To keep things shiny, I’m trying out a new hashtag: #TwoOnOneTuesday. No one loves a little alliteration as much as I do. Well, I know of one particular homoerotic wrestling producer who does, but other than that, I suspect alliteration tickles me more than you (which reminds me, I think there ought to be more tickling in homoerotic wrestling!). In any case, Two-On-One-Tuesdays may, or may not, end up being a thing. You can let me know what you think in the comments. But so far I like it. There’s something particularly sexy about seeing a couple of mates manhandling and mastering a muscleman, making him moan and milking his misery.
Possibly the first 2-on-1 match that I got off on was the Tag Team Torture 2 match where Jeff Phoenix’ partner was a no show. There was no mention of who the son of a bitch was who abandoned this bulging, blue eyed, blond beefcake to face notorious heels Jose and Cruz alone. Wouldn’t that have been a sensational grudge match sequel, when Jeff beat the living fuck out of the traitor!? Jeff held his own for a while against this 2-on-1, just long enough to make the coverboy cocky, which turns Jose and Cruz’ double team demolition that much sweeter.
The bitter divorce of Jonny Firestorm and Calvin Haynes’ tag team led instantly to the sensationally sexy double-team of Calvinby Jonny and his rebound partner, pretty-pretty Royce Perry. I’ve nursed this fantasy pretty much every time I’ve had a rough break-up. Seriously, I always have this exact fantasy of meeting my ex in a wrestling ring, revealing the mouth-wateringly hot new model I traded up for, and the two of us beating him down, turning him on, and leaving him with blue balls. Just me?
Over at W4H, sexy go-go boy Christian Thorn apparently took so many brutally one-sided beatings that Cameron arranged for him to take some wrestling lessons from pro hunks Ronny Pearl and Teddy Trouble. What could go wrong? The classy pros put the pretty boy through his paces, but perhaps it’s too much of a good thing. Double-teamers take notes: 2-on-1 babyface jobber crushing can go wildly off the rails if you can’t get on the same page with your partner.
It’s another pro vs. Instahunk story when Joey King takes advantage of his extensive experience to humble bodybuilder Steel in Rough & Ready 103. But Joey’s simmering feud with that other Instahunk, Scrappy, comes back to bite him in his lovely, round ass, when Scrapster joins the fray. So, sure, I can totally tune in to pretty muscleboy posers working up a head of steam on a bad ass pro.
Regular readers will recognize this tendency I have to get totally infatuated with a particular wrestler who may, or may not, be objectively more notable than anyone else. And there we have Weekend Wrestling’s Pretty Boy Assassin. I don’t know exactly what it is that turns my crank quite as hard as he does, but I’m screaming to tag in with him when he’s getting double teamedby his official opponent, Brendan Byers, and WW’s boss man Cole Cassidy. Fuck, now I’ve got a fierce rescue fantasy churning away. Just one more way a two-on-one can turn me on!
Let me know what you think about #TwoOnOneTuesdays, and if they should stay on the menu.
After Rudolph was the first to correctly identity the beautiful glutes in last week’s Name That Ass game, I asked him to name a topic he’d like to see a neverland post devoted to. He named a classic figure from BG East yesteryears who, I completely agree, has been woefully neglected in the pages of this blog. Honoring both Rudolph’s awesome game winner and the abundant merits of the sexy ass hunk in question, let’s chat just a bit about Sean Patrick.
Sean earned the name, “The Kisser,” by doing exactly that. He used those luscious lips to lock on to an opponent mid-match and suck the fight right out of him. He came out swinging in his notable debut against BG East fixture and ever-dangerous mat daddy, DW, in Undagear 2 (you may have to ask for it, since I don’t see it listed in the online catalog at this point). A hot, long, sexy rookie leading with his lips is quite a way to establish your credentials, so it’s little wonder the BG East boys starting lining up to sample Sean’s wares.
I’ve mentioned before my impression that Christian Taylor became Sean’s heir apparent a few years later. The two bear more than a passing resemblance, at least in my estimation. Very similar body types. Less than an inch in height difference. Classically handsome, dark haired, luxuriously long. And they both have lips that absolutely scream out for some mid-match suckface. Like Christian, there was an instant, intuitive homoerotic passion whenever Sean climbed on board. Kissing shows up with remarkable regularity with both of these pretty boys.
