances only these days. Which is a crying shame, as far as I’m concerned. Because I’ve so many Scott Williams wrestling fantasies, and he’s got such an abridged catalog. So, yeah, I’m a big, big fan (getting bigger by the second just thinking about him).  In a 2nd golden age of homoerotic wrestling, with classic comebacks like that of Christopher Bruce and Shane McCall, and the long-rumored return of the likes of Liam Ryan to competition, this fanatic will always carry a torch for one of my first, longest lasting, and instantly provocative classic wrestling infatuations, Scott man-of-my-dreams Williams.

The Victory Lap

Is there anyone else who gets off on that moment when a wrestler just totally fucks around with his beaten opponent just because he can?  Of course there is.

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Bulldog Barzini makes Denny Cartier witness his own humiliation staring back at him.

Personally, I prefer that little bit of juicy drama to cap off a suspenseful back and forth battle of brawn and brains. I like to be kept guessing, tempted back and forth to jump to the conclusion of which hot hunk is going to reign victorious, only to have my assumptions and predictions called into doubt over and over. Then, once one roaring stud is driving that bus all over his opponent’s bested body, it’s incredibly provocative for me to watch him just mess with the defanged loser. You know, flex in his face. Rip off his trunks. Or, and here’s the topic I’m working a head of steam up about today, toss his broken, once dangerous body across your shoulders and take a victory lap around the ring.

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Brad Rochelle looked nothing short of orgasmic pinning beautiful Patrick Donovan in front of a roaring crowd of their peers.

I’m certain that the most satisfying victory lap I’ve ever witnessed is from the opening match of Wrestlefest 2. Moments before being awarded rookie of the year, Brad Rochelle is in a surprisingly tough tussle with then notorious jobber, sexy Patrick Donovan. The stakes are higher than normal because there’s a packed audience of fellow wrestlers watching, critiquing, urging on the boys from ringside. Brad is the it-boy. He’s tanned and phenomenally toned. Fans have been popping their corks uncontrollably for the past year since Brad debuted at BG East. Patrick has been racking up loss after loss, each one seeming to inspire yet a longer line of prospective opponents who want to dig their fingertips into his luscious pecs and make the pretty boy scream. There’s some sweet back and forth to start the match.  Patrick is no pushover. But Brad folds baby cakes up like a peanut butter sandwich, pinning Patrick’s shoulders with his noggin nestled nice and tight between Brad’s muscled thighs.  Someone eagerly urges Brad to make him squeal.  Brad takes the first fall to the applause of his peers, giving the jobber a light slap in the face somewhere between playful and insulting.  The fan favorite babyface rising looks like he’s got the jobber’s sweet ass tied up in a bow.

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Dazzling babyface totally humiliated by a “jobber.”

And then suddenly Patrick pounces.  The lean, handsome stud with mouthwatering pecs flips over his opponent, folding Brad up in the very same, humiliating hold he was just submitted to.  Patrick is raging, punching Brad’s ass, calling the jock stud a pussy.  There’s laughter from the audience, as it starts to sink in that it-boy Brad Rochelle is currently getting his fantastic ass beat bad. Patrick refuses to relent until Brad is tapping, yelling out his humiliated submission. The boys ringside can hardly believe it, as Patrick pumps his fist in the air and then strolls over to take a seat on the top turnbuckle, soaking in the sight of Brad flat on is back in a pool of sweat, nursing his abused shoulder.

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Just because he can.

What happens next? Fuck, I love that suspense. As it turns out, Brad opens up a can of testosterone fueled, face-saving whoop ass to what climaxes to a standing ovation from the hooting audience. He’s working out a little rage at being publicly humiliated. He’s gratuitously brutal, egged on by his bruised ego and the cheers of the audience. Patrick is laid waste, and Brad hoists pec boy across he shoulders and jogs around the ring as the boys at ringside go wild.  Brad’s face beams, feeling the victory deep down. He laughs at his total mastery, his complete ownership of the hot punk who a few minutes ago was calling him a pussy and punching him in the ass.  Shimmering in sweat, flexed, magnificently victorious, he takes another lap just because the moment is so fucking sweet he needs to savor it.

