Tag: Kid Karisma

Diverse Tastes – Guest Contributor Cage Thunder

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While there are a lot of us armchair homoerotic wrestling bloggers, I’m the first to tip my hat to a blogger like Cage Thunder, who not only writes eloquently about his tastes and twists in wrestling kink, he’s also an all-in wrestler on camera for BG East. Through a series of correspondence between me and Cage Thunder, I will dare to reveal one thing that I’ve learned about the mysterious masked heel: he’s a class act. He has a delightful sense of humor that goes well beyond his gloating, clucking delight in humiliating one all-too-pretty pretty boy after another. He also has a remarkable depth to him that leads him to contemplate the alchemy of homoerotic wrestling kink with a fervor and meticulousness that very well may surpass even my own. So when Cage Thunder agreed to give me his take on the topic of “Diverse Tastes” as part of neverland’s summer series of guest contributors, I was deeply honored. So sit back and learn from a master who knows his wrestling kink from inside out and every angle a delightfully twisted wrestling mind and body can imagine.
The Turning Point
by Cage Thunder
BG East’s Cage Thunder

There is a certain moment in every pro wrestling match that, without fail, always grabs my attention. This moment never fails to get my attention and always make my dick stand up at attention.

I call this moment the turning point.

Bulldog Barzini savors the sight of Denny Cartier
reaching “the turning point” – BG East’s Fantasymen 28

A turning point is exactly what it sounds like—that definitive moment when you know that one of the wrestlers is finished— even if he isn’t being pinned or counted out or giving in a submission, and the match might go on for a while longer (and usually does). But that’s the moment when you know for certain who the stud is who’s going to have his arms raised in complete victory at the end of the match (or fall, if it’s a best-of situation).

I love that moment.

Muscle heel Kid Karisma drags muscle twink Christian Taylor
beyond the turning point – BG East’s Wet &  Wild 5

When I was growing up, professional wrestling was my porn. It still is, to a degree—only I rarely watch it on television, I satisfy my fetish with videos these days—but when I was a kid, it was a world I desperately wanted to be a part of. I greatly enjoyed the morality plays of pro wrestling matches, the struggle between good and evil, hero versus villain, rule-breaking versus following the rules. And like life, good didn’t always triumph over evil.

Cage Thunder soaks in the sight of his handiwork –
BG East’s Masked Mayhem 6

But professional wrestling was also one of the very few places on television in those days where you could see scantily dressed men sweating and heaving, clinching and coming apart, entwining their bodies in an almost erotic dance. And while I always wanted the nasty heels to be punished for their dastardly ways, I also loved watching the gorgeous ones suffer at their hands. With the advent of cable television and Ted Turner taking WTBS national into a self-styled Super Station, every Saturday afternoon from three to five p.m. Pacific times Georgia Championship Wrestling aired—and I fell in lust with a gorgeously built mullet-wearing muscle boy named Brad Armstrong.

The muscles and the mullet – Brad Armstrong
Oh, that ass. If I hadn’t already known I was gay, Brad Armstrong’s tight trunks clinging ever so tenaciously to those perfectly formed buttocks certainly would have done the trick.
Brad Armstrong’s inspiring ass in trouble
Brad was a good wrestler—a fan favorite, obviously, with his athletic ability, sexy body, and ‘aw shucks’ attitude. But he lost his matches more frequently than he won them—and week after week, I slowly came to realize that what was really turning my crank and getting my dick hard was watching some nasty ass heel put him through the wringer—watching him suffer on the mat, one foot bouncing up and down as his back arched and that ass, that oh-so-perfect ass, with his trunks creeping up bit by bit, up in the air.

Brad’s trunks creeping up his ass as he suffers humiliatingly in the ropes

And I also came to the conclusion that I preferred watching Brad suffer rather than being dominant in a match—which made me stop and think.

Brad Armstrong where he did his best work: on his back,
feet pointed at the ceiling, and his opponent copping a feel of that rocking ass!

And I realized the truth is I wanted to fuck him—in other words, I wanted to dominate him and make him submissive to me. I wanted to beat him down, make him call me sir, and when that hard muscle ass arched up in the air, I wanted to reach down and peel those green trunks off him, lube up my cock, and ride him while he bucked and writhed and moaned.

And called me “sir.”

I’m frequently accused of being a ‘body fascist,’ and nothing could be further from the truth. I actually like all kinds of men, in all shapes and sizes—what I am actually attracted to, more than anything else, is a particular attitude that a lot of wrestlers seem to have. (This is why I generally don’t give a shit about watching gay porn—very few gay porn stars have that ‘certain something special’ that gets my dick hard, and let’s face it—if you’ve seen one fuck scene, you’ve pretty much seen them all. Ty Lebeouf is a gay porn star who is one of the exceptions—and he is exceptional, although I’d much rather watch him climb in the ring.) A wrestler can have the most gorgeous body you’ve ever seen, and a huge bulge in the front of his trunks—but if the attitude I like isn’t there, he just leaves me cold. (I won’t give examples, out of respect.)

Porn star Ty Lebeouf: Ready to Wrestle?

The wrestlers I like—the ones that make me open my wallet and spend my hard-earned money buying their videos—have that attitude. It’s not something that’s quantifiable or definable; someone either has it or they don’t. And there really isn’t a rhyme or reason to my attraction to them. They can be a muscle twink, like Christian Taylor, or a hot little muscle heel like Kid Karisma, or a stocky brute like Bulldog Barzini, or a beautiful babyface who has crazy mad ring skills but always loses—like Alexi Adamov.