Sean inaugurated the Sexy Showdown series at BG East in his sophomore release. His opponent, Kurt Eriksen, came loaded for bear in order to work over the audacious rookie who had the nerve to completely distract Kurt’s buddy, DW, with those sexy lip locks. So, in a way, the very concept of the Sexy Showdown franchise his built upon Sean’s searching, probing, aggressively grasping lips. There’s no need in Sexy Showdown 1 (or 2, or 3, or 4… Sean starred in them all) to read a homoerotic subtext. The eroticism is right in your face, or, more accurately, planted squarely across the lips of his opponents.
He regularly wrestled his way right out of his gear, and the lovely, lean stunner had an ever-ready rod proportionally long and, appropriately enough, a magnet for the mouths of many opponents. Sean broke-in epic muscle stud Iain Scott in Sexy Showdown 3, and the meat of both of these incredible studs played prominently in the explosive finish. In Showdown 4, Sean’s sword was once again unsheathed by sweaty muscle pig Bud Orton, who uses Sean’s incapacitation in a steamy figure-4 headlock to make the Kisser lose his load, and the match, but in Sexy Showdowns, who really loses?
Sean also helped inaugurate the Tag Team Torture franchise, starring in what I continue to think of as the paradigmatic example of the essence of homoeroticism in wrestling by teaming up with Patrick Donovan and running into the brutal heel-buzzsaw of vicious, sadistic, perpetually horny Cruze and Jose. There’s so much right about that bout. The pitch perfect positioning of beautiful, lean babyfaces staring down meaty, hungry heels is spot on. Sean and his brave compatriot, Patrick, play their parts with skills that no pair of rookies should be able to, bravely flinging themselves again and again into the breach. And the 2-on-1 double teams, brutal humiliation, and total disregard for common decency of Cruze and Jose send this match hurtling headlong into a genre-defining moment, as Sean and Patrick are stripped naked (Cruze also peels off his own trunks, but just because he’s so fucking turned on!), brutalized, and stacked like cordwood in an innovative double-dose suffering of a camel clutch/boston crab combination. Just for kicks, and judging by the size of Cruze’s erection, he’s getting a major kick out of it, the heels finally force the doomed babyfaces into face-to-face simultaneous camel clutches, topping off (me) the homoeroticism by forcing the humiliated twosome to suck face on command. That’s got to be in my top 5 most insanely sexy matches!
Sean cemented his credentials as one of the founding fathers of explicit sexiness in homoerotic wrestling by starring in two X-Fights, first against Dick the Prick in X-Fights 22, then against Ian Nesbitt in X-Fights 23. Check out this sizzling match description of The Kisser at the peak of his wrestling prowess and reputation:
“As this erotic epic begins “the Kisser” traps cute Ian in a vicious spladle neckcrank and the tone is set for some very aggressive mat mayhem. The feisty Scot counters with a ballgrab and a surfboard submission, but that just provokes Sean’s mean streak: Ian soon finds his face repeatedly forced into Sean’s crotch, wedged under his bare feet, defenseless against Sean’s infamous liplocks! After Ian “wedgies” his trunks, Sean cranks on a nasty boston crab and then makes him scream in a surfboard. Visibly horny, Sean strips the now less-resistant Ian, trapping him in a nude guillotine/legsplit complete with cocklock and kissing! More humping, more feet in face, with Ian finally “exploding” his load trapped in Sean’s figure-4 headscissors. As Ian cries “I submit,” Sean shoots his load on the Scot’s pretty face. Intensely erotic mat punishment. HOT!”
Sean’s final match. as far as I can tell, was against his former tag team partner Patrick Donovan in Submissions 6. Apparently there was no love left by the time the two lean stars collided on the mat. Maybe the shared public humiliation at the hands of Cruze and Jose was what ratcheted up their Submissions 6 collision to such a vicious, fevered pitch. There was still kissing, of course, but holy fuck, it was so brutal, so aggressive! They nearly rip each other’s heads off in this battle. Face sitting, crotch-ripping, neck-wrenching full nelsons and tit-for-tat guillotines… maybe this was always going to be about determining who has to walk away with the lion’s share of the Tag Team Torture 1 shame. Whatever the reason, we don’t seem to have heard from The Kisser since settling his score with Patrick.
