Holy shit on a cracker! I just enjoyed the profound pleasure of watching one of Jonny Firestorm’s new releases, just in time to treat yourself for Black Friday. Squirreled away in Bundle #2 is a dazzlingly sexy 2-on-1 match, pitting Jonny and heel protege (!?) Kip Sorell executing the sexiest Grindr hookup in history with Christian Taylor.
“You look a little different on your Grindr profile, I’m not going to lie,” Jonny says when Christian steps into the ring with them. Can someone please, please screenshot me Christian’s Grindr profile? Because I’m not sure what that means, because…fuuuuuck… he is as sexy as he’s ever been, as far as I’m concerned. He’s got a 5 o’clock shadow that’s making me feel all sorts of new things about him. And he absolutely TOWERS over Jonny and Kip. I don’t think I’d ever quite realized how short Kip is, or perhaps how tall Christian is, until now, and the contrast is outrageously sexy.
This is a total squash (buyer beware, if that’s not what you’re shopping for). But fuck, the intensity remains super high throughout the entire 29 minutes. Apparently Jonny has handpicked Kip to be his new heel protege, and fuck it all if I’m suddenly convinced that that HAS to happen! I’ve honestly never seriously considered Kip’s heel turn potential until this moment, but put Jonny’s masterful hands on the task, and fuck… of COURSE devastatingly hot Kip would make a sizzling pretty boy heel!
They double-team Christian almost the entire time, and it’s gorgeous and absolutely artful. “I think you had something different in mind when I said my partner and I were looking for a threesome,” Jonny jokes. Oh fucking damn, Christian answered a Grindr call for a threesome, and showed up for this!? So many reasons to stay diligent on Grindr, my friends!
Every double-team hold is homoerotic sculpture. The mixture of the three different super sexy bodies turns me on harder and harder each moment of the match. One of my favorite moments is relatively early on, while Christian is still screaming and writhing and begging a lot. Jonny has tied his wrists behind his back, for absolutely no good reason other than increase Christian’s terror. Jonny rolls him into face-to-crotch headscissors and smothers him, burying his face in the legendary bulge and keeping him there with a handle on his hair. At the same time, Kip grabs him by the ankles and shoves the ball of his foot up Christian’s ass. Fuck me, I’ve got to push pause and rewind.
“Are you worthy to be our third,” Jonny asks, now with Christian smothering in Kip’s face-to-crotch, while Jonny tortures his back in a crab variation. “Yes. YES!” Christian screams, and I’m not quite sure if it’s begging for reprieve, or his desperation to join this threesome in earnest. I like to think it’s the latter. “Do you think you’re worthy,” Jonny demands. “Because all you do is whine like a fucking bitch!”
I’m so excited to see Kip warm up to heeling, torturing Christian’s nipples, throttling Christian’s cock, and smiling in delight as he does it. There’s this spontaneous moment where Jonny is pitching and in control, and Kip is taking a quick breather, admiring the scene or total humiliation in front of him, when Kip seems to be unable to restrain himself from leaning over and landing a cracking slap across Christian’s tortured, handsomed, hirsuite face. Damn, Kip, I am buying this!!!
Lovely, LOVELY action from all three veterans of my homoerotic wrestling fantasies. The dynamic duo heels leave Christian tied up, hanging from the ropes, passed out from pain. “Let’s go get a bite to eat, and we’ll come back for him later,” Jonny grins as the climb through the ropes. Fuck, yes. Best Grindr hookup EVER!
AR is genuinely low-key genius when it comes to his eye for homoerotic wrestling. One of the unexpectedly fun aspects of my recent collaboration with him, co-creating with me my first illustrated homoerotic wrestling fiction, was the particular give and take of the creative process. At times, I’d take the lead with some text, describing the scene, detailing a hold, scripting the dialogue. Then, like half a day later, AR would have created a 3D image in astonishing detail of that moment that had, just hours earlier, only existed in my mind’s eye. At other times, he would craft an image of a hold or a plot point, and then I’d write the text through the middle of the lane markers that he so skillfully generated for the story. It was a very cool creative process that we’re already investing in replicating.
One of the coolest moments in the creative process of putting together the Focus Group homoerotic wrestling match, featuring Ryan Gosling and Timothée Chalamet, was near the end of our work, when AR asked if we were missing a beat in the narrative. We built this moment in the plot when one hot, hard hunk is at the brink of despair, and AR asked the perfect question, of whether the action we’d constructed sufficiently and convincingly shoved the poor, gorgeous fucker over that edge. It was AR’s idea to add one more hold to fully justify the way the story unfolds, and he was the one who suggested that we use the Will Breaker.
I know this hold from Charming Chase Addams’ matches, and from having enjoyed the opportunity in the past to hear Chase talk about the development of the hold, and his creative process in coming up with the name for it. Chase is an innovator, and a passionately devoted student of the science and art of pro wrestling. The range of holds in his arsenal is pretty fucking incredible, particularly when I think about how ridiculously young and pretty he is. (Not that being pretty has anything to do with it. I just wanted to mention how pretty Chase is.)
I don’t think I really fully appreciated the complexity and beauty of the Will Breaker until it came time for me to try to describe, in words, one homoerotic wrestler applying the hold to another. Like, fuck, the words fail me! I watch him do it, mind you. It’s not like some mystery that happens behind a curtain somewhere. The spotlight over the ring allows no slight of hand or smoke and mirrors. I watch him do it, and even still, it’s fucking complex and nuanced and mysterious!
AR suggested something similar in his creative process of constructing a 3D render of the hold. He mentioned needing to painstakingly place each limb and joint, because there are no software shortcuts to create something like that. It’s not a position the human body was meant to easily slip into, or to endure for very long, so shaping a 3D rendering was, as I understand it, a significant challenge. And, thus, I repeat myself when I say that AR is a low-key genius. As soon as I publish this post, I’m going to get an email from him, humbly insisting on a disclaimer from my praise, but don’t believe him. He’s fucking brilliant.
Chase is, obviously, brilliant at what he does, as well. He’s not low-key about it, though. Chase knows his own genius, and he strips down to nearly nothing, climbs into a wrestling ring in front of a room full of cameras and microphones, and does magic like this that makes me gasp.
Anyway, I’m appreciating today these two young geniuses with such a passion for the science and art of homoerotic wrestling, of one fierce hunk taking possession of another, crushing one man’s hopes and dignity, and handing his body entirely over to his opponent. In their own ways, AR and Chase both get it, so deeply and fully!