Cage Thunder revels in dragging babyface Alexi Adamov
well past “the turning point” – BG East’s Masked Mayhem 2

I like heels because the only way someone can ever fuck me is if they dominate me. And I do like being dominated. I like being forced to submit, I like being forced to scream out a submission or call my foe “sir”—and if he can beat me down that way, I’m his for the taking and he can do with me as he pleases. The thought of being worked over like that by a Bob Orton or a Stan Hansen or any number of studly heels who might not have the body beautiful you’d see on the cover of a gay porn magazine turns me on as much as the thought of beating down some beautiful babyface/jobber does.

A heel who could have made Cage Thunder cry, “Sir!”

For me, that’s the answer to why people enjoy seeing pretty muscle boys just get the shit kicked out of them. Because we want to dominate them, we want to fuck them, and the wrestling match we are watching is a kind of pornographic dance of domination and submission.

Cage Thunder has his way with a puddle-on-the-mat, Jobe Zander –
BG East’s Masked Mayhem 8

And I love, love, LOVE the turning point—when the heel begins to simply toy with his opponent for our viewing pleasure.

Cage Thunder conquers, strips, and toys with Lobolito –
BG East Masked Mayhem 3

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a DVD to watch.

——————
Now, aren’t we all dying to know what gorgeous-bodied and huge-bulged wrestlers leave Cage Thunder limp!? Like I said, however, he’s a class act who isn’t one to crush-and-tell. For this fantastic glimpse into precisely the moment, the attitude, and the acts of domination that make his dick stand up at attention, neverland is honored to have guest contributor Cage Thunder push the pause button and share his thoughts with us!

The Taste of Victory

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Thank God I’m done with traveling… for a few weeks. Back in the comforts of my own home, I’m able to settle into the familiar routines, including carving out some time for one of my most enjoyable pass-times: appreciating homoerotic wrestling.
With my attention renewed on the topic that you and I find so enjoyable, I’m feeling the need to make aright my neglect of my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month: Kid Karisma. Typically by now, I’d have at least one or two posts vetting and venerating the hard working hunk who so ably captured the title at the beginning of the month. It’s certainly not as if I’m at a loss for things to say as I marvel at the body and body of work of the Karismatic one! I could write an encyclopedia of attributes that make Kid K such a commanding favorite of mine, and for which he also recently muscled his way past Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) to claim the top contender spot for my overall favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy division. There’s nowhere on Kid K’s body or in his wrestling arsenal that wouldn’t be appropriate to slow down and marvel for a while, but let me just start in a particular spot that’s been particularly responsible for my growing infatuation with the red-headed muscle hunk: his lips.
Perhaps this isn’t the particular geography that you’d have selected to begin to admire the remarkable assets of Kid Karisma, but it’s his liplocks that have been topping me off lately. I don’t own Kid K’s entirely library of work yet, but I believe that exactly twice he’s capped off a crushing victory over an awestruck opponent by grabbing the lucky, lucky loser’s head and commandingly, lingeringly sucking face.
The first time I caught sight of this truly inspired moment of Kid Karisma homoeroticism was in the Karismatic one’s hard-fought conquering of that stubbornly tough twink-punk, Len Harder in Sexy Showdown 5: Florida Fun. The sight of these two hot-and-bothered, sweaty specimens teetering on the edge of aggression and affection is profoundly stimulating for me. Kid K’s rippled, rock hard body stretched overtop of Len, crotch-to-crotch and lips-to-lips, makes me gasp. And then when Len sweetly, gently grabs Kid K’s gorgeous round glutes in both hands, as the red-headed juggernaut shoves his tongue down Len’s throat, all of my homoerotic wrestling kink synapses fire at once.
Despite less skin, Kid Karisma’s make-out with Christian Taylor in Wet & Wild 5 is arguably even more arousing for me. Despite being a half a foot shorter than Christian, Kid K is simply much more than Christian can handle. Kid K is cocky and taunting. He gives away just a little bit of riding time, but the match both in the pool and on the mat poolside is essentially and entirely in Kid K’s quite able hands. It’s a bit like watching a beautiful house cat drag a poor mouse inside to play with it mercilessly until he’s killed the rodent like his instincts demand. Kid K laughs at poor Christian. He smirks at Christian’s hopeless attempts to secure an advantage. Any moment that Christian rallies every ounce of strength and will to power to the top, Kid K just lets him tire himself out and than smacks him back down with contempt. And then when Christian is completely wasted, flat on his back, having submitted repeatedly until he barely has the strength to submit again, Kid K chokes Christian out cold with a completely unnecessary figure-4 clamped like a steel pipe across the loser’s throat.
That would’ve been enough to satisfy my devotion to a seriously sexy homoerotic wrestling beatdown. Christian suffers valiantly like the handsome, tall drink of water he is. Kid K preens and revels in his complete domination over his outmatched opponent. Tick, tick… all the boxes checked. This will be a match to come back to again and again. But then…
… Kid Karisma stretches across Christian’s motionless, supine body and wakes the spent stud with an almost compassionate kiss. Now that’s a way to wake up! Completing the fantasy that I’m too often left to write in my own imagination, Kid K quite literally savors the taste of his victory, and Christian realizes that every second of the whole humiliating, painful encounter was completely worth it. Compassion turns to passion, and the two handsome faces are locked together as Kid K assists the woozy contender to his feet. Sealing the deal, Christian grabs a handful of the Karismatic one’s meaty ass as he’s led inside for a post-match reconciliation.
There’s a lot that I could (and let’s face it, that I will) obsess lustfully about when it comes to Kid Karisma’s body and wrestling accomplishments. But it’s what he’s willing to do with those sweet, hot lips of his that make him rise to the top of what I enjoy most in homoerotic wrestling. I realize that not everyone enjoys seeing kissing in their homoerotic wrestling fare. In fact, I’ve heard from some of you that it’s a turn-off. Mores-the-better for the diverse industry that feeds our cravings. As for me, however, the marriage of skilled wrestling storytelling with homo-sensibilities of erotic pleasure is the essence of what arouses me most (full stop). For Kid K’s full arsenal of skills, especially including his liplocks, his stock is very much on the rise in my infatuations. In no small part due to everywhere his lips have been, Kid Karisma is sitting pretty atop the throne as my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month.