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The face of total victory.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more titillating victory lap. But I typically love one when I see it. It’s less compelling for me in a squash. When a boy’s been owned from start to finish, there’s less plot, less resolution of homoerotic wrestling tension wrapped up in a victory lap.  But yeah, when all is said and done, it’s definitely value added for me to see a winner just fuck with his battered prey. Just because he can.  Just because it feels good to demonstrate that he can do whatever the fuck he wants with all that potential, all that bluster and posing and prospective danger wrapped up in the muscled beauty beaten and now at his mercy.

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Brad relished the victory lap again against muscle hunk Billyboy.
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…and yet again in his legendary heel turn all over gorgeous Alexi Adamov.
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However, The Enforcer demonstrated this truism to Brad: karma is a bitch.
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Blue Rage dishes out the punishment and the victory lap humiliation all over Bad Dog.
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Cole Cassidy takes a leisurely stroll with Rob Berlin completely done.
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Dom the Dominator enjoys the feel of smart ass Rolando hanging helpless as he takes a lap.
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Pausing from a victory lap, Shane Styles lets Brendan Byers see what complete humiliation looks like up close.
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Jake Jenkins gets a kick out of parading Eli Black around the ring with Eli’s partner impotently watching on from his corner.
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Nik Knox and Shane Layne can’t stop congratulating each other as they take tandem victory laps in their tag team beat down of Cameron Matthews and Paul Hudson.
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Austin Cooper drove home the point that he’s the king of the ring by taking a victory lap with newbie Adam Atom.

Independence Day

I typically take the time around the 4th of July to point out my lack of patriotism. But this year feels different. I know that I’m not the only one who feels a little more like a proud American this 4th of July. Such a major, seismic shift on marriage equality certainly doesn’t protect everyone’s rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, of course. LGBT Americans can legally be fired, denied housing, harrassed by both public and private authorities in a whole lot of places in this country still. But access to marriage is pretty cool.

Adam Battle from Can-Am’s Power Match 6-Pack

I’ve been fascinated to watch the strong and conflicting opinions the SCOTUS decision has sparked among my friends and colleagues, who, generally speaking, tend to pitch their tents in the same political camp. Straight people shamed for flying the rainbow flag. White gays shamed for celebrating marriage while people of color and trans folks are continuing to get fucked up and gunned down. Marriage advocates shamed for distracting us all from other problems like poverty and racism and gun violence and sexism.

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Brad Rochelle from BG East’s Fantasymen 20.

I’ve got my own opinions, of course, but I have to say that I can’t help but be pleased that we’re talking a little more openly about a lot of things that ought to be complicated and unsettled. I confess a little thrill that bigots are feeling compelled to have to state their bigotry and try to rationalize it as something else, rather than just silently assuming that they’re the moral majority. And I really like that a lot of people I know who have long assumed that we all think alike are realizing that one particular decision or policy or issue that we all may endorse to some extent doesn’t erase the rich diversity of who we are, what we value, where our priorities lie, and how we think.

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Brendan Byers from BG East’s Florida Fights 1

It’s not uncommon in homoerotic wrestling to see American flag wrestling trunks. This gear typically signals that the wearer is a babyface hero, handsome, virile, and virtuous. And in the homoerotic wrestling matches I watch, those guys get their stars and stripes clad asses handed to them 9 times out of 10. Not always, I know, but most of the time.

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BG East’s Military Muscle 2

The hunks in American flag trunks most often embody a naivete, a simple minded faith in things like hard work, strength, and sincerity to tip the scales of wrestling competition and justice their way. Their virginal earnestness is saccharine sweet, a glossy glaze over the realities of the homoerotic wrestling ring where things aren’t always (or even often) fair. Their wide-eyed, muscle bulging innocence seems to make them blind to a world where cheating, unsportsmanlike behavior, and ferocious mercilessness more often than not spank the ass of righteous, rule-abiding reverence for an honest battle of strength and skill.

