Sex Appeal

A recurring theme here has been my perpetual self-reflection on what it is about homoerotic wrestling that speaks to me. A regular point of perseveration has been what makes a wrestling match particularly “homoerotic.” I can get off on mainstream straight pro wrestling probably almost as much as the next guy, but my bread and butter continues to be this particular industry marketed specifically to gay men. And I know that within this industry, there are straight wrestlers, and the erotic heat that emanates from a lot of matches is what I’m bringing to it as a viewer. And I’m okay with that, as long as the whole interaction effect isn’t cloaked in a closeted wink-wink, where the producer and we know that this is marketed with a gay eye in mind, but the whole thing is kept strictly on the straight side of the fence so that a fan can exercise plausible deniability if they’re caught with an incriminating browser history (“I was just checking out some underground pro, bro”). Yawn.

Richie Douglas won this match the moment he realized how much Goren Ford wanted his body.

But it also isn’t just an issue of wrestlers pulling out their porn-ready cocks and wrestling hard and naked. Though there’s nothing wrong with that, as far as I’m concerned. In fact, I’m advocating for more straight forward naked wrestling, not just the last 2 minutes of a match before it devolves into out of control face sucking (not that I have any problem with that, either!). But what I key off of isn’t just the explicit homoeroticism of naked bodies, by any means. There’s this sweet spot right in the middle of straight-up pro with me supplying all of the erotic subtext, and hardcore porn with a clumsy grapple as appetizer.

Chase Addams puts his finger right on the sweet spot.

It’s sexy because of intention and attention. Like when a wrestler acknowledges that his opponent looks hot. The phrase, “Nice ass,” or “sweet pecs,” is pure gold when it comes to dialing a match squarely into the territory that grabs me hard. Of course a “no-homo” disavowal will totally kill that buzz, but happily I see less and less of that in the wrestling I watch these days. They don’t have to get their dicks out. Just notice, appraise the obvious assets of an opponent, and you’ve drawn me into the match. I’m invested 10 times more if the wrestlers state the obvious fact that they are both gorgeous specimens. I never see this in straight-up pro (not that I watch it much anymore), and I think it’s an angle that’s probably even more disruptive of heteronormativity than even getting your gear ripped off. Guys look at guys. Guys appreciate guys. Guys can be turned on by getting their hands on guys. The eroticism peaks long before (and even in the absence of) any cum being added to the recipe.

Giant Killer Baby Boy Leone pushes Calvin Haynes buttons.

I’ve mentioned before that I regularly push rewind around the time I get to more explicit sexual content at the end of harder-core matches. Like when I was following Naked Kombat, I would skim over the sex round to see if anyone comes close to Rusty Stevens’ perfect mix of corporal punishment, humiliation, and wrestling domination (naked pony rides, leg scissor armbars used like an accelerator pedal to taunt, tease, and torment a loser by commanding them to jack off just shy of orgasm again and again). The fucking itself, even the acrobatic, artistic fucking of professional porn stars who somehow are able to stretch and maneuver into positions that I’m pretty sure would dislocate multiple joints if I attempted them, comes across as downright pedestrian to me. The erotic heat is the sweat-inducing wrestling competition. It’s the suspense and the battle. It’s the passion to dominate knowing that the loser is going to get fucked, rather than the loser getting fucked, in and of itself.

Lauden worships the mat Drake beats him on.

So I love the story of a wrestler having to battle with his own lust to stay focused on beating his opponent. The erotic offense of one hunk destroying his opponent’s defenses with a nibble of the ear or a stroke of his hot body strikes me as the height of homoerotic. There’s a fantastic, frustrating, intensely provocative tease near the end of some matches where the lines between competition and giving in to total lust get so blurred that I can’t tell what’s an openly erotic trap and what’s just mutual submitting to the intimate passion of bodies grinding into bodies. So when one wrestler is ready to just get down to hooking up, and the other is just playing along long enough to snap shut a sleeper, or pound out a finishing OTK, or slip on a knee-breaking figure-4 leglock for the final, screaming, totally vulnerable submission, fuck that puts me over. Whipping out cocks and sucking and fucking at that point is totally vanilla, as far as I’m concerned. I’m pushing rewind to watch that look of shock wash across the loser’s face when he realizes his lust just walked him by the nose into becoming the property of his new master.

Skip Vance dials up homoerotic heat with Hawk Rodman

My tastes are broad and varied. I can get off on a wide spectrum of homoerotic content, from barely implied by the copyright holder to blistering hot fuck stakes consummated. But that sweet spot that I crave most in the middle of the normal distribution is unmistakable, and yet resists the easy out of sliding too quickly into hardcore porn. It’s an open nod to me, the audience, and an intentional grappling with the erotic potential between two smoking hot hunks hell bent on dominating one another. It’s a look, a groan, a nibble, a slap, a gasping grope, an unfocused reverie. It’s stating the obvious, that two barely clad studs pounding, grinding, and crushing into one another is potently intimate and powerfully arousing. Guys like guys. Wrestling ensues….