So, on behalf of Rudolph, let me just put this out there into the ether: what did ever happen to Sean Patrick!? Is he still wrestling somewhere? Is he a corporate banker with 3 kids and a 4th wife? Rudolph wants to know, and I’m first in line if anyone can track The Kisser down for an interview. Spread the word. Lots of us have plenty of love left for Sean Patrick!
I’ve got deadlines coming out my ears, so things have been pretty quiet around here lately. That isn’t to suggest that I’m not thoroughly immersed in the world of homoerotic wrestling still. Somehow, there always seems to be time for that in my life, in one form or another.
BG East Boss, Kid Leopard, makes Sailor Rob his bitch
I was exchanging emails with a long-time online contact and writing collaborator a couple of days ago. We know each other primarily through the venue of homoerotic wrestling fiction. I mentioned in my last email something about BG East. He replied that he’d never heard of them.
Kid Vicious meditates on the connection between pain and pleasure
Wha-ha-huh?! I studied his reply closer to figure out where I was misreading it. But no. Never heard of BG East. Was he joking? It doesn’t look like it. He apparently loves some hot, erotic, beautifully bodied wrestling but is unaware of BG East, which by their own account have been producing exactly that (hot, erotic, beautifully bodied wrestling) since 1980! I became aware of them about 14 or 15 years ago, and I’ve been pretty much obsessed ever since. So imagine my shock to learn that a fellow kinkster who totally gets off on the same sort of wrestling action that I do (as far as I can tell from comparing wrestling fiction notes), has absolutely no idea who BG East is.
Badboy Joe Mazetti folds hunky Brad Rochelle up like gift wrap
Simply amazing! This disclosure reveals a few things to me. For one, this online collaborator clearly does not frequently read this blog. It’s simply impossible that someone could even occasionally read neverland and come away having never heard of BG East (or any of the other companies I finance with my homoerotic wrestling purchases, but especially BG East). Most of the feedback and ongoing conversations I’m involved in start with something I’ve said on the blog, so it catches me off guard that someone who knows my wrestling kink rather well doesn’t linger much around these parts. No shame, mind you. I’m not suggesting there’s anything wrong with not reading my frequently convoluted, often self-contradictory musings about what turns me on about homoerotic wrestling. Just surprised that someone who’s read a lot of my writing doesn’t read it here much.
Jonny Firestorm is out to destroy prettyboy Alexi Adamov
More interestingly for me, this revelation surprises me because I figure everyone who’s into homoerotic wrestling fiction online is also part of the fan base of homoerotic wrestling videos. I wasn’t conscious of it, but I was assuming that the gay wrestling video tent entirely contained within it the gay wrestling fiction audience. Homoerotic wrestling videos came before wrestling writing for me, so I’ve been under the assumption that everyone who I interact with around homoerotic wrestling fiction has also come by the same path. Assumption checked.
Mr. Joshua shows Darius that he’s got the right tool for the job
That anyone with a love for homoerotic wrestling in any genre or format should just not recognize the name BG East, however, seems like a missed opportunity for some hot pounding wrestling delights. I’m fully transparent in admitting often that my own fiction is frequently drawn from the best and most inspiring of what turns me on in the videos I watch. I certainly seem to recognize many of the same angles, perspectives, body types and holds in gay wrestling graphics/visual art that are, at least, “in keeping” with some of the gorgeous wrestling that good folks like BG East produce so well.
Brooklyn Bodywrecker taunts us with Mr. Joshua’s naked ass
Jobberinnyc made short work of this week’s Name That Cock quiz. Way to go, jobberinnyc! He knows his homoerotic wrestling cocks, and for that, he’s head of the class this week here in neverland. Let’s review his excellent work, so that you can learn from his fine example.
I’ve seen just a few of Dino’s matches, but my impression is that he had a loud-n-proud raging erection in every match. This fine display of his major league tool comes from his thrashing at the hands of eager beaver Jarrett Cole in Wrestleshack 7.
