Tag: Christian Taylor

Diverse Tastes – Guest Contributor Cage Thunder

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While there are a lot of us armchair homoerotic wrestling bloggers, I’m the first to tip my hat to a blogger like Cage Thunder, who not only writes eloquently about his tastes and twists in wrestling kink, he’s also an all-in wrestler on camera for BG East. Through a series of correspondence between me and Cage Thunder, I will dare to reveal one thing that I’ve learned about the mysterious masked heel: he’s a class act. He has a delightful sense of humor that goes well beyond his gloating, clucking delight in humiliating one all-too-pretty pretty boy after another. He also has a remarkable depth to him that leads him to contemplate the alchemy of homoerotic wrestling kink with a fervor and meticulousness that very well may surpass even my own. So when Cage Thunder agreed to give me his take on the topic of “Diverse Tastes” as part of neverland’s summer series of guest contributors, I was deeply honored. So sit back and learn from a master who knows his wrestling kink from inside out and every angle a delightfully twisted wrestling mind and body can imagine.
The Turning Point
by Cage Thunder
BG East’s Cage Thunder

There is a certain moment in every pro wrestling match that, without fail, always grabs my attention. This moment never fails to get my attention and always make my dick stand up at attention.

I call this moment the turning point.

Bulldog Barzini savors the sight of Denny Cartier
reaching “the turning point” – BG East’s Fantasymen 28

A turning point is exactly what it sounds like—that definitive moment when you know that one of the wrestlers is finished— even if he isn’t being pinned or counted out or giving in a submission, and the match might go on for a while longer (and usually does). But that’s the moment when you know for certain who the stud is who’s going to have his arms raised in complete victory at the end of the match (or fall, if it’s a best-of situation).

I love that moment.

Muscle heel Kid Karisma drags muscle twink Christian Taylor
beyond the turning point – BG East’s Wet &  Wild 5

When I was growing up, professional wrestling was my porn. It still is, to a degree—only I rarely watch it on television, I satisfy my fetish with videos these days—but when I was a kid, it was a world I desperately wanted to be a part of. I greatly enjoyed the morality plays of pro wrestling matches, the struggle between good and evil, hero versus villain, rule-breaking versus following the rules. And like life, good didn’t always triumph over evil.

Cage Thunder soaks in the sight of his handiwork –
BG East’s Masked Mayhem 6

But professional wrestling was also one of the very few places on television in those days where you could see scantily dressed men sweating and heaving, clinching and coming apart, entwining their bodies in an almost erotic dance. And while I always wanted the nasty heels to be punished for their dastardly ways, I also loved watching the gorgeous ones suffer at their hands. With the advent of cable television and Ted Turner taking WTBS national into a self-styled Super Station, every Saturday afternoon from three to five p.m. Pacific times Georgia Championship Wrestling aired—and I fell in lust with a gorgeously built mullet-wearing muscle boy named Brad Armstrong.

The muscles and the mullet – Brad Armstrong
Oh, that ass. If I hadn’t already known I was gay, Brad Armstrong’s tight trunks clinging ever so tenaciously to those perfectly formed buttocks certainly would have done the trick.
Brad Armstrong’s inspiring ass in trouble
Brad was a good wrestler—a fan favorite, obviously, with his athletic ability, sexy body, and ‘aw shucks’ attitude. But he lost his matches more frequently than he won them—and week after week, I slowly came to realize that what was really turning my crank and getting my dick hard was watching some nasty ass heel put him through the wringer—watching him suffer on the mat, one foot bouncing up and down as his back arched and that ass, that oh-so-perfect ass, with his trunks creeping up bit by bit, up in the air.

Brad’s trunks creeping up his ass as he suffers humiliatingly in the ropes

And I also came to the conclusion that I preferred watching Brad suffer rather than being dominant in a match—which made me stop and think.

Brad Armstrong where he did his best work: on his back,
feet pointed at the ceiling, and his opponent copping a feel of that rocking ass!

