Wednesday’s Woes

I’m entirely on board with the erotic power of a tree of woe. The ToW is an example of how some homoerotic wrestling gems simply require a professional wrestling ring.  Hang a hammered hunk upside down in the corner, his knees draped over the top ropes and his feet locked in place beneath the cable connecting the turnbuckle to the post, and there’s all sorts of a hot wrestling gold that’s suddenly ripe for picking. It’s a maneuver that signals total control over a mastered man. The subject of woe is laid out so vulnerably, his body not just on display, but trussed up beautifully for easy access to innovative methods of torture.  There’s a little crossover here between bondage kink and wrestling kink, with enough of both to show due respect to all parties involved, as far as I’m concerned.  In honor of those of you who harbor a special place in your hearts and crotches for an agonizing, dominating, body manipulating tree of woe (and I hear from you often), this post is for you.  Here are 10 ideas for what to do with an opponent once you’ve trapped him in a tree of woe.

Climb on top, knee crushing his balls, and celebrate like Brooklyn Bodywrecker.
When finding yourself out-boxed, hang the fucker upside down and peel off his gloves to make this all about homoerotic wrestling, like Brodie Fisher.
Grab a dumbbell and bash your opponent’s six-pack abs, like Eli Black.
Duck outside the ring and wrench the trapped fucker’s head backward, like Cameron Matthews.
Stop on his flowing locks and dare the muscleboy to squirm, like Ethan Andrews.
Stand outside the ring and threaten to rip his arms out at the shoulder, like Alex Waters.
Make sure his trunks are hooked on the turnbuckle and slipping off, then land a soaring drop kick to the helpless stud’s gut, like Jonny Firestorm.
Sit on his face, like the Brooklyn Bodywrecker.
Pause and appreciate the view – and feel – like Jarret Cole.
That’s right, a Tree of Woe/Bearhug/Headscissors combination, nice and snug in the crushing embrace of Cole Cassidy!

Thursday Thighs

I am a vegetarian, but that doesn’t stop me from loving big, juicy, meaty thighs. For no other reason than a absolute adoration of alliteration, here are a sample of some of the juiciest homoerotic wrestler quads that come to my mind in order to celebrate Thursday Thighs.

BG East’s Tyrell Tomsen
Can-Am’s Steve Sterling




BG East (and Thunder’s Arena’s) Braden Charron
Naked Kombat’s Race Cooper
BG East’s Mike Columbo
Can-Am’s Jungle Stud



BG East’s Cole Cassidy
Can-Am’s Johnny Olson
BG East’s Jeff Phoenix
Can-Am’s Troy Lucas
BG East’s Blaze
Can-Am’s Philippe Nicolas

Victory is Mine!

Regular readers have heard me bitching and whining about my work life for years now. I’ve been wrestling with a bear of a job that leaves me underpaid and my labor generally exploited by others. However, I’m ecstatic to report that the mammoth project that has been weighing me down and distracting me from the great fun of posting more here and writing more homoerotic wrestling fiction has come to a thrilling conclusion. I took some vicious attacks along the way, but as of today, I have wrestled the mother fucker to his back, pinned his chin beneath my crotch, and slapped down a crowing, lingering, humiliating 3-count pin in the middle of the ring.

Shoulders pinned, leg hooked, crotch hovering at chin-level…

The size and scope of this exhausting victory cannot be overstated. I’m poised to start a new job in a few weeks, which will include an epic promotion and huge jump in compensation. I will be moving across the country in the mean time, so my availability to post around here will likely continue to be spotty. But life is good, gentlemen!

three, you son of a bitch! You’re ass is mine!”

Superhero Sisyphus

Alex Adamov as Sisyphus gets a purchase on Cole Cassidy’s ass in his struggle to rise to his feet in Old School Meets New

Yesterday, I waxed philosophical about the existential implications of a homoerotic wrestler struggling to climb up to his feet, dragging himself up inch by inch holding onto his opponent’s muscles. In a happy coincidence, I just posted a new story on behalf of Alex that features just this fantastic element, as a superhero in trouble struggles on his knees in front of his villainous opponent.

Drew Russell strains to climb Mt. Cole in Florida Fights 4

This 3rd chapter in The Cave series by Alex is climactic in every sense of the word! Holy crap, I needed IV fluids to make it through the end of the match, in which pornstar wrestler Cody, whose wrestling alter-ego is The Bat, is shocked to his core to face his arch-nemesis, Bane.