In particular, this shot of his rod comes from his most recent match, posted March 16, going toe-to-toe and cock-to-cock with Roman gladiator-looking beefy stud Jeremy Tyler. Pornboy Race is sculpted perfection. Damn.
Holy hell, the sight of Jose’s meat always makes me gasp. Greg Leary, pictured here pinned by the python with some gratuitous pec clawing thrown in just for kicks, thought his quite impressive cock would warrant some cred when he stripped off his trunks. Pointing to his pendulous cock, Greg let Jose know that he was bringing his “quarter pounder” into the final round of their match in Hard Pros 6. Jose simply smirked dismissively and peeled out of his own trunks, illustrating that he was slapping down “the whole Big Mac.” Win-win-lose, as far as I’m concerned (Jose wins; you and I win; Greg loses).
Here, Billy has hoisted blond boytoy Dax Kelly over his gargantuan shoulders, on his way to breaking the twink down to complete adoring submission. Truth is, physiques as thick and massive as Billy’s make it tough to make even an impressive cock look proportional. However, Billy does just fine, as far as I’m concerned. The brain-trust that came up with the title “Wrestlers” for this release deserve a neverland razzie, but with Billy Herrington on the cover, who would ever remember the name of the tape?
So I’ve never admitted this to anyone, ever, but truth is that KV sort of looks like a bastard boss I used to have. This is disturbing on many levels, not the least of which is the haunting shadow image of my boss pounding his fist mercilessly into the naked cock of some poor, outclassed opponent. In this case, KV was beating the living daylights out of also-aptly named Skrapper (especially his cock) in Sexy Showdown 5: Florida Fun. I’m repeating myself when I say that KV is possibly the most accomplished master of connecting all the dots in homoerotic wrestling competing today. I’m also repeating myself when I say that Skrapper continues to catch me by surprise by how arousing I find his wrestling.
So there you have it. While jobberinnyc didn’t go the extra mile and name the opponents for yesterday’s quiz, he is nevertheless homoerotic wrestling fan #1 in the realm of neverland, at least for this week. Keep playing. Keep studying those homoerotic wrestlers, especially the ones with gorgeous asses, awe-inspiring cocks, and delightful tattoos, and maybe next week you’ll jump to the head of the class!
Congratulations to Stay Puft, who posted the best score for this week’s edition of Name That Ass! All of these glutes this week should be on your list of homoerotic wrestlers to watch. I own matches with all of these hot hunks, and they’re all cherished possessions. Now pull out your quizzes and let’s review the answers…
Ass #1 belongs to…
…the Z-Man, Zack Vazquez/Zack Johnathan… whatever you’d like to call him, I get the impression he’ll answer you.
It’s Thunder’s Arena wrestler Sebastian showing off the Z-Man’s moneymaker in a feet-off-the-floor bearhug in Battlespace 10. The Z-Man hasn’t always jobbed, but let’s face it, he’s jobbed more than his fair share. I’m glad to see in his recent debut with BG East that he’s got a little more to offer than just having his ass beat up and down and shown off from every angle. It is, indeed, a nice ass, though.
I was just talking about this proportionally perfect muscle god! Those pecs come in a close second place for my favorite Wade Cutler body part, but hands down, it’s that gorgeous ass that’s at the top of my list. Again, I say, Rod Duart in X-Fights 19 was one damn lucky rookie.
Specifically, here he’s grinding his balls into still another legendary pornboy, Tom Katt for BG Enterprise’s Fantasy Fight 2. Tom has his eye, and hands, on Scott’s ass from the get-go, but the battle to determine who’s ass is getting fucked is far from a given. Fans of full contact muscle on muscle wrestling simply must own this match.
Steve did just a few matches for Can-Am, including this appearance on the mats and then in the oil (ah, Can-Am), in Czech Tag Team 2. He wrestled alongside of Sonny Markham, another musceboy extraordinaire, and they faced off against the titular Czechs, Jirka Kalvoda and Jarda Kolar. I’m more familiar with Steve’s more competitive work for On Top Wrestling, and his much, much less competitive wrestling for Sharpshooters. Damn, that’s one gorgeous golden blond man.