Mason Brooks profoundly enjoys beating Ty Alexander’s ass.

Hump Day

It’s been a while since I took a break from interviews and reviews for a more thematic post. Today, I’m thinking about that peculiar idiom, referring to Wednesday as “hump day.”  I actually missed this convention growing up.  It was some time in my early adulthood, probably perusing commentary about homoerotic wrestling, when I first heard the term “hump day.” Now, I see and hear it everywhere. I still associate it with sex, but considering how mainstream it is, that’s clearly not implied by everyone. But among those of us into homoerotic wrestling, what else would come to mind?

An enthusiastic pelvic thrust in the midst of a wrestling match is one of those relatively subtle moments that instantly turns a confrontation sensationally erotic. Personally, I get off on wrestling beyond any direct analogy to sex acts. But there’s an extravagant openness about a wrestler taking an opportunity by force to tease his crotch grinding into his opponent’s crack. It opens up exciting possibilities about stakes. It signals to those of us aroused on this side of the screen that at least one of the hunks on that side of the screen is also turned on. It’s impassioned and motivated and pulls a wrestling match out of the closet by the scruff of the neck. In those rare moments when the wrestler getting humped responds receptively, when his mouth gapes open in frustrated desire, when he’s visibly struggling with a momentary lust to get fucked by the hot hunk on his back competing with his desire for wrestling victory (I’m looking at you, Drake Marcos), then a wrestling match is elevated for me beyond any hardcore porn scene I’ve ever seen.

So, happy hump day, homoerotic wrestling fans. And a thousand thanks to those wrestlers who kick the competition up a notch with a hearty, grunting, sweaty pelvic thrust.

Drake immobilized by Skrapper’s cock – Matmen 26
Lauden Sevior starts punching Drake’s ticket – Undagear 27
Oh, look, Drake’s ass pinned to the wall by Ethan’s monster cock – Undagear 25
Jaysen Minx mounts Goren Ford’s hot ass and makes him ask himself just how bad he wants to fight back – Undagear 27 
Shocked heel beefcake Hawk Rodman’s final concession is cradling Fabrice’s thrusting cock between his cheeks – Mat Rookies 2

Perfectly Flawed

Gorgeous Goren Ford

Goren Ford is his own worst enemy. A little like Drake Marcos, Goren has demonstrated sensational instincts and assets for homoerotic wrestling that have been consistently undermined by getting lost in the erotic pleasure of competition. Of course, I love him for that. It’s one of those genuinely homoerotic angles on professional wrestling. Of course, I also love Goren’s gorgeous body. His proportions are dizzyingly sexy, with his meaty pecs, wasp-thin waist, and fantastically muscled bubble butt. He’s a deceptively big boy, too, and his 6’1″ “swimmer’s build” typically physically dominates his opponents on the mat. I’ve watched every match of his, and at the start of each and every one, my money is on Goren to beat his opponent and, knowing his lusts, celebrate by humping the loser’s face. By the end, though, 9 times out of 10 (well, literally, 2 times out of 3), Goren’s libido has been played like a fiddle, and he’s too turned on to be bitter about losing the match.

Introducing Jaysen Minx

Like both of Goren’s prior opponents, in Undagear 27  Jaysen Minx is smaller than he is. Jaysen isn’t as hard as Goren. His pecs don’t bulge as impressively. His thighs aren’t as thickly muscled. But he’s got the face of a male supermodel and the ass off a porn star. Honestly, those lips… fu-u-uck, somebody’s got to lock those puppies down and suck on his tongue (how the fuck did that not happen in this match!?). So sensationally pretty, both sneering/dominating and twisted in agony/suffering. I also love that BGE’s catalog 119 features two black men. It’s long overdue for the homoerotic wrestling audience to appreciate the hotness of a diversity of wrestlers. I don’t know if Jaysen will turn out to be a standout star (I think Ace Aarons, the other black wrestler in this catalog, may be more likely to), but fans of male beauty need to buckle up and be prepared to get lost in the Jaysen’s high cheekbones, lush lips, and dizzyingly gorgeous ass.

Goren’s hands and Jaysen’s eyes tell the whole story, start to finish.

Goren smells blood at the beginning of their match. Jaysen is a total newbie. He’s got a fierce look, but staring down at him, Goren looks like the big bad wolf licking his lips. He attacks confidently, exploiting his muscle and reach. But Jaysen is fucking fast. He scrambles and slides free of the vetaran, using a front facelock to drag the bigger man to the mat. Goren muscles free, but the newbie is quicker on the draw again, snapping down bodyscissors and making Goren gasp.

