Winning the Hard Way

Jake Jenkins is stunning to watch use those muscles to choke out Eli Black

Sometimes I think of myself as a homoerotic wrestling kink therapist.  I often hear from wrestling fans who have questions and problems they want solved with regard to homoerotic wrestling.  “Tell BG East to…” or “Why does Rock Hard Wrestling always…?” And not uncommonly, I get messages from readers who tell me that they “just need to vent.”  For example, a reader and homoerotic wrestling fan recently “vented” to me in an email regarding a recurring frustration.  Like me, he’s a major Jake Jenkins fan. And like me, he enjoys watching Jake kick ass.  So when he sees a lot of JJ’s new releases in which the stud puppy clearly gets squashed, he’s irritated.  This reader knows my recurring answer to these types of questions: tastes vary.  Some of us likely get more kink for the buck to see a hot muscle kid like JJ dominated, while others of us get a harder push over the edge by watching handsome Jake on the conquering in of the equation.  But this reader still questions what makes those on “the other side” tick, and what makes them want to see more and more of JJ getting owned.

Jake goes down in a puddle of sweat beneath a victorious Kid Karisma

This exchange brought to mind a similar brief correspondence I had with a reader several months ago, who asked me to exercise influence over Steel Muscle God to convince him to tape some wrestling action in which the godly one gets dominated.  This is hardly the first time someone has vastly overestimated my influence. And it’s actually not the first time I’ve heard this particular plea.  Personally, I LOVE watching SMG totally use an opponent, particularly one of those hot muscleboys he’s pummeled lately.  There’s an absolutely intoxicating scene in SMG’s recent release of a ring “bout” in which he repeatedly sleepers a hot, hard hunk.  He puts the fiesty stud out flat on this stomach, and I’m 110% on board with the sell that this is an actual choke out.  The hunk goes limp like a noodle.  And when SMG shakes and shoves him and rolls him over, the hottie looks absolutely out cold.  SMG prods and pokes the unresisting hunk, standing over top of him and flexing his guns, leering down into his slack face, until finally after a half a minute or so, the vulnerable hunk of meat comes to.  Fuck me there something so erotic about that little exchange!

Steel Muscle God wreaks divine justice all over another hot muscle buddy

But ripping myself back to my topic for today.  Some readers have repeatedly complained that SMG “always wins.”  Why doesn’t he star in a muscleboy-in-trouble-scenario for those desperately waiting for him to stroke that g-spot where many fans get topped off by the powerful muscle stud shocked, laid out and humiliated?  For the record, SMG has said that he does have a wrestling match in which he “loses,” but I haven’t actually seen it (I think you have to buy it separately from the membership site, and I’m too frugal).  But the issue seems to be repeated from many of my kink therapy clients: “my getting off on a homoerotic wrestling match requires that my primary object of lust win (or lose).”

Brad Rochelle wrote the book in making a muscleboy loser epically homoerotic.

And both of these conversations call to mind still another set of exchanges I’ve had with a long-time commentator and avid student of homoerotic wrestling who more than once has chided me that I’m too focused on who wins and who loses.  What tweaks the subconscious wrestling kink, he argues, is almost entirely unrelated to specifically whose shoulders are pinned to the mat or which hunk sobs, “I give!”  The passion play that homoerotic wrestling presents us is about themes broader than the specific “winner” or “loser,” like broken egos, revenge on bullies, the battle of might versus right, or our personal secret longings to be dominated or to dominate.  And, this commentator has also argued, it’s about much more specific elements than the literal “win” as well, such as the particular sell of suffering, how persuasively we’re sucked into longing to see someone punished, the precise angle at which a wrestler’s lower back is pried backward in a Boston crab that convinces us he’s hurting while simultaneously displaying is gorgeous body and bulging package so tantalizingly.  There’s definitely the school of thought that literal “winning” and “losing” is almost entirely beside the point.

Brad Rochelle also looks GORGEOUS milking victory out of Patrick Donovan’s withering body!