I’ve heaped praise on Alex’s writing in the past, so I won’t belabor the obvious. Alex’s writing is beautifully artful, his storytelling is compelling, and his homoerotic wrestling imagination is mindblowingly hot! If you’ve read the first 2 chapters of The Cave, get yourself to the Sidelineland collection and find yourself some private time to enjoy the culmination of this erotic trilogy. If you haven’t read the first 2 chapters, do that first before you head to chapter 3… but pace yourself. This is potent, sexy, truly homoerotic fantasy fantastic!

Send me your contributions of homoerotic wrestling fiction to share with the group, and share your feedback through the Sidelineland discussion group (which gives you instant access to the full collection of reader contributions).


In Greek mythology, Sisyphus was cursed to eternally push a boulder up a mountain, only to see it roll back down the mountain each time he reached the top. Drawing from the myth of Sisyphus, existentialist philosopher Camus wrote about the absurdity of the search for meaning in an essentially meaningless world. Like Sisyphus, Camus argued, we are trapped within the futile task of seeking divinity and eternal truths, only to have our convictions tumble down over and over.  We are destined to repeatedly learn that what seems so important to us at any given moment is, ultimately, hollow and pointless.
Battered Coop climbs inch by inch up Diego’s long, luscious body.
As I wrestle a boulder up my own mountain, wondering if there’s any point to it all, it reminds me of the potently erotic moment in some of my favorite homoerotic wrestling matches when a bashed hunk peels himself up off the mat to look up at the dominating beast staring down at him impassively. This drama shows up in most Cole Cassidy matches and several Kid Vicious crushings.  Most recently, my heart nearly beat out of my chest when I watched cocky goldenboy Austin Cooper crawl, inch by inch, up the infinitely long legs of 6’3″ giant Diego Diaz, climbing up the Latino sex-bomb’s legs as Diego leers down at him, just waiting for him to reach his feet only to slam him back down to the mat once again.  Of course, there’s the homoeroticism of the catcher’s face suggestively traversing his opponent’s crotch. And undoubtedly, there’s the drama of whether the beaten man is battered sufficiently to prevent him from launching a vicious attack on the standing hunk’s vulnerability wagging in his face. But I’m captured by this moment for the melodrama, as well, the mythological scope of the scene as a once-invulnerable muscleman keeps climbing in the face of futility. As the pitcher watches impassively from above, allowing his crushee to use his frame as a handhold, to hang from him in his weakness, to lean on him, clutching his muscles for borrowed strength, I’m most moved when the fates are irresistible, and the struggling climber is destined to just barely reach the apex of his journey up his opponent’s body only to be slammed back down to start the futile journey all over again.  Sure, it may be a bleak assessment of the human condition, but it’s one seriously hot scene in homoerotic wrestling, as hunky Sisyphus sweats his way up the mountain, inch by exhausted inch, destined to go tumbling down over and over again.
Cole is uncharacteristically Sisyphus to Chris Bruce’s mountainous muscles
in Demolition 10.
Cole squeezes Chris’s powerful thighs as he climbs up the
classic muscleman’s waiting, glistening body.
Just as Cole reaches the summit, Chris scoops him up…
…parades him helplessly and hopelessly around the ring…
…and flings him back to the mat from where he started. 
Then Cole starts the long journey up the mountain once again….


Have you noticed how in Hollywood movies it’s a moral imperative to believe in the supernatural? I keep hearing the words, “I don’t believe in coincidences” in movies and on television lately. The implication seems to always be that there’s some divine hand moving the universe, lining up otherwise random events into non-coincidental patterns. Well, frankly, I do believe in coincidences. That army of monkeys will, indeed, one day hammer out the complete works of Shakespeare by sheer chance. I’m okay with that.  That’s not to suggest, however, that I don’t like musing on a notable coincidence when it falls in my lap.
Kid Leopard planting a Tree of Woe for Sean Cannon
in BG East’s Superbouts 2
Take, for instance, the third time in as many days that the “tree of woe” has come up in three entirely unrelated conversations I’ve been part of.  Three different homoerotic wrestling fans raised the topic of how hot the tree of woe scenario is. The only reason I really know much about it, as such, is from a series of comments on Rants, Roids & Rasslin’ a while back, in which folks were dissecting a panel from one of RR&R’s wrestling comics. “Tree of woe” is apparently the moniker for that precarious situation when a wrestler discovers himself hanging upside down from the corner turnbuckle, completely vulnerable to a humiliating and devastating attack.
BG East’s Brooklyn Bodywrecker exploiting an opponent’s vulnerability.
It seems to me that there’s more than just a little element of bondage, with the poor catcher’s ankles locked and laced underneath the supports tying the turnbuckle to the ring post. A knee to the gut, a boot to the face… the options appear to be endless. Yes, and hot…
Rock Hard Wrestling’s Lucas Payne lives up to his name in Austin Cooper’s
Tree of Woe