Jaysen makes the veteran work for it

Goren is playing defense more than I was expecting.  He steps in one bear trap after another. Certainly, he keeps muscling free, powering to one escape after another. That sends a message to Jaysen all in and of itself. Whatever you’ve got to throw at me, I can knock that shit back down again. But getting trapped repeatedly is sort of pissing the big man off. Moments after muscling free from a rear naked choke, Goren climbs on top of a schoolboy pin, sliding forward and grinding his package into those lush, sexy lips of Jaysen. “Yeah, not so tough now, huh?” Goren gloats. Pivoting his hips and sliding all the way forward on top of Jaysen’s chest, Goren humps that devastatingly pretty face. He grabs the back of the newbie’s head and yanks up hard, smothering Jaysen with his balls.

Jaysen returns the favor.

Jaysen’s got a plan, though.  You can see it the calm way he sucks on abuse, waiting, biding his time, clocking in the necessary hours to earn his way to his promotion. We get a first glimpse of the plan when very early on, he’s riding his own schoolboy pin and leans back, wrapping his hand around Goren’s package. It’s not a vicious claw. It’s not violent at all, really. It’s appraising and appreciative. It’s teasing and seductive. It’s as if Jaysen’s knows Goren’s resume, and he’s putting his thumb on the veteran’s self-destruct button early and often.

Digging for gold

Goren’s caught off guard (which makes me think he doesn’t yet realize that he’s his own worst enemy). He whines so plaintively it makes me laugh. I heard the same thing in his spectacular undoing against mouthwatering bon bon Richie Douglas. Goren gasps and bitches like he’s completely shocked that someone would dare grab a hold of his lovely bulge without permission. It’s a little high pitched, like a brat protesting being ordered to go brush his teeth. The contrast of his classic Greek statue of a body and his petulant protests is so sexy! I get the impression Jaysen thinks so as well, because he repeatedly grabs a hold whenever the opportunity arises. A particularly sexy dragon sleeper by the rookie makes Goren arch his hips high in the air to relieve a little pressure on his neck. Immediately and decisively (remember, he’s got a plan), Jaysen slides his hand down inside the front of Goren’s singlet and wraps his fingers around this cock.  Again, this isn’t a ball claw. He’s not even bothering with Goren’s balls. He intentionally and deliberately takes the opportunity to enthusiastically throttle Goren’s cock, cranking on that jet engine of a libido the veteran has.

Only now does Goren realize where Jaysen has set his sights.

The scales come off of Goren’s eyes when he’s proving how strong he is, once again, by muscling his way free from the newbie’s standing full nelson. It’s part of that repeated trap and escape pattern, and it’s like Goren is still buying the idea that he’s demonstrating his superiority. But Jaysen suddenly grabs Goren’s singlet as the veteran slips free, yanking it to the ground and leaving Goren standing there in nothing but his jock strap. Again, I say, fu-u-uck.  That ass. But that’s just me, because everyone else’s attention is on the pouch. Angrily, Goren steps clear of the singlet and turns, grabbing his crotch and waving it his opponent’s direction. “You want to get at this, huh?” Goren growls angrily, defiantly. Jaysen just stares back calmly, staring fixedly, hungrily at the wrapped meat in Goren’s hand. Yes, Goren, the rest of us noticed several minutes earlier. Jaysen most clearly wants, and so far has been surprisingly adept at getting, your tantalizing cock.

Feet about to slide into position

At this point in their young careers, neither of these guys are particularly smooth wrestling technicians. I’d say at least a quarter of the action is spent in messy, mad scrambles, as they both struggle with applying and maintaining holds. What they lack in technical wrestling ability, though, they more than make up for in enthusiasm. That rear naked choke that Jaysen applies often is getting more polished by the minute. And in a stroke of intuitive genius, he adds half-hearted scissors around Goren’s incredibly narrow waist. The scissors are half-hearted because the real point is, thus positioned, Jaysen’s inspired success in massaging Goren’s cock with his bare feet. It’s persistent and, again, entirely titillating (of course I’m referring to Goren, but holy shit, I’m highly titillated watching it). “Get the fuck off my dick!” Goren bitches again in that petulant, high pitched whine, twisting his hips to pull his crotch out of reach. Jaysen smiles slightly and slaps Goren’s gorgeous ass in reply.

Nobody’s complaining

The messy scrambles give way to smooth transitions from one erotically intimate hold after another. Goren mounts another schoolboy and slowly drags his crotch up Jaysen’s bare torso. He flexes his beautiful biceps to treat the newbie who’s so clearly into him. Slowly, seductively he slides his hips forward again, pinning the newbie’s head to the mat under the weight of his cock pressing against his lips. Nobody’s complaining. Jaysen wants it. A lot.