Hair pulls are one of those little, subtle pleasures that superboosts the erotic aspect of a wrestling match for me. It’s disrespectful. It’s often unnecessarily cruel. It’s frequently functional, permitting a pitcher to position his reluctant prey for new angles of punishment. It stokes the fires of domination, often as plot device to signal that a competitive match has turned into cruel playtime. It can be affectionate, but when it comes to wrestling, it’s value added for me when it’s mean, rough, and adding insult to abundant injury. Here are a few hot and sexy hair pulls to help drag you over the weekly hump.
Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) dragged outmatched Christian Taylor about by his leading man locks in Demolition 27. As I recently mentioned, I theorize that every act of Mr. J’s punishment and degradation transformed naive, innocent babyface Christian into the erotic wrestling institution Christian has become as BG East.
Royce Perry works to impress his new tag team partner, Jonny Firestorm, by adding insult to injury to total humiliation all over double-teamed Calvin Haynes in Tag Team Torture 20.
There’s something extra sexy about a dominant pro heel hunk who calmly demonstrates his mastery with a hair pull. Kelly King holding a sagging Lane Hartley up by his follicles in Pros in Private 13 give me that burst of adrenaline I could use to get over the hump.
Jonny Firestorm absolutely throws everything, including the kitchen sink, at Jake Jenkins in Jobberpaloozer 12: The Works. For my tastes, the hottest moves are paired with Jonny wrapping his fingers through the muscle cherub’s curly locks and prying him apart sadistically.
I’m sure I’ve featured this shot of Dom the Dominator nearly ripping Brad Rochelle’s head off of his neck in Demolition 3. But it’s worth a lingering, repeat look. Sure, a chin lock might have been fractionally more functional to accomplish the same purpose, but the savagery of using Brad’s hair as a handle here is delicious!
Hang in there, my friends! When it comes to surviving this week, it’s all down hill from here!
Last week there was a reckoning in pro wrestling, as victims of sexual misconduct and sexual assault stepped forward on several platforms to name the crimes and creeps they have endured for years in the pro wrestling context. While I’ve generally ignored mainstream pro wrestling for a couple of decades, for a number of reasons, I follow a few wrestlers outside of the homoerotic wrestling context, and more than a few wrestlers that straddle both worlds. Based on what I’ve read, most of the recently disclosed creepiness was perpetrated by men against women, but I’ve seen more than a few indictments of same sex assault and harassment. I don’t believe that I’m qualified or informed sufficiently to comment directly, but it does draw my attention to my lane on the road, namely wrestling produced for gay eyes.
As I’ve documented extensively on this blog, I found wrestling inherently erotic from pretty much the first time I can remember seeing it. Clearly, I’m not alone. Vintage gay beefcake pin-up boys were often portrayed grappling, perhaps as cover for the explicit tension of seeing two nearly naked men all over each other. But for me, it’s not just cover. I have access to a world of homoerotic porn today, but what seriously turns me on is homoerotic wrestling (thus, this blog). I understand that there may be companies producing content with an explicit understanding that the wrestling is pretense, that the audience is understood to primarily include gay guys who only feel comfortable getting caught with their jack-off inspiration under the bed/in their downloads if they can attempt to argue that they’re just good ole straight boys into good old straight wrestling and it has nothing to do with their dicks. I’ll come back to that in a moment, but for now, let me say that I’m most interested in self-consciously, undeniably homoerotic wrestling.
I get off on wrestling. Early in my life, it was a secret that I felt ashamed of. Mostly through blogging about it over the past 10 years, I’ve “come out” about it here, and face-to-face with some of my close friends. I still watch “family friendly” pro wrestling sometimes for the nostalgia, for the implicit connection to my young, gay self staying up late on a Saturday night, turning the volume down way, way low, and pounding a few out over the course of watching the likes of Billy Jack Haynes, the Dynamite Kid, and Steve Doll work up a sweat and put their hot bodies to the test in the ring. I realize that the producers of independent pro wrestling probably didn’t envision a whole lot of their audience consuming the product quite the way I did (though I strongly suspect producers have always known and counted on our corner of the fan base). Most of what I enjoy for the carnal enjoyment of it these days is wrestling-for-gay eyes, though, because the erotic text isn’t just the one I bring to the viewing. And in explicitly homoerotic wrestling (explicit or not), the eroticism crosses some topical boundaries (like groping, mismatched erotic desire between the combatants, aggressive kisses, gear being forcibly ripped off of each other) that are, in many ways, the very content of damning stories raised by wrestlers in mainstream pro wrestling about sexual harassment and sexual assault. But in homoerotic wrestling, it’s happening for the homoerotically-oriented wrestling audience, and it’s built on a pretense of consent. The boundary crossing is an erotic fantasy, self-consciously enacted by consenting wrestlers willingly, sometimes eagerly, rather than real-life boundary crossing perpetrated as an unwanted violation of consent.
I’ve never seen a wrestling contract from BG East or W4H or Can-Am or Naked Kombat. I’ve never sat in on labor negotiations or match planning. But as a consumer, I’m assuming a foundation of consent, that the fine, hot hunks that populate my screen have signed up for the sexy situations that they find themselves in. I’d feel like an accomplice to a crime if I actually thought that IRL Bryan Powers was put in restraints in the corner and forced to watch helplessly as his sexy little fuck buddy Liam Ryan was beaten senseless, groped relentlessly, and force-fed Shane McCall’s cock as Shane and BBW made out over top of him, turned on by their cruel domination. If all 4 of the wrestlers didn’t sign-up for, at the very least, the possibility of the erotic turns and double-teaming injustice that played out, then that match would be prosecutable. The pretense of being overpowered and forced into sexually compromised positions only works for my fantasy life if there was consent from the start.
The role of consent in my erotic fantasies has been explicitly on my mind for a long time. I remember rewriting, multiple times, one of my first homoerotic wrestling fiction stories, as I brought into focus the blurred lines of consent. The match was careening headlong into the winner fucking the unwilling loser. But as the words hit the page, I actually felt pity for the loser. Even the imaginary violation of consent was such a buzz kill, and it sent me backward into the narrative, to figure out whether the hottest telling of my fantasy would be established on clarifying the mutually agreed upon stakes, or if the match needed to head a different direction all together.