The position also offers an opportunity to see a hot muscle boy stretched out and in jeopardy. Hot strong bodies are the best subjects with which to construct a tree of woe, it seems to me. The mechanics probably work best with a strong, compact, relatively limber body. The aesthetics also work best that way, too, I think.

Cole Cassidy goes to work on Kevin Lee in BG’s Bad Boys

Accomplished master in the fine arts of sadistic ring punishment, Cole Cassidy made the most of bewildered Kevin Lee trapped in his tree of woe.

Cole uses those gorgeous muscles to crush Kevin’s head and midsection.

A bearhug and headscissors combination on Kevin illustrates some of the more creative opportunities that a tree of woe offers to an innovative heel.

Cole leans in real good, adding every ounce of leverage to crush Kevin’s balls.

Of course, any tree of woe that fails to include crotch torture is a waste. Cole is never, ever one to waste anything. A long, slow elbow driven crushing into Kevin’s balls softens him up.

Cole claws Kevin’s crotch and enjoys watching the agony.
Cole latching on a ball claw, with his freakishly fantastic forearms bulging like a cartoon superhero is incredibly erotic.
Cole’s boots and knees tenderize his suspended opponent.

And of course some nasty stomps to Kevin’s… well, to Kevin’s everything, shows why a tree of woe is a blank canvas in the hands of a true artist, at least when Cole is working his magic.

BG East’s Dante Rosetti (I think) uses his head.

I’m on the record many times over as completely partial to ring wrestling, and the tree of woe illustrates just one of the many reasons why ring wrestling cranks my kink harder than just about any other context. The opportunities to use the architecture, to capitalize on the structure, to exploit the parts of the ring that stretch as well as those that don’t, all contribute to making ring wrestling my wrestling kink of choice.

At long, long last, Rio Garza pays it back against Jobe Zander in
Can-Am’s Rio’s Revenge

So I completely believe that three different people raising the topic of the tree of woe in as many days is 100% coincidence. I’m sure it’s randomness, and I don’t feel the need to read into the coincidence some guiding, invisible hand that wants me to appreciate deeper the erotic potential of corner abuse. That doesn’t mean, however, that I don’t enjoy riding the tide and getting a kinked kick out of where it takes me.

Rock Hard Wrestling’s Trent Novak treats Austin Cooper to a Tree of Woe beatdown

Asses Named

So how did you do on our back-to-school edition of Name That Ass? Pull out your bubble sheet and let’s review the answers.
Ass #1 belongs to…

… BG East’s Cole Cassidy.

Cole’s body is sculpture. Every inch of him (at least every inch I’ve seen) is stunningly proportioned and absolutely perfectly Cole. That this perfectly tuned weapon is in the possession of such a sadistic heel ought to make much more competitive wrestlers than poor Brendan Byers quake in their wrestling boots. When Cole plants those muscled glutes across the mouth of devastated Brendan in their newly released match in Florida Fights 3, for that half a minute as Cole flexes and preens in victorious ecstasy above him, I’m bitterly envious of Brendan.
Ass #2 belongs to…

Rio’s got to have earned major frequent flyer miles getting that beautiful ass beaten from Florida to Boston to Los Angeles. He has some of the most loyal fans on the planet, and while I don’t consider myself a Rio devotee by any means, I unquestionably appreciate the aesthetic lines and sculpted contours of Rio’s beautiful body. I loved the concept of indy pros Cameron Mathews and Paul Hudson putting on a 2-on-1 clinic for Rio to tutor him in the arts of a professional-quality wrestling beatdown in Can-Am’s So You Want to Be a Pro Wrestler. Here’s another fantasy concept I’m just throwing out there… how about a rookie tutored by a pro and a homoerotic fantasyman? The pro beats him senseless and the fantasyman sexually dominates him.