“Put your face in that ass!”

Jaysen eventually counters, rolling the veteran to his back, dangling his own package tantalizingly in Goren’s face. Again, Goren bitches and whines petulantly. I don’t believe it for a second, because the big man is barely fighting it. Smoothly, Jaysen spins around on Goren’s hotly muscled chest and slides his hips backward. “Put your face in that ass!” Jaysen commands like a seasoned erotic pro. The newbie stretches his torso forward, down the length of the veteran’s body, and buries his face in the prize he’s been eying all along. Goren sort of fights it, but again, I don’t buy it. The newbie’s ass is so fantastic. Sure Goren doesn’t want to lose. He doesn’t want to be humiliated. On the other hand, he does want that ass. He does want his cock serviced.

I love it when a plan comes together

The final minutes of the match are all about squeezing and pressing their bodies together. Bearhugs, crotch pillow headscissors. Jaysen scores the undisputed victory in submissions, because… Goren. Goren has forgotten all about the competition by the end of it all because… Goren. They fucking want each other, grinding, squeezing, groping each other’s bodies, Jaysen hypnotizing the beast by stroking his cock. The scene fades to black with everyone aroused. Most especially me.

“You want to get at this, huh?”

Sensationally sexy debut for Jaysen. I’m aching to see that rear naked choke foot massage applied to some more BG East wrestlers. And Goren is so stunningly, spectacularly, perfectly flawed, that it’s an incredible pleasure to watch him be so distracted and wooed. Future opponents would be well to note that Jaysen has found Goren’s self-destruct button. You don’t need to pound on it. You don’t need to punch it. Just a few strokes, a little massaging, and gorgeous Goren can be all yours.

Beaten so good he doesn’t even mind it.



I went to college at a very, very small liberal arts school with a very, very unsuccessful Division III football team. They sucked. A lot. Literally, years went by without a single victory. Not that I was involved in the program, but it was no secret that recruiting for the football team was a major bitch. No scholarships. No pro career prospects. Very little hope of ever tasting victory before they graduated or, even more likely, they’d burn through eligibility while hanging on by the skin of their teeth to skimming by in their academics and finally just walking away to dig ditches. Our football team literally shrunk while I was enrolled in college, each year’s freshmen getting smaller, while bigger players went elsewhere. My junior year, the football team recruited a wide receiver who was, I kid you not, 5’2″ tall. Thing is, though, he was fucking fast, with big, powerful thighs, an exceptionally stellar muscled ass, and gorgeous, Tom Cruise-ish good looks. Despite their abysmal record, I suddenly took an interest in football that year.

5’5″, 140 lbs Drake Wild bears down on 5’11”, 200 lbs Derek Fox in Pro Sex Fight 13

This pint-sized wide receiver with big league glutes and a baby face starred in many a homoerotic wrestling fantasy in my imagination. Just writing about him now is making me hard. There was just so much fabulous potential wrapped up in his tight, taut, petite jock body. In the never ending erotic wrestling tournament in my head, the little wide receiver inevitably got muscle bullied around the ring by bigger guys. I always pictured him getting picked up and thrown from corner to corner. Tall, ripped, cocky hunks (typically from our extremely successful and wildly popular basketball team) would, in the no holds barred wrestling matches in my collegiate imagination, deliver a barrage of high impact, high altitude power moves on him, gorilla presses, scoop slams, one-handed choke slams, spine-tingling suplexes that catapulted his magnificent, muscled ass from corner to corner.

5’6″, 160 lbs Denny Cartier breaks big 6’2″, 240 lbs Joe Robbins down to size in Catch Weight 2

Rereading my interview with Charlie Evans and perusing several of the comments to that interview remind me of that hot, gorgeous little wide receiver firecraker with a supremely fuckable ass. As I’ve mentioned several times lately, the difference in size itself became erotically charged for me. But far beyond just visuals, I crushed hard on the little stud because of the drama of a vastly undersized hottie audaciously running out onto the field and climbing into the pro wrestling ring in my imagination (through the bottom two ropes, of course) and staring fearlessly up at the overwhelming odds towering above.

5’7″, 150 lbs Bolt stares way up at 6’2″, 265 lbs Brute in Custom Series 33 from Thunder’s Arena


I was relatively agnostic about my all-time favorite wide receiver’s win-loss record in his homoerotic wrestling career in my mind. Like the very best babyfaces, he was always dangerous and perpetually vulnerable at the same time. I distinctly remember him getting his jock strap ripped to shreds and having his rock hard muscle cheeks plowed hard by a particular, hot, muscled black power forward. I also have clear memories of him turning the tide on a certain aloof, blond, aristocratic shooting guard who was schoolboy pinned and force fed the beer can cock of the smirking, flexing wide receiver. Win or lose, he was a favorite object of my homoerotic wrestling imagination not despite his stature, but because of it.  And not just because of his stature, but because of the inherent drama of an ambitious, earnest, hard working little stud throwing himself headlong at the big boys.

