Aw, Shucks

Thunder’s Arena’s Python (and his goofy grin)
On Friday I started off my review of the top biceps that turn me on in homoerotic wrestling by marveling at the fierce pythons on Thunder’s Arena’s new muscle boy, Python. I also mentioned in passing, among Python’s many notable features, he’s got a damn adorably goofy grin. I haven’t seen his debut against Angel yet, but his photo shoot pics are full shots of that toothy, awkward, cute-as-a-button overbite from the slammin’ gorgeous bodybuilder. The “aw shucks” homoerotic wrestler has a strong appeal for me. The “aw shucks” wrestler is that rookie who, whether he’s got the guns to blaze like Python or not, he sports an undisguisable self-consciousness about him.  He looks like he’s got an ocean of insecurity swirling just underneath the surface of a barely managed game face.  Without words, he communicates with perfect clarity, “aw shucks, I’m just lucky to be here.” He knows we’re looking at him, marveling, fantasizing, and he feels like he should probably do something, flex just so or say something witty, but all that he’s got at the moment is that “aw shucks” goofy grin.
Thunder’s Arena Dallas goes from  “aw shucks” to “oh, shit!”
Thunder’s Arena puts up more than their fair share of “aw shucks” wrestlers.  Before his recent match with Coupe, Dallas adamantly insisted that between the two of them (both with spotty win-loss records, to say the least), he was the bigger chump. Coupe couldn’t believe that Dallas could possibly be as much of a jobber as he is. But the look on Dallas’ face as they faced off in speedos is priceless. It morphed delightfully from “aw shucks” to “oh, shit!” Coupe is an extraordinary muscle freak, and Dallas, while delightful to look at it, is relatively soft and crunchable standing vulnerably in Coupe’s shadow. Self-conscious vulnerability, stage fright, a little bit of “what the fuck am I doing here?!”… it can be a nice element in the typically over the top battle of narcissists who more frequently populate the scene.
Big Sexy and PeeWee give the “aw shucks” wrestling motif 4 thumbs up.

Thunder’s took Aw Shucks to (and possibly over) the edge of credulity with the infinitely fuckable babyface who wrestles diminutively as PeeWee. PeeWee showed up to audition for Thunder’s knowing full well that he’d get his ass kicked. Big Sexy is more than happy to make PeeWee’s prophecy self-fulfilling, but PeeWee keeps the “aw shucks” attitude going from start to finish. He’s a hot little muscle stud with some unquestionably hot moves of his own, but even when he’s working some rare riding time on Sexy, PeeWee is profoundly insecure and self-deprecating. Even when he’s got Sexy so compromised that he could (if he chose) yank down Sexy’s trunks and fuck his ass, PeeWee is supremely self-critical and predicts his own demise. Bulging muscles, bulging pouch, bulging insecurity… this works for me in many (though definitely not all) cases.

Showing up for his BG East audition sexy Alexi Adamov
grins nervously for approval from Brad Rochelle.
Thunder’s, however, definitely doesn’t corner the market in “aw shucks” wrestlers. These days, tall, tasty Alexi Adamov is all about that deep bass rumble and a tenuous certainty that he can, on any given day, kick some ass.  But in his first BG East match, showing up for a faux “audition” after the stealth coup of the compound by heel-turned Brad Rochelle, Alexi is one great big, luscious, gorgeously smooth, ridiculously pretty slice of humble pie. Brad, getting his kicks off of fucking with the newbie’s mind, requires that the Russian babyface try on several possible gear choices, each one more made-to-order for a jobber beatdown than the last. Alexi poses for Brad, obeying the veteran’s instructions, proud of his beautiful body but seemingly easily unnerved by Brad’s strategic verbal jabs and slights. Alexi is just pleased as punch to get a shot at the world of BG East, and recently emerged heel Brad is like a hungry spider, slowly luring the fly into his web to slowly, mercilessly suck him dry.
Morgan Cruise – too smiley to heel?
Morgan Cruise is a quick study, learning nasty-ass lessons from the likes of pro veteran (and current contender to re-take the title as my favorite homoerotic wrestler – nonpornboy division) Lon Dumont on the nuts and bolts of constructing a BG East ring heel. Morgan’s most recent appearance was showing that he was taking notes from Lon by turning around and catching ripped rookie (and last month’s homoerotic wrestler of the month) Eli Black off guard and pounding the shit out of him forever. But if you missed Morgan’s first match, facing off against Lon with the explicit agenda of being BG East’s next great heel, then you missed Morgan’s “aw shucks” moment (which was, not coincidentally, the same moment that it was crystal clear that Lon was going to own his ass). Morgan flexes proudly. He bounces his pecs in Lon’s face. He says the right words about being confident in his own destiny as a big, burly muscle heel. But he’s got that unmistakable toothy, self-conconsious, I-can’t-quite-sell-myself grin on his face. Lon even notes that Morgan is a little too “smiley” for a heel-wannabe. Lon’s crushing of him seems to have squeezed the “aw shucks” right out of him, but no mistaking it, Morgan Cruise initially showed as an “aw shucks” rookie bear cub.