And I realized the truth is I wanted to fuck him—in other words, I wanted to dominate him and make him submissive to me. I wanted to beat him down, make him call me sir, and when that hard muscle ass arched up in the air, I wanted to reach down and peel those green trunks off him, lube up my cock, and ride him while he bucked and writhed and moaned.

And called me “sir.”

I’m frequently accused of being a ‘body fascist,’ and nothing could be further from the truth. I actually like all kinds of men, in all shapes and sizes—what I am actually attracted to, more than anything else, is a particular attitude that a lot of wrestlers seem to have. (This is why I generally don’t give a shit about watching gay porn—very few gay porn stars have that ‘certain something special’ that gets my dick hard, and let’s face it—if you’ve seen one fuck scene, you’ve pretty much seen them all. Ty Lebeouf is a gay porn star who is one of the exceptions—and he is exceptional, although I’d much rather watch him climb in the ring.) A wrestler can have the most gorgeous body you’ve ever seen, and a huge bulge in the front of his trunks—but if the attitude I like isn’t there, he just leaves me cold. (I won’t give examples, out of respect.)

Porn star Ty Lebeouf: Ready to Wrestle?

The wrestlers I like—the ones that make me open my wallet and spend my hard-earned money buying their videos—have that attitude. It’s not something that’s quantifiable or definable; someone either has it or they don’t. And there really isn’t a rhyme or reason to my attraction to them. They can be a muscle twink, like Christian Taylor, or a hot little muscle heel like Kid Karisma, or a stocky brute like Bulldog Barzini, or a beautiful babyface who has crazy mad ring skills but always loses—like Alexi Adamov.

Cage Thunder revels in dragging babyface Alexi Adamov
well past “the turning point” – BG East’s Masked Mayhem 2

I like heels because the only way someone can ever fuck me is if they dominate me. And I do like being dominated. I like being forced to submit, I like being forced to scream out a submission or call my foe “sir”—and if he can beat me down that way, I’m his for the taking and he can do with me as he pleases. The thought of being worked over like that by a Bob Orton or a Stan Hansen or any number of studly heels who might not have the body beautiful you’d see on the cover of a gay porn magazine turns me on as much as the thought of beating down some beautiful babyface/jobber does.

A heel who could have made Cage Thunder cry, “Sir!”

For me, that’s the answer to why people enjoy seeing pretty muscle boys just get the shit kicked out of them. Because we want to dominate them, we want to fuck them, and the wrestling match we are watching is a kind of pornographic dance of domination and submission.

Cage Thunder has his way with a puddle-on-the-mat, Jobe Zander –
BG East’s Masked Mayhem 8

And I love, love, LOVE the turning point—when the heel begins to simply toy with his opponent for our viewing pleasure.

Cage Thunder conquers, strips, and toys with Lobolito –
BG East Masked Mayhem 3

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a DVD to watch.

——————
Now, aren’t we all dying to know what gorgeous-bodied and huge-bulged wrestlers leave Cage Thunder limp!? Like I said, however, he’s a class act who isn’t one to crush-and-tell. For this fantastic glimpse into precisely the moment, the attitude, and the acts of domination that make his dick stand up at attention, neverland is honored to have guest contributor Cage Thunder push the pause button and share his thoughts with us!