5’9″, 165 lbs Cody  Cummings is jerked around by 6’4″, 220 lbs Zeke West in Mat Muscle Match 1


As I told Charlie, I continue to nurture a crush for David vs. Goliath homoerotic wrestling matches. I like big vs. little matches where the differential is massive, the odds are long, and the action is brutal. I love seeing audacious little studs hoisted over head and pounded into the mat. I love seeing them take every ounce as brutal an assault as any heavyweight and then keep peeling their battered, petite, bite-sized bodies off the mats and defying the big boys demanding that they submit in body and soul.

Fearless 5’10”, 132 lbs Billy Lodi is just barely bested by 6’2″, 206 lbs Mitch Colby in Catch Weight 6

While I don’t care for many matches in which one competitor is just furniture, getting moved and manipulated and owned effortlessly, a match in which a seriously undersized wrestler is defiantly sucking down a mountain of abuse is in a squash-class of its own for me. If the little guy walks in with his head up, clenches his jaw in the face of fate, and demands respect by just surviving a magnificent beating, I will so get off on that just like I did when I staged wide receiver getting his sensational ass tagged in the middle of the ring by that power forward.

5’7″, 150 lb Bolt momentarily schools 6′, 255 lbs Brian Cage in Ring Wars 21

However, I think my hardest David vs. Goliath fantasies flip that script with a vengeance. When the audacious little underdog battles back against the barrage of muscle and mass, now that is fucking hot. When he starts accumulating riding time on a thoroughbred 50 pounds bigger, my adrenaline pumps into overdrive. And when I pictured my pretty little wide receiver slapping down a big, cocky all-American who’s never tasted defeat before, when he wears the big boy the fuck out, slapping that beer can in Goliath’s shocked, humiliated face, then little David is fucking king of my world.

5’7″, 120 lbs Charlie Evans shoved into the ceiling by 5’8″, 175 lbs Morgan Cruise in Gorilla Press 1 by MDW


I hold heartedly agree with the implication of Charlie’s argument that every homoerotic wrestling roster needs the little guys. Ever roster needs the underwear models and the bodybuilders. Ever roster should have raw edged street punks and square jawed All-American heroes.  They should all have daddy’s little rich boys and ripped, raging, beautifully endowed sex brawlers. The industry should invest in recruiting hard edged pros and hot, inexperienced nerds. It should put up flat footed pornboys and fierce, lanky, long-distance runners. Personally I’m longing for a snarling radical fairy doing battle with a white collar stock broker on the homoerotic wresting down low.

5’10”, 150 lbs Skrapper is crushed by 5’11”, 240 lbs Brook Stetson in Catch Weight 2

The homoerotic pro wrestling industry is as susceptible to the tyranny of the capitalist market place as anything else, of course, so I certainly understand when, occasionally, it seems like everyone climbing through those ropes looks and moves and suffers alike. But as someone who has watched a TON of homoerotic wrestling (not even counting that running channel in my imagination of round the clock homopro), I’m always longing for producers to fill those niches Charlie and I talked about. Tickle those erotic fantasies we didn’t even know we loved. Populate our screens and imaginations with the great diversity of dramas, bodies, races, ages, etc., that makes oppressively straight real life bearable.

Little 5’8″, 140 lbs Richie Douglas makes all the little guys proud against 6’1″, 170 lbs Goren Ford in Sunshine Shooters 8

And most definitely, gives us pint-sized baby face heroes audacious enough to climb into the ring with beasts a foot taller and 80 pounds heavier, and to tell us a compelling, seat of our pants, crotch-tugging homoerotic wrestling drama that reflects real life writ larger, more erotic, and completely improbable, but yet, speaking to our real lives.

5’10”, 156 lbs TAK is dwarfed by 6’3″, 240 lbs Freak in Mat Rats 63 by Thunder’s Arena

And now, excuse me. I need to go dig out an old college yearbook.

Boy Meets World

Little Richie Douglas

I’ve had my eye on adorable little Richie Douglas from day one. Cute as a fucking button and smooth as a baby’s bottom, Richie is the boy next door I had a raging crush on all my life. His opening forays into BG East competition had a distinct lamb to the slaughter vibe about them. Austin Cooper seriously ate him for lunch, and the EPIC beatdown he took at the hands and boots and pecs and fucking every last inch of Lane Hartley was almost (almost) hard to watch, it was so brutal. But like so many homoerotic wrestling fantasymen, little Richie was phenomenal to watch for the visual feast of sugary sweet, innocent muscle massacre, but I was starting to put him in that sad category of wrestler whose wrestling is “gay” mostly because I’m watching it, rather than anything he says or does in a match.