Rio Garza always looks like he can’t quite believe
his own luck.

And finally, when it comes to “aw shucks” wrestlers, Rio Garza’s tasty hot ass is seated squarely in line with the best of them. Can-Am has exploited what I’m guessing is Rio’s genuine state, that of the stunning muscle stud who’s a little awed to be asked back over and over to be ogled and admired by armies of gay wrestling fans. When he faced Aryx Quinn (pretty much the opposite of the “aw shucks” wrestler), like Alexi Adamov, Rio was easily manipulated by the mind games of a sadistic veteran. Rio was nothing short of humbled by the status as a brand new Can-Am “exclusive,” and with some strategically placed compliments from Aryx, the awkward, sort of embarrassed grin on his face grew. This all simply makes him oh-so-ripe for a humorless and merciless crushing from Aryx. The device works particularly well with Rio, I think, explaining why he showed up wanting Cameron Mathews and Paul Hudson to teach him how to be a pro wrestler. He knows he’s strong. He knows the fans like looking at him. But with a little nervous grin, he admits to the pros that he’s got something to learn about the business. Cameron and Paul, of course, oblige, and Rio’s “aw shucks” awkward grin gets twisted into beautiful agony soon enough.

All those muscles can’t quite disguise the self-conscious grin on Python’s face.

A little “aw shucks” goes a long way for what turns me on. Overplayed, and it comes across as amateurish and distinctly less than erotic. But sprinkled on top of a hot steaming helping of beautiful bodies, skimpy gear, and hard hammering wrestling, an adorably goofy smile and a self-conscious glance down at one’s own feet can make for a sweet set-up to an arousing match.

