Last week I lingered for a while considering the place of the erection in homoerotic wrestling. I propose that different companies tell fundamentally different stories in the way they script the wrestling hard-on. Where BG East frequently tells the story of the erection as a signal in the midst of combat, communicating that the battle itself is a turn on, Can-Am, it seems to me, tells a distinctly different tale.
Actually, I think Can-Am typically has one of two stories to tell. One story is sexual lust deferred long enough to grapple a little before devolving into head on sex. Gear Play is a good example. Alex and Michel are hot, hot, hot for each other in the locker room. Rolling around a capturing one another in various gear is explicitly the story of foreplay (“gearplay”). From the title to the climax, this match up is heading one direction. This is a major plus for body worship (particularly of Alex… mmmm…). This isn’t really about the heat of the combat though. The erections are in the foreground, and the battle is really just background.
The other primary story Can-Am likes to tell is the victorious erection. Frequently, there’s a clear line drawn between the tussle and the hustle. Even naked combat is often limp, but as one hunk beats down his opponent and begins his total control, the scene changes to erotic ownership. Like in Can-Am’s most recent release, Arena 1, cocks are unleashed and engorged after victory is won. The erection is suddenly foregrounded starkly, and whatever domination is left to be had, it’s more about property than plot development. This is a stuff-it story: as soon as the hard-on arrives, it’s shoved into an orifice and the 70’s disco music starts playing (just in my mind).
That said, Can-Am occasionally throws some battlers on the mat who clearly get off on the battle itself. In Mat Muscle Mayhem 2 (someone enjoys alliteration almost as much as I do!), omnipresent Dino Phillips squeezes “German tourist” Rolf Heinrick’s head between his knees. Rolf may say “Nein!”, but the tent pole holding up his g-string is screaming, “Ja, ja, ja!”
Tattooed god, David Taylor, is a standout Can-Am performer for his marathon erection. From start to finish in his work in Wrestle Bait, David’s manhood is pressing at the seams (well, buttons, really), of his tear away trunks. The guy getting off on watching, Jobe, simply has to remark on David’s excitement from before the opening bell. An extremely trim Rusty Stevens seems undaunted by David’s throbbing cock. About halfway through the fight, Rusty starts slapping at David’s persistent pointer, and David seems genuinely winded by a couple of the startling blows. In the end, though, this is a stuff-it match. Erections are primarily to be shoved down throats and up rectums.
As I remember, Brody’s grab of bodybuilder Dolph’s member in Supermatch 13 may not actually have occurred prior to Dolph’s excitement. I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt, though, because I so enjoy this image of Dolph in shocked pain. He deserves it for that facial hair. I know opinions vary, but I for one enjoy a serious miss-match from time to time, such as massive slab of beef, Dolph, against sadistic twink Brody. These boys have to work to make it believable that Dolph wouldn’t simply crack Brody open and suck out the marrow for a mid-afternoon snack. A nicely oiled up cock-grab helps this this plot along.
I hate to conclude on a sour note, but I’d like to separate out my final comment/critique from the rest of the focus on Can-Am. A major turn off for me is when two hunks toss and grunt and squirm and squeeze, and then after a scene break, we find them across the room from one another jerking off. I assume it’s a function of hiring straight boys and marginally inhibited hunks, but watching two guys masturbate with their eyes closed, giving every appearance of struggling to ignore one another (while images of women-parts fill their heads), is a yawner for me. By no means is Can-Am the only company that plays this scene. But whenever I run across it, I consider part of my purchasing price a little wasted.
Sidelineland 