The idea of consent pops up in other ways in my blogging history. Along the way, I’ve requested, and received, permission from copyright owners to post images from homoerotic wrestling productions. Sometimes they have specific parameters within which they give me permission to post. One producer has specified that I not re-post their images that include nudity, for example. Also, in about 10 years of active blogging, there’s been about a dozen times when someone featured in an image I’ve posted has requested the image be removed. I always do, whether they are the copyright owners or not. I do my best to celebrate homoerotic wrestling and wrestlers, and the underlying consent of the hunks seems essential to demonstrating the relationship that I want to have with the genre, built on consent.
I once pressed Muscle Master Kevin at MDW on the topic of the use of gay slurs. MDW isn’t the only company that’s invoked the themes of humiliating “the sissies,” of course. MMK seemed quite honestly surprised to hear me say that I felt resentment about it. He explained that it comes from his private fans and MDW fans who specifically call for it, who demand it as a crucial component of what gets them off. I had to sit with that for a while, frankly. In the end, I decided that my job isn’t to police anyone else’s erotic fantasies. As long as everyone understands that it’s mutually negotiated, then what does it matter what my critique of internalized homophobia may be? Helpfully, MMK suggested they would do a better job of labeling their products, so that those willingly seeking out homoerotic material featuring anti-gay themes could find what they need, and the rest of us can steer clear. I’m not exactly thrilled that there’s a significant market for gay guys wanting to get off on being gay bashed (at least figuratively), but if everyone involved is consenting, what does it matter what I think?
Maybe #speakout will trickle down to homoerotic wrestling, and we’ll learn that there’s not always fully informed consent operating on camera, or that there’s harassment or assault off camera. I’ve heard rumors, but no first-hand accounts. For the record, I’m only interested in celebrating homoerotic wrestling in which what shows up on camera reflects willing consent (and hopefully eager enthusiasm) of the wrestlers involved. If there are aggressive liplocks, ripped off gear, muscle groping, cock stroking, sexual domination, erotic humiliation, humping, frottage, or full on fucking, then it should be willingly consented to by all parties involved. If it isn’t, I don’t want to watch it or promote it. If there are any hot, naive young hunks who show up on camera not knowing that the whole purpose of the product is for gay guys to jerk off to them, they should be informed. I think there’s a problem with fully informed consent, otherwise, and I don’t want to be crushing on some hot young muscle hunk who’s desperately ashamed and feeling duped to be associated with homoeroticism.
If I go to wrestling-for-gay-eyes sites and see guys feeling each other up, grabbing each other’s crotches, sucking on each other’s nipples, bumping and grinding, stripping naked, making out, getting hard, dick whipping, cock sucking, muscle worshiping, or, best of all, doing all of the above in a ring full of baby oil with a dozen other like minded, fully aroused beefcakes celebrating the homoeroticism of wrestling for kindred spirits to enjoy over and over again on an endless repeat recording, then I fully expect everyone to have willingly consented, and hopefully exuberantly endorsed the production of an erotic wrestling fantasy. If anyone in mainstream pro wrestling, underground wrestling, homoerotic wrestling, or anyone else, thinks that they’re entitled to coerce, manipulate, or physically force anyone else against their will to participate in your erotic fantasy, I think that’s creepy and should be shut down every time. If your fantasy includes coercion, enjoy the creative and inspired artists, athletes, and producers who can indulge that fantasy without anyone being harmed, dehumanized, or criminally assaulted. Otherwise, stay in your own lane, and keep the eroticism out of your wrestling lives.
For the past several months, I’ve had too little time to savor the homoerotic wrestling scene. One of the new releases that I’m circling back around to drink in, now that I have more time, is BG East’s Demolition 27 from catalog 140. The pairing of bad ass muscle man Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) and perennial pin-up boy Christian Taylor is inspired. Like Mr. Joshua’s crotch, drama is busting at the seams with nothing more than the set-up. Christian is achingly innocent in his very first wrestling match climbing into the ring with the dazzling bulges and perfect proportions of Mr. Joshua right in the middle of his ascendency.
Part of what makes this such a perfect pairing is what we’ve known of both wrestlers’ bodies of work. In his 30 previously released matches (yet taped after his initiation in Demolition 27), Christian distinguished himself as a fan favorite baby face heart throb with effortless eroticism. He’s wrested passionate kisses from about half of his opponents. Perpetually lean, Christian layered on matured muscle over the 14 or so years since he climbed into the ring with Mr. Joshua. Match by match, he’s grown more confident and dangerous. Starring in releases with superlative titles like “sexiest,” “sizzling,” and “hottest,” a seasoned Christian Taylor has demonstrated that he loves the erotic intimacy of fiercely fought, sweat soaked submission wrestling as much as you and I do.
Mr. Joshua, on the other hand, has distinguished himself as one of the most heartless cock teases in homoerotic wrestling history. In his approximately 45 previously released matches, Mr. J has ranged from narcissist muscle jobber to low-blowing, bulldozing bodybuilder heel. But a subplot in his ascendency has centered on fans’ unrequited love affair with his stunningly massive crotch. We’ve repeatedly voted his as the Best Bulge in BG East, and Mr. Joshua keeps teasing us with his wardrobe adjustments mid-match, rearranging his prominent bulge, shoving his hand down the front of his trunks, swinging his moneymaker all over the ring. Early on, his quick crotch adjustments seemed incidental, unselfconscious. But clearly word has gotten back to Mr. J how gay fans swoon for it, and he’s grown relentless about teasing and taunting his opponents/fans with his barely caged anaconda. Right around Matmen 21, he turned full on cock tease, bringing a breathless fan to the mat room to battle for the chance to conquer and claim his grand prize. Ever since, Mr. Joshua has been explicitly acknowledging the obvious fact that his smoking hot bod, and in particular that humungous, low-hanging bulge, is driving gay wrestling fans nuts!
So Demolition 27 was taped before Christian evolved into a fully formed erotic submission wrestler with a penchant for locking his hungry lips on an opponent’s gasping mouth, and probably before Mr. Joshua had fully begun to exploit the power of his mammoth allure. Right there, in that moment, Christian is stretching in the ring in anticipation of his first BG East match, skinny, pale, achingly young, surely nursing the embryonic wrestling kink that would later blossom. And in walks Mr. J, packed into very brief golden trunks that never stood a chance at fully containing his overflowing abundance. “You look like a string bean over there,” Mr. Joshua immediately starts the trash talk. “You’re a dead giveaway as a rookie. You know how I can tell? You’ve got no tan!” Christian looks cool, unfazed. He’s got that James Dean upper lip curl suggesting contempt. But even if you didn’t know what an erotic wrestling enthusiast he would become, you can see the youngster’s eyes lingering, his feigned nonchalance worn thin in an instant as the stunningly gorgeous slab of beefsteak climbs into the ring with him.