Ass #3 belongs to…
… BG East’s Lon Dumont.
Ironically, the close-up of Lon’s ass appeared in the quiz right next to his image as my #1 favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy division in the right margin. In particular, Lon is pictured here crushing the skull of Doug Rand on opposite sides of their Tag Team Torture 12 encounter. Lon has been in sole possession of the #1 spot in my non-pornboy rankings for a helluva long time, particularly considering he hasn’t had a new release in a little while. And still, hands down, he’s my favorite for his equal portions of smoking hot competitive bodybuilder physique and wrestling kink golden pro wrestling persona and ring skills. I’m not ashamed to say I’m a little obsessed with Lon, particularly after our delightful interview earlier this year in which he revealed himself to be both everything that turns my on in a wrestler as well as a damn fine human being. For those who regularly write me, asking for any news of the hunk, I’m deeply thrilled to pass on three titillating tidbits I’ve gathered: 1) Lon has achieved even more stunning development of his physique as he enters the new bodybuilding season, 2) he is still sporting the full head of hair he foreshadowed last winter, and 3) he and his full head of hair and mind-blowing muscles will indeed be showing up again in action for BG East!

Ass #4 belongs to…

… BG East’s classic workhorse, Bryan.

This beautiful, blond stud seemed to have been marching arm-in-arm with Kid Leopard in the pioneering early days of BG East. I think he was never more arousing than when he was 100% pro, in the ring in boots and square cut trunks and slamming some hot, pretty young thing’s face into a turnbuckle. However, the matroom pairing of Bryan and a very young, tan, in the peak of fitness Brad Rochelle in the seminal edition of Ultra Fight is awfully, awfully compelling. Those are two incredibly notable asses locked together in one hot, ferocious battle!

Ass #5 belongs to…

…Can-Am’s Beau Hopkins.

I repeat myself when I say that his opponent in Supermatch 11, Tom Flex, knew exactly what he was doing when he locked his crushing legs around Beau’s narrow waist, squeezed until the dark, hairy hunk screamed out, and then yanked on Beau’s trunks so hard that they entirely disappeared between those astonishingly beautiful ass cheeks. This is also a reminder of the delights that we miss out on, with the absence of baby oil in homoerotic wrestling for many years.

So it appears we have our work cut out for us as we start the new school year. No perfect scores were recorded for this Name That Ass quiz. The eternal strengths-based instructor, however, I think that just leaves so much more room to improve and to grow in our expertise when it comes to the studied appreciation of homoerotic wrestling asses.

There Oughta Be a Law

I was holding vigil all weekend in anticipation of the arrival of summer. It still hasn’t arrived, as evidenced by my pasty white skin and layers of clothes, but the hot morning weatherman on my local television news station promises me that I’ll be in short sleeves tomorrow, just in time for the solstice.

So there’s no quiz for you this week. Considering school’s out and the grads are still hung over, I figure you deserve a break from test-taking. I’ve also been abundantly distracted by my first taste of the juicy new releases from BG East. I’ve been trying to pace myself and drink plenty of fluids, but one moment in Fantasymen 33: Muscle Pros keeps grabbing my attention. At one key point in the development of the match, Z-Man is appropriately taking a well-earned, nasty beating from Kid Karisma. They’ve both given and taken their fair share of pounding, but now Kid K has beaten the mocha-skinned muscle model into submission, and then added a gratuitous ball claw on the pretty boy just to seal the deal. Z-Man is finally writhing on his stomach on the canvas, clutching his balls in agony, when Kid K bends over (just linger on those last 4 words a while…. okay, now continue), grabs Z-Man’s pink trunks, and wedgies them high up his ass.

So a couple things speak to me here that probably don’t need mentioning (but that’s what I do around here, isn’t it? I mention everything I think). Z-Man’s bare ass is beautiful. A work of art. I’d go so far as to say his ass is even pretty, and I mean that with all due respect. I’d frame those golden glutes and hang them on a wall. Yanking the fabric away to give a less-obstructed view is nothing but an act of politeness from Kid K to you and me, as far as I’m concerned. Sure, it seems to dial up the agony in Z-Man, but seriously, that wedgie is a thoughtful gift from Kid K to us. “Take a look boys,” Kid K could have just as easily said out loud. As Kid K himself remarked earlier in the match, examining Z-Man’s vulnerable ass in a compromised moment, “Oh yeah, definitely very, very pretty!”