Mat scramble

I stand corrected. After watching Richie face big, gorgeous Goren Ford in Sunshine Shooters 8, I have had to reclassify lovely Richie into a whole new category. No longer fresh meat. Not lamb to slaughter. And not rigid straightboy all buttoned up and carefully chaste amid the low down, musky eroticism of the homoerotic wrestling universe. No, Richie is none of those things. What he is, is a compact cock tease with a no longer secret fetish for red lace undergear and making a big, muscle hunk suck his balls.

Goren digs in deep

You read that right. There’s an unflinching erotic scrapper with boatloads of amateur wrestling cred and an achingly prettyboy jock body all wrapped up nice and tight in that suction packed wrestling singlet. And in Sunshine Shooters 8, gorgeous Goren quite literally unwraps all of that and introduces us to the sexiest little erotic bon bon who’s been hanging out right underneath our noses all along.

Gorgeous Goren Ford

I popped my cork all over Goren’s Dark Knight debut a while back. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. And he shows up out of nowhere and slaps down one of the sexiest daddy domination matches I’ve seen in a longtime. In contrast to Richie, Goren burned up the mats and scorched my retinas with his overt, sensationally secure, firm but gentle (well, not really gentle) boy taming of notoriously petulant pretty boy, Ty Alexander. Who the fuck does that? Who just shows up on day one of their homoerotic wrestling career, gets naked, looks like a Greek god, and physically and psychologically dominates an industry veteran into being his boy toy? It was a rhetorical question, but the answer is Goren Ford, that’s who.

Goren muscle bullies the pretty boy

So Sunshine Shooters 8 is a promising pairing from the start. Chaste, ripped boy next door gets interrupted while running drills for his upcoming wrestling tournament by older, wiser, Greed god and erotic savant. “If you want to practice, you can practice with me,” Goren smirks when Richie bitches about having reserved the mats. Big Goren pulls off his t-shirt and flexes those lean, meaty pecs in the boy’s face.

“Come on, submit.”

Goren is no amateur wrestler, though. He’s the first to admit it. So when little Richie repeatedly outhustles him and takes him to the mat, no one is shocked. However, when Richie slides into a schoolboy pin and starts to taunt the proven whip cracker, I’m a little surprised. “Come on, submit,” Richie smirks, staring down. “No fucking way, man!” Goren refuses in disgust, “not to a little guy like you.”

“This little guy’s kicking your ass right now!”



“This little guy’s kicking your ass right now,” Richie smirks, dialing the sexy up to 11. “What do you got to say to that?” Goren has a lot to say, mind you. He’s almost half a foot taller and over 30 pounds heavier, even ripped to the bone like he is. He muscles his way out of several jams and uses all of that superior size and strength to bulldoze the sensational pretty boy underfoot. He still looks new to the wrestling game, but that same calm, overpowering, hungry expertise in bending a hot boy to his will comes shining through time and time again. Big bad Goren makes little Richie hurt. A lot. And then he gives the squirming jock a little breathing space to decide if he’s ready to willingly be big Goren’s personal plaything. Chaste Richie stubbornly refuses. He rejects the erotic overtures. He denies the ripped muscle god bearing down on him the satisfaction.

Richie goes there!

It’s all going according to plan, I’m thinking, right up until the moment that little Richie  has the big man all snug in headscissors. The little jock looks over his shoulder and smiles, clearly enjoying the sight of Goren’s face crammed nice and tight up next to Richie’s munchable ass. And then he reaches down and rips the baggy shorts off the big man. “You don’t need these,” Richie smirks, suddenly using them to choke him. It’s playful, but deliberate. It’s overtly sexual and all about the erotic domination.  I don’t think Richie is going to be able to translate that move to his upcoming amateur wrestling tournament.

Richie smothers him.

So that’s eyebrow-archingly sexy new stuff from Richie. I’m liking it even more when he schoolboy pins the big man again and quite deliberately shoves his crotch in Goren’s face. It isn’t just dominating. It’s not a playground nohomo move. It’s erotic and hungry and sexy as hell.

“So you like shoving your balls in another man’s face?”

“So you like shoving your balls in another man’s face?” Goren says once he’s eaten crow, submitted, and been taunted by the hot little jock bouncing on his feet in front of him. It’s a fair question. I totally expect chaste little Richie to shrug it off and keep this RHW-straight laced. “Maybe,” Richie smirks. What the fuck?! Richie just said that, maybe, he likes shoving his balls in another man’s face!!!