The Taste of Victory

wrestlebard2 Comments
Thank God I’m done with traveling… for a few weeks. Back in the comforts of my own home, I’m able to settle into the familiar routines, including carving out some time for one of my most enjoyable pass-times: appreciating homoerotic wrestling.
With my attention renewed on the topic that you and I find so enjoyable, I’m feeling the need to make aright my neglect of my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month: Kid Karisma. Typically by now, I’d have at least one or two posts vetting and venerating the hard working hunk who so ably captured the title at the beginning of the month. It’s certainly not as if I’m at a loss for things to say as I marvel at the body and body of work of the Karismatic one! I could write an encyclopedia of attributes that make Kid K such a commanding favorite of mine, and for which he also recently muscled his way past Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) to claim the top contender spot for my overall favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy division. There’s nowhere on Kid K’s body or in his wrestling arsenal that wouldn’t be appropriate to slow down and marvel for a while, but let me just start in a particular spot that’s been particularly responsible for my growing infatuation with the red-headed muscle hunk: his lips.
Perhaps this isn’t the particular geography that you’d have selected to begin to admire the remarkable assets of Kid Karisma, but it’s his liplocks that have been topping me off lately. I don’t own Kid K’s entirely library of work yet, but I believe that exactly twice he’s capped off a crushing victory over an awestruck opponent by grabbing the lucky, lucky loser’s head and commandingly, lingeringly sucking face.
The first time I caught sight of this truly inspired moment of Kid Karisma homoeroticism was in the Karismatic one’s hard-fought conquering of that stubbornly tough twink-punk, Len Harder in Sexy Showdown 5: Florida Fun. The sight of these two hot-and-bothered, sweaty specimens teetering on the edge of aggression and affection is profoundly stimulating for me. Kid K’s rippled, rock hard body stretched overtop of Len, crotch-to-crotch and lips-to-lips, makes me gasp. And then when Len sweetly, gently grabs Kid K’s gorgeous round glutes in both hands, as the red-headed juggernaut shoves his tongue down Len’s throat, all of my homoerotic wrestling kink synapses fire at once.
Despite less skin, Kid Karisma’s make-out with Christian Taylor in Wet & Wild 5 is arguably even more arousing for me. Despite being a half a foot shorter than Christian, Kid K is simply much more than Christian can handle. Kid K is cocky and taunting. He gives away just a little bit of riding time, but the match both in the pool and on the mat poolside is essentially and entirely in Kid K’s quite able hands. It’s a bit like watching a beautiful house cat drag a poor mouse inside to play with it mercilessly until he’s killed the rodent like his instincts demand. Kid K laughs at poor Christian. He smirks at Christian’s hopeless attempts to secure an advantage. Any moment that Christian rallies every ounce of strength and will to power to the top, Kid K just lets him tire himself out and than smacks him back down with contempt. And then when Christian is completely wasted, flat on his back, having submitted repeatedly until he barely has the strength to submit again, Kid K chokes Christian out cold with a completely unnecessary figure-4 clamped like a steel pipe across the loser’s throat.
That would’ve been enough to satisfy my devotion to a seriously sexy homoerotic wrestling beatdown. Christian suffers valiantly like the handsome, tall drink of water he is. Kid K preens and revels in his complete domination over his outmatched opponent. Tick, tick… all the boxes checked. This will be a match to come back to again and again. But then…
… Kid Karisma stretches across Christian’s motionless, supine body and wakes the spent stud with an almost compassionate kiss. Now that’s a way to wake up! Completing the fantasy that I’m too often left to write in my own imagination, Kid K quite literally savors the taste of his victory, and Christian realizes that every second of the whole humiliating, painful encounter was completely worth it. Compassion turns to passion, and the two handsome faces are locked together as Kid K assists the woozy contender to his feet. Sealing the deal, Christian grabs a handful of the Karismatic one’s meaty ass as he’s led inside for a post-match reconciliation.
There’s a lot that I could (and let’s face it, that I will) obsess lustfully about when it comes to Kid Karisma’s body and wrestling accomplishments. But it’s what he’s willing to do with those sweet, hot lips of his that make him rise to the top of what I enjoy most in homoerotic wrestling. I realize that not everyone enjoys seeing kissing in their homoerotic wrestling fare. In fact, I’ve heard from some of you that it’s a turn-off. Mores-the-better for the diverse industry that feeds our cravings. As for me, however, the marriage of skilled wrestling storytelling with homo-sensibilities of erotic pleasure is the essence of what arouses me most (full stop). For Kid K’s full arsenal of skills, especially including his liplocks, his stock is very much on the rise in my infatuations. In no small part due to everywhere his lips have been, Kid Karisma is sitting pretty atop the throne as my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month.