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

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July has been full of unfortunate distractions from my devotions to homoerotic wrestling. Too much travel and way too much work have kept my attention divided. So awarding this month’s title of homoerotic wrestler of the month may very well be a bit slipshod. My way is to pour over the nominees with a passionate commitment to rigorously apply all of the steps of the scientific method in eliminating all but the singularly most worthy wrestler who has appeared in a homoerotic wrestling new release in the previous calendar month. I tend to favor laying out all of the contenders one by one for your and my consideration before the unveiling. I like both the vetting process as it lends itself to a more carefully considered decision, and I also like the opportunity to offer a send up to all of the hardworking wrestlers putting their bodies to the test for our entertainment and edification. This time around, however, I’m skipping past the examination of the field. That’s not to say that I haven’t done my due diligence, but I’m just a little too distracted to paint you the full landscape. I looked at offerings from Naked Kombat, BG East, Can-Am, Rock Hard Wrestling, and Thunder’s Arena. I was deeply aroused by a few. One, however, stood head-and-shoulders above the rest, and frankly, it’s probably long-overdue that he sat atop the throne. My newly crowned homoerotic wrestler of the month is….

…BG East’s Kid Karisma.

I don’t suppose it should come as a surprise, considering that Kid K’s masterful Hunkbash on last month’s homoerotic wrestler of the month, Jake Jenkins, earned Kid K the rare move into the coveted #2 spot in my overall favorite homoerotic wrestler -non-pornboy division. Kid K wrestles rookie Jake like a Cordon Bleu graduate plating fois gras (I’m seriously working the metaphors, lately). He slaps Jake down, spreads him out with an expert touch, and positions him for maximum, mouthwatering viewing.
Hunkbash 12 makes me mentally place Kid Karisma into the remarkable stable of newly came-of-age gorgeous hunks at BG East who are ravenous to serve up rookie initiation. It seems like only yesterday, Kid K was fresh meat (and what meat!) slapping down his junk to see how he measures up against the baddest and the fiercest. Our boy’s all grown up now, my friends, and his torpedo delivery of bashing, twisting, and cranking agony on body beautiful young Jake is perfectly seasoned to taste (at least my taste!).
Like all beautiful bad asses, Kid K loves his body, as well he should. Wrestling is foreplay for Kid K, merely the setting for jerking himself harder and harder toward self-worshipping ecstasy (not that I’ve ever seen Kid K cum on camera, but I’m still hoping he’ll make that leap into the pornboy division!). And he has every right to be as captivated with the sight of his own rippled physique as he is (and I am). He’s 5’8″ and 170 pounds of sculpted granite. And in a world full of blonds, bleach blonds and brunettes, a freckle-faced, fiery red-head both stands out and brings me to full attention. And that ass!!!!
I consider it a testimony to my superhuman willpower that it’s taken me this long to mention Kid Karisma’s unbelievably gorgeous glutes. Seriously, you could feed a hungry family of 4 for a month on the meat hanging off his backside (…too much? I warned you I pushing my metaphors hard lately!). Surely that ass could turn the most adamant bottom into a raging top, and speaking on behalf of gay men everywhere (across the planet, every last one of them!), I’m praying that Kid K plays for our team and makes some man/men insanely satisfied with pounding that muscle butt until all parties pass out from exhaustion. If he isn’t, I’m first in line to do my very best to convince him otherwise (first, I said! back of the line, the rest of you!).
Tapping Kid Karisma as my new homoerotic wrestler of the month is a recognition of the strong, hard, arousing body of work that Kid K has been adding to his CV in the past few years, putting in the training, sweat, and tears that are clearly evident in his taking full ownership of Jake Jenkins in body and soul. Truth be told, Kid Karisma probably has every right to snap me into a bearhug and demand to know why it’s taken so long for him to get the nod. All I can really say to that is bring it on, bad boy!

Divinity and a Spanking

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Someone (and he knows who he is) deserves a stern spanking for delaying for a couple of days my opportunity to rip open a certain padded manilla envelope with the treasure Hunkbash 12 inside. One viewing of Kid Karisma offering No Mercy to  Jake Jenkins, however, and my thoughts of needing to spank someone have evaporated… for now….

Holy…. shit. Good God almighty. Sweet Jesus! There’s just no other way to describe it. This was a religious experience for me. I am completely captivated and captured by this match!

Kid K and Jake tell a truly classic pro tale. The rookie is all eager, flexing in the locker room mirror, tucking in the drawstrings of his stark, white speedos and pulling up his kneepads. He’s a rock hard, barefoot warrior ready to conquer. Like a spider, however, Kid K descends in black boots, black knee pads, and black trunks. A locker room ambush is the rookie’s first lesson: always keep looking over your shoulder, Jake!