Goren does not need an engraved invitation to turn the burner to high. He shoves Richie to the wall and playfully toys with the kid’s singlet, tugging it down. Richie just smiles and lets him. All the way down. Little Richie Douglas just leans back and lets Dark Knight Goren peel his singlet off him, all the way down to red lace briefs.

“Why don’t you find out?”

“I wonder what else do you like,” Goren says, playing with the kid’s sweet pecs and taking a hands on measure of the heft of the package hanging between Richie’s thighs. “Why don’t you find out?” Richie teases.

Back to the trough

I just was not expecting this. This is so not a narrative built around the battle between lasciviousness and chastity. This isn’t that familiar morality tale about dabbling on the dark side and getting trapped in hedonistic flypaper. Richie wants it. More than that, he’s ready for it. More than that, he’s a fucking sensational at taking the heat and zinging it right back at the amorous Greek god. Goren flings the kid to the mat and climbs on his back, grinding his crotch into those aforementioned munchable ass cheeks. Far from any gay panic defense, Richie works his way on top and slaps down another schoolboy pin on the big man. And now in those seductive red briefs, little Richie slides forward and smothers the Dark Knight with his balls.

Little Richie’s all grown up!

At the risk of repeating myself, I was NOT expecting this. Goren opens wide. He sticks out his tongue and laps at the low hanging fruit in his face. He turns his head to the side and slides his tongue slowly up Richie’s smooth inner thigh to the base of his balls. And not-so-chaste-afterall Richie just smiles down and shoves his hips forward another fraction of an inch.

Little kicks big’s ASS!

The visuals in this match are stunning, and I don’t just mean the two eye-poppingly pretty bodies stripped down to next to nothing. I’ve been writing often about that extra kick I get from size differentials, from starkly mismatched bodies bearing down on each other. 6’1″ Goren muscling his way all over Richie’s 5’8″ fantasy body makes me swoon. And value added still is little Richie Douglas absolutely turning the tables on the Dark Knight and physically, psychologically, and sexually dominating the big man like the unabashed homoerotic scrapper he obviously was all along.  He works the big man convincingly. He owns him with speed and skill, but really puts him away with that big, bulging pouch repeatedly shoved into his gaping mouth. It’s a big vs. little scenario where sensationally sexy little grabs the bull by the horns and makes this big, muscled beauty his own.

Suck on that humiliation

“See you in the showers,” Richie says over his shoulder as he saunters that bon bon ass out of the mat room. It isn’t a salutation. It isn’t a sportsmanly gesture of respect. It isn’t any reference to water under the bridge, the way it might look like in print. It’s a command.

“See you in the showers.”

And Goren shakes off the ass kicking he just took and trucks his magnificent, muscled ass right after little Richie Douglas.

Dark Chemistry

Some challenges should not be taken up lightly.  For example, making a contribution to BG East’s Dark Knights series strikes me as a huge undertaking with so many nuanced and necessary moving parts that it’s little wonder that they go years at a time between producing new ones. Finding the particular constellation of wrestlers with certain erotic fantasies and personalities to embody them, along with hot bodies and a readiness to go all-in on the psychoerotic content of sexual domination and wrestling has got to be a rare gem to unearth.

Ty Alexander and Goren Ford make a bid to inhabit the Dark Knights series.


Frankly, I wasn’t certain whether BG East had the recipe quite right when I sat down with Dark Knights 12.  For one thing, lovely, lickable Ty Alexander seemed like a possible miscast.  The sweet jobber has been owned by every eager pair of hands to grab hold of that bodacious butt of his so far in his outings with BG East.  I’ve noted from the beginning that the fashion-forward stud clearly has a wrestling arsenal to be reckoned with, despite his ultimate defeats, but still, I’ve had this sneaking suspicion all along that Ty may get off on getting owned. Having him star as the stubborn, competitive prize that must be conquered and bent to the will of a new master could have been a short trip. A full-fledged jobber who’s demonstrated conclusively his arousal at being dominated by prior opponents might not make a compelling conquest for a Dark Knight.

Ty is no pushover!


Happily, I was wrong about babyface Ty.  The kid is most definitely not made of sugar and spice and everything nice, and with a baritone bruiser never seen on camera before showing up and promising to tag and bag him, Ty’s response is fucking brilliant.  He sorts the rookie daddy-wannabe out right quick, squeezing the fight out of Goren Ford with those smooth, powerful legs. “You think you’re pretty tough, eh boy?” Goren grunts locked up nice and tight. “I can handle you,” he promises ironically looking stuck-but-good in Ty’s confident clutches.

Ty’s answer to an opponent who “talks to much.”


“You talk too much,” Ty smirks, rolling his would-be conquerer to his back in a schoolboy pin and slapping on a full-throttle kiss. He suddenly covers Goren’s mouth and nose with his hand, threatening to smother the handsome rookie out early, using his free hand to squeeze and stroke Goren’s gorgeous, meaty pecs.  Nope, Ty is not a pushover, and if a ripped rookie like Goren anticipated that would be the case, he’s sorely mistaken.

