Making Jake

The next catalog apparently has a new Jake Jenkins match previewed in BG East Arena this week, in which the former homoerotic wrestler of the month squares off on the mats with always underestimated and deceptively dangerous Skrapper.  It’s been a while since I posted a dose of Making Jake, so let’s consider more of the ABC’s that make Jake Jenkins such a compelling homoerotic wrestler.
K is for “kneel at my feet, bitch!”

..kneel.  Pry your eyes away from the aesthetic perfection of Kid Karisma’s award-winning ass and appreciate the stunningly sexy dominance he has over Jake in their sexy-as-hell ring match for Hunkbash 12.  I could come up with an A-Z catalog just documenting the insanely sexy wonders (yes, that’s 3 uses of the word “sexy” in 2 sentences!) that my top contender for reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler (Kid K) does to his highly acrobatic “monkey boy” opponent, Jake.  Potentially the sweetest of all is when Kid K drags this lovely homage to Kevin Von Erich off the mat by a fistful of hair, his own stunning muscles pumped and primed, staring down at the sweaty, battered, beaten, slack jawed beauty before him as humiliatingly makes Jake kneel.

L is for leaping from the turnbuckle!

leap. Speaking of acrobatics and being a monkey boy, there’s nothing more provocative about Jake than watching him in his natural habitat, swinging from the ropes and climbing the corners of a pro wrestling ring.  The 5’7″, this top babyface of 2012 could make hay for days capitalizing on a low center of gravity and his hot, thick musculature.  Fuck that.  Jake loves to fly, like when Rock Hard Wrestling’s stud puppy, Cliff Johnson’s long lovely bod is flat on it’s back, the overhead lights spinning in his eyes, and his tag team partner a couple of miles away, helpless to do anything but watch his buddy about to get pummeled from projectile Jake.  Cliff’s tantalizing helplessness laid out like a turkey dinner delightfully makes Jake leap!

M is for pushing the mild-mannered stud too far and making him mad!

mad.  I enjoy Jake’s range.  For example, in his tag team match alongside partner Austin Cooper, staring across the ring at Lon Dumont and Nicholas Rush, he chuckles at the start of Tag Team Torture 15.  The boys in stars and stripes think that they’ve got absolutely nothing to worry about.  They’re gorgeous, powerful, and probably Coop’s biceps are about twice as thick and strong as newbie Nick’s quads.  And they’ve partnered in the ring possibly the most of any current (or former?) homoerotic wrestling tag team, establishing a rapport and sweet empathy for one another’s trials in the action.  But here, catch the look of fury on Jake’s face as Coop offers a hand to peel him off the mat after getting used and abused by my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler, Lon Dumont.  The vulnerability of all that high octane muscle having to get a hand off the floor, combined with that rising boil of rage in his eyes is such sweet character development, as Lon Dumont makes Jake mad.

N is for watching your partner humiliated as you start to get nervous.

nervous.  That finely honed empathy Jake’s developed with frequent tag team partner Austin Cooper is a double-edged tool, of course.  On the one hand, Jake and Coop can probably finish each other’s sentences like an old married couple by now, having grown to know exactly what to expect from one another in the heat of battle.  Knowing your partner’s tolerances and limits, having confidence in your partner’s strengths and loyalty… these are fine weapons to bring to bear as a dangerously devastating tag team.  Then again, all that empathy can serve just to share the suffering when one of you is getting crushed and humiliated and you’re stuck obeying the rules from your corner.  When expert sadist and prettyboy basher Ethan Andrews gets his mitts all over Coop’s soaked, bulging body, things start to take a turn for the worse for team goldenboys.  Locking Coop up tight in a camel clutch and prying his helpless head backward to show the camera the handsome stud’s tortured humility leaves Jake pleading with his partner to rally, stretching his hand hopelessly inside the ring so far out of reach, paining the fresh man in the corner to watch his buddy getting messed up and taunted, and with Coop fading fast and looking like he’s about to literally cry uncle, making Jake nervous.