But then Z-Man does the unforgivable (as far as I’m concerned). As soon as he catches his breath, he quickly reaches behind him and digs the pink fabric out of his crack, re-covering those dessert-like cheeks. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you, I yelled at the screen the first time I saw this. That punk-ass bastard (said lovingly)!  When the trunks get wedgied, ripped, yanked or stripped, in homoerotic wrestling they need to stay that way. Screw your decency and sense of humility or dignity, Z-Man! Those went out the door well before you were screaming like a baby, trapped in the ropes, with Kid K’s claw crushing your testicles from behind. When your ass gets displayed by someone as generous and thoughtful as Kid K, you should just take it like the babyface muscle model rookie that you are (at least in these parts).

Before anyone gets the wrong idea (though I have no control over that, I’m reminded often), let me clarify that I love this match. I love Z-Man in this match. I LOVE Kid Karisma in this match. I can’t quite make it 10 minutes into this match before a dramatic cardiovascular event happens within me. It’s not that I actually don’t like Z-Man or his work here. I just feel like there should be some policy that says that homoerotic wrestlers that lose full coverage of their gear should have to just grin and bear it. There’s sort of a justice about it. Once the skin is exposed, it should have to stay that way. Any homoerotic wrestler who readjusts his gear to cover back up should merit a merciless and humiliating beating and the penalty of losing ALL his gear before all is said and done.

This brings to mind (in my constant stream of consciousness sort of way), Christopher Bruce’s “comeback” against Cole Cassidy in Demolition 10. Cole applies perhaps the nastiest wedgie I’ve ever seen as a defensive maneuver when he’s trapped in Christopher’s crushing bearhug. Unlike Z-Man, however, Christopher shows the instincts of a veteran. He and Cole deliver precisely what it is I’m tuning in to see here. He just keeps right on wrestling, his gorgeous bubble butt bouncing beautifully unencumbered by his trunks. I’m sure it wasn’t comfortable, but Christopher didn’t climb into that ring to be comfortable. He climbed in there to deliver what you and I pay for!

Naked Kombat’s recent match illustrated that Phenix Saint has the same veteran instincts. I’m pretty sure that NK instructs the wrestlers to leave the gear wherever the action takes it. But some can’t help themselves but tug the trunks back up, as if that was going to mean anything in round 3 and 4. But I enjoy watching Phenix completely un-selfconcious as he soldiers on after rookie farmboy Blake has yanked his red trunks three-quarters of the way down his ass. The trunks and the exposure clearly mean nothing to Phenix, and yet they mean so much to me. So his single-minded focus in ignoring his ass hanging out makes me root for Phenix that much harder.

And speaking of hard, and just to complete this stream of consciousness ranting, this makes me think of the truly remarkable rookie debut four months ago of seriously entertaining grappler, Adonis, running circles around Gianni Luca and tying the Italian up in knots. NK gives points for getting your opponent’s gear off of him. They get special points in round 2 when they can yank their opponent’s jockstraps over their heads, as opposed to just ripping them off. Adonis illustrates his tenacity and determination by working the “over-the-head” points in round 1, when Gianni is still in his speedo-style trunks. Cranking on Gianni’s skimpy red trunks like there’s no tomorrow, Adonis rips the crotch out of them and slowly manages to stretch them up and over the Italian jobber’s head and eventually entirely off his body. Not only is this a feat, in and of itself (buy a pair of speedos and just try this!), Adonis doesn’t skip even a beat as he performs this maneuver while simultaneously maintaining complete control of Gianni in one completely dominating, crushing, humiliating hold after another. We need to see Adonis and his gorgeous tool in action again!

I’m not entirely sure I’m finishing this post in the same spot where I started it, but let me just conclude by saying this is what gear is meant for in homoerotic wrestling: getting removed. Whether it’s in the form of a vicious wedgie that reveals the gorgeous glutes beneath, or if it’s in the form of ripping the extraneous garment off entirely, gear inevitably stands between me and the next level of homoerotic pleasure. While it’s certainly true that I can be entertained with hot wrestling involving all gear staying firmly in place from start to finish, if there are any wardrobe malfunctions (and especially the intentional ones), it ought-a be a law! Leave gear where ever the action takes it, especially if that’s stretched so high up Z-Man’s ass crack that it makes the muscleboy gag!