You know you’re a bad ass when you only need one name to inspire fear. Here, Jose wrestles in one of the Paradise oil wrestling matches, up against The Lineman. Jose kicked ass all the time. Always. Satisfyingly. And his cock had its own zip code. Look at the sneer on that face, and then scroll back up and enjoy the ass again.
No shame if you didn’t score a perfect 100. It’s just a signal that you need to watch a lot more homoerotic wrestling. Enjoy your studies!
There’s a fascinating aspect to pro wrestling and, of more interest to me, the homoerotic wrestling genre, that focuses on the rules of engagement. Behavior that would be condemned outside the ring as anti-social, underhanded, or despicable can be transformed in a wrestling fantasy into it’s own brand of moral rightness. New rules apply inside the wrestling ring. As a result, we may (often) find ourselves rooting for the heel, cheering for the low blow, delighting in a battler taking sadistic advantage of a vulnerable and defeated opponent.
When Jeff Phoenix gets stood up by his tag partner, the golden boy with a crazy hot body cockily predicts that he can defeat both Jose and Cruze singlehandedly. Of course, Jose and Cruze are notorious cheaters. They’re bullies, sadists with credentials as long as their fight records, invariably happy to cut corners, pull trunks, torture opponents in the ropes, and revel in a completely unfair 2-on-1 mugging. And, frankly, from the moment handsome hardbody Jeff steps into the ring, I can’t wait to see him suffer. He “deserves it” inside the ring in a way that doesn’t necessarily translate outside the ring. He’s too hot, too handsome, way too confident, and the only right thing to be done is for him to get beaten to a pulp, humiliated repeatedly, broken into a quivering mess in the middle of the ring, and left to pick up the pieces of his dignity. Outside the ring, a 2-on-1 cheating, humiliating beating of a hard working muscle man might seem “wrong,” but inside the ring, it’s ooooh-so-right.
If ever someone deserved it, Troy Baker did. I happily own his debut match for BG East, in which he teamed up with his brother. Troy’s character took a little while to develop, but even in that first match, we can see the seeds of his destruction. He’s beautiful. He’s stunningly built. He’s a little slow in piecing together some wrestling moves, but he’s supremely confident that his sheer strength and bright, white smile will earn him victory. In match after match, his self-love of his own beautiful body becomes his undoing, and there’s just nothing “righter” than watching him think that he’s got it in the bag, only to find himself suffering and destroyed at the hands of an “inferior” opponent.
Inside the ring, that’s the formula that demands brutal, humiliating destruction of the classic golden boy. Inside the ring, justice simply requires that a less stunningly developed, less beautiful, perhaps less “deserving” of victory heel beat the living shit out of Troy again, and again, and again. Outside the ring, good looks, blond hair, a hard, tight body, and a healthy dose of entitlement and confidence will generally be very well rewarded. Inside the ring, they require crushing defeat and prolonged humiliation.
I think the morality tales of straight-up pro probably work the same way, but I think homoerotically directed wrestling has an even more salient subtext. Someone like muscle-beautiful Zack Johnathan/Vazquez getting completely taken to school by “skinny” kid Brody Hancock, for example, lets me work out all sorts of long standing “issues” I have as a gay man. Outside the ring, the most beautiful, straight-laced, used-to-getting-their-way straight boys tend to prosper and receive more than a heaping helping of social approval. But inside the ring, at least for this gayboy, there’s something deeply satisfying about seeing the classic jock pummeled. It speaks to me powerfully to see the classic cards of strength, youth, and power stacked against an overmatched opponent, who with sheer audacity and ferocity, does whatever it takes to pull the rug out from under the muscled juggernaut. The morality tale, for me at least, has more than a hint of the skinny (or fat), disregarded and underestimated sissy who spits in the face of the bullying jock and exacts humiliating revenge for getting thrown into the lockers.
I think what’s so engaging for me about homoerotic wrestling is this notion of new rules that overturn the standard morality of polite society. Well, okay, there’s that, plus the gorgeous, hot hunks squeezing and dominating each other in (or out) of completely revealing gear that leads to or at least inspires me to imagine them fucking for days. But no, really, the chance to rewrite the rules, to turn conventional morality and wisdom on its head, makes so much of wrestling homo to me, even when no one literally gets fucked, just fucked up.