I’ve pushed back against that hard line.  I think the drama of coming out on top is very central to what strokes my homoerotic wrestling kink.  The notion of two powerful men, both fully expecting to be top-stud as they climb into the ring is precisely the tension that thrills me.  One of them will end up defeated, knocked down a peg, put in his place, while the other will stride out of the ring victorious, top dog, in control.  Turn this into a non-competitive, everybody wins, nobody loses, passionless dance of pretty bodies, and I might as well be watching a yoga class, which even when the bodies are smoking hot, it’ll never do for me what a hot wrestling match does.

Pectacular Patrick Donovan also looks dizzyingly hot slapping down a humiliating victory all over Z-Man’s  beautifully vulnerable muscle-bod.

And then there’s one last mental association I’m having with all of this talk of winners and losers. At the BGE Headquarters discussion group, someone who has frequently commented on this blog wrote a seemingly straightforward opinion, suggesting that he’d prefer the initial photo galleries in the membership site of BGE not “give away” which wrestler wins and which one loses.  He suggested that he’d prefer to maintain the suspense, particularly for those matches that he’s planning on purchasing.  Give him enough time to get the new release shipped to him before revealing who ends up top dog.

Z-Man can also delight in victory as he rips apart loser muscle boy Brody Hancock

Personally, I think this sounds entirely reasonable and well-reasoned.  However, another commentator left a bizarrely mismatched diatribe mocking anyone who could “believe these matches aren’t fake.” This commentator prejudices his own oddly aggressive response by tying them to appalling politics, but my point is actually not his apparent political self-hatred.  My point is really that he misses the point entirely.  The point is not how choreographed wrestling-for-pay may be in any given example.  The question of wanting to milk the suspense of not knowing who wins is wholly unrelated to whether the wrestlers or promoters are staging the matches as melodramas rather than as Olympic sport.  It seems to me that the investment many of us have in winners or losers in homoerotic wrestling is entirely about how wrestling speaks directly to our erotic fantasies, not some “objective” evaluation of who, in a fair fight, would kick whose ass.

Babyface Brody Hancock also make victory look so, so sexual when he puts magically nippled muscle hunk Cody Nelson on his back for good.

Suspense, anticipation, the establishment of tension in the plot, the development of compelling characters who establish motivation and commit to their particular roles… these are essential elements of satisfying homoerotic wrestling as far as I’m concerned.  However much a pretense it appears in any given match, the context of combat is a core component of what turns me on and tops me off as a homoerotic wrestling fan.  It isn’t so much who would win in an actual barroom brawl (not at all, really), but who tells a provocative story about passion and heat, power and strength, skill and strategy, muscle and beauty, and, without a doubt, winning and losing.

Sweat soaked and savoring victory, Cody Nelson titillates musclebully fans when he crushes handsome, lanky, lovely Christian Taylor aka Chris Cox.

So why do some JJ fans never seem to get tired of seeing him humiliated and defeated?  Why are others desperate to watch him use those gorgeous muscles of his to pick apart and make another hunk his bitch?  How are some fans filled up on a steady diet of SteelMuscleGod owning one opponent after another, while others are insanely aching to see SMG crushed and dominated?  I think this state of affairs is simply the landscape in which we live as homoerotic wrestling fans.  Our fantasies vary, even as we share a common passion for the eroticism of wrestling drama. It seems clear to me that winning and losing is far from beside the point, and who wins and who loses is directly and intimately tied to what strokes many of us hardest.  It’s not that we’re naively buying into the competitive pretense of wrestling-for-pay. I for one love watching Olympic wrestling, but the hottest amateur match is only a fraction as sexy as even the average homoerotic wrestling product as far as I’m concerned.  Explicitly homoerotic wrestling is much bigger than the raw rules and tests of strength and skill of amateurs, and more importantly, the point is entirely different.  The point of amateur wrestling is entirely winning and losing.  But the point of homoerotic wrestling is to get you and me off, and while it’s not the whole story, the drama of winning and losing is one of the elements that makes wrestling the kink that defines me (and many of you!).

For my tastes, Christian never looked hotter than when he brutalized his lover and rumored-to-be tag team partner Skip Vance, tying together homo, erotic, and wrestling in as beautiful a bow as any victory ever has!