O is for finally putting Mr. Mountain Dew out cold and leaving a little drool dribbling from the corner of his mouth, oblivious.

oblivious.  Jake is not at all unlike a can of Mountain Dew vigorously shaken and then popped open: a concentrated burst of energy exploding all over the ring with a sugary sweet aftertaste.  Kid K called him a monkey boy because Jake doesn’t stop moving, climbing, leaping, sprinting.  He’s a fantastic combination of grace and power, and even when he gives away a fall, you get the sense the rubber ball is just about to bounce right back up.  So it’s probably no wonder that so many of his opponents can only claim an enduring victory over him after they’ve rendered the fitness model unconscious.  All that kinetic energy, all that motion and coordination and acrobatics and emoting go slack, and the allure of a muscled athlete dozing away, completely at the mercy of another man, is the homoerotic wrestling money shot for me.  What a thrilling climax it is to watch 2012’s top heel, Jonny Firestorm, take total possession of 2012’s top babyface in 2012’s best squash of the year, Jobberpaloozer 12, when he makes Jake oblivious.

Having put in my time marveling at Jake today, let me simply offer my assurances to BG East’s winner of best abs and best debut of 2012 that I’ll be stroking his ego as well, soon!

Making Jake…

After reading my first edition of the a-b-c’s of Making Jake…, Eli Black put me on notice that a little love for JJ is okay, but not to be distracted from appreciating Primus.  Having duly noted Eli’s words of caution, here are my next Making Jake… contributions: letters F through J.
Making Jake…
“F” is for flex: the sight of Christian Taylor’s destruction compels Jake to do it in Wet and Wild 6

flex! While I’d pay a premium to see Jake in “forced to flex” scenario, it’s still delightful to see him look down at the work he’s wrought, such as brutally bashing a whimpering submission from former homoerotic wrestler of the month Christian Taylor, and finding himself irresistibly compelled to plant his left foot on his vanquished opponent and display the very same sweetly sweat-soaked muscles credited with crushing the hopes of another hot hunk.  His sight of his opponent’s vulnerability, anguish, and impotence grab hold of his full attention and make Jake flex.

“G” is for grovel: Jayden Mayne makes Jake do it in Gazebo Grapplers 13

grovel. Jake does dozens of things extremely well (thus the premise for this series of posts), but I have to say I think at or very near the top of the list is his incredibly evocative groveling.  He’s such the hunky high-school hero turned cocky homoerotic wrestling stud puppy! Every Jake-match starts with him in the foreground and his cool, calm, supremely confident self-assurance in his destiny to sit on top of the heap in the background.  This makes it that much more moving to watch when a long, lanky, young tattooed punk like Jayden Mayne manages not only to get the upperhand on the high school hero (who almost certainly gave skinny kids like Jayden swirlies in the boys bathroom not long ago), but to to put Jake on his hands and knees, controlling the handsome hunk by a handful of hair, and make Jake grovel!

“H” is for horny, which Jake can handle all by himself!

horny. So it’s totally true that, other than a youthful indiscretion captured on digital recording that I’ve promised him not to name here, Jake’s on-camera career has stayed firmly on the PG-rated side of the homoerotic wrestling pool.  For all of the thousands of gay men who Jake expertly turns on at the drop of a hat, my well-educated guess is that off the clock he probably satisfies himself by bedroom wrestling with some phallic-deficient beauty(ies).  I swear to you that the boy with the luscious lips is packing major league heat, but he keeps his powertool safely tucked away in everything we’ve seen of him in the homoerotic wrestling universe.  But this behind-the-scenes shot from BG East of Jake playing with his nipples is a nothing short of fucking art! Because if anyone can turn Jake on, it’s Jake.  Putting the self-stimulated into homoerotic wrestling, Jake’s the man to make Jake horny!

“I” is for incapacitated: Eli Black doe it to Jake better than just about anyone

incapacitated. A wise, albeit verbose commentor told me once (and then a thousand times) that the winning formula in homoerotic wrestling is taking a gorgeous, powerful muscle stud and watch all those muscles made impotent (which is my runner-up for the “i” category in this series).  While I quibble with the notion that there’s just one formula for hot wrestling, seeing bromantic Eli Black shove Jake’s head between his thighs and nearly rip Jake’s arms out by the shoulders while Jake’s breathtaking bare ass writhes and wriggles pointlessly is like a direct shot of adrenaline to my wrestling kink.  There are fewer scenes more provocative than watching someone make Jake incapacitated.