It’s a schooling, nearly from start to finish. Kid K drags the rookie around, quite literally by the scruff of his neck. He toys with Jake. He preens and proves over and over that this is “sport” only in the sense that shooting clay pigeons from the deck of a cruise ship is sport. Lightweight hunk Jake is easy prey for being tossed and flipped, hurled and hammered mercilessly by a salivating Kid K. The Kid sets his sights early and unceasingly on Jake’s beautiful lower back. A few body slams to soften him up set the stage for the first of several excruciatingly lingering camel clutches that stretch and strain Jake’s neck and back. Prying the rookie’s head sharply backward with a fistful of hair on one hand, Kid K crunches out a massively peaked single bicep with his other, all to the soundtrack of Jake sobbing in agony.

Kid K is nastier than I’ve ever seen him, and he’s punching every button I’ve got. He looks like he relishes every boot he pounds into Jake’s naked back almost as much as he’s seriously getting off on flexing and posing over top of the battered rookie. I expect Kid K at any moment to yank down his trunks and pound out a couple of quarts in eye fluttering ecstasy. He doesn’t, of course… me, on the other hand….

Kid K is like a master artist in this match.  He has a delightful knack for carefully positioning almost every long, lingeringly held hold so that he (and we) can admire both his and Jake’s ripped bodies. There are no wasted motions, nothing abrupt or interrupted as the master chips away at this masterpiece. Right around 7 minutes into the match, he has Jake weeping in another camel clutch. As the camera zooms in for a close up, Kid K looks right at you and me with a sly grin, even as he barks at Jake, “Give up!?” He captures Jake’s chin in his left hand and pries the rookie’s head both backward and around, making the veins in Jake’s neck rise to the surface. When Jake refuses to give, Kid K rocks back and forth, sliding his hips forward and backward, wrenching on the poor rookie’s back that much harder. I swear, it looks like Kid K is dry humping the young stud’s sweaty, corded back.

Kid K pushes his luck, like all narcissists do sooner or later. He throws in one too many showboating cartwheels on his way toward using his body like a battering ram against Jake in the corner. At the last moment, Jake lifts his elbow and catches the red-headed terror in the face. A truly stunning flying head scissors illustrates that Jake is filling out a legitimate pro wrestling arsenal very quickly. Kid K’s unnecessary roughness has bruised hot young Jake’s ego a little too much, perhaps, inspiring the rookie to return the favor and drag Kid K to his feet by an iron clad fistful of hair. The massive sweat stain that Kid K leaves on the mat after getting awesomely flattened by a Jake Jenkins drop kick makes me swoon, hit rewind, swoon again, hit rewind again, and then swoon for a third time. Suplex after sweaty suplex winds the boy in black. But not for long.

Prying Jake’s back like a twist-tie around the ring post is every second as long as it needs to be to get the job done on Kid K’s side of the camera and on mine. And, okay, so I don’t have a strangling fetish, but sweet Jesus, when Kid K plants his claws around Jake’s neck, schoolboy pinning him and making the rookie’s face turn bright red, I can’t deny it. That’s fucking hot!

I can’t decide who’s ass works me harder (though I’d love to give that a road test), Jake’s tightly packed, athletic glutes or Kid Karisma’s mind-blowingly round muscle butt. Jake’s sweet ass is beautifully and generously displayed, as Kid K lifts him off his feet in a groaning, gasping bearhug. A reverse bearhug chaser, gives us a long look at just about every inch of Jake’s dripping body. I swear, a reverse bearhug never looked so much like a power-fuck!

So I’ve got just a few conclusions to wrap up this inadequate attempt to capture a profound spiritual experience. First conclusion, I was never so right as the day I picked Jake Jenkins to be my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month. I’m on my knees begging the gods to send us more of Jake. Second conclusion, someone (and he knows who he is) seriously needs that spanking for keeping this treasure out of my hands even a second longer than necessary (you didn’t think I’d seriously forgotten!?).

And a third and final conclusion, Kid Karisma can simply do no wrong when it comes to my homoerotic wrestling kink entertainment these days. Time after time, he’s brought his ridiculously sexy brand of nastiness into my wrestling fantasies, doing to one pretty little thing after another, with masterful precision, exactly what I’m longing for him to do. It’s a momentous day, and regular readers can attest that this does not happen all that frequently, but Hunkbash 12 has convinced me without a shadow of a doubt that Kid K has broken into the top ranks of my favorite homoerotic wrestlers – non-pornboys. That’s right, Joshua Goodman! Kid Karisma has refused to call you Mr. Joshua and instead slapped you and your pendulous package back into the ranks of the not-quite contenders. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see Mr. Joshua claw his way back into contention, but for now, as of this moment, Lon Dumont had better watch his rippled back, because Kid Karisma is my new top contender for the title of my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy.

I’m a Pussy

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Brad Rochelle: BG East’s Backyard Brawls 1
This has come as a bit of a shock to me, but I have to admit it: I am a pussy. Now, I mean that in the most non-misogynistic (and pro-feline) way possible, but frankly, there’s just no way to sugar coat it. I’m a pussy. A few unkind hearts reading this are nodding their heads and snarkily mumbling that it’s about time that I admitted it. Well… fuck you, that’s not what I’m talking about. I don’t back down from a fight, and I’ve been told by several independent sources that when I’m in a particularly serious mood, I remind them of an angry grammar school gym teacher (which, perhaps oddly, I find really flattering). What I am a pussy about, however, is this heat.
Ryon Long & Greg Michaels: BG East’s Backyard Brawls 2

I’d heard that Boston in late July was hot, but somehow I still wasn’t mentally prepared. I catch myself continually bitching and moaning about the heat throughout the day, and I’m not proud of it. I sleep on top of the covers with a fan blowing directly in my face, and still I’m hot. And now a local colleague has mentioned to me that it’s going to “start heating up around here” over the next few days. I almost started to cry. I can’t deny it. I’m a pussy.