The Biggest Loser

Coupe’s back! This makes me happy. Coupe is a muscle freak that rocks me every ounce as hard as his stunning body is (hard, that is). His arms and chest are like a road map of thick, blue veins. His 6’1″, 215 pound body is tanned a freakish mocha that convinces me he’s got to be yet another competition bodybuilder-turned-wrestler. His quads look thicker than his waist, and this minuscule fraction of body fat is probably not indicative of an entirely healthy, happy diet. There are some elements to the package that is Thunder’s Coupe that could go either way for me. Too much a vascular muscle freak, too many monster veins and synthetic skin tone can become more than I can get into. Somehow, Coupe stays just within the lines of homoerotic wrestling fantasy material for me.  His personality may be the piece of the puzzle that tips the scales the right direction. Some of his on camera banter with Cameron Mathews from a ways back was fantastically charming. He’s got a sense of humor. His wrestling persona is oddly self-depracating when packaged in that superhuman physique. He loses… a lot. And there’s something intoxicating about watching all that mind-blowing muscularity manipulated, exploited and owned. That he’s back at Thunder’s for more makes me happy not only for the eye candy, but the enjoyment of witnessing both his Superman assets paired with an adorable vulnerability.
Coupe and Dallas meet for Bodybuilder Battle 48 as they both lounge around the Thunder’s Arena living room. They start a little pissing contest about who’s been brutalized the worst. It’s a homoerotic wrestling take on “biggest loser,” as both notorious whipping boys take ironic pride in boasting their most humiliating defeats. In a battle of jobbers, who’s the jobberiest?
Aptly named Big Sexy shows up to light a fire under these boys. I appreciate the sentiment. While I find a distinct allure to a squash or a destined-to-job muscleman, if there’s no pretense of an ego on the line, then it’s just not very homoerotic for my tastes. Eye candy is nice. Pretty bodies on display are pleasing. But if the wrestling has no heart, it doesn’t tweak my wrestling kink. So Big Sexy offers $500 to whichever notorious loser can finally chalk up a decisive victory. Coupe is eager to take the challenge. Dallas looks less  hopeful.
On the Thunder’s mat, Dallas cannot take his eyes off of Coupe’s sculpted pecs. “You’re huge!” he mutters with a dumbshit grin on his face.  Big Sexy leans toward Coupe conspiratorially. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to win…” he confides to Coupe. Then he turns his attention to his former chore boy to explain, “…cause you’re shitty.”
Dallas mutters, embarrassed, “Me too.”  As the action finally commences, there’s more than a helping of the typical Thunder’s camp that bounces off of me like rubber. Dallas, in particular, is about 3.5% wrestler, 96.5% ham sandwich from start to finish in this match up. Reminiscent of many a “fight” between me and my older brother when I was about 6 years old (which was just not homoerotic), Dallas goes for an “Indian burn” early in the match. The boys laugh at themselves uncomfortably for the first 10 minutes or so. Personally, I’m attracted by a build up of tension, but with each snort and nervous chuckle, they frustratingly release the tension and reduce my satisfaction.
Back to the issue of eye candy, however, Coupe looks amazing. Returning from the awkward cuts showing extensive need for editing the original tape, Coupe is frequently found flexing his muscle freak physique for no other reason than he knows he looks so fucking hot. It’s the eye candy aspect that keeps me watching when Dallas’ ham makes me just feel uncomfortable for these big boys. Slowly, Coupe settles firmly into character. He easily puts Dallas on his back and forces him to strum his washboard abs. They trade bear hugs that show off Coupe’s munchable striated glutes. When Dallas manages an improbable schoolboy pin and then cradle, Coupe’s mind-blowing muscles are stretched and displayed from nearly every angle. Spread-eagled and bridging, it makes me long to offer another $500 to Dallas if he’ll just keep Coupe locked up long enough for me to seriously study his captured crotch up close… with my hands… and my tongue.
Coupe eventually hits a note that turns me on without reservation. It’s his crowing, gloating muttering of the phrase, “All day…” that finally sells me. He pounds Dallas’ soft tummy. He claws his pecs. He scoops him up like absolutely nothing and parades the unemployed pizza delivery boy around the mat with growing pleasure at the feel of being in charge. “All day,” he mutters with each compromising position he lays down on his continually clowning opponent. “All day,” he says, slamming Dallas to his back.  He seamlessly transitions from the body slam to an armlock, cranking Dallas’ elbow backward painfully. “Is that not the way it’s supposed to go?” Coupe asks, chuckling, this time not in nervous self-consciousness, but in cocky confidence.  “This is called ‘Getting Fucked Up,’ man,” Coupe gloats.
When Dallas wrestled for Naked Kombat as Parker London, he was hot, intense, and all business. So I know that he can do something other than clown around. He also rode his NK opponent like a pony before force feeding him his cock and plowing his ass, so I’m ready to cut Dallas some slack and not over-interpret his clownishness here as contempt for his audience. But it takes some considerable heat on the part of Coupe to avoid being doused by the cold shower of Dallas’ screwing around and laughing.  When Coupe literally beats a final submission out of him, stretched backward across his thigh and pounding Dallas’ soft core like a sledge hammer, it’s an erotic relief/release for me to see something that looks like powerful, beautiful physical domination. If the rest of the match was as gorgeously sold, if Dallas just channeled a little of his pornboy Parker persona to put a little ego on the mat, this could have been a thoroughly rousing scrap.
As it is, I’m just happy to see Coupe in action again, and I can generate some serious enthusiasm for the moments of wrestling kink allure that he works himself into. Now, if he’d peel off those canary posing trunks and ride Dallas around the mat like a pony, this fun little 27 minute diversion would be seriously epic!

Tightening Bard’s Belt

My post on the cost of my wrestling kink generated a lot of feedback. One nice result from my nervous confession that I’ve never tracked down permission from Can-Am to repost their pics is that I got an email from Can-Am giving me permission to repost their pics (thanks!).