The Canadian women’s hockey team has been criticized for beating their first round opponents 18 – 0. It’s not in the spirit of the Olympics, so the story goes, to humiliate your opponents. Just beat them. What is it that goes into deciding to score those 5 goals in the 3rd period? It’s simply not about winning anymore. It’s about statement. Frankly, it’s not really about making a statement to your opponent, really. It’s about making a statement to potential opponents who might be considering taking you on. Show no mercy in utterly humiliating your outclassed opponent and tell the world you’ll fuck up anyone else who dares to go toe to toe with you, too.
A recent conversation at Ringside at Skull Island made me think some more about the wrestling squash match. Some folks just aren’t into the squash. Seeing one man completely outclass his opponent on the way to devastating humiliation doesn’t turn everyone crank.
Most often, though, it turns mine. For me, it isn’t that there’s no competitive spirit in a squash. The competition just isn’t all happening in the ring. The humiliating squash is the message sent to the arrogant punks sizing you up back in the locker room later on. When Billyboy took a jab at Brad Rochelle’s balls, Brad completely demolished the doe-eyed hunk. Brad tortured the punk far past the point of necessity as a message to the next piece of shit that might think it was worth a stab to use Brad’s testicles like a speed bag. The testosterone laced kink is the sneering challenge to the hot shot who thinks they’re ready to take you on next. Just try me, and you’ll see me unleash the merciless destruction on your ass that I’m unleashing on this piece of shit.
It’s a fascinating, titillating sight to see an eager/dumbass young hopeful climb into the ring when the rest of us know that he’s got no chance. It doesn’t have to be a mystery to be hot in my book. When Jeff Phoenix showed up without his partner for his tag team match against Jose and Cruze, the hardbody hunk was all mouth. He boasted he could beat both heels by himself. You knew and I knew that Jeff was in for complete destruction. Jose knew it. Cruze knew it. Hell, for all his bluster, Jeff knew it. The heels took their time in systematically double teaming Jeff’s muscle ass like artists, illustrating that it’s not the science of the knowing that always matters, just like it isn’t strictly the competition that tells the story in the ring. Sometimes, it’s the artful execution and merciless thrill that makes it worth it.
The demolition as art can be a beautiful thing that revs my engine. Kid Leopard’s skills have always been awe inspiring. It’s not like we can’t tell when he steps into the ring with another eager/dumbass musclehead destined for humiliation. We watch because we want to see just how he’ll go about it this time. In what way will he twist and torture the stud? What gravity defying position will he force the unsuspecting blowhard into, and how long will he toy with his victim before forcing him to finally scream in submission? How will he make us gasp and his victim cry?
Kid Vicious is the same sort of battler. The smile on his face as he crushesJoe Driver’s hhhhhuge package under his boot makes me a little lightheaded. KV sells his sadism with such mastery. His inevitable dismantling of the fresh meat dangled in front of his face is never seriously in doubt. It’s his style, his savagery, and the systematic ownership of his opponents that keeps me coming back for more. Like several voices at the BG East listserv, I’m all for a long overdue KV spotlight. I just vote to throw him at least a couple bright-eyed, hardbodied rookies who actually think that they have a chance when they step in the ring. Their shock will be my happy ending.
Finally, Mitch’smotel match against Jeremy Burk comes to mind as one more squash done right, in my book. The reigning champion for my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy title, Mitch is relentless. Jeremy is his plaything from the moment he steps into the room. Mitch overpowers him and completely owns him just about every step of the way. And I turn every page eagerly, not because the climax is somehow in doubt, not because the “what” of the plot keeps me guessing, but because the how is so delightful to see unfold. Spank that punk’s ass with his own shoe, Mitch! Suspend him upside down with his head squeezed between your knees. Do those push ups on top of him, grinding your crotch into his face over and over again. I knew you could do it. I just wanted to watch. It may not be the spirit of competition, but it gets me off.
Purportedly, the ancient Greeks wrestled naked. Somewhere between then and now, modesty set in and wrestlers found the need for gear. So the point of gear is modesty, covering up the “private parts,” keeping the swinging ball and chain in check. So when a wrestler finds his gear yanked, there’s something delightfully transgressive about it.