I’m a Pussy

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Brad Rochelle: BG East’s Backyard Brawls 1
This has come as a bit of a shock to me, but I have to admit it: I am a pussy. Now, I mean that in the most non-misogynistic (and pro-feline) way possible, but frankly, there’s just no way to sugar coat it. I’m a pussy. A few unkind hearts reading this are nodding their heads and snarkily mumbling that it’s about time that I admitted it. Well… fuck you, that’s not what I’m talking about. I don’t back down from a fight, and I’ve been told by several independent sources that when I’m in a particularly serious mood, I remind them of an angry grammar school gym teacher (which, perhaps oddly, I find really flattering). What I am a pussy about, however, is this heat.
Ryon Long & Greg Michaels: BG East’s Backyard Brawls 2

I’d heard that Boston in late July was hot, but somehow I still wasn’t mentally prepared. I catch myself continually bitching and moaning about the heat throughout the day, and I’m not proud of it. I sleep on top of the covers with a fan blowing directly in my face, and still I’m hot. And now a local colleague has mentioned to me that it’s going to “start heating up around here” over the next few days. I almost started to cry. I can’t deny it. I’m a pussy.

Shannon Embry & Jonny Firestorm:
BG East’s The Contract 9

On the other hand, this sort of heat brings out an abundance of bare flesh. And I’ve been very delighted with the hot and bothered eye candy that Boston has to offer. I keep looking for some BG East wrestling hunk strolling down the street (preferably in his skimpiest wrestling trunks). But despite not catching any BG East fanstymen sightings yet, I have to say, I’ve seen some prime beef that very well might be able to give the BG East boys a run for their money (at least in hunky looks… toss them into the ring and I’m sure our BGE battlers would beat the shit out of these downtown posers).

Reigning Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month:
The sweat-soaked gorgeousness o Jake Jenkins
Regular readers also know what a sucker I am for a thick sheen of sweat on a muscled hunk, so just imagine my constant titillation in a city baking their beefy boys with a side of nasty humidity.
Brad Rochelle: The Contract 6

Back to the self-revelation that I’m a pussy, though… as for me, I just don’t have the body chemistry to enjoy baking my own body. Sun bathing is not on my list of enjoyable pass-times. Watching the fine physiques of hot guys sun bathing is an enjoyable pass-time, but even then, it turns out that I’m such a pussy that my own discomfort is distracting me from that most excellent byproduct of a steamy, summer day.

Kid Karisma & Christian Taylor: BG East’s Wet & Wild 5

And frankly, the notion of a wrestling match is almost too much for me to bear. The last thing I feel like doing in this heat is swapping body heat with anyone else in close quarters. This pussiness is profoundly, existentially unsettling the very core of my wrestling kink identity that I typically find as constant as magnetic north. But a whole lot of aggressive, physical exertion at this moment is almost nauseating to think about.

A homoerotic wrestler I’d wrestle in any weather:
BG East’s Mitch Colby
Then again, the right body, perhaps lubricated with some tanning oil, could probably lure me out of my bitchy, whiny buzzkill. I hope you don’t judge me too harshly for this vulnerable confession. However, if you do, wait till September and I’m back in a more familiar climate, and I’ll kick your ass and make you enjoy every second of it.