“What’s your name, rookie?” Mr. Joshua asks, just so he can make sure the kid’s next of kin is notified when all is said and done. “Christian,” his obviously unsettled opponent replies with a stiff upper lip. “Christian?! Well, I’m an atheist,” Mr. J clucks, “and the pope isn’t going to save your ass, so you’re in trouble now!”
“Have you seen any of my videos,” Mr. Joshua demands to know. “Have you seen what I can do?” He flexes just a little. Christian denies having watched Mr. J’s back catalog, but no shit, there’s a sheepish grin on the kid’s face that makes me melt. His lusciously lipped mouth says no, but everything else about Christian says that he’s unzipped and studied the legendary wrestler’s body of work with more than passing interest. As if in confirmation, Christian’s eyes and the camera simultaneously zoom in on Mr. Joshua’s mountainous crotch.
Supposedly, the story is about the veteran who goes a little overboard breaking in the young buck. Mr. Joshua does love his “lessons.” “Keep the viewers entertained, Christian Taylor,” Mr. Joshua lectures, scooping the kid up and holding him across his huge chest for days on end, passively demonstrating his total control, lording it over his opponent, knowing what it’s doing to fans watching, before pounding long, limber Christian down savagely into an over-the-knee backbreaker. He holds him there, pinned like a butterfly, grinding his elbow into Christian’s crotch.
“We have to put all this hair to good use,” Mr. Joshua continues his lessons. Christian is a worm on the hook, but Mr. J grabs a hand full of hair and keeps yanking the kid off the mat mercilessly. But, when Christian gets a fleeting taste of offense, he hooks Mr. J’s boots nice and snug against his crotch and pries the bodybuilder’s arms backward viciously in a kneeling surfboard. “You want to tell me about those rules now, huh,” the bitter rook snarls. It’s a sweet little morsel of bully revenge fantasy as the rookie owns the bodybuilder. He lets go of the arms to rain down vicious fists into the muscled lower back of his captive. Mr. J is looking seriously ready to get fucked over by a gangly, lightweight Freshman. Finally, he reaches forward and grabs the bottom rope. “You’ve got to let me go because I’ve got the rope! That’s part of the rules!” Lovely, limber, adorable Christian lets him go, because… rookie.
About 2 minutes later, Mr. Joshua is working up a head of steam all over Christian. He’s pounding and stomping out every last ounce of irrational courage in the newbie. Mr. J grinds the kid’s skull between his magnificently muscled thighs in standing scissors, leaning forward and giving Christian the atomic wedgie of the year (why is that not a category!?). He literally splits the kid at the seams, tearing open a hole up the crack of Christian’s square cut trunks. “I beat you so hard I ripped your underwear,” Joshua marvels. “You just couldn’t handle it.” He muscles the newbie all over the place, finally wrapping him into a deep-seated Boston crab, wrenching on Christian’s lovely, long legs and prying his spine severely backward. The rookie pounds the mat in agony and desperately submits. “But that’s another one of the rules. I don’t have to let go. I’m not finished. Just because you say you’re finished doesn’t mean I am!”
“Christian Taylor,” Mr. Joshua contemplates, as he drags the kid to the ropes and forces him to see himself get manhandled in the mirror. “You sound like a good boy. You come from a good town, good family. What are you doing here?!” Here’s the money shot for me, my friends. It’s when Mr. J ties up Christian’s long, lanky arms between the ropes. He doesn’t need to, of course. He’s fucking demolishing the newbie like a stick of dynamite. Rather, Mr. J ties the kid up in order to have his hands free, in order to flex, in order to have an all access pass to Christian’s lovely, pale body stretched out and unable to even curl into the fetal position.
Mr. Joshua brutally pounds the impudent skinny kid trussed up before him. He yanks on those trunks again, hard, to lend that much more leverage to his fists punching Christian’s gut. He yanks so hard, in fact, that Christian’s dick pops out at one point, flailing helplessly in the aftershock of another gut punch (welcome to homoerotic wrestling, newbie!). Mr. Joshua pries Christian’s head backward over the ropes so he can hoist a leg over and straddle this kid’s handsome face. “That’s right, kiss my ass while you’re down there,” the veteran demands. Honestly, Christian’s face is buried so deep, it’s impossible to verify whether or not he obeyed.
I sort of think he probably did. Because here’s the thing, while we can’t know whether Christian already had in mind his evolution into a full-on erotic submission wrestler, we can confirm (in that back-to-the-future sort of way), that following his demolition at the hands (and everything else) of Mr. Joshua Goodman, Christian has taken most every opportunity he’s been given to pucker up and lay one on an opponent. Was Christian as erotically charged by wrestling before Mr. Joshua dismounted off his face, only to spin around and mount him again, this time with his legendary package basically smothering him? Only Christian knows, and I’ve never been able to get him on the line for an interview to ask him. I like to think so, though, that Mr. Joshua popping his homoerotic wrestling cherry (metaphorically speaking) brought babyface Christian back again and again to work up buckets of sweat wrestling nearly (and at times entirely) naked, and often buttoning down long, lingering lip locks on one hot bodied hunk after another. I like to think that Christian showed up that day a good boy, with just a little erotic curiosity, and Mr. Joshua’s unique brand of carnal depravity sensationally and irrevocably corrupted his innocence and spoiled him for anything but erotic wrestling.
Of course, this could easily by just my imagination. But then again, at another telling moment in the action, when Christian is no longer St. Sebastian tied to a tree, Mr. Joshua hooks him into face-to-crotch headscissors, crushing the kid’s noggin for a while, before rolling Christian to his back, still bearing down on the scissors, and grinding his award winning bulge into Christian’s lush lips. There are a lot of ways a moment like that can go down, of course, but what does Christian do? He reaches up, strumming his fingers across Mr. J’s rippling abs, palming the muscle man’s thick pecs. What’s a good boy like Christian Taylor doing, showing up at BG East, squeezing his alabaster body into doomed, lavender trunks, and presuming to climb into the ring with a notorious heel with an ego nearly as enormous as the ballast in the front of his trunks? He’s willingly, eagerly, even, coming face to crotch with a bad boy and hoping that a lot of it rubs off.
