Wasted Wednesday

I’m trying out new hashtags for the rebooted blog. Today, I’m giving #wastedWednesday a trial run. It’s an homage to that spectacularly sweet moment in wrestling when a once bold, brash, cocky competitor is out-hustled and outmuscled. In straight-up pro wrestling, a hard-bodied hunk laid waste is probably just denouement. The camera centers on the pumped victor. The story is his story. But in wrestling for gay eyes, the camera frequently zooms back in on the vanquished, savoring the sight of his humiliation. It’s as much a story about his heartbreak as it is about the winner’s celebration. I think for many homoerotic wrestling fans, seeing a muscle hunk demolished can be pretty fucking climactic (at least it is in my pants). Bulging muscles left impotent. A swollen, cock-sure ego smashed to bits. Power and promise and danger pounded into a puddle of helplessness. For my tastes, the prettier, the stronger, the cockier the waste-ee, the better. So this is my little love letter to the hot, homoerotic wrestling hunks who gave it their all and, in the end, were left unable to lift a finger to defend themselves. Let me know if you think @wastedWedensday should be a thing.

Crushed Gabriel Cross

Gabriel Cross is left upended (literally) by Van Ryder in their Muscleboy Wrestling match. Gabriel’s journey from twink to muscle hunk is one of the most dramatic transformations in homoerotic wrestling history. Seeing his spectacular physique laid waste and his cherubic face out cold is so, so sweet.

Shattered Pet Sharp

Pete Sharp took BG East by storm there for a couple of years. Pete’s gargantuan package earned him an instant Best Bulge award 3 seconds after he arrived, but damn, was there even on inch of that 6’2″ blond, blue-eyed beefcake that wasn’t perfection? Show up looking like that, built like that, and you’ve got to expect some respect. But fuck, no. Not only did his one-time buddy Lon Dumont mercilessly maul the cocky hunk, but Braden Charron completed his titanic heel turn by dragging Pete’s gorgeous ass all over the ring. His tenure in homoerotic wrestling was far too brief, but damn Pete left a big impression!

drago colt.png

W4H’s Colt vs. Drago match is the paradigmatic #wastedWednesday story. Adorable Colt uses chloroform and one sleeper after another to repeatedly make Drago’s divine muscles go slack. All 6’4″ and 240 lbs of Drago are putty in Colt’s hands. Drago rouses, struggles, starts to fight back, but Colt clamps on another sleeper, wringing the tautness out of huge, flexing muscles. Rouse, ring, repeat.

scrappy rhino.png

During my hiatus from blogging, Scrappy evolved from a naughty, pretty boy into a franchise player with the body of a god. It does not surprise me at all that he is wracking up one of the most extensive homoerotic wrestling resumes in history, across multiple companies. He’s such a fan pleaser. It probably shouldn’t come as a surprise that opponents all want a piece of him. The sight of Scrappy’s powerfully sculpted muscles gone slack and his little boy face out cold, like when Rhino makes a name for himself posing over top of him, is such a turn on.

Ruined Gus Rowe – Bearhug Beatings 1

I was an instant Alex Oliver fan from the moment I laid eyes on him wrestling as Gus Rowe for BG East. He has a perennial look of a smirking frat boy accustomed to being the hottest and handsomest, which I assume the the very vibe that makes him such a target for getting absolutely thrashed over, and over, and over again. The method of his destruction varies, as do his opponents, but the match ain’t over until Alex is out cold and ass-up. Seriously, it’s his signature finishing move. This perennial jobber just can’t lose when it comes to turning me on, with his wasted, prone body, crushed, humiliated, and helpless.

Overturned Alex Oliver – Alex Oliver vs. Joey Angel & Alvin James (double-teamed)
Obliterated Alex Oliver – Alex Oliver vs. Sargent Stiff

So what do you think? What wrestlers never look better than when they’re worn out, rung dry, and laid out wasted? #wastedWednesday

Just me. Destroying you.

Wrester4Hire has made a new batch of matches available for members to view, so I sat down to take a look at Alex Oliver (aka Gus Rowe via BGE) and Damien Rush (MDW, BGE) in Knocked Out. The two hunks also square off in a publicly available match for sale on W4H, but Knocked Out is an erotic horror fantasy all its own.

Alex Oliver doesn’t see what’s coming.

If I’d known the plot of this clip ahead of time, honestly, I probably wouldn’t have watched it.  It’s a torture flick, nearly a snuff film, really, as “psychopath” Damien kidnaps gorgeous Alex from his very own car and deposits him in the middle of a wrestling ring for 20 minutes of total terror. That’s the story arc, really.  As a fan of competitive matches and relatively few “gimmicks,” this match seems like it isn’t in my wheelhouse. And yet, holy fuck, I was turned on and breathless nearly from start to finish.  Who knew!?