Karismatic

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I have been so hot for Kid Karisma lately. That body, that attitude, that incredibly hot sexuality dripping from him like honey. Each time I catch Kid K in something new, my infatuation grows.
In the new release Wet and Wild 5, the karismatic one picks a pool fight with Christian Taylor. Christian is muscled up and harder than I’ve seen him before. And he seems to get a kick out of the playful calling out that Kid K slaps down. They’re in the pool quickly and tossing one another around impressively. On the theme of rides that would be fan favorites at a homoerotic wrestling theme park, getting the chance to have Kid K on your shoulders, crotch-to-face, as he flexes and taunts, would be in Space Mountain territory.
I’d stand in line for Christian’s crotch in my face as well, for that matter. Now typically, a pool match leaves me feeling all frustrated. So much of Kid K’s gorgeous physique is underwater most of the time. I love seeing him throw Christian around like a rag doll, of course, but what opportunities that arise from wrestling in water seem to me to be outweighed by the obscuring of the wrestler’s bodies themselves. In this case, the pool time is relatively brief, and it does serve the most excellent purpose of displaying Kid K’s muscle-bully attitude (with a twist of arousal).
On dry land, Christian takes several more trips on Space Mountain, with Kid’s crotch shoved hard down onto Christian’s chin. The karismatic one continues to taunt and bully. Even though Christian has the long limbs and potential leverage to have a chance against Kid K, he can’t rally for more than a minute before the cocky red-head slaps him down like a puppy. 

 Christian doesn’t always appear to be too upset about it, either. I mean, he suffers just fine. He takes a beating, getting slammed and tossed and choked every which way to Sunday, but can you blame him for the irrepressible smile stretched across his lips as Kid K flexes and preens with his cock pressed against Christian’s chin?

One could almost imagine this as a Thunder’s Arena bit from the bold strokes, but make no mistake, these boys wrestle hard. Unlike over at Thunder’s, where there often seems to be a wanting for motivation to explain why the boys throw down, Kid K and Christian build some sweet intensity laced unmistakably with the fine scent of foreplay. Christian does not just role over and take it, despite every evidence that he’s nothing but flattered to be in Kid K’s sights. Kid K is determined to show off, to act as if it’s a cakewalk, but it’s less about it actually being a cakewalk than it is about Kid K showing the pretty one that he can take him at any moment, that he will dominate him at will, that he can crush Christian’s boy and break his will whenever it suits him. Locked up tight in Kid K’s figure-4 sleeper, Christian struggles. He fights it. He doesn’t want to be embarrassed so completely. Personally, I think he desperately wants to prove that he can hang with the karismatic one, that he deserves to be in Kid K’s league. He doesn’t want to be muscled around and sleepered out cold with the pool water still dripping from his hair.

 But Kid K knows what Christian wants, and all the wrestling foreplay pays off as Kid K wakes sleeping beauty with a kiss. To be clear, Kid K has been smacking down aggressive, stolen kisses frequently during the action. This is explicit homoeroticism that makes me stand up and cheer (once I’ve toweled off). The harder Christian makes him work, the more Kid K seems to grow hungry for the taste of Christian’s lips. Finally laying him out cold, Kid K crouches over his vanquished opponent and tenderly, like Prince Charming himself all of the sudden, he tenderly wakes Christian up in one of the most pleasing ways one can be awakened.

Rough play followed by tender care is one of my very favorite stories of all. Kid K helps the tall, battered boy, woozy from his sleeper, up to his feet. Tenderly, dare I say, lovingly (well, at the very least, lustfully), Kid K wraps his muscle bound left arm around Christian’s waist and lets the pretty boy lean on him for support and balance as they slowly begin to make their way inside. Christian, perhaps not as befuddled and in need of a gentleman’s aid as he might have let on, slides the palm of his hand down the bulging muscles of Kid K’s back and underneath Kid K’s turquoise trunks, copping a quick feel of those legendary muscle glutes. Kid K cups the pretty one’s tight ass, as if in reply, and they head inside.

Fantastic homoerotic wrestling fare. I buy the story from start to finish, of sexual tension that detours through rough housing, bullying domination, building hotter and hotter until Kid K puts Christian out cold, at which point all the allusions and implications are finally played out. They put their cards on the table. And they walk off arm in arm (and asses in hand), both fully aroused and ready to blow. This is a wonderful piece of homoerotic wrestling.