In the waning moment of the match, Mr. Joshua keeps yanking Christian by the hair and demanding that he open his eyes to witness his final destruction. I’m pretty sure Mr. J is reading his opponent’s eyes tightly shut as terror, or resignation, or a primal instinct to retreat to his happy place in the face of this horror show. I have a different theory, however. I suspect that Christian was searing the evocative sights, smells, and feels of this match into his memory. In fact, I bet Christian still lies in bed in the dark, these 14 years later, occasionally catching a whiff of Mr. J musk, a muscle memory cramp in his now-toned abs in the shape of Mr. Joshua’s fist, the exact feel of Mr. Joshua’s sculpted pecs in the palms of his groping hands as he struggles not to choke on the legendary crotch relentlessly grinding in to face.
Mr. Joshua does that. He insinuates himself into the homoerotic wrestling imagination and absolutely owns a parcel of property there that no one else has come close to laying claim to. And he knows it. I think he’s systematically come to know it more and more, the more he’s molded hot, eager, gay opponents like Christian into putty. I still hate what a fucking cock tease he’s been all of these years, haunting my dreams (and Christian’s) with his taunting, terrorizing, tantalizing main course that’s never quite served.
And then there’s Christian, 14 years later, looking like a movie star, sporting his own rippling abs and sensationally sexy physique. His been beaten and battered many times, but never split open wide quite like that first day at BG East when he climbed into the ring as just another good boy, from a good town, to lock up with one of the biggest, baddest, sexiest muscle men in the business. Would it all have turned out quite like this without that first ring encounter those years ago, when Mr. Joshua Goodman laid him bare and showed him just how far his wrestling dreams could take him?
So, I loved this match. I’m still waiting to get a good, long look at what Mr. Joshua sees when he yanks on the front of his gear and stares down at the crotch monster squirming in his trunks. But what I’d really like to know is what Christian sees, smells, and feels when he closes his eyes and remembers his first day as a good boy, from a good family, from a good town, first getting introduced to the wide open world of homoerotic wrestling.
When I decided to resurrect the blog here, I thought about what I enjoyed most about the exercise. I’m planning on leaning into the pleasure, in the interest of maintaining a healthy, long-term relationship with the task of putting my homoerotic wrestling thoughts into text. As a result, you can count on seeing more wrestling fiction, more guessing games, and, yes, I strongly suspect you’ll find me obsessing about hot news boys. One of the countless little value added elements to homoerotic wrestling for me is a hearty yank on an opponent’s trunks, and thus the tradition of Trunk Pull Tuesday.
I’d go so far as to suggest that trunk pulls were one of the first subtle elements in professional wrestling to ignite my homoerotic imagination. Ostensibly, a wrestler grabs his opponent’s trunks for leverage. With next to nothing else adorning the wrestling body, a wrestler uses the trunks as a handle to snap that snap mare, to drag him into motion in order to pound him that much harder with a fist, or a knee, or a clothesline.
Of course, that’s not the only thing I saw, as a kid growing up watching hot bodied hunks wrestling on television. I saw alluring glimpses of skin and tan lines normally discretely covered by modest patches of fabric. There was a fleeting view of a little more ass cheek, a tantalizing flash of lower abdomen, implicitly drawing attention away from the wrestling text and toward the erotic subtext just beneath the surface.
It remains a particularly titillating element in homoerotic wrestling, as far as I’m concerned, when, wrestling for gay eyes, a grappler yanks on his opponent’s trunks. Even when it isn’t prelude to stripping gear off entirely, it automatically bridges the narrative of combat and the story of sexual arousal. There’s still a third layer of eroticism for me when I can tell the puller gets it, that he knows how sexy this is, that he is, like I am, turned on not just by the competition for falls, not just the pleasure of spoiling a ripped opponent’s modesty, but that he feels the gravitational pull of the whole thing drawing him, and his opponent, and his audience into an explicit story of sexual attraction with the turbo boost of wrestling for erotic position.
The driving momentum of all those homoerotic wrestling punches and headlocks and spladles and scissors is heading toward a story centered on what happens in the geography underneath the trunks. There are endless recipes involving various quantities of aggression, narcissism, brutality, contempt, competition, ego, and lust, but the trunk pull is a tried and true ingredient for turning up the erotic heat, at least for the gay wrestling fan, if not for the combatants themselves.
Okay, I’ve banned myself from searching for more tasty trunk pulls. For now. Until next Tuesday. Keep yanking, wrestlers (and fans).
Congratulations to the winners of the BG East Besties for 2017! It was a fabulous year in homoerotic wrestling, and all of the nominees demonstrated the deep bench that BG East can rightfully boast. Some of my picks earned the most votes overall. Some didn’t. They all (but one) get nothing but respect from me. It’s certainly not the first time I’ve seen evidence that my tastes intersect and diverge with other homoerotic wrestling fans. Happily, there’s plenty for all of us to enjoy, and awards or not, my sincere thanks go out to the beautiful men in front of and behind the camera that make BG East a leader in wrestling for a gay audience.
Sexiest Match: Sexiest Match – Ty Alexander vs. Bruno LaBestia (Ringwars 28)
Best Mat Battle: Austin Cooper vs. Christian Taylor (Undagear 28)
Best Ring Match: Cole Cassidy vs. Joshua Goodman (Ringwars 26)
Nary the briefest mention of awarding the wrestler with the sexiest nipples shows up elsewhere in my homoerotic wrestling travels. Clearly, this blog is serving the public good by drawing our attention to try to identify which wrestlers sported the sexiest nipples in the business in 2017.
Transparently, this is the most idiosyncratic category of all. What you might find attractive or sexy in a man’s nipples very well may not be what I find sexy. But that’s really the point of all of this. Tastes vary. Big muscles, small muscles. Six packs, bellies. Skill, power. The beauty of this industry is that it tweaks so many different tastes. Despite the most adamant arguments that I’ve gotten something objectively wrong in blogging about what I find attractive or a turn on, it’s all subjective. So perhaps this category is just an object lesson. Feel free to comment about the nipples that you find sexiest. As for me, the list looks like this…
My third favorite pair of nipples on a wrestler this year belong to BG East’s reigning kissing king, Christian Taylor. There’s something particularly fitting about his beautiful half dollars. Everything about Christian is expansive and broad, and his lush, pinchable nips are perfectly proportioned to his long, lean, extravagant body. Since the kissing king can’t actually kiss his own nipples, I hope Christian knows that I’m available anytime for that task.