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BG East’s Ringwars 5

I don’t know if this trope still plays the same way in mainstream pro wrestling (because I haven’t watched mainstream pro wrestling in forever), but I think it’s a particularly engaging narrative for homoerotic wrestling audiences. We know that survival often goes not to the fittest, but the most cunning. We know that when the rules are stacked against you, sometimes the most appropriate response is to fuck the rules. We know that often our most important assets in the battle against those who revile and oppress us behind a veneer or virtue and righteous indignation is to turn the repulsion right back around on them, to throw what they despise most in their faces, to metaphorically grab them by the balls until their self-righteous, “hard earned” privilege and power melts into weeping, impotent, contemptible helplessness.

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BG East’s Wrestlefest 3

Because more often than not, it isn’t their righteousness that has propelled them forward in good fortune. It isn’t their hard work. They haven’t just wanted success more, as if their will power is superior to those who haven’t prospered and been rewarded as much. It’s just those fucking rules that have made the difference, that have been slowly (sometimes quickly) tipping the scales their way from the moment they were born, that have advantaged them not because they earned it or deserved it, but just because they were born into families with a particular hue and history, because they effortlessly found their affections drawn in the socially acceptable direction, because they had that silver spoon in their mouths all along. So, many of us with an eye for homoerotic wrestling have learned that it’s those fucking rules that are the problem, and watching a homoerotic wrestling heel fuck the rules and humiliate a stars and stripes clad goldenboy is deep down satisfying.

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BG East’s The Contract 8

I’m sure there’s much more to the American flag jobber narrative than that, but what I’m left wondering this year is whether my new found investment in my citizenship, riding this wave of judicial victory and the turning tide of public opinion, may make me, and perhaps you, a little less cynical about the American flag. I’m sure it won’t happen anytime soon, but is there a place in homoerotic wrestling iconography somewhere down the road for a sneering, contemptuous, irrepressible heel decked out in stars and stripes? Might finding myself embracing a little patriotric pride for being welcomed a little more into the fold of mainstream America shift my tastes for enjoying the sight of the American flag, strapped to the ass of an classically hot pretty boy, trampled and trashed for the poor excuse for institutional oppression it has so long seemed to me to represent? May I want to see an American patriot savvy and sly, queer and cunning, as vicious and vile as necessary to pound… who?… into tantalizingly sexy mincemeat?

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BG East’s Austin Cooper Wrestler Spotlight 2

In some ways I hope so.

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BG East’s Backyard Brawls 6

In many ways, I hope not.

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BG East’s Boston to Austin 2
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BG’s Badboys 1
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BG East’s Lon Dumont Wrestler Spotlight

Treasure Below the Waist

Summer ushers in many things I enjoy. Warm, sunny skies, outdoor events, fireflies, long awaited SCOTUS decisions. But the one thing I anticipate with the most eagerness each thaw is that tipping point when hunks drop trou and start showing off their legs. Too little attention is paid to thick, powerful, beautiful legs on men. Even in homoerotic wrestling photography, the convention of cropping wrestler images off at the waist or mid-thigh is such a waste! So here are a few luscious wrestlers showing off most of their best angles below the waist.

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Mike Columbo’s gargantuan quads about to crush Derek D’Amore in Fantasymen 21.
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A secret obsession of mine, Troy Milan showing off his stripper hunk bod before getting wasted by gorgeous Corey Young in BG East’s Fantasymen 18.
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Johnny Modesto’s monster quads and Brad Rochelle’s sculpted calves are just 2 outstanding reasons to enjoy Matmen 16.
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Mouthwatering legs for days when Chad Weston took on Troy Baker in Undagear 8.
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That is clearly Brian Baxter’s hot, sexy legs on the right, but who is the beefcake on the left?
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Two of the most beautiful bodies on a collision course when Rio Garza and Kid Karisma compared quads in Undagear 15.
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Although it’s true I left the Cheshire Cat stripped and stunned last fall, I am the first in line to adore his gorgeous, long legs. And trust me, those puppies are fucking powerful!
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Goldenboy Austin Cooper shows off his thickly muscled legs in this promo shot for his upcoming Muscle Rookies release at BG East.
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The Black Muscle God, Darius, is ready to crush bones between those massive thighs in his upcoming release in Muscle Rookies.