Goren looks hungry as he ties Ty into knots.


Casting a raw rook as potential Dark Knight daddy also worried me initially. Selling this story requires a ton of sell, not just of physical domination, but deep, raging hard lust to take ownership of another man, body and soul.  There are certainly BG East stars fully qualified to take me down that path without a second glance, .  The bench of tried and true heels with proven track records for delighting in crushing, humiliating, and reveling in the spoils of victory is deep, any one of which could easily show the capacity and motivation for this role.  A rookie must not only tell this complex story of physical and psychological domination, but he’s also introducing himself to us. He’s conveying the tolerances and temptations of his commitment to wrestle. He’s demonstrating his tactical prowess and convincing us of his ample strength and stamina.  He has to sell us on him, and then sell us on him as hard-as-granite for bending a boy’s body in order to break his will and make him his bitch.  As instantly infatuated with Goren’s look as I was, I was skeptical.

Hottest pair of asses to appear in the same match!? Quite possibly…


Then again, never mind!  Holy fuck, Goren looks like he owns the place!  Or, perhaps more to the point, he owns mouthwatering Ty with a decisiveness and delight that leaves me with the feeling that I’ve been lusting after this handsome hunk (and that outrageously phenomenal ass!!!) for years.  Like a truly dominating daddy, Goren doesn’t raise his voice.  Even when he’s letting the kid get riding time, his sexy-as-fuck deep baritone coos and croons, demonstrating over and over that the worst that Ty can do (and obviously, it’s seriously bad), is nothing that a hot hunk like Goren is worried about in the least.  Stunningly, the hunk simply tosses Ty off of him like an errant piece of lint.  With total command, he mounts Ty’s face, treating the boy to an intimate encounter with those glutes Ty has been pawing at eagerly, and lets the kid squirm and writhe in a panic.

Goren sternly trains Ty in precisely how he likes it.


So sure, I had my doubts before pushing play, but I am totally sold as this Greek tragedy plays out all over Ty’s gorgeous body.  Bit by bit, Goren wears him down, wears him out.  Fuck, he just plain wears him like a hot banana hammock that makes daddy feel that extra bit of sexy at the end of the day.  He’s just too much muscle and raging crush-lust for cherubic Ty to resist for long, and once Ty’s battered into defenselessness, Goren goes to town turning the kid into his personal sex toy.

Goren had better never see that angelic little white thong on his boy ever again!


Defenselessness, however, is not the end game in a Dark Knights match.  It’s not that Ty is beaten into an inability to keep fighting.  It’s not that he’s sleepered out cold, or physically dominated into submission.  The end game is psychological submission, the handing over of not just Ty’s body, but his will to his aspiring daddy.  And delightfully, Ty doesn’t give it up willingly.  That sly, shit-eating grin that grows on the boy’s face whenever he’s about to defy his would-be conquerer is priceless.  My friends, in this daddy-boy performance art, Ty is a naughty, naughty boy.  And as fun as it is to watch Ty grow petulant, it absolutely works me into a lather to watch Goren grin right back at him, relishing the challenge of (often literally) slapping the kid back down.

Ty can’t remember if this was his idea or daddy’s.



The chemistry between these two is explosive.  I mean, literally, the explosions that happen here are way messy and making me bitter that the DVD doesn’t come with the ability to smell the body fluids coating the mat and both beautiful bodies.  As infatuated as I was from the start with Goren’s phenomenal ass, I’m simply stunned by his incredible cock.  If BG East decides to launch a Best Cock category in the year-end fan poll, Goren Ford is at the top of my ballot.  I can’t imagine that being forced to provide full service to that magnificent member is exactly an onerous task for beautiful Ty, but Ty’s pleasure is regularly punctuated by the harsh discipline that his new daddy metes out in expertly measured doses.  He’s training his boy sternly, demonstrating that once conquered, Ty’s pleasure and pain are entirely within the purview of daddy Goren. And for the record, daddy Goren likes to taunt, but there’s something incredibly moving about watching the look of satisfaction on his face as he watches Ty obey daddy’s command to jerk himself off.  Chemistry.  Fucking incredible chemistry.

A match made in Dark Knights heaven. What a team!


Dark Knights 12 is visually stunning, incredibly compelling psychodrama with two outstanding combatants who sell this erotic fantasy with an enthusiasm that convinces me that there’s a lot more here than just putting out for the camera. There will remain a bitter, unfilled hole in my life as long as I don’t see these two show up in a daddy & boy tag team ring match.  And I’m saying here and now my money is on the Ford-Alexander team. Please, oh please wrestling gods, hear my prayer!