“J” is for jump: Cliff Johnson absolutely demands just that from resident “little fucking monkey”

jump! Jake’s compulsion to fly is precisely what prompted Kid Karisma to refer to him as that “little fucking monkey” in our interview last January.  “I have never seen someone jump around as much as him,” Kid K marveled. The first time I saw Jake wrestle, my initial snap judgment was that he had amateur wrestling cred which would translate to underwhelming entertainment value in the pro wrestling ring.  Right about the time that thought occurred to me, Jake came bouncing off the ropes both feet first to land a totally respectable and highly entertaining flying drop kick! Of course, not every match makes Jake jump.  But in the pro ring, in firm possession of the match momentum, all it takes is some over-confident, flat-footed, unsuspecting hardbodied hunk standing in front of him to make Jake jump!

Reader’s Choice – Nick Collins

Voting was enthusiastic and the competition was hotly contested, but Rock Hard Wrestling’s Nick Collins managed to hold off a late surge by BG East beefcake, Morgan Cruise, to claim the Reader’s Choice award for the recent rookie with the brightest potential.
Jake Jenkins ties Nicky up like a pretzel

Nicky’s appeal can hardly be a mystery. The lean, ripped body… the shaggy, long, yankable hair… that hefty package and oh-so-sweet round ass vacuum packed inside those skin tight trunks… still frame alone makes eager Nick Collins someone to watch.

Jake has his way with fresh, young Nicky

In both his singles and tag-team debuts at Rock Hard, he also shows clear evidence that he can wrestle. He’s nowhere near the polish and ring savvy of the RHW catalog 6 breakouts like muscle stud (and former homoerotic wrestler of the month) Jake Jenkins and his partner in crime, Austin Cooper (who, let’s face it, have come a long, long way in their short careers). Nicky has some amateur wrestling background, clearly, in the way he leverages is lean, tight body to flip and control his opponents. He’s a fit young stud who can get tossed and slammed and keep coming back.

Jake and Austin cannot get enough of rookie bashing Nicky

But he is a rookie, let’s face it. He sells about 40% of the time. He goes from 0 to 60 (writhing in agony to snarling with contempt and hardly breathing heavy at all) in the blink of an eye. He hasn’t yet really sold me, at least, with a reason that he’s climbed into the ring to face brutal, full contact competition. I can imagine the backstory, but sweet, sweet Nicky hasn’t yet really fleshed out the character and motivation for us.

All that fit muscle and bulging potential!

Which may be why so many of you tapped him for the rookie with the most potential. He’s got such sweet, bulging, squeezable raw materials to work with, and at the same time he’s got a boat load of improvement to make to turn a couple of passenger seat matches into a full on homoerotic wrestling kink persona that draws us in for more than just the beauty of that baby, baby, babyface and lean, hard body.

When he sells it, Nicky’s a gorgeously vulnerable babyface

Check babyboy out getting battered and abused by muscleboys Jake and Austin in his tag team defeat with partner Cliff Johnson, or pounding out two out of three to take a victory from fellow fresh face rookie Gunner Bayani.

Sweet, sweet potential!
Personally, I think my favorite homoerotic wrestler, non-pornboy division (and current homoerotic wrestler of the monthLon Dumont needs to ring the school bell and open up a clinic for all of these rookies to learn so, so much (with sweet Nicky at the head of the class, of course)! I’ve also got a deep craving to see the top contender chomping at Lon’s ass for the title of favorite homoerotic wrestler, non-pornboy, and former homoerotic wrestler of the monthKid Karisma, wrap little Nicky’s back around a ring post like a Christmas ribbon. Potential? Hell, yes.

Don’t let that flat-chested bitch beat you!

The Rock Hard Wrestling tag-team match pitting former homoerotic wrestler of the month Jake Jenkins and his frequent friend and foe, Austin Cooper against twink scrappers Cliff Johnson and Nick Collins has been up for a while. However, my pennies have been diverted elsewhere, so it’s only now that I’ve had an opportunity to dip the ladle back in the gamey elixir of Rock Hard Wrestling’s unique talents at filming hard, devastatingly handsome hunks laying down some pro-style maneuvers.