Thiago Diaz and Jobe Zander – Can-Am’s Decrotchery

Speaking of which, I had to pick my jaw up off the floor when I saw the preview pics of Jobe Zander’s new match for Can-Am against one of the hottest new muscle bodies I’ve seen in a long time, who goes by the name Thiago Diaz. Thiago is absolutely phenomenal to look at in still frame.  My head is about to explode in anticipation of seeing if he’s just as kinetically hot and whether he can sell some sweet homoerotic wrestling. The sustained ball torture he appears to endure in his rookie debut entitled Decrotchery looks like seriously nasty shit of the variety that Jobe specializes in. If Thiago shows up in Can-Am’s series Pro Sex Fights, I may need CPR (preferably delivered by Thiago).

Rusty Stevens and Kevin Crowes – Can-Am’s Pro Sex Fight 4

And speaking of my jaw dropping (and hot muscle bodies and Pro Sex Fights), Can-Am has also posted in their store their newest Pro Sex Fight starring former long-time holder of the title as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, Rusty Stevens! I don’t know what this means for Rusty’s announcement that he was retiring from porn last autumn. But knowing nothing other than that Rusty has climbed into the pro wrestling ring, I can already say with absolutely certainty that he’s back in contention to slam, squeeze, pound and fuck his way through the ranks of my favorite homoerotic wrestlers. And this rookie that he’s squaring off against is making my head spin with almost as much velocity as Thiago Diaz! Kevin Crowes is devastatingly handsome, constructed like a go-go boy addicted to his workout endorphins, and sporting what looks to an epic cock and major league, aesthetically gorgeous ink. Smart money might be on Rusty totally owning the rookie hunk, but then again, Rusty’s long resume of wrestling domination doesn’t feature much ring action at all, and this very well may be the first time that I’ve ever seen Rusty out-prettied by an opponent (possibly with the exception of David Taylor).

Jake Jenkins and Austin Cooper – BG East’s Ripped Rookies 1: A Score to Settle

In addition to the happy bonus of getting word that Can-Am is okay with me reposting, joining the ranks of the generous folks at BG East, Thunder’s Arena, and Rock Hard Wrestling, my post on the cost of wrestling kink also generated some sincere efforts from several folks giving me advice about what subscription I ought to choose to be the one to drop. Jon gave me more of a psychological assessment of my core beliefs and motivations, concluding that his read on my equivocation is that I should drop Can-Am and Thunder’s. Off line, I had one adamant reader insist that once you’ve seen one Naked Kombat, you’ve seen them all, so I shouldn’t expect anything too new or novel to need to keep investing in them. Someone also made the most fair point that the real cost-benefit ratio should be measured at the top end of the discounts that all 4 of my subscriptions offer (even if I’m too undisciplined to budget the big bucks for one time per year cost savings).

Leo Forte & Trent Diesel – Naked Kombat – The Bondage Match June 22, 2011

With that in mind, let me point out that I could get 365 days of BG East Arena delights for $125. A year of Can-Am Max and the opportunity to pine over the likes of Thiago Diaz would set me back $179.95. The most cost-efficient means of enjoying Thunder’s Arena’s Thunder TV is 90 days for $59.99 on a recurring bill (not sure why a non-recurring 90 days should suddenly jump up to $100… should that be a year?), which would equate to $240 for a full 360 days. And finally, for Naked Kombat’s exclusive content, I could be maximizing the fuck for the buck with their 1-year subscription at $169.99.

Z-Man and Dallas – Thunder’s Arena’s Custom Match

Since I’m not made of money, and since I anticipate some big bills coming up related to a barrage of travel obligations in the next 6 months, I feel like the cost-benefit analysis brings me to an unmistakable conclusion. Thunder TV, I’m afraid, is the weakest link. I’m going to sign back off of them, regretfully, but I’ll check with Joe at Ringside at Skull Island for any can’t miss new releases that he reviews from Thunder’s. Thanks to everyone who gave me your thoughtful advice. Now, if anyone has any other wrestling kink websites out there that I’m not tracking, let me know if you think I’m missing out on some major kink gold. And of course, should Rock Hard Wrestling come out with an exclusive content membership option, I’ll have to reconsider everything. It would require a whole new cost analysis of my overall wrestling kink budget, of course…