A Fan Favorite

Yesterday I celebrated Brook Stetson, co-owner of my homoerotic wrestler of the month title. Today, at the risk of repeating myself, I turn to Brook’s partner in crime, the other co-owner of my homoerotic wrestler of the month title, Mitch Colby.

Mitch was a running feature obsession in this blog almost from the beginning. When he debuted for BG East in Alexi Adamov’s Wrestler Spotlight tape, I was instantly a fanatic. Drop dead gorgeous, strong as an ox, and glistening with sweat, there’s nothing that I don’t like about Mitch’s physique. But it was always something more, something unexpected that Mitch brought to the table that has made me never be able to take my eyes off of him when he wrestles.

It’s his maturity, by which I do not mean some asinine euphemism for his age. True, he showed up on the scene a decade or two later than some of the youngest bucks that vie for our attention in the homoerotic wrestling world, but frankly that’s neither here nor there for me. Mitch possesses a chilled calmness, an unflappability, a stone cold centeredness that reflects a mature soul. I mean, let’s face it, it’s hard to out-pretty Alexi Adamov. But Mitch is every ounce as gorgeous, as far as I’m concerned, and he’s a good bit sexier because he seems to understand exactly who he is at every moment, no matter what the trash talk and mind games his opponents toss his way. The way Mitch puts Alexi in his place and leaves him flat on his back in the gazebo is all sorts of pleasing.

I won’t try to give a comprehensive blow by blow of Mitch’s career because, let’s face it, that’s been an ongoing labor of love throughout the nearly two years of this blog. Rather, let me note the highlights that taught me something new about the big, beautiful Mitch. For example, after a hard, sweaty gazebo battle with pretty boy Alexi, things turned down right nasty for him when he climbed into the wrestling ring against one of BG East’s resident bad boys, ripped stud Cole Cassidy, in Ringwars 15. Sadly, this is Mitch’s only appearance to-date in the ring. Perhaps the seriously vicious beating he took at Cole’s expert hands (and particularly the torture Mitch’s pecs took in Cole’s claws) left Mitch with PTSD for ring action. Mitch works some nice offense in on the little powerhouse, but when it comes to decimating and displaying a big, hard hunk, there’s arguably no one better than Cole. Happily, Mitch proves that he can suffer and take a beating like that hard, ripped body of his would imply.

Mitch’s first motel match was notable for me, particularly, because he squared off with Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) in Motel Madness 7. Yes, the reigning top contender for my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy went toe-to-toe with the reigning top contender for my favorite homoerotic wrestler – nonpornboy division. Mitch’s physique is simply perfect in this match, and I don’t blame him a bit for allowing Mr. J to maneuver him into position to shove that massively packed crotch of his into Mitch’s face.

My next stop on Mitch’s memory lane is another motel match, in which Mitch showed what he would do if BG East dangled a little bit of fluff in his face, by which I mean twink delight, Jeremy Burk, in Motel Madness 8. This is classic big v little wrestling, and I’m on the record repeatedly as partial to that scenario. What makes this match hit my list of must mentions about Mitch are two things, really. 1) This is a fantastically erotic match that’s expertly paced. Some squashes are downright boring, but there’s nothing at all boring about Mitch’s systematic pummeling of Jeremy. It gets hotter, more painful, more humiliating, and sexier with every passing moment. And 2) this was my first peek at Mitch naked. After crushing Jeremy, Mitch takes his little piece of fluff to the bathroom where they peel out of their gear and explore one another’s bodies in and out of the shower. My fetishistic lust to scrub Mitch down from head to toe with a thick, slick coat of lathered soap probably belongs on a different fetish blog, but suffice it to say, I’m bitterly envious of Jeremy.

Back to the Florida sunroom, and my next notable highlight of Mitch in action is his sweat-fest with Skrapper in Catchweight 3. Seems that Mitch has a taste for the lightweights, and despite putting up some serious offense, Skrapper was always destined to be schoolboy pinned with Mitch’s sweaty crotch shoved in his face. What stands out from this match, however, is the post-match pool play. Mitch fireman-carries his twink out of the sunroom (with Skrapper slyly copping a feel of Mitch’s glutes along the way… I tell you, that Skrapper impresses me!), and then tosses the spent punk into the pool. One last bearhug in the middle of the pool turns from a device for inflicting pain into a passionate embrace, as they make out enthusiastically. Many, many more homoerotic wrestling matches should end this way.