Like the past several RHW matches I’ve watched, I’m giving this tag-team bout a thumbs up. There’s a glaringly weakest link in this mash up that you can’t miss. What the hell was little Nicky Collins thinking climbing into the ring against the experience and outrageously gorgeous muscle physiques of Jake and Coop!? Cliff, while still seeming to me to qualify for twinkdom, has a nasty attitude of a heel to make his slender form seem somehow that much more potently dangerous. Cliff is a cocky son of a bitch. He’s mean. He’d like nothing better than to dominate and humiliate a couple of fitness model pretty boys who think that a competitive amateur wrestling resume can translate into the professional wrestling ring. I get Cliff’s motivation. Little Nicky, however? He’s nervous. You’ll see what I mean. No doubt, he’s got a poker face, but he’s got tells you can see a mile away. When he’s leaning across the top rope, taking a breather while Cliff is getting tossed, slammed, pummeled and crushed inside the ring, I swear you can see it written on little Nicky’s face: damn, glad that’s not me. As a lamb led to slaughter, little Nicky Collins is perfectly on cue.

Jake Jenkins continues to captivate me. Perhaps the homoerotic wrestling world might be divisible into Jake-fans and Coop-fans. It seems to me that I see devotees of each who don’t seem nearly as interested in the other. If the world were that simple to dichotomize, I’d be squarely on the Jake Jenkins side of the fence. The face, the body, his adrenaline on turbo boost, his ass… in this tag-team match, Jake also reminds me of another reason that I’m so turned on by him: that mouth.

The action in this match is well-paced. The boys use about 80% of the ring, and there’s a healthy mix of amateur and pro wrestling moves as they inhabit territory in mid-air, on their feet, and down to the mat. Within the first 5 seconds, Jake and Coop are cheating, with Coop pounding Cliff into the unfriendly corner where Jake locks him up from the ring apron to leave him defenseless against his partner’s assault.  As often happens in RHW action, the tables turn on a dime (sometimes leaving me feeling a little whiplashed, in fact), and Cliff illustrates his hottest move: with one arm wrapped around Austin’s throat from behind and the other controlling Austin’s left arm behind his back, Cliff drops to one knee, driving Austin’s lower back squarely down on top of Cliff’s bent knee (when he pulls this off on Jake late in the match, you can see why it’s even more devastating on a shorter opponent!). It’s a sweet move that looks like it really hurts, and Cliff repeats it often. The golden boy looks like he’s got nothing to counter it, in fact, which inspires Jake, watching on with concern, to bark encouragement from the corner. “Come on Coop! Don’t  take that shit from him. Make him sniff your ass!”

The greatest tragedy of this match is that when all is said and done, the boys-wonder have neglected to follow through and make Cliff sniff Austin’s ass. However, there’s plenty of storytelling still to come. Each time one man gets the upper hand and exploits his advantage to the point of cocky arrogance, it comes back to bite him in the ass. With Coop’s number on speed dial, Cliff delights in hurting the big blond beauty. For his troubles, as soon as Jake tags in, he scoops Cliff up in his arms, lunges backward and flings the lean and mean one over his head, slamming him to his back.  As payback for Jake taking some extra liberties rubbing in the domination over Cliff, little Nicky (inexplicably) exhausts and schoolboy pins Jake, pounding his pecs for days. Now, my armchair assessment is that Jake could eat Nicky for afternoon tea and still have room for a porterhouse steak. However, the sound of panic rising in Jake’s voice as he cries for some underhanded interference from the ring apron makes me swoon just a little. “Get him off me!” Jake pleads/demands of Coop. “You’re close! Get him off me!”

With the badboy interference from outside the ropes pushing the reset button, little Nicky suddenly has a giant target painted on his ass. Jake controls the nervous one with exquisitely commanding strength and focus. Folding up Nicky’s legs and prying them upward in a nasty-looking backbreaker, Jake revels in the sight of the twink pounding his fists into the mat helplessly. “Eat the mat!” Jake chuckles as he shoves little Nicky’s face downward with his right forearm. A few seconds later, he’s tossed Nicky to his back, rolled him up with Nicky’s ass pointed at the ceiling, and pinned his shoulders to the mat for a leisurely three count pinfall with Cliff looking on from the ring apron in disgust.  “That’s how you do it in Jake Jenkin’s house!” Jake declares.