In second place is last year’s sexiest nipples winner, Chase Addams. Chase’s headlights yet again demand attention. His ring work thus far has been relatively understated in explicitly erotic heat. It simmers, mind you, but we’ve only gotten subtle glimpses of the erotic motivations that inspire this baby heel to brutality. His eye catching nipples, though, make every match sexually provocative for me. I’m looking forward to the day that we see someone twist those dials with a tongue and a whole lot of passion.
The number one pair of the sexiest nipples in homoerotic wrestling, as far as I’m concerned, this year go to Marco of Thunder’s Arena fame and, more recently, Wrestler4Hire. It’s likely easy to overlook these tasty morsels because Marco is such a physical specimen of beauty in every part and parcel. But give me a half a day to worship this hunk’s body, and I guarantee you I’d be drawn again and again to taste these gorgeous beauties. Certainly, they aren’t Marco’s most impressive feature, by far. But in a world of generic, dime size nubs, his nipples stand out.
Honorable mentions for best nipples to make an appearance in 2017 wrestling action include Mason Brooks (BGE), Cole Cassidy (BGE), Max Ryder (UCW), Zip Zarella (BGE), and Cam Zagucci (Wrestler4Hire, aka Luke Lonza at BGE).
Feel free to muse both about the qualities that make nipples sexy to you, as well as your personal picks for the sexiest nipples in wrestling.
I’ve learned that discussing how I vote in the BG East Besties is dangerous territory. The longer I’ve been blogging about homoerotic wrestling, the more I’ve grown to know many of the hard working men who make it happen. They never begrudge me my vote, but when I handicap the field and disclose how I cast my ballot, I’ve needed to smooth over some ruffled feathers and tend to friendships at times. So here are some special instructions for the BG East wrestlers I know and have affection for: don’t take any of this too seriously. We love you all. This is way more about the fans than it is about you.
With that preamble out of the way, let’s dig into the Bestie nominations posted on Friday. As opposed to my own personal categories of favorites that I started sharing yesterday, these are my thoughts on those that BG East has nominated for their awards. I don’t see when polls will close, but I’ll try to make this quick so that it may inform any undecided voters looking for tips.
1. Sexiest Match
Instantly, I’m navigating those complicated waters with the first category. I’ve met six of the wrestlers involved in the six nominated matches and interviewed most of those. There’s a spectacular double debut match that burned holes in my retina it was so hot. None of these were misses, but some hit the spot just a little more squarely than others for me. The nominees are…
Ty Alexander vs. Steve Mason (Wrestleshack 21)
Drake Marcos vs. Goren Ford (X-Fights 45)
Ty Alexander vs. Bruno LaBestia (Ringwars 28)
Tommie Hawk vs. Noah Samson (Undagear 28)
Kayden Keller vs. Leon Cyrus (X-Fights 44)
Cage Thunder vs. Mitch Colby (Motel Madness 14)
When I sort through who to vote for sexiest match, I look for a match where both wrestlers express explicit, mutual lust. Kissing is nearly essential. Naked bodies and fully engaged cocks are a major plus. I want to believe that the action is stimulating the wrestlers as much as it is me. Of these nominees, the match that did this best is, arguably, Ty Alexander vs. Steve Mason in Wrestleshack 21. It hits all of my buttons, and the big (HUGE) reveal of Steve’s crotch monster is epic. My fall back option is the astonishingly sexy match between Tommie Hawk and Noah Samson in Undagear 28. Since Ty is splitting the vote this year, I’m guessing that someone else may take the popular vote, but honestly, I don’t even have a good guess as to who that will be.
2. Best Mat Battle
The best mat category is probably the most competitive for me this year. I met 5 of the hunks in these nominated matches last summer and was delighted by them all. When it comes to evaluating mat matches, I look for competitive, intimate, battles with long held moves and close ups of exquisite anguish. I like to see amateur moves translated into a gay, pro context. I prefer the serious sell, with big egos convincing me that they want it, and that the final, humiliating victory is up for grabs. The nominees this year are…
Kirk Donahue vs. Carter Alexander (Backyard Brawls 9)
Cage Thunder vs. Mitch Colby (Motel Madness 14)
Tino Valencia vs. Ski Vance (Catch Weight 8)
Austin Cooper vs. Christian Taylor (Undagear 28)
Calvin Haynes vs. Nino Leone (Catch Weight 8)
Ace Aarons vs. Ash DeLeon (Mat Rookies 3)
So much to choose from! I’m bitterly torn between Austin Cooper vs. Christian Taylor in Undagear 28 and Ace Aarons vs. Ash DeLeon in Mat Rookies 3. My hunch is that when it comes time to pull the lever, I’ll go with the shockingly intense Undagear match with that sensationally surprising ending. My hunch is that the popular vote will swing to Austin and Christian as well, as two of the popular headliners that regularly draw the fans (an advantage over Ace and Ash). Cage and Mitch’s match is, however, already the stuff of legends. But if you really like shocking endings, Calvin and Nino’s battle is soooo sweetly surprising. Damn. This category is tough for me.
3. Best Ring Match
In judging the quality of a ring match, I’m looking for a match that exploits the context. I want a match that treats pro wrestling with the respect it deserves. I like to see power and speed, with a strong narrative and larger than life characters. The nominees for best ring match are…
Joey King vs. Zip Zarella (Ring Kings)
Jonny Firestorm vs. Kirby Stone (Pros in Private 11)
Kid Karisma vs. Jobe Zander (Bulge Battles 1)
Kid Karisma vs. Ethan Andrews (Heel Bash 2)
Cole Cassidy vs. Joshua Goodman (Ringwars 26)
Toney Rico vs. Chase Addams (Ringwars 28)
Another highly competitive slate! Kid Karisma may split his vote. My vote will almost certainly go with Toney Rico vs. Chase Addams in Ringwars 28 this year (see my review for all of the reasons). Kid K and Jobe is awfully close, though. Jonny vs. Kirby has got to be the best ring wrestling of the year, but the narrative isn’t as colorful as Toney and Chase’s. Cole and Joshua put together the most colorful characters and delightful drama, but the wrestling isn’t as pro-forward. My very tentative guess as to who the majority will break for is Jonny and Kirby, mostly based on the hardcore Jonny fanatics out there.