Welcoming the Surprise Guest

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I’m still a little flush from the muscle competition at Bodybuilding.com yesterday. The image in my mind of James bent over Eightpak’s knee, his trunks wedged high up his crack, and Eightpak spanking his athlete’s cheeks is still seared into my brain. What an image like that does to me brings me to today’s musings: uses for a wrestling hard-on.

For me, the hard-on opens up a whole smorgasbord of opportunities. A sweet, hard fought battle is arousing enough to witness, but the appearance of hard-ons indicates that observer and observed are on the same page in recognizing that wrestling is about sexual domination. Competing companies handle the hard-on differently (so to speak) it seems to me, so for today I want to just consider BG East’s treatment of the wrestler’s erection.
What to do with the hard-on once it graces us with its presence… Jarrett Cole and Jake Omega take time to simply welcome each other’s hard-ons with gentle, appreciative awe. They take turns stroking each other’s hard-ons from outside their trunks. Jarrett’s index finger tracing the heft of Jake’s hard-on suggests a literal, comparative measuring of one another’s manhood. I also have to imagine Jarrett’s mind is already ticking off the things he’s planning on doing with Jake’s impressive tool.
I’m not sure who this cheerful stud is from BG East’s roster, but he shows another approach to the appearance of his opponent’s sizeable erection. He simply grabs the thick shaft and gives it a tug. Frankly, clawing his balls would probably inflict considerably more pain, but when hard-ons arrive on the scene, wrestling isn’t entirely just about strategic advantage. The hard-on begs for being touched, grabbed, held and squeezed, letting your opponent know that his arousal is noted and will be dealt with directly.
Here we see Gabriel’s defensive grab of Mike Martin’s cock. Stripped, hammerlocked and choked, Gabriel feels Mike’s hard-on knocking at the door of Gabriel’s naked ass. With remarkable presence of mind, Gabriel uses his free hand to squeeze inside Mike’s trunks and grab hold of his knocker. Knowing Gabriel’s work, we must wonder whether this is actually defensive, though. He very well may have in mind enhancing Mike’s pleasure in order to better facilitate showing him the hospitality of welcoming him across the threshold.
Jarret Cole’s approach here deserves a second look. He has his opponent beaten down on his stomach in the center of the ring. This pleases Jarret, obviously. Unpacking his own hard-on, Jarret slides it inside the back of his opponent’s trunks, capitalizing on both the friction of the fabric and the frottage to feed his hungry python.
And speaking of feeding, for those of us orally fixated, the erection demands special attention. Here, Dark Rogers, one of the princes of the aroused altercation, cracks his light-headed opponent backward across his knee. Seeing the kid’s pleasure inches away from Dark’s mouth, Dark applies some mutually gratifying mouth and teeth action. Now this is the proper way to capitalize on an over the knee backbreaker!
Perhaps the most common scenario is illustrated here by one of the men of my dreams, Rafe Sanchez. Rafe’s own hard-on is screaming out at him for servicing. His command of Sebastian Rios has engorged Rafe’s insatiable member. Conveniently enough, he finds Sebastian’s face trapped, inches away from his throbbing cock. Grabbing a handful of hair in his right hand and cupping the back of Sebastian’s head in his left, Rafe rubs his opponent’s head humiliatingly into his erection. The force feed, both inside and outside of trunks, epitomizes the rewards of victory.
What’s still missing? In the interest of modesty, I’ve left out the pics of hard-ons put to good use in pec frottage. Most of the rest are variations on the theme: hand to cock, cock to face, cock to ass… One technique that I wasn’t able to put my hands on was the bodyscissors transition to capturing the suffering man’s erection between your feet. Christian Taylor is in prime position for this move here, if he just unlaced his ankles, bent his knees up further, and captured Jonah’s cock in the arches of his feet. I’m not entirely sure why that makes me see stars, but I’m a huge fan of this move on tape and in real life, both giving and receiving the joy. Of course there’s the dick slap, the figure-four force feed, the anal probe standing, seated, spooning, etc., etc., etc.
This is what makes mainstream pro inevitably inadequate, at least on its own. Straight grapplers who can’t manage to get themselves worked up are always at least a little disappointing to me. The generous welcome of the raging erection is a joy of infinite variety, to be welcomed like an esteemed guest, honored with lavish attention, and satisfied with relentless hospitality.