A homoerotic wrestling sadist rips another hunk from the real world.

One element that cranks my engine from the get go is something I’ve talked about a couple of times recently. Even in the car, Alex is in street clothes while his kidnapper is geared up in a black wrestling singlet. The focus on clothing at the start somehow massages me right below the balls just right. Alex looks like every frat boy on the planet, out cold on his back in the middle of the ring in jeans and an Abercrombie t-shirt. When Damien sets up his office (a brief case full of chloroform, chains, sparring gloves, and duct tape), the contrast between homoerotic fantasy heel Damien and vulnerable, ripped from the Real World Alex is lush.

Damien unwraps our present.

Equally titillating is the moment that Damien gets down to business unbuckling the unconscious stud’s belt. He violently rips apart Alex’ jeans, quite literally ripping them off his sweet body. “Oooooo,” Damien coos with unmistakable lust, “looks like you’re nice and prepped.” Alex’ long, thick, smooth legs and ultra low rise designer briefs are apparently all the prep that Damien could hope for in a victim.

“Ooooo, looks like you’re nice and prepped!”

“Where the fuck am I?!” Alex mutters in a panic as he starts to come to. “You’re in my house,” Damien answers coldly. “Time to wake up. Nap time is over. Fun time is just beginning.”  He pries the nearly naked hunk backward into a dragon sleeper, even as Alex gasps in horror, “Oh, GOD!”

“Fun time is just beginning!”

“What did I do to you!?” the captured stud cries with a note of pleading in his voice. And here’s where the genre of the match comes into clearest focus. Damien replies, “You didn’t do anything to me. But I’m going to do a lot to you.” Think Saw. Think Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs. This is a random act of horror. “You fucking psychopath!!!” Alex screams, again with just a note of horror, as if appealing to a shred of humanity left in the monstrous heart of his attacker. There is no shred. When Alex frantically slaps the mat while Damien gags him with his own belt, wrenching his neck backward, Damien chuckles. “What are you doing? Tapping!?” He rolls his eyes with contempt. “This isn’t a fight. This is just me destroying you.”

Headscissors, hairy pecs, and a chloroform chaser.

Although Knocked Out is considerably more a domination fantasy than a wrestling match, Damien’s use of wrestling holds and the ring ropes to torture his prey are just enough to stroke my kink. Full nelsons, sleepers, abdominal claws and grapevines bury deep into Alex panicked psyche. For no good reason other than terror, Damien grinds the toe of his boot into his nearly defenseless victim. When Alex tries to fight his attacker away with a flailing fist, Damien grabs the arm and pounds the wrist across his knee, threatening to break it in order to force the fratboy not to interfere with Damien’s “work.”

“That is just…SO…beautiful!”

By far the climax of this match (well, I climaxed. Twice. And that’s just on the first viewing), is when Damien duct tapes Alex’ wrists to the ring ropes as the fratboy sits dazed in the corner. When the captured stud tries to use his only free appendages to defend himself, Damien then duct tapes his right ankle to the ropes, and then cranks open spread eagled Alex’ fabulous legs and uses the kid’s own belt to truss up his left ankle to the rope. Damien takes a step back to admire his handiwork. “Look at that!” Damien says almost breathlessly, brimming with admiration. “That is just… SO… beautiful!,” the psychopath gushes, reading my mind. Again, I say, I am shocked at how completely turned on these guys make me without an ounce of competitive narrative. I just keep gasping in awe at how sensationally hot Alex’ gorgeous body is carved up and served raw. I haven’t had this much empathy for a psychopath since Dexter went off the air.

A rare view of Alex best side.

There’s one glaring missed opportunity in Knocked Out that has me shouting at the screen by the end. While I find the repeated use of chloroform redundant (I lose count around 6 times it’s put to use on the fratboy), the real misstep here is how precious little we see of Alex’ magnificent ass. I mentioned how much that ass grabbed my attention when he debuted with BG East, and the glimpses we do get of it in Knocked Out confirm the prime real estate that his mouthwatering cheeks are. I recently announced that I thought Cal Bennett had one of the most fuckable asses in the business, and I’m saying here and now that I think Alex’ glutes belong right up there at that same level. And while I am dizzied by his thick quads and lickable six-pack, I’m slightly embittered by how little camera time there is for Alex’ amazing ass.

“Right where I like it!”

Not to say that there’s a lack of attention paid to Alex’ ass. I think the second most evocative moment in the match comes right near the end when Damien has him in a reverse bearhug. Again, we get a great view of the fratboy’s gorgeous frontside, but, come on! A standard bearhug would have shown off that ass so sensationally! But still, it’s not like Damien’s overlooking the goods. When an exhausted Alex bends forward over his tormentors fists locked across his lower abdomen, Damien growls, “Right where I like it!” Several pelvic thrusts, pounding his crotch into the fratboy’s epic cheeks connects all the dots here.