4. Best Squash
My least favorite category. Though I know a lot of you love a good squash. I guess when squashes work for me, I have a reason to both particularly want to see the victim suffer and the dominator dish it out. I also need to be convinced by the stud on the receiving end. Squashes can become boring for me, so the guy getting squashed needs to seriously convince me that he’s hurting, and he’s not phoning it in. This year’s nominees are…
Kayden Keller vs. Carter Alexander (Wrestler Spotlight: Kayden)
Thrash vs. El Favorito (Masked Mayhem 12)
Kid Karisma vs. Reese Wells (Ringwars 27)
Lane Hartley vs. Kirk Donahue (Demolition 22)
Kid Vicious vs. Devon Britt-Darby (Gut Bash 13)
Cap Landon vs. Kelly King (Knock Outs 3)
My choice is Kayden vs. Carter in Kayden’s Wrestler Spotlight. While I do love watching Kayden dig back from a deficit, I never grow tired of watching him plow pretty boys under. I’ve also had a craving to watch Carter getting hurt ever since he let slip in his match with Kid Karisma that he not-so-secretly (anymore) enjoys getting his hair pulled as he’s dominated. For a squash, Kayden keeps the pace intense, and Carter suffers exquisitely. He has this choking, half-laugh sob that makes my crotch twitch. A close second place in this category for me is Thrash vs. El Favorito, though El Favorito has more offense than I typically credit to a squash. Same goes for Kid K vs. Reese. I’ll guess the majority will break either for Kayden and Carter or Lane and Kirk, depending on whether the tide breaks for the leaning-to-erotic or the hardcore indy pro vibe.
5. Best Submissions
Somehow making this category plural clears up my confusion about how to evaluate it. I’m using a standard of making my pick based on the number, variety, and creativity of submissions in a given match. The nominees for the match with the best submissions this year are…
Austin Cooper vs. Christian Taylor (Undagear 28)
Tino Valencia vs. Skip Vance (Catch Weight 8)
Kayden Keller vs. Richie Douglas (Kayden’s Wrestling Spotlight)
Jonny Firestorm vs. Kirby Stone (Pros in Private 11)
Joey King vs. Zip Zarella (Ring Kings)
Chase Addams vs. Charlie Evans (Ring Rookies 5)
By a long shot, for this category I’m going with Jonny vs. Kirby in Pros in Private 11. The submissions fly nearly frantically, except everything is polished, exacting, and precise. Both of these pros are marvelously talented, and they bring out the best (and worst) in each other. It’s just an added bonus that Kirby’s ass drives me crazy. When it comes to the rest of the field, my next choice is a tie between Chase and Charlie and Joey and Zip. I won’t be surprised if Jonny and Kirby win this category, but if not, I suspect it could swing Austin and Christian’s way.
6. Hottest Liplock
When I’m deciding which wrestling liplock is hottest, I’m looking for passion. I prefer liplocks harshly ambivalent, with equal parts rage and lust. The nominees this year are as follows…
Christian Taylor vs. Mason Brooks (Bedroom Brawl 3)
Calvin Haynes vs. Nino Leone (Catch Weight 8)
Ash DeLeon vs. Ace Aarons (Mat Rookies 3)
Lauden Sevior vs. Drake Marcos (Undagear 27)
Nino Leone vs. Bruno LaBestia (Wrestleshack 21)
Ty Alexander vs. Steve Mason (Wrestleshack 21)
I’m solidly voting for Ash and Ace in Mat Rookies 3. Talk about a gorgeous concoction of passionate lust and passionate aggression! Damn. A runner-up option for me would be Lauden and Drake. I don’t know who the popular vote will follow, but if I had to guess, I’d say Ty and Steve, based mostly on Ty’s get-out-the-vote credentials.
7. Best Overall Match
This category seems self-explanatory. I feel obligated to swing toward one of the “Best of” matches I’ve already picked, though there are a couple of matches in this category that weren’t nominated above, which makes open to a dark horse pick in my mind. In any case, this is the slate of nominees:
Cole Cassidy vs. Joshua Goodman (Ringwars 26)
Jonny Firestorm vs. Kirby Stone (Pros in Private 11)
Ty Alexander vs. Bruno LaBestia (Ringwars 28)
Austin Cooper vs. Christian Taylor (Undagear 28)
Kid Karisma vs. Jobe Zander (Bulge Battles 1)
Kid Karisma vs. Reese Wells (Ringwars 27)
So yes to all of the above, but of these options, I’m going with Kid K vs. Jobe in Bulge Battles 1. This was a sensational match against two astonishingly accomplished homoerotic wrestling veterans. The suspense is fantastic. The action is graphic. The personalities are over the top in a way that only the likes of Kid K and Jobe can quite pull off. Second place for me is somewhere between Cole and Mr. Joshua, Jonny and Kirby, and Austin and Christian. My hunch is that Kid K splits his vote again and neither of his matches take the category. Instead, I think Cole and Mr. Joshua might pull of an upset, based on the fevered pleasure both Alex and I have for that match, though again, there’s Ty and his aggressive get-out-the-vote campaign.
So that’s my take on the first half of the ballot. What’s yours?
Oy, just now finding a window of opportunity to write down some of my latest thoughts about my favorite topic. I’m still backfilling the Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month awards. But it’s time for someone to unseat the magnificent mountain of muscle that is Mark Muscle and take the title for my favorite wrestler in a new release in the month of August. Sometimes these choices are harder than others, and this was one of those times. But speaking of harder, at the risk of irking the other worthy contenders, I have to admit that one hot wrestling hunk made me harder than all the rest. For his new release appearance in the month of August, my new HWOTM is…
While I’ve long been infatuated with Mason, somehow he has never before taken the HWOTM title. His opponent in Bedroom Brawls 3, Christian Taylor, is a member of the rarified ranks of HWOTM 3-peats. But despite my open adoration of Mason’s nipples, my longstanding fantasy to pound one out across his luscious, thick pecs, and my deep appreciation for his wickedly sharp, intellectual approach to the carnal delights of homoerotic wrestling, this “thinking man’s wrestler” has failed to wrestle his way to the top of my monthly tallies. That oversight is officially and decisively over, because Bedroom Brawls 3 was the hottest thing I’ve seen in a long time, and Mason is unquestionably the leading man, despite facing off with Hollywood handsome Christian.
The story is novel and enchantingly entertaining. Mason and Christian are bunking side by side in the mat room during one of those insanely busy week’s of BG East recording, where dozens of hot hunks are stacked like wood, awaiting the myriad delights of squaring off against one fine opponent after another. In the wee hours of the morning, Christian rouses first, looks at the sleeping beauty next to him, and does what any one of us would want to do: he coyly pulls up the cover to take a peak at the beautifully muscled stud still unconscious next to him. Mason comes-to trying to decide if getting exploited by the likes of BG East’s champion babyface kisser really just happened, or if it was one of those magnificently sexy dreams you don’t ever want to wake up from.