Shannon Embry & Jonny Firestorm:
BG East’s The Contract 9

On the other hand, this sort of heat brings out an abundance of bare flesh. And I’ve been very delighted with the hot and bothered eye candy that Boston has to offer. I keep looking for some BG East wrestling hunk strolling down the street (preferably in his skimpiest wrestling trunks). But despite not catching any BG East fanstymen sightings yet, I have to say, I’ve seen some prime beef that very well might be able to give the BG East boys a run for their money (at least in hunky looks… toss them into the ring and I’m sure our BGE battlers would beat the shit out of these downtown posers).

Reigning Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month:
The sweat-soaked gorgeousness o Jake Jenkins
Regular readers also know what a sucker I am for a thick sheen of sweat on a muscled hunk, so just imagine my constant titillation in a city baking their beefy boys with a side of nasty humidity.
Brad Rochelle: The Contract 6

Back to the self-revelation that I’m a pussy, though… as for me, I just don’t have the body chemistry to enjoy baking my own body. Sun bathing is not on my list of enjoyable pass-times. Watching the fine physiques of hot guys sun bathing is an enjoyable pass-time, but even then, it turns out that I’m such a pussy that my own discomfort is distracting me from that most excellent byproduct of a steamy, summer day.

Kid Karisma & Christian Taylor: BG East’s Wet & Wild 5

And frankly, the notion of a wrestling match is almost too much for me to bear. The last thing I feel like doing in this heat is swapping body heat with anyone else in close quarters. This pussiness is profoundly, existentially unsettling the very core of my wrestling kink identity that I typically find as constant as magnetic north. But a whole lot of aggressive, physical exertion at this moment is almost nauseating to think about.

A homoerotic wrestler I’d wrestle in any weather:
BG East’s Mitch Colby
Then again, the right body, perhaps lubricated with some tanning oil, could probably lure me out of my bitchy, whiny buzzkill. I hope you don’t judge me too harshly for this vulnerable confession. However, if you do, wait till September and I’m back in a more familiar climate, and I’ll kick your ass and make you enjoy every second of it.

Bard’s Fantasy League Picks

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When Z-Man debuted with BG East 3 months ago, a regular reader emailed me to let me know just how excited he was by this news. He immediately speculated on who from the BG East roster Z-Man should wrestle next. Turns out, he hit the nail right on the head, proposing that a Z-Man v Kid Karisma bout would be over the top arousing.

Of course, now we know, Z-Man followed up his mat debut with BG East with a pro ring muscle match against none other than Kid K. Nice call, savvy neverland reader! And your prediction that a Z-Man v Kid K match would be smokin’ was perfect prognostication.

From a different angle, Cage Thunder recently called out both BG East rookie Austin Cooper AND proposed a detailed ring match scenario against Austin’s rookie buddy, Jake Jenkins. I’ve got a major league crush on Jake,  so Cage’s proposal to face him in the ring is fueling my imagination. Jake in white trunks with pale blue trim, then 30 minutes after stepping into the ring with Cage, stripped naked, pounded into a daze and helpless in Cage’s skilled hands… well, this concept is pure gold, in my estimation.

All of this speculation, proposal and prognostication sheds light on what I assume must be a nearly universal mental exercise that wrestling kinsters play: the fantasy homoerotic wrestling card. At least, I’ve been playing that game for as long as I’ve been erotically captivated by wrestling. I love that these virtual connections available to us now, like blogs and emails, give us the opportunity to compare notes. So, in addition to a Cage on Jake Jenkins ring strip battle, here are the current top 3 fantasy league homoerotic wrestling matches on my scorecard:

Lon Dumont v Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!)

I’ve fantasized about this combination long and hard. Not only would this settle once and for all the question of who deserves the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy division (but remember, it’s about who turns me on the most, not necessarily who “wins”), I also think this would be an absolutely amazing mash-up of two delightfully different sets of assets.

Thiago Diaz v Brad Rochelle
I haven’t even had an opportunity to see if Thiago has anything at all to offer in the wrestling ring other than that fantasyman bod and that hefty package dangling between his legs, but I’m already lining him up for some rookie initiation. The return of Brad has been a long-held aching fantasy of mine (and many others, I know), and I think Brad working over Thiago’s muscles from top to bottom would be an earth-shaking combination of veteran fan favorite with jaw dropping rookie sensation.
Cody Nelson & Travis Storm v Kid Vicious and Rafe Sanchez

First of all, Kid V partnering with Rafe Sanchez has long haunted my homoerotic wrestling dreams. Second, I’ve nursed a whole lot of lust for a PG-to-R-rated evolution of the careers of pretty, innocent, eager muscle boys Cody and Travis. I picture this as both a coming-of-age wrestling scenario for the bright-eyed boys as well as Rafe’s first apprenticeship match, learning from the master of sadism himself.

What are your fantasy league homoerotic wrestling matches of choice?