Deserving It

There’s a fascinating aspect to pro wrestling and, of more interest to me, the homoerotic wrestling genre, that focuses on the rules of engagement. Behavior that would be condemned outside the ring as anti-social, underhanded, or despicable can be transformed in a wrestling fantasy into it’s own brand of moral rightness. New rules apply inside the wrestling ring. As a result, we may (often) find ourselves rooting for the heel, cheering for the low blow, delighting in a battler taking sadistic advantage of a vulnerable and defeated opponent.
When Jeff Phoenix gets stood up by his tag partner, the golden boy with a crazy hot body cockily predicts that he can defeat both Jose and Cruze singlehandedly. Of course, Jose and Cruze are notorious cheaters. They’re bullies, sadists with credentials as long as their fight records, invariably happy to cut corners, pull trunks, torture opponents in the ropes, and revel in a completely unfair 2-on-1 mugging. And, frankly, from the moment handsome hardbody Jeff steps into the ring, I can’t wait to see him suffer.  He “deserves it” inside the ring in a way that doesn’t necessarily translate outside the ring. He’s too hot, too handsome, way too confident, and the only right thing to be done is for him to get beaten to a pulp, humiliated repeatedly, broken into a quivering mess in the middle of the ring, and left to pick up the pieces of his dignity. Outside the ring, a 2-on-1 cheating, humiliating beating of a hard working muscle man might seem “wrong,” but inside the ring, it’s ooooh-so-right.

If ever someone deserved it, Troy Baker did. I happily own his debut match for BG East, in which he teamed up with his brother. Troy’s character took a little while to develop, but even in that first match, we can see the seeds of his destruction. He’s beautiful. He’s stunningly built. He’s a little slow in piecing together some wrestling moves, but he’s supremely confident that his sheer strength and bright, white smile will earn him victory. In match after match, his self-love of his own beautiful body becomes his undoing, and there’s just nothing “righter” than watching him think that he’s got it in the bag, only to find himself suffering and destroyed at the hands of an “inferior” opponent.

Inside the ring, that’s the formula that demands brutal, humiliating destruction of the classic golden boy. Inside the ring, justice simply requires that a less stunningly developed, less beautiful, perhaps less “deserving” of victory heel beat the living shit out of Troy again, and again, and again. Outside the ring, good looks, blond hair, a hard, tight body, and a healthy dose of entitlement and confidence will generally be very well rewarded. Inside the ring, they require crushing defeat and prolonged humiliation.

I think the morality tales of straight-up pro probably work the same way, but I think homoerotically directed wrestling has an even more salient subtext. Someone like muscle-beautiful Zack Johnathan/Vazquez getting completely taken to school by “skinny” kid Brody Hancock, for example, lets me work out all sorts of long standing “issues” I have as a gay man. Outside the ring, the most beautiful, straight-laced, used-to-getting-their-way straight boys tend to prosper and receive more than a heaping helping of social approval. But inside the ring, at least for this gayboy, there’s something deeply satisfying about seeing the classic jock pummeled. It speaks to me powerfully to see the classic cards of strength, youth, and power stacked against an overmatched opponent, who with sheer audacity and ferocity, does whatever it takes to pull the rug out from under the muscled juggernaut. The morality tale, for me at least, has more than a hint of the skinny (or fat), disregarded and underestimated sissy who spits in the face of the bullying jock and exacts humiliating revenge for getting thrown into the lockers.

I think what’s so engaging for me about homoerotic wrestling is this notion of new rules that overturn the standard morality of polite society. Well, okay, there’s that, plus the gorgeous, hot hunks squeezing and dominating each other in (or out) of completely revealing gear that leads to or at least inspires me to imagine them fucking for days. But no, really, the chance to rewrite the rules, to turn conventional morality and wisdom on its head, makes so much of wrestling homo to me, even when no one literally gets fucked, just fucked up.

The Art of Owning a Bodybuilder


I haven’t taken a bite out of the fruit of temptation that is RockHardWrestling for a while, but the promise of Brody Hancock (aka Reese Wells) bringing his high class pro beat down on another bodybuilder never-say-die jobber is hard to resist. Enter Cody Nelson, Mr. Muscles himself glaring across the ring at cocky and confident ring veteran, Brody.