The start of round 2 finds wiry Nicky slipping behind Jake and wrapping a sloppy choke across the muscle stud’s throat. The look on J’s face is priceless (10:13), as he smirks at Coop and rolls his eyes in contempt for the twink backback he’s got on. A second later, he bends forward, sending unprepared Nicky head over heels and slamming to his back with a gasp.  As I said, little Nicky is the weakest link by far, both in selling and in keeping pace with quality wrestling of the other three. His primary arsenal is that schoolboy pin and flurry of fists to Jake’s pecs that he comes back to a couple times more. He takes some nice punishment, especially from Jake, and 7 times out of 10, he sells some satisfying suffering. But the pec punching offense wears a bit thin, and the boys-wonder thankfully make him pay for his lack of creativity.

The other three relative veterans dial up the storytelling, pretty much redeeming little Nicky’s performance as far as I’m concerned. While it’s primarily little Nicky punching Jake, Cliff gets in some gratuitous shots as well. When Coop tags in, he’s determined to even the score and defend his partner’s honor (now that’s sexy!). “You going to hit my guy like that!?” Coop shouts down into Cliff’s face, tit-for-tat schoolboy pinning the lean wrestler and delivering a barrage of retributive pec punches. Cliff is nearly pounded a couple of inches into the mat beneath Coop’s big, beautiful body and jabbing fists. “Yah!” Coop crows, climbing off his dazed opponent. “You aint hittin’ nobody now!

With little Nicky in his corner leaving the storytelling to more expert hands, Cliff battles his way back to his feet and drops big Coop with some choice strikes. “You slap me like a bitch, huh?” he growls furiously.

“You are a bitch!” Coop shouts from one knee, letting his mouth keep writing checks even while Cliff is cashing in on a growingly arrogant beatdown.

But it’s Jake’s mouth that works me hardest, as he jumps into the battle of words from his position in the corner, waiting to enter the fray. “Don’t let that flat chested bitch beat you!” he shouts encouragingly to Coop.

While this match is not seamless, and there are several moments when the boys have to remind one another where the story arc is taking them next, the final 45 seconds are beautifully executed and majorly hot. The muscle stud victors finally start firing on all cylinders, and with all 4 men in the ring at once, Jake and Coop deliver side-by-side, simultaneous offenses like synchronized swimmers.  With little Nicky draped across Jake’s huge shoulders like a mink stole, and bitter-in-defeat Cliff screaming in pain racked across Coop’s sculpted body, my anti-heroes delight in humiliating the outmatched, outmuscled team and, they absolutely pulse with testosterone as they flex and taunt overtop of the battered losers. Hot, hot story, boys!

My Avatar

So here’s the scenario: a long, lanky runway model climbs into a pro wrestling ring with a shorter, muscle bound fitness model, determined to put the “little guy” in his place. Regular readers of my work in the fictional homoerotic wrestling universe of the Producer’s Ring will recognize this story line instantly. But wait… I didn’t write this story! This is a live action, high definition, sweat and muscle throw down brought to you by the franchise that specializes exclusively (for the most part) in fantasy men: Rock Hard Wrestling.

New RHW wrestlers Jake Jenkins and Cliff Johnson star in RHW’s newest release. Jake is the 5’7″, 155 pound fitness model. Cliff is the 6’1″, 175 pound runway model. Staring one another down in the middle of the ring, these two instantly tweak one of my “guilty” wrestling kink pleasures: short v tall.

I don’t know exactly what it is that makes a short v tall wrestling match so intensely erotic for me. There’s of course something inherently sexy about one man dominating over another, and a notable size differential adds to the available repertoire of domination holds, lifts, and blows that more closely matched opponents might not be able to pull off. But by no means am I just a fan of the big guy tossing around the little guy (though that can be awfully satisfying). My kink also kicks into high gear at the sight of a smaller opponent beating the living shit out of the bigger guy. Perhaps it’s the nod to a bullied-revenge plot that speaks to my inner, insecure gay adolescent. Since I’m not exactly the tallest kid in the class myself, maybe I’m just superimposing myself, empowered and dominant, onto the tight “little” package of Jake Jenkins. Perhaps Jake becomes my avatar, working out all the aggression and righteous indignation I’ve felt over the years when bigger guys stare down at me with a smirk of condescension.