Kink Costs

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I just filled out an online survey as a BG East Arena member, giving them my impressions of the Arena content and subscription cost. It reminded me that I need to buckle down and do something that I’ve been telling myself that I need to do for some time. I need to dump a subscription. But which one? I’ve signed up for more than I really ought to, convincing myself that it’s in service of having more to review here on the blog (weak pretense, I know). But truth be told, I really shouldn’t be carrying quite this many recurring subscriptions. So let’s look at this by the numbers, and you tell me what I should do.

The BG East Arena membership is still stroking and stoking my kink quite nicely. I like the new weekly updates, even if they are proportionally smaller than their semi-monthly old updates used to be. I think I’m on the 90 day recurring billing scheme, for which I pay $34.95 for three months of access to the Arena. I’m under the impression that I get more quantity of content per penny with the Arena than I do with any of my other subscriptions (though a number cruncher may have more to say about that). I enjoy the preview pics of yet-to-be-released products, as well as the extensive galleries of new releases and “classics.” And I really enjoy the “action clips,” those little tasty morsels of a few minutes of BG East matches. BG East has also been very generous with permitting me to repost occasional Arena content here at neverland, which is extremely cool of them. I’m not inclined to put the Arena on the chopping block as I scale down my kink budget, but perhaps you have arguments for or against it?

I’m also subscribing to Can-AmMax. I believe I’m on the month-to-month recurring billing cycle, which gives me each month’s content for $19.95 (I could get 90 days recurring for $49.95). Can-AmMax is more hit-and-miss for me with regard to how into it I am at any one moment. When I’m particularly into Max releases (e.g., the first 2 Arena matches & Pro Sex Fight), I was scarfing it up and checking daily for when the next morsel would be offered. I like that I can watch entire matches, piece-by-piece, for the subscription price itself (unlike the extra charge over at the Arena). The photo galleries often aren’t always action-oriented (lot’s of posed Blue Steel stuff that leaves me bored), and the galleries don’t always correspond to new releases in a 1-to-1 relationship the way that the BG East Arena does.  I also repost Can-Am content holding my breath just a little, because though I’ve tried to figure out how to formally ask their permission to repost their content here, I haven’t been successful in receiving specific permission (if someday all Can-Am content has been removed from this blog, it’s because they must have finally asked me to stop treading on their copyrighted material). The wrestling action itself is running about 50/50 for me these days, with my sincere interest in their new releases rising only about half the time. I’d miss it if I dropped it, but I don’t know how much I’d miss it.

And yet again, I’m subscribing to Thunder’s Arena’s Thunder TV. I think I’m on the month-to-month plan with them as well, investing $29.99 recurring (I could get 90 days for $59.99). Thunders is striking a chord about as frequently as Can-Am Max (though very different chords). The wrestling, video, and photo quality are the weakest of the three, and the website itself is the lease intuitive or well-organized of anything I’m paying for. I like the personality and the personableness of Thunders. I like the humor and the big, big muscle boys. Mr. Mike has been sincerely generous in giving me permission to repost any Thunder’s content here, so they rock for that as well. It’s the coyest of all my subscriptions, with no nudity and only implied gay-themed content, which is frustrating. They do have some wrestlers that I enjoy that I just don’t see elsewhere (Big Sexy and Ace Hanson, I’ve got my eyes on you as I say that!). I’d miss the subscription from time to time, I’m sure. And this is the second time I’ve had a Thunder TV subscription, returning to the fold after a long hiatus. But it could be the low fruit ripe for picking in this bunch.

Finally, I’ve got a NakedKombat subscription for a whopping $34.95 per month, though if I was smart, I’d sign up for the 90 days recurring plan for $59.99. NK puts out exactly one new match every Wednesday that I can watch or download in its entirety, as I can any other NK match, at any time. I can also download photos of NK action from any match they’ve released, though the galleries sometimes aren’t as entertaining as in other subscriptions, nor do they have the bells and whistles and theme galleries that I enjoy elsewhere. NK doesn’t appear too worried about copyrighting their photos, so I don’t know how they feel about my reposts and reviews, but I suspect they don’t mind (wouldn’t be the first time I’m proven wrong, though). I’m into about every 2 out of 3 NK new releases, with my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboys often showing up exclusively in this all-pornboy production (sweet Jesus I can’t get enough Trent Diesel!).  Round 4 and the victory sex interest me only rarely, frankly, since it’s the wrestling itself that really tweaks my kink the most. But rounds 1, 2 & 3 are highly entertaining and arousing for me for those matches that particularly speak to me. I’d miss it particularly for specific wrestlers that I go to for my hardcore pornboy wrestling moods.

So, surely someone out there is an CPA, MBA, financial advisor… someone with more money sense than I have. Crunch the numbers, wave a wrestling kink wand over top of them, and tell me what I should do to balance my checkbook and feel a bit better about my abundant outlay of cash in pursuit of wrestling kink.

There Oughta Be a Law

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I was holding vigil all weekend in anticipation of the arrival of summer. It still hasn’t arrived, as evidenced by my pasty white skin and layers of clothes, but the hot morning weatherman on my local television news station promises me that I’ll be in short sleeves tomorrow, just in time for the solstice.

So there’s no quiz for you this week. Considering school’s out and the grads are still hung over, I figure you deserve a break from test-taking. I’ve also been abundantly distracted by my first taste of the juicy new releases from BG East. I’ve been trying to pace myself and drink plenty of fluids, but one moment in Fantasymen 33: Muscle Pros keeps grabbing my attention. At one key point in the development of the match, Z-Man is appropriately taking a well-earned, nasty beating from Kid Karisma. They’ve both given and taken their fair share of pounding, but now Kid K has beaten the mocha-skinned muscle model into submission, and then added a gratuitous ball claw on the pretty boy just to seal the deal. Z-Man is finally writhing on his stomach on the canvas, clutching his balls in agony, when Kid K bends over (just linger on those last 4 words a while…. okay, now continue), grabs Z-Man’s pink trunks, and wedgies them high up his ass.