Once again, RockHardWrestling delivers on several of its promises. First, both battle boys are rock hard, though of different body types. Brody continues to make me marvel at his mature and massively muscled biceps and pecs on an otherwise skinny-punk of a body. Just to see Brody’s babyface out in the world, I’m sure I’d assume that he’s about 15 years old. But seeing him pump his double bi and squeeze out a flex of those pecs with his boot planted on his conquered musclebound opponent leaves no doubt that he is all man.
For his part, Cody is a jaw dropping adonis. He has an ass for days, major league nipples that scream out for unrequited torture, and thick, sculpted proportions from neck to ankle, including the sizeable heft he packs in the front of those trunks. Brody continues to make me a believer by not only decisively taking ownership of this beautiful bodybuilder, but then displaying him like a trophy, perfectly positioned for you and me to examine and appreciate the musclehunk’s every gorgeous muscle. As far as I know, Brody has stayed just barely on the entirely straight-side of his homoerotic wrestling performances to date, but this young man clearly has a gift for both musclehunk destruction and giving a homoerotically-kinked audience a generous display of his opponent’s goods. With instincts like he has, he’d be a superstar of epic proportions if he delivered some sexual domination as masterfully as he manages physical domination.
Most of the first fall reminds me of watching two puppies tussle. Picture a big, thick, Rottweiler puppy who keeps getting put on his back by a Jack Russell puppy. Cody clearly doesn’t quite know yet what to do with all those muscles and the power that they imply, and despite managing a rally late in the fall which features a sweetly satisfying lift and slam of Brody to his back, Cody is clearly destined in this fall to submit to Brody’s persistent, stubborn dominance.
These boys start out a little quiet for my tastes, but both of them finally work into the cocky banter that makes this story fly for me. In his on top moments, Cody is snarling and demanding. “Get up! Give up! Had enough?” When Brody has rolled the Rottweiler puppy to his back once more, he growls through gritted teeth, “How do you like me now, huh!?” In response, the sculpted muscles of Cody strain and flex as he snarls, “Pussy!”
I genuinely appreciate my growing collection of RockHardWrestling downloads. Watching the production and the wrestlers develop over the past several months has been fascinating and exciting. What remains weak in this particular match is the wrestling polish on the bodybuilder rookie. Cody’s forearms across Brody’s chest are weak-ass, and he pretty miserably telegraphs the choreography at the very end of this match. What does work for me here is a laundry list of delights. As always, Brody smoothly transitions from hold to punishing hold, manipulating and controlling the bodybuilder’s limbs and joints at every turn with style and confidence. Brody geneously wraps the hunk in the ropes, displaying Cody’s gorgoues, rippled torso for us until the bodybuilder submits and Brody flexes a most-muscular over top of him. Cody pulls off some happy moments himself, including some great slams of his much lighter opponent and some convincing use of his muscled body as a battering ram. He finally deploys his superior strength by wrapping those tree trunks that he calls his thighs around Brody’s relatively pencil-size legs and punishing him sternly, though he hasn’t figured out how to piece together a climactic finisher yet. The production quality is top-notch, high definition, beautiful camera angles, and the music is a little less intrusive than in past bouts (though I’ve personally not had a problem with it either way).
In all, this is another fine match from the baby company. Cody’s performance is uneven, but Brody is smooth and on target as always from start to finish. Finally, this delivery format is simply my very favorite. Instant download-to-own, over 16 and a half minutes, and the price is right. I’m hoping Brody is continuing to offer wrestling clinics to the muscle boys of RHW, and that the performances will continue to improve. He’s a delight to watch as he dismantles, disables, and humiliates another muscle-armored hopeful.