The same Florida sunroom is the setting for a true epiphany in Mitch’s resume. He takes matters firmly in hand against Derek da Silva in Crotch Crushers 1, tapping into his sadist side to beat, pound, claw and, indeed, crush Derek’s testicles. In addition to being the first time I saw Mitch really grab hold of his opponent’s manhood, it’s also memorable because it was right around this release that Derek stole the title as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy from Mitch for a brief time. The contrast of short, pale and hairy muscleboy v tall, tanned, and smooth muscleboy is aesthetically stunning.

It was the release of Mitch’s Wrestler Spotlight tape that helped Mitch rip his inaugural title belt away from Derek and slap the hairy Italian into second place. Most specifically, it was Mitch’s matroom sweat fest with Patrick Donovan that turned my affections decisively back to Mitch. This match is profoundly arousing from start to finish, but it’s the bearhug competition right in the middle that makes my heart pump hardest. Patrick and Mitch are in the same league when it comes to almost everything… height, weight, good looks, fit physiques, wrestling skill, and maturity. So it’s that much more climactic when Mitch once and for all puts the veteran down, climbs on top, and locks lips with the loser.

A few months after Mitch regained his title as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, he lost it in stunningly fast fashion against the wickedly nasty stylings of Rusty Stevens. From the realm of Naked Kombat and Can-Am, Rusty managed to grab my attention and hold on with both hands. Mitch slid into the top contender spot behind Rusty’s razor sharp trash talking and primal determination to dominate his opponents. So when BG East, just a few months later, released the Breaking Point: Sexiest, in which Rusty and Mitch have it out in the Florida sunroom, I was in awe. This was my fantasy come to life. I mean, most homoerotic wrestling is in one way or another my fantasies played out for me, but this was quite specifically and particularly my fantasy of pornboy v pornboy wrestling. While Mitch came out on top (at the same moment Rusty was cumming from the underneath), I had to say decisively that it was Rusty who aroused me most in this match, primarily on what is undeniably his #1 strength: his witty trash talk and delight in dishing out humiliation. It was a battle for the ages, but Mitch was relegated to stick it out in second place in my rankings.

And then last month, BG East released Mitch’s most recent match for Sunshine Shooters 4, which earned him the homoerotic wrestler of the month co-title. Mitch is also currently in possession of the top contender spot for my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy yet again, chomping at Trent Diesel’s gorgeous ass to take the title for the third time. Regardless, however, Mitch will always be a favorite, and wherever he is at any particular moment in the rankings of my favorites, I will always be a Mitch fanatic.

The Sweet Spot

Wade Cutler v Phil Latini  – BG East’s X-Fights 15
In my interview with my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler – nonpornboy division, Lon Dumont, Lon mentioned that he typically doesn’t have to put a lot of strategic brainpower into destroying his “dim-witted” competition. If pressed, however, Lon says that he sometimes will choose to isolate a body part. Personally, I’m a big, big fan of a ringmaster chaining together move after move, all concentrating systematic, brutal, and incapacitating punishment on a singular body part. In particular, there’s something awfully hot about the unleashing of back torture that makes all the physical development of a muscle hunk completely useless. Sure, you can bench press a horse, but if you’re lower back is so compromised that you can’t endure the agony of standing up straight, those gorgeous, strong pecs and arms are just beautiful, yet pointless, accessories.
Cole Cassidy v Tarzan Tyler Reese – BG East’s Ringwars 11
Like Wade Cutler, simply gleeful (I always loved it when he laughed unselfconsciously when he had his opponent in a bad way) as he wraps up Phil Latini’s lower back like a twist tie, the lower back proves itself to be an awesome, vulnerable point of exploitation for seriously hot demolition. True, some muscle freaks can actually pack on shredded slabs of beef across their lower backs, but for most of us mortals, even in top physical condition, the lower back is a site of vulnerability. When your opponent has maneuvered you into position to crank your lower back folding in the wrong direction, you’re pretty much screwed. When he also delights in grinding his fist into quivering cords of traumatized muscle struggling to protect your lower spine, such as Cole Cassidy’s astonishing boston crab variation on loin cloth clad rookie jobber, Tarzan Tyler Reese, you’re seriously screwed.
Kid Leopard v Ken Decker – BG East’s Demolition 4
In thinking about this theme, I came across pics of Kid Leopard’s Demolition 4 decimation of muscle hunk Ken Decker.  KL is nothing if not the ringmaster of all ringmasters, and he illustrates to perfection the point of my post today. Let’s count the ways that KL, outweighed and outmuscled by hunky Ken, more than evens the playing field by isolating and absolutely pulverizing his opponent’s lower back. In the pic above, he KL looks like he’s nearly about to rip Ken’s head off of his neck, as his lower back is creased and pried at nearly a 90 degree angle in the opposite direction it’s built to bend.