Damien is tantalizingly terrifying.

Lest I neglect all of the most important parts, let me state the obvious when I say that Damien is a hot, hairy, fantasy heel. The contrast of his hairy muscles against Alex’ baby smooth body is yet another unmatched pairing that works sensationally for me. I have to admit that I think few muscle hunks suffer as desperately and provocatively as Damien does when he’s on the receiving end, but he does a great job as the maniacal tormentor in total control here.

Welcome to our world, stud!

So, although I’ve mentioned often how qualified is my enjoyment of an occasional squash, and how I’ve tried to parse apart the genres of domination kink and wrestling kink, despite myself, I loved Knocked Out. I’m looking forward to seeing more of Alex Oliver, preferably from behind.  I’d love to see more of this ripped-from-real-life-and-dropped-into-the-homoerotic-wrestling-universe scenario, and next time let’s see the involuntary hunk wrestle in street clothes just a little bit, driving home this great real life/fantasy tension. But in the mean time, I’m going back to enjoy Knocked Out more before it’s pulled off of the W4H member video rotation!

So pretty, it hurts.


Rookie stud Gus Row – 5’11”, 170 lbs.

I love fresh, rare meat. Since I’m a vegetarian, I suppose I should clarify that I love fresh raw meat like BG East rookie Gus Rowe in Bearhug Beatings 1. Handsome. Lean. Superbly fit. Entirely game. Yum, let’s tuck in right now and savor the choicest slice of beef on this pretty, pretty boy.

That ass!!!

Dat. Ass.  I often feel guilty when one particularly eye-catching feature captures me so completely. It’s not like gorgeous Gus is lacking in more than a dozen aesthetically notable features. Hand me a body of baby oil, and I’ll be happy to meet him in the ring and give you a guided tour. And he’s shown up in Bearhug Beatings 1 with a delightful earnestness, a naive confidence, and a bubbling cauldron of terror just beneath the surface. Gus deserves a first review from a blogger to be about more than his sensational ass.

Have I mentioned his ass?

But, fuck! I have a hard time tearing my eyes away from anything else with this cued up. The rookie doesn’t possess the outrageously built muscle glutes of, say, Best Butt winner many times over, Kid Karisma. The kid is lean, but his soft edges merely accentuate the palpable youthfulness, all that untested raw material. I have no idea whether Gus’ ass is literally virginal, but the quiver and give of those glutes are perfectly paired with his lamb to slaughter character as jobber-no-more Braden Charron beats the living shit out of him.

Braden squeezes the goods on behalf of us all.

Braden bearing down on a rookie like this is pretty compelling, I have to admit. I say that I have to admit it because I’m hit and miss with Braden lately. Often he puts me way over the top, but sometimes the story he tells feels too safe, too contained and well-worn. I’d hardly say he’s a raging heel in Bearhug Beatings. He’s vicious and merciless. He introduces gasping Gus to the shocks and awes of homoerotically inclined professional wrestling just fine. But his part feels much more to me that of the better endowed, more experienced, fan favorite hunk who gets to let loose on his achingly sweet rookie opponent.

“You gave me a wedgie!?!”

The years that Gus spends suffering in Braden’s bearhugs in this match show off his moneymaker to perfection. That gorgeous ass is center frame for ages, writhing and flexing, bobbing and shaking. Gus is stubborn early going, refusing to acknowledge the plain truth that he’s in way, way over his head. He gives Braden not an ounce of satisfaction. He somehow manages to submit without conceding anything. Until, that is, Braden seriously starts to fuck with his head. Up in one of those quivering bearhugs, Braden stretches his fingers down the kid’s right glute and yanks upward, hard, on Gus’ teal trunks. Those beautiful cheeks pop free. That word “virginal” screams like a siren in my head. The intimate vulnerability and the attention on baring that beautiful ass pulse with heat. And when the kid finally gives, again, and is thrown to the mat, he feels his bared cheeks, weeping in agony, and with disbelieving shock in his voice, cries, “You gave a wedgie!?”

Garnished with a side of sweat.

That’s my favorite moment of this match, the paradigmatic moment when Gus reveals that he was not expecting this. He realizes that he was not prepared for any of this. He has at least 10 more minutes of humiliating brutality left to suck on, and it’s just now dawned on him that he isn’t just going to lose, he’s going to be laid out and garnished like the prime cut of young beef he is. In my heart of hearts, I’m a little worried that having his eyes opened to the depths of torture and humiliation that he’s going to face in the BG East ring, lovely Gus may never darken the BG East doorstep again. But if there’s anything good in this world, then gorgeous Gus got up, licked his wounds (seriously, let me know if you need any help with that, Gus), and said to himself, “Fuck that was intense.  I need more!”

Fuck that was intense. I need more!

At least, that’s what I’m saying.