So a couple things speak to me here that probably don’t need mentioning (but that’s what I do around here, isn’t it? I mention everything I think). Z-Man’s bare ass is beautiful. A work of art. I’d go so far as to say his ass is even pretty, and I mean that with all due respect. I’d frame those golden glutes and hang them on a wall. Yanking the fabric away to give a less-obstructed view is nothing but an act of politeness from Kid K to you and me, as far as I’m concerned. Sure, it seems to dial up the agony in Z-Man, but seriously, that wedgie is a thoughtful gift from Kid K to us. “Take a look boys,” Kid K could have just as easily said out loud. As Kid K himself remarked earlier in the match, examining Z-Man’s vulnerable ass in a compromised moment, “Oh yeah, definitely very, very pretty!”

But then Z-Man does the unforgivable (as far as I’m concerned). As soon as he catches his breath, he quickly reaches behind him and digs the pink fabric out of his crack, re-covering those dessert-like cheeks. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you, I yelled at the screen the first time I saw this. That punk-ass bastard (said lovingly)!  When the trunks get wedgied, ripped, yanked or stripped, in homoerotic wrestling they need to stay that way. Screw your decency and sense of humility or dignity, Z-Man! Those went out the door well before you were screaming like a baby, trapped in the ropes, with Kid K’s claw crushing your testicles from behind. When your ass gets displayed by someone as generous and thoughtful as Kid K, you should just take it like the babyface muscle model rookie that you are (at least in these parts).

Before anyone gets the wrong idea (though I have no control over that, I’m reminded often), let me clarify that I love this match. I love Z-Man in this match. I LOVE Kid Karisma in this match. I can’t quite make it 10 minutes into this match before a dramatic cardiovascular event happens within me. It’s not that I actually don’t like Z-Man or his work here. I just feel like there should be some policy that says that homoerotic wrestlers that lose full coverage of their gear should have to just grin and bear it. There’s sort of a justice about it. Once the skin is exposed, it should have to stay that way. Any homoerotic wrestler who readjusts his gear to cover back up should merit a merciless and humiliating beating and the penalty of losing ALL his gear before all is said and done.

This brings to mind (in my constant stream of consciousness sort of way), Christopher Bruce’s “comeback” against Cole Cassidy in Demolition 10. Cole applies perhaps the nastiest wedgie I’ve ever seen as a defensive maneuver when he’s trapped in Christopher’s crushing bearhug. Unlike Z-Man, however, Christopher shows the instincts of a veteran. He and Cole deliver precisely what it is I’m tuning in to see here. He just keeps right on wrestling, his gorgeous bubble butt bouncing beautifully unencumbered by his trunks. I’m sure it wasn’t comfortable, but Christopher didn’t climb into that ring to be comfortable. He climbed in there to deliver what you and I pay for!

Naked Kombat’s recent match illustrated that Phenix Saint has the same veteran instincts. I’m pretty sure that NK instructs the wrestlers to leave the gear wherever the action takes it. But some can’t help themselves but tug the trunks back up, as if that was going to mean anything in round 3 and 4. But I enjoy watching Phenix completely un-selfconcious as he soldiers on after rookie farmboy Blake has yanked his red trunks three-quarters of the way down his ass. The trunks and the exposure clearly mean nothing to Phenix, and yet they mean so much to me. So his single-minded focus in ignoring his ass hanging out makes me root for Phenix that much harder.

And speaking of hard, and just to complete this stream of consciousness ranting, this makes me think of the truly remarkable rookie debut four months ago of seriously entertaining grappler, Adonis, running circles around Gianni Luca and tying the Italian up in knots. NK gives points for getting your opponent’s gear off of him. They get special points in round 2 when they can yank their opponent’s jockstraps over their heads, as opposed to just ripping them off. Adonis illustrates his tenacity and determination by working the “over-the-head” points in round 1, when Gianni is still in his speedo-style trunks. Cranking on Gianni’s skimpy red trunks like there’s no tomorrow, Adonis rips the crotch out of them and slowly manages to stretch them up and over the Italian jobber’s head and eventually entirely off his body. Not only is this a feat, in and of itself (buy a pair of speedos and just try this!), Adonis doesn’t skip even a beat as he performs this maneuver while simultaneously maintaining complete control of Gianni in one completely dominating, crushing, humiliating hold after another. We need to see Adonis and his gorgeous tool in action again!

I’m not entirely sure I’m finishing this post in the same spot where I started it, but let me just conclude by saying this is what gear is meant for in homoerotic wrestling: getting removed. Whether it’s in the form of a vicious wedgie that reveals the gorgeous glutes beneath, or if it’s in the form of ripping the extraneous garment off entirely, gear inevitably stands between me and the next level of homoerotic pleasure. While it’s certainly true that I can be entertained with hot wrestling involving all gear staying firmly in place from start to finish, if there are any wardrobe malfunctions (and especially the intentional ones), it ought-a be a law! Leave gear where ever the action takes it, especially if that’s stretched so high up Z-Man’s ass crack that it makes the muscleboy gag!