I don’t know the actual sequence of this story, but let’s start with the direct approach. KL tosses the hardbody chest-first into the corner and pounds his knee into his back.

There’s the tried and true over the knee backbreaker to isolate the hunk’s lower back in a particularly delightful and humiliating fashion (always one of my favorites). Ken looks impressively bendable, but that’s no inoculation against incapacitating, prolonged back torture, now is it?
A camel clutch especially for the viewing audience cranks further on the square-jawed hunk, prying his upper back and shoulders as well as torturing the lower back, and just for good measure, a humiliating hair pull and knuckles to the temple. I love the look of fierce concentration on KL’s face here, right next to his exhausted, defenseless, nearly unconscious opponent’s face.

A fourth approach has KL grabbing hold of Ken’s right boot and left wrist and prying them upward in a nasty standing bow-and-arrow. If Ken had been doing his yoga, this might not have been quite as devastating as it looks like it was for him.

KL drops some more knees into Ken’s back to continue to weaken up the sweet spot, as Ken flails in agony on his stomach in the middle of the ring.

Here must be where Cole Cassidy learned it. KL locks up Ken’s legs underneath his armpits and folds the hunk backward. This was not the direction that the human torso was meant to bend. But a fist grinding deep into the muscle surrounding Ken’s spine breaks down the hunk’s core strength that much more. Again, look at the pain on the sweaty face of the catcher here.

Typically, from the last maneuver, an outmatched chump frantically reaches behind him to try to use his hands to protect his assaulted back. Always three moves ahead, KL happily snaps up captain america’s wrists and then leans back. This is nothing if it’s not art. The precision balance, KL’s face flushed with the effort, Ken’s face twisted in agony, and his lower back and shoulders pried starkly in the wrong direction… stunning athleticism, true, but aesthetically, this is art.

One helpless suspension hold is not enough, however. KL maneuvers the handsome one into still another variation, now facing backward, with Ken’s right knee stretched painfully around his own trapped left ankle, and his right ankle hooked between KL’s upper thighs. 
Back to the corner, KL traps Ken’s head between his thighs (look at how beet red Ken’s face is here!), and somehow manages to pry the hunk backward, locking his ankles underneath KL’s armpits. I’m going to have to buy this DVD to see how two bodies can manage to get into this position, because I simply can’t imagine it. However, the end result is still another fantastic example of isolating poor Ken’s lower back, creased and folded over on itself, with the hunk literally having absolutely no place to go.

Since we’re in the corner, and since KL is never shy of capitalizing on anything and everything at his disposal to torture his opponents, KL wracks Ken over the turnbuckle and ropes and pries the muscled hunk backward with a vicious tug on the hunk’s chin with KL’s right hand and on the hunk’s balls with KL’s left hand. Ken’s ass squeezed out the top of his trunks doesn’t hurt the aesthetics here, either. So many points of agony, but the relentless assault on Ken’s back is clearly the purpose of this, like every other, hold.

I believe that adds up to (at least) 11 ways that KL beats the living shit out of Ken Decker’s lower back. Damn, that’s hot. And once you’ve conquered a muscle boy and left him helpless and wasted on the mat, his back in too much agony to even try to roll over, then it’s time to reward yourself for a job very well done.

From start to finish, this is an awesome homoerotic wrestling plot told by a master. Relentlessness, small guy conquering the big guy with cunning and wits, more relentlessness mixed with a healthy pinch of merciless viciousness, and topped off with some ass humping, hair pulling, ear nibbling pleasure. Sweet.