…In Love and War

wrestlebard3 Comments

There are plenty of products out there showing gorgeous men in skimpy trunks grappling, dominating and submitting. Sometimes, though, I want a little more of the “homoerotic” in my homoerotic wrestling. Of course the dick slap across the face, or the post-match blow job or fuck gets to the point. But a little more subtle, and often much more erotic, is the wrestling kiss. When they pull out the liplock, suddenly I’m not trying to guess if these guys are actually gay or just toying with us. When one man’s tongue is shoved down another man’s throat, I don’t really care anymore.
I’m not referring to the post-victory seal of ownership, though that’s nice as well. But the aggressive or defensive kiss in the middle of a match is a really delicious plot twist. In the middle of Patrick Donovan’s domination of Brandon Aldrich in Mat Brats 1, Brandon employs a defensive liplock that derails the veteran Patrick. Pecboy Patrick returns the favor with a cranking headlock on Brandon, who’s flat on his back with Patrick’s tongue down his throat. Patrick breaks the liplock, explaining that any further reward for Brandon will require him to earn it through abject suffering.

Patrick’s no stranger to kissing as ring-plot. His partner in Tag Team Torture 1 was the notorious kisser, Sean Patrick (in my mind I always wrote the backstory that these performers were lovers). In humiliation after humiliation suffered at the hands of heels Jose and Cruze, Patrick and Sean find themselves in naked, face-to-face, mirror-image camel clutches, with their lips shoved together in the middle of the ring (I confess I love this so much I wrote it into my fiction, with Adrian Pasdar and Milo Ventimiglia in a helpless liplock in the clutches of Sendhil Ramamurthy and Christopher Meloni). The choreography here is sweet. This isn’t the only time this device is used in BG East, but it’s certainly one of the sweetest. Cruz and Jose also torture the skinny studs in a remarkable naked, stacked, double camel clutch and boston crab that’s got to be seen to be believed.
Though Sean Patrick earned the moniker “The Kisser,” it must be said that Kid Vicious has got to be the master (of many things but in particular) of the aggressive match kiss. KV’s knack for using his wiry body to systematically pick to pieces his hot stud opponent’s is “mind”blowing all in itself. But his sadistic joy in wrapping his prey up in paralyzing positions and slapping a forced liplock on gets my motor running.

An astonishing tag moment near the top of my homoerotic wrestling favorites is the fantastic beatdown that the Brooklyn Bodywrecker and Shane McCall put on Liam Ryan and Brian Powers in Tag Team Torture 2. I think all tag team matches should include the overt storyline of teams of lovers fighting one another. After BBW made Shane is boy in Dark Knights 5, they show up clearly having sorted out their daddy/cub relationship. Liam and Brian similarly let us know that they had each other’s backs well before arriving in the ring. There’s a brief moment of fun when skinny boy Liam puts some ecstatic hurt on leatherboy BBW, but inevitably the heels slam the shit out of the Liam and Brian. Ultimately, Brian’s taped into one corner, and after having Liam’s face shoved in his partner’s crotch from every angle, the heels torture the skinny Irishman in the center of the ring. Near the final moment of victory, BBW gives his cub a treat by pinning Liam’s face against Shane’s crotch while the two heels enjoy some convincing making out. On paper, this may all sound like it runs thin, but I buy this from start to finish.

Sometimes my kink is just seeing guys beating the crap out of one another. Sometimes I’m really looking for some humiliation. But serve me up some genuine liplocks as aggression (or defense) in the wrestling ring, and I’m sold.