Promises Kept

I’ve been hard on poor Zack Johnathan (aka Zack Vazquez) in the past. Of course, he’s deserved it. He’s ruined more than a few wrestling matches that I’ve been hot to watch, due to his poor salesmanship, his shit-eating self-conscious grinning, and his weakness in delivering or taking receipt on punishment in any convincing way. His body is incredible, but he’s been getting on my nerves in the ring.
I’m so pleased to report that Zack has entertained me pretty much from start to finish in his latest match for Rock Hard Wrestling. I’d have given this pitch a pass if it hadn’t been for my complete trust in the bulls eye delivery of Zack’s opponent, Brody Hancock (aka Reese Wells). This is a “revenge” match after Brody appropriately punished the model boy early in RHW’s inception. Zack arrives ready to even the score.
And shock of shocks, Zack delivers!!! His banter is much less self-conscious. He occasionally lets that shit-eating grin peek out, but he pretty quickly twists it into a focused, dominating sneer every time. And Zack’s wrestling is significantly improved, in my opinion. Zack delivers combination holds like a pro. Early in the match, he yanks boy-Brody off his feet by his throat, suspending him over his head in a sweetly convincing choke. Then smooth as silk, Zack slides Brody’s body down his own into a confidently snapped-on high bearhug. And without too much melodrama, Zack quickly sprints across the ring and drives Brody’s back into the turnbuckle. This is way more delivery and skill than I’ve come to expect from Zack.
Of course, by no means is this sale all about Zack. Dependably, Brody works this match with like the hard, hot workhorse he always is. His gear is a distinct improvement, and I’m thinking Brody is packing on some more muscle on that whipcord body that he’s making good use of. In answer to Zack’s cocky taunt, “How did you like my choke?,” Brody answers by raking Zack’s eyes across the top rope and demanding, “What did you think of that, huh?!” Later in the match, Brody has Zack pinned chest-first in the ropes, at which point he reaches over Zack’s head and shoves his fingers into the model boy’s nostrils, prying Zack’s nose upward. The gratuitous baseball pump at the end of round one illustrates the marvels of Brody’s beautiful body, though I have to note that he’s packing on enough muscle that I’m no longer wondering where he’s hiding those guns.
But still, for all the crap I’ve given Zack, I just have to say again that he just about redeems himself in this match. He’s working hard and innovating, such as countering a camel clutch by muscling his way to his feet with Brody still clamped to his back. Zack’s boston crab tapout submission totally sells me in a way that I just haven’t bought Zack’s submissions in the past. His kicks to Brody’s hamstring and smooth transition to a figure-4 leglock are polished. Even a blown gambit inside-outside the ropes suplex reversal manages to sort itself out without too much stretch of the imagination.
My one remaining complaint is a bit of off camera audio assistance that I’m finding distracting. Again I say, if the production quality wasn’t so excellent here, perhaps they could get away with some sound effects, but the picture is just too crystal to manage artificially-enhanced blows. Both boys are stomping and pounding pretty damn effectively on their own, so I really don’t think it’s at all necessary, at least not with these two. Zack as a serious contender is so nice to see. Our little boy is growing up, and his delivery of one of my all time favorite holds near the end of the match is commanding, convincing, and sweetly erotic, dominating, and humiliating. Nice work, Zack.

What’s Mine is Mine


I’m a glutton for punishment (like you didn’t know that). So despite feeling consistently disappointed (in decreasing amounts, though), I went to the well again with
Rock Hard Wrestling. It was an impulse buy. Others who produce wrestling for you and me should take note. Instant downloads will totally score with people with poor impulse control. And there are plenty of us with poor impulse control and a credit card.