Which 3 on which 1?

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I know for a fact that this ridiculously handsome collection of smartly dressed homoerotic wrestlers were NOT in residence at BG East South recently (more on that soon). In the mean time, can I just say how extremely erotic I find it to see smoking hot wrestling hunks like these guys in street clothes?  Unlike the contraband that “Our Man Inside” smuggles out of BG East for us to savor, this pic came directly from the Boss himself, treating us to what looks like a night out with one of the sexiest posses on the planet. I get a strong hit of Clark Kent about these boys all dressed up with someplace to go. I’m sensing hard feelings engendered by Brad Rochelle giving Kid Leopard a swirly have been ironed out. That, or else dimple-chinned Brad may be just about to get dragged across the floor by that tie and triple-teamed by the Boss and his new crop of BG East henchmen.  And speaking of the henchmen, I repeat myself I know, but it bears repeating: hunks in glasses drive me CRAZY!  Holy shit, Ty Alexander and Kayden Keller in specs are insanely sexy. Kayden appears to have missed the dress code memo, but I’m not about to be the one to diss the heel-rising’s fashion sense.  Then there’s delectable little Ty, looking like he just strolled off the stage of Newsboys.  And finally, the Boss, with a goatee and a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin that makes it certain that no one would be fooled by the suit and tie to mistake him for anything other than a raging heel.

Fuck, I seriously hope that this ended in a 3-on-1 brutal beatdown.  And that someone recorded it.

OTK

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The erotic art of an OTK backbreaker. Dirk Shannon and Peter Genelli are stunningly poised in this moment of total control from Canadian Musclehunks 8.

I recently commented that I’d trade most gay porn sex scenes for a mouthwatering over the knee backbreaker any day. This isn’t indicative of how I feel about sex, per se. I was pointing out that it’s the typical woodenness (not the good kind) and scriptedness of hardcore porn that I find less than fulfilling. However, it is indeed indicative of how I react to homoerotic wrestling, even when it’s sold with a pretty transparent script, and truth be told, the OTK backbreaker in particular works me every time. Even a poorly sold OTK makes my heart beat faster. But a truly exquisite OTK is a work of art that captures the essence of eroticism, domination, and combat that jerk my libido hard.  When I think of the OTK backbreakers that have stuck with me, seared into my memory and making my pulse pound even in retrospect, here are few of the G-rated (well, let’s say PG-rated just for the extra prudish out there) examples that I’ve filed away for safe keeping and frequent consulting.

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From my first BG East crush, Fantasymen 18, Brad Rochelle bends like a gymnast and Jeff Phoenix exploits that flexibility beautifully.
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Kid Vicious never fails to make the most of an OTK, bringing gorgeously aroused Derek Da Silva to the edge of ecstasy and agony at the very same moment in Ball Bash 1.
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Darius is the classic muscleman laid bare as Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) digs deep in Ringwars 16.
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Vile Morgan Cruise uses Skip Vance’s lower leg to torture his boyfriend in a leg lock while simultaneously breaking Skip across his thigh in Tag Team Torture 16: Boyfriend Beatdown.
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To of the finest bodies locked together in a beautiful display of muscle, balance, and flexibility as Tyrell Tomsen brutalizes Z-Man in Wrestle Revenge.
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Simply gorgeous. Massively muscled Ted Shipp takes exquisitely sexy Beau Hopkins and stretches lays him out like a Thanksgiving feast in Canadian Musclehunks 6.