Like Christian, I often find myself eyefucking Mason’s gorgeous body. Mason is no clone. He defies easy classification. He’s not a bodybuilder, but he’s sweetly, thickly muscled. He’s nobody’s twink, but he’s certainly lean and lovely with a leaning-toward-babyface beauty. Although I haven’t had an opportunity to post about it yet, I immensely enjoyed the opportunity to meet Mason when I visited BG East this summer, and in the midst of my interview with him (still to be published), I felt the persistent urge to palm his broad, powerful, aesthetic pecs. We’ve seen Mason go full monty in past matches, and so I have no problem at all reading Christian’s mind as he pulls the cover down and hungrily examines the tasty bulge in the front of Mason’s briefs, wondering if he might catch a tantalizing glimpse of early morning wood. So many of Christian’s matches revolve around the gravitational pull that Christian has on countless BG East wrestlers chasing this Prince Charming, but there’s a super sexy authenticity about the erotic gaze Christian turns on sampling the goods (greats) that Mason puts on the table.
There’s a clear fun-and-games vibe about the action as Mason confronts Christian for trying to take advantage of him as he slept. Mason makes it clear that he’s abundantly ready to return the amorous attention, but coyly, Christian tries to deny what the camera objectively documented. “Just be a man and own up to it,” Mason demands. “You were totally checking me out.” Perhaps because Christian is so often the object of lustful attention, he’s apparently embarrassed and out and out lies. “No one’s looking at your dick, Mason.” But of course Christian was looking at his dick. And I’m looking as his dick. And you’re looking at his dick. And tickled both by the attention and Christian’s embarrassment, Mason insists that no one is going back to sleep until Christian confesses that he just couldn’t keep his hands and eyes off of Brooks’ beef.
So it starts playful. Christian doesn’t initially put up a lot of fight, still feigning as if it was Mason who rudely interrupted his beauty sleep. Early going I get a sense that at any moment these two may just abandon the battle for physical domination and just start fucking their pent up morning energies away. I wouldn’t have blamed them. The sexual tension is perfectly balanced and sensationally thick. But in addition to both being sexy as fuck, Mason and Christian have also abundantly demonstrated that they are fierce, competitive, accomplished wrestlers. So the wrestling fan in me is turned on that much harder as they veer right past giving in too soon to their mutual attraction and, instead, start seriously punishing one another.
Playing it coy digs Christian a deep hole that Mason is eager to fill. As Christian claims that he just wants to go back to sleep (liar), Mason twist ties him into knots. It’s intense and quickly sweat soaked as they scramble atop and often get tied up in the bedding. Mason keeps twisting, keeps prying, driving his gasping, whimpering increasingly humiliated hottie opponent to the edge of being forced to admit the obvious, that he (on behalf of all of us) wants to see a lot more of Mason. With studied skill and patience and more than an able hand with the driving whip, Mason demonstrates that he can dish out a whole lot more humiliation than just having Christian confess his transgressions. Finally Christian grudgingly barks it out. “Yes! I was checking you out,” Christian snarls. “I was checking out the goods!” The sweetly satisfied smile across Mason’s face alone could get me off. “I hope it was good for you,” he coos, softening up his grip and starting to stroke Christian’s sweat soaked washboard. “‘Cause it’s good for me.”
Before I inadvertently convince you that this is a squash, let me assure you that the battle is far from over, and Christian is abundantly equipped to hold his own and grab hold of Mason’s as well. What starts as a fun-and-games romp, evolving into an ego punishing confession-submission, charges headlong into a back and forth battle as Christian seeks, and ultimately gets, some dominating satisfaction of his own. As erotically oriented as he is to Mason’s body, he’s not shy at all about abusing it with abandon. Mason is tough as fuck, of course. We know that. So there’s that much more pleasure at watching Christian insist on cranking on holds past the point of Mason’s tolerances, twist that much farther, squeeze that much harder, demanding some face-saving respect after having the stuffing and dignity wrung out of him earlier. Mason is certainly not the first opponent to be forcefully convinced that Christian is far from just a pretty face and rocking body.
Despite Christian more than holding his own in the middle third of this tussle, Mason makes this match all his own as he controls the pace in the backstretch. It’s a game of libido chicken. Both clearly turned on to the point of distraction, they repeatedly start to melt into each other. Famished kissing breaks out. Muscles go slack as blood is redirected to their crotches. Just when one gagging stud is ready to get down to business, the other exploits his open lust to lock down ever more vulnerable holds, ever more brutal punishment. Christian plays this game well, but Mason is the master of it. Time and again, Mason savors the moment of watching Christian’s gasping lust twisted into bitter frustration as Mason denies his amorous advances and laughs at his agony twisted, handsome face. Christian’s cock doesn’t know which way to turn, but it’s doing all of his thinking as Mason plays him like a pipe organ, making him sing, making him groan, making him whine to get his lips on that tasty morsel that he woke with a craving for.
Is it too early for us to discuss the Liplock of the Year award? These two suck on their mutual excitement for each other with a passion that I simply can’t believe is put on for the cameras. The more Mason takes the reins, the more he peppers his punishment of Christian with tantalizing, teasing tastes of what is obviously motivating both of them.
It continues to careen at breakneck speed into that blurred boundary between erotic wrestling and rough fucking. Christian takes the brunt end of the stick, but he’s not fooling anyone. He wanted exactly this all along. He wanted every inch of his beautiful body to feel every inch of Mason’s. He wanted Mason’s morning wood in his face, pressed between his cheeks, grinding relentlessly into him.
I don’t know why Christian didn’t just come out and admit it from the start. But I’m thrilled that he didn’t. I’m ecstatic that he played coy, forcing Mason to force him to admit to the obvious magnetic attraction between them. Mason is never better than when he’s taking control, owning an opponent, breaking through all defenses and dictating the sensationally sexy terms of surrender. And in this case, there are no winners or losers, just two insanely sexy hunks, soaked in sweat, their sexual cravings completely exposed, crawling back under the covers to do anything but sleep.
Fuck, I loved this match. I’m jealous of both wrestlers. But I’m mostly captivated with Mason for seizing the opportunity (and every last inch of Christian Taylor) to pound that sexy alarm clock into completely dominated submission. This is easily and art house edition of classic BG East wrestling. It’s erotic-forward. It’s wrestling forward. And it compels me to finally award a belated recognition to Mason Brooks as HWOTM.