RHW’s most recent match stars Brody Hancock (aka Reese Wells in BGE world). Brody is the class in this operation. He has the moves and the salesmanship to tell a story, where many of the RHW boys have fallen a little flat. Brody faces off in this latest match with “teen bodybuilder” Troy Nelson.
They did not grow teenagers like this when I was a teenager. Sweet mother of God, Troy’s legs are awesome! I mean, literally, I’m awed! Massive quads, powerful calves, a muscle ass for days… this was simply not in the distribution of teenage bodies when I was too young to drink legally.
Troy is touted as the little brother of Cody, who appeared in the last release from RHW. I gave Cody and his opponent a pretty rough time of things when it comes to polish. With Brody in the ring, though, that is not a problem. Troy isn’t nearly as smooth and coordinated as Brody, but Brody makes this match work, regardless. That said, Troy does have some good timing. His repeated corner work on Brody is actually quite nice. Troy’s leg scissors on the skinny veteran are the appropriate climax of Troy’s offensive throughout. Watching Brody squirm, grunt, and thrash, captured between those tree trunks is seriously, seriously pleasing. Troy also entirely sells me at around 13:15 when he swoops in to position himself for a camel clutch. I swear I think he’s just fucking the whole sweet moment up like a dumb rookie, when out of the blue, he skillfully transitions to a rather wicked looking full nelson, prying Brody’s torso backward savagely. Also to his credit, when Troy is dropped for the second time (hell yes!) in an over-the-knee backbreaker across Brody’s thigh, either Troy seriously tapped into a new depth of salesmanship, or those gasps were some legitimate pain he was suffering (either way, kudos, rookie!).
The story line is sweet. Troy has apparently “borrowed” one of Brody’s singlets for the match, and Brody is therefore intent on punishing the thief and retrieving his belongings (for my version of this story line, you might try my Brad Rochelle v Tyrell Tomsen fictional short story in Sidelineland). Troy owns his role as the ring rookie nicely. He doesn’t pretend to be packing anything more than he’s got, and he works well with Brody who keeps the pace for both of them skillfully. I think Brody could use a wardrobe consultant. The redundant trunks puffing out underneath his skin tight blue trunks just look odd. The editing of this match is a little less crystal perfect than most of what I’ve consumed from RHW, but that’s shades of gray when you consider their production quality is way over the top in comparison to most. And, as always (and as advertised), the shot of Brody’s victory double bicep makes my eyes pop just a little. Where the hell does he hide those massive guns when he’s not posing in victory!? At just around 17 mintues of action, this match is one I’m happy to own (instantly).

On the Road to Perfection


I just can’t stay away from
Rock Hard Wrestling. I still don’t think that they’ve hit their stride, which is understandable considering they’re just a few months young. But they do have some excellent elements to continue to perfect.

Hot off the presses, their most recent release captures some of what I’m enjoying most, and least, about the boys of RHW. First of all, the boys themselves are stunning. Hunky young studs getting sweaty and laying on some hurt are always a thing of beauty. The performances are, I think, improving. I don’t know what order the matches were shot in, but I think, for example, amateur hardbody Cameron Davis is owning the ring much better and working in more impact pro moves. Even more encouraging, he’s working some personality, including some sneering cheap shots like trapping little Brody in the corner and pounding a quick series of knees to his skinny midsection, and (my favorite), pinning Brody chest-first draped across the top rope, with one of Brody’s arms hammered behind his back, while Cameron knees him a couple of sharp shots to his tailbone. These boys move well. They know their own bodies, and they understand how to exercise ownership over their opponent’s body.
The $12.95 instant download to own is still a major plus for me and my inability to control my need for instant gratification. RHW’s production quality continues to be extremely high, though the editing in the Brody/Cameron match is a little nauseating at times (a few too many quick cuts from camera to camera, especially early on). The action is short, which is a little disappointing. The 9 minutes of Cameron and Brody going at it is pretty nicely packed and well-paced, though.
Match 2 from this release is a nice surprise for me. Again, I know, I know, I know. Some of you don’t care for squashes or 2-on-1’s. I, though, enjoy a sweet double team when it’s told well. Watching Zack Johnathan get literally tossed back and forth between Shawn and Brody is a sweet little fantasy scenario. Zack needs to be punished until he can sell his dialogue without looking like he’s about to laugh at his own camp. When Brody cranks on Zack’s knee over and over, then steps away, holding out his hand to welcome Shawn to have a turn, I have to smile. Zack suffers better than he dominates, so 8 minutes of him being mandhandled and taunted (“Yeah, say hi to the camera… How do you like that?”) is pretty damn tasty. Like Cameron, Shawn sells significantly better than I’ve seen him, perhaps inspired by the master salesman, Brody. Best by far is the detail that Shawn sweats like he’s in a sauna from minute one. Almost all the action is tossing Zack back and forth between the boys, so I’d love to have seen more actual 2-0n-1 holds. But Brody and Shawn are cooperative, and they remember to look like they’re enjoying Zack’s suffering (as am I… this is seriously a fantasy of mine, watching Zack suffer until he’s defenseless and can’t smirk).
Area’s for RHW to continue to perfect: 1) Brody’s gear against Cameron looks a little silly. I saw someone else comment that his joe-boxer briefs (isn’t that an oxymoron?) popping out from his skimpy trunks look a little like he’s wearing grandma’s panties under there. Brody performs like an unmistakable pro, so put this boy in a jock strap. 2) The audio isn’t quite selling me, again particularly in the Cameron/Brody match-up. The musak in the background is fine (I’ve seen others comment that they find it distracting… it fills some dead space well enough for me). The grunts and bangs as bodies pound the canvas are excellent. But the big empty gym space and private setting make it seem odd to me that Brody and Cameron don’t say word one to each other from start to finish (practically… Brody mumbles “…like that?…” near the end). Some cocky banter would help sell the private setting and deliver some motivation.