In any case, here’s what I see: Jake and Cliff execute nicely, in fact better than your average RHW match, I’d say. In the actual delivery of kicks, stomps and punches (which RHW matches consistently seem to fixate on), Jake and Cliff both sell with convincing flair and timing. Cliff is determined to not undersell his suffering when Jake has been on a roll, and I, for one, applaud that. I’m okay with the miraculous recovery under most circumstances, but I like the pathos of a wrestler fighting with the aches and pains of a vicious attack in order to battle his way back on top, despite himself. Cliff looks like he really struggles to overcome not only Jake, but his own physical tolerances for pain and exhaustion. Love that.

I don’t know where Jake or Cliff are coming from, but I’m guessing Jake has some amateur wrestling experience on his CV, and that Cliff does not. Jake sets the terms of this match instantly by going for a pinfall. Fall one, indeed, eventually goes to Jake for wrapping the long, long body of his opponent up into an ass-splayed small package. It’s a hold like this that makes me long to be ringside, with my champ, Jake, holding Cliff immobilized and humiliated, for me to slide into the ring and more closely examine, in tactile detail, the humiliated physique of the vulnerable hunk. I think there’s a market there, for not just the loser-gets-fucked by the winner scenarios (done delightfully and often), but perhaps a loser-gets-fucked by the winner’s manager, patron, second, or partner. You tag ’em, Jake, and I’ll bag ’em.

What makes me think that Cliff doesn’t have the amateur cred that Jake does is his second fall win with an odd pin that, while immobilizing Jake to his back, leaves the fitness model’s shoulders nowhere near making contact with the mat. It’s one too many “pins” for my taste anyway. Bring on the submission torture, boys! Speaking of which, I’m liking the corner abuse both boys inflict in turn, in a tit-for-tat exchange with legs “trapped” over the top ropes and the victims hanging helplessly upside down for bashing. Cliff takes the lead first, stomping and punching Jake’s rippled abs, taunting him nicely. Jake follows up, with a significant assist from Cliff to get into position (size differential is requires some stagecraft on a few counts… no harm, no foul, I’d say). Jake lands two hot drop kicks into the runway model’s abs, without a ton of momentum, but hot, nevertheless.

The third and decisive fall is a figure-4 leglock submission following up a completely gratuitous stomp to the runway model’s balls. Now there’s the glimpse of greatness I hope for from RHW! There are no refs. They sell a full contact, NHB sort of story. So there’s absolutely no credible reason that we aren’t seeing more ball bashing. There’s just no excuse for failing to see more long, torturous holds with the catcher screaming in agony and the pitcher taunting, delighting, soaking in the sight of his domination. Cliff taps way too quickly in the figure-4, and Jake releases the hold similarly too fast to make this entirely kink-satisfying. And the pecs on Jake are screaming for some laughing pec claws threatening to rip the fitness boy to shreds. Cliff’s comparatively soft core should provide a legally binding requirement for Jake, the fitness model, to claw, stretch, pummel and knead the runway model’s abs like a loaf of bread dough.

As is so often the case with my reviews for RHW, I say again, there’s a lot that’s going right here. The gay wrestling kink audience (surely 99.9% of RHW revenues) should find plenty to entertain us. But the personalities need to be about 15 times bigger, the holds held about 3 times longer, the gear either about half the size, or stripped out of the square cuts partway through to much less/nothing, and the physiological bases of homoerotic wrestling abuse (pec/nipple abuse, cock & ball bashing, holds that not only dominate (lingeringly) but display these impressive physiques like serving up a platter of steaks) need to be covered with their audience in mind. I know, it’s easy to be Barcalounger Quarterback. I don’t want to suggest that I wouldn’t snap up another Jake Jenkins match (please, I beg of you, against Travis Storm), in a heartbeat. But I’m still waiting to throw that coming of age party for RHW that Joe and I have been longing to celebrate.