It’s generally the hard hunks like Marcus Bagwell getting some serious exposure with a trunk pull. Anyone might find a handful of nylon helpful in the ring, but somehow it’s the gorgeous muscle studs with fantastic bubble butts who seem to find themselves on the receiving end of trunk pull overexposure. I’m not complaining.
Wrestling Arsenal points out that some pros particularly proud of their posteriors clearly work in getting bare assed as part of the routine. Eddie Atlas here is captured in a moment of overacting, but it’s not like we’re critiquing him for an Oscar, now is it? We’re focused with a tunnel vision thrill on Eddie’s naked, very round ass. Dude on his back could almost certainly have found a more effective way to power-bottom, but again, I’m not complaining. There’s undoubtedly utility in a trunk grab in many cases. In what is theoretically a pure man-vs-man competition where your only weapons are your bodies and your brains, gear can be an effective illicit addition to the arsenal. But even more satisfying in my book is the trunk pull for no purpose other than humiliation. Stoney Hooker draped across his opponent’s knee finds his trunks wedged up to his kidneys, all the better to slap his sweet white ass like the man-child his is. This hardly moves the match any closer to a pinfall… not complaining… Sprinkle some homoeroticism into your wrestling kink, and the gear grab moves from the implicit sexuality of wrestling to explicit sexuality. Kid Leopard models complete ownership of his opponent with one hand yanking him up by his hair and the other hand lifting him by his jobber-white trunks. By the look on his face, this jobber is ready to cry out his submission. Knowing KL, the jobber’s humiliating defeat will not come one second sooner than it absolutely needs to.
In the over the top homoerotic scenario, playing with the modesty of the wrestling gear is like foreplay. It’s the glimpse of what’s hidden, the hint of things to come. BG East classic brawler, Jose, packed a cock that defied belief. When he (frequently) battled naked, his flailing python was jaw dropping (which is the appropriate position). In TagTeam Torture 1, with one my favorite finishers of all time, Jose and Cruze are thrilled sadists relishing every second of their humiliation of earnest babyface skinny boys, Patrick and Sean. When Jose backs Sean into the ropes and yanks his trunks to get better leverage on some ab pounding, Sean’s modesty is momentarily defied. It’s all foreplay, though. Just wait a few minutes, and the teasing trunk pull will be revealed as downright demure compared to what await Patrick and Sean. Again I say, one of my favorite finishers…
I really resent the muscleboy cockteasers. I’ve mentioned before how my unrequited lust for Joshua Goodman’s opened package irritates me. At least the powers that be give us glimpses of all that we’re missing with the talent that clearly doesn’t want to share (selfish bastards). Despite some nice, hard nudes of Justin Pierce available on the net, he never shares his full glory with us in the ring. Bulldog Barzini thoughtfully treats us to a glimpse of the goods, though, yanking so hard on Justin’s trunks they look like they’re about to snap (if only). It’s hardly as if Bulldog needs to resort to dirty tricks. He’s on his way to decimating the prettyboy hardbody without really needing to break a sweat. But Bulldog is a true, thoughtful gentleman who keeps us in mind as he not only beats the crap out of Justin, but humiliates him and ridicules the false modesty of his wrestling trunks.
One of the worst muscleboy cockteasers has got to be Brad Rochelle. Again, there are nudes of Brad to be had, but in the ring he guards his bits and baubles fiercely. That doesn’t stop his brutalizers from reminding us all that despite remaining covered up, there are wonders just under the covers. Sid takes a play out of KL’s book, dragging suffering Brad up by a handful of hair and a fistful of trunks, giving us the unsatisfying hint of Brad’s beautiful bare butt. So now I’m complaining… but I’ll take what I can get (particularly if it’s more Brad, please).
Gear is about modesty. It’s a concession to the repressed, body-hating culture that’s constantly trying to convince us that very specific geography of exposed skin is distasteful. Certain square footage of the human anatomy must be disguised and covered in order to make the rest of the human anatomy socially acceptable, we’re taught. So the tug at the trunks, the yank of the tights, the fistful of gear that exposes the naughty bits is a sweet moment of transgression, when particularly those of us who love the male body can flip the bird at every attempt to take the erotic out of the gorgeous male form.