RHW will need to recruit some new rock hard bodies soon, I think, to keep the products fresh and develop a new story now and then. They simply must send Zack to intensive improv boot camp until that doofus smirk gets transformed into a cocky sneer (he simply must learn the difference). Buy Brody a jock strap. Set the boys loose with more verbal domination. Keep up the truly excellent production quality, and pay Brody whatever he asks, because he’s what’s keeping the infant operation legitimate.

Grace and Promise


I had a brief, cordial exchange with Bob at
Rock Hard Wrestling. Responding to some of the low scores I gave them in my review, Bob indicated that the RHW had also seen room for improvement for themselves after shooting their first few matches. He promised me that the hot guys and the excellent video quality would remain the same, but that they would be refining some of the other elements that I thought could be strengthened.

Seriously, is that a gracious way to take a review, or what? Frankly, I was a little nervous that he’d think I was too harsh on RHW. It seems like there’s a classy operation behind the new kids on the homoerotic wrestling block. So I was more than happy to give their third product a try.
Things are looking up for RHW, as far as I’m concerned. The new video is a double header. Cameron, who obviously had skills as evidenced by his first match manhandling Ray, is up against Tommy. Cameron and Tommy do some great work tossing one another around for eight and a half minutes. They both clearly have some grappling background (the website promotes Tommy as a competitive MMA fighter). They’re sincerely working on one another in nice back and forth, sweaty, barefoot action. This bit qualifies as homoerotic solely for the kink I bring to it. Tommy and Cameron are straight up grapplers without much attitude, swagger, or implied carnal joy in their body-on-body battle. For fans of more groping or dominating ownership, this match may not do it for you. There’s not much talk, but mix sweat, a couple barefoot studs, some grunting and grinding, and I’m fairly satisfied.
The second half of the double header is Brody taking on Ray for seven and a half minutes. Ray, bless his heart, is once again in over his head. He’s selling some swagger a little better than his first match, and Brody keeps the pace interesting. Just as Brody had to wipe the cocky sneer off of Zack’s face in his first match, he (literally) tackles much bigger and stronger Ray with gusto. Brody’s presence is once again the highlight of the match, and he does an even better job selling the tough little bruiser routine this time around. For the story that they’re trying to tell, they’d benefit from some more lingering, gloating victory from the giant killer. Still, Brody’s massive bicep popping up out of nowhere (seriously, where does he hide those ceps on that skinny body!?), in his now “signature” victory pose, is quite the turn on for me.
A scrapper with presence, salesmanship, and readiness to do some more edgy homoerotic themes like ball bashing, Brody Hancock (aka Reese Wells) could be some company’s bread and butter someday if he keeps it up. Once again, RHW’s production quality if superior to most anything else I’ve seen. As promised, the boys are drop-dead gorgeous. Cameron and Tommy’s match is satisfying competition, if not particularly great character development. Brody and Ray tell a decent story, if still the wrestling is a little weak (not as much as Ray’s last match, though). RHW still has my attention, and I look forward to seeing what a fresh wave of filming offers after their initial pilots.