Simply Gorgeous

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It was a labor of love, but yesterday’s study of the remarkable homoerotic wrestling career of Jonny Firestorm took a whole lot of time for me to compose. So today, I’m trying to keep things short and sweet.
Kid Karisma wrestling the Z-Man in BG East’s Summer Sizzler: Fantasymen 33: Muscle Pros, is incredibly sexy muscle model pro wrestling!

Kid Karisma’s ass, encased in skin tight shiny silver trunks, is ranking as one of the most gorgeous asses I’ve ever seen in my life, under just about any circumstances.

Grinding that world class ass into Z-Man’s face, as Kid K gloats and revels in wrapping the fitness model hunk up so tightly and humiliatingly, is wearing out the “pause” and “rewind” buttons on my DVD player.

Z-Man is turning into a total team player for BG East, bringing attitude, athleticism, and that agonizingly attractive body of his in well-pitched proportion to the scope of this ring battle and the extremely high quality presentation of his opponent. I’m not too proud to admit that Z-Man is making me eat my highly critical words of the past over his prior wrestling resume. And Kid K has a direct line to my libido, with every inch of his bulging body and every smart-ass snarl and sneer turning me on and turning me into drooling fanatic for the red-headed muscle star bad boy.  Fantasy. Men. Muscle. Pros. Hell, yes!

Karismatic

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I have been so hot for Kid Karisma lately. That body, that attitude, that incredibly hot sexuality dripping from him like honey. Each time I catch Kid K in something new, my infatuation grows.
In the new release Wet and Wild 5, the karismatic one picks a pool fight with Christian Taylor. Christian is muscled up and harder than I’ve seen him before. And he seems to get a kick out of the playful calling out that Kid K slaps down. They’re in the pool quickly and tossing one another around impressively. On the theme of rides that would be fan favorites at a homoerotic wrestling theme park, getting the chance to have Kid K on your shoulders, crotch-to-face, as he flexes and taunts, would be in Space Mountain territory.
I’d stand in line for Christian’s crotch in my face as well, for that matter. Now typically, a pool match leaves me feeling all frustrated. So much of Kid K’s gorgeous physique is underwater most of the time. I love seeing him throw Christian around like a rag doll, of course, but what opportunities that arise from wrestling in water seem to me to be outweighed by the obscuring of the wrestler’s bodies themselves. In this case, the pool time is relatively brief, and it does serve the most excellent purpose of displaying Kid K’s muscle-bully attitude (with a twist of arousal).
On dry land, Christian takes several more trips on Space Mountain, with Kid’s crotch shoved hard down onto Christian’s chin. The karismatic one continues to taunt and bully. Even though Christian has the long limbs and potential leverage to have a chance against Kid K, he can’t rally for more than a minute before the cocky red-head slaps him down like a puppy. 

 Christian doesn’t always appear to be too upset about it, either. I mean, he suffers just fine. He takes a beating, getting slammed and tossed and choked every which way to Sunday, but can you blame him for the irrepressible smile stretched across his lips as Kid K flexes and preens with his cock pressed against Christian’s chin?

One could almost imagine this as a Thunder’s Arena bit from the bold strokes, but make no mistake, these boys wrestle hard. Unlike over at Thunder’s, where there often seems to be a wanting for motivation to explain why the boys throw down, Kid K and Christian build some sweet intensity laced unmistakably with the fine scent of foreplay. Christian does not just role over and take it, despite every evidence that he’s nothing but flattered to be in Kid K’s sights. Kid K is determined to show off, to act as if it’s a cakewalk, but it’s less about it actually being a cakewalk than it is about Kid K showing the pretty one that he can take him at any moment, that he will dominate him at will, that he can crush Christian’s boy and break his will whenever it suits him. Locked up tight in Kid K’s figure-4 sleeper, Christian struggles. He fights it. He doesn’t want to be embarrassed so completely. Personally, I think he desperately wants to prove that he can hang with the karismatic one, that he deserves to be in Kid K’s league. He doesn’t want to be muscled around and sleepered out cold with the pool water still dripping from his hair.

 But Kid K knows what Christian wants, and all the wrestling foreplay pays off as Kid K wakes sleeping beauty with a kiss. To be clear, Kid K has been smacking down aggressive, stolen kisses frequently during the action. This is explicit homoeroticism that makes me stand up and cheer (once I’ve toweled off). The harder Christian makes him work, the more Kid K seems to grow hungry for the taste of Christian’s lips. Finally laying him out cold, Kid K crouches over his vanquished opponent and tenderly, like Prince Charming himself all of the sudden, he tenderly wakes Christian up in one of the most pleasing ways one can be awakened.

Rough play followed by tender care is one of my very favorite stories of all. Kid K helps the tall, battered boy, woozy from his sleeper, up to his feet. Tenderly, dare I say, lovingly (well, at the very least, lustfully), Kid K wraps his muscle bound left arm around Christian’s waist and lets the pretty boy lean on him for support and balance as they slowly begin to make their way inside. Christian, perhaps not as befuddled and in need of a gentleman’s aid as he might have let on, slides the palm of his hand down the bulging muscles of Kid K’s back and underneath Kid K’s turquoise trunks, copping a quick feel of those legendary muscle glutes. Kid K cups the pretty one’s tight ass, as if in reply, and they head inside.

Fantastic homoerotic wrestling fare. I buy the story from start to finish, of sexual tension that detours through rough housing, bullying domination, building hotter and hotter until Kid K puts Christian out cold, at which point all the allusions and implications are finally played out. They put their cards on the table. And they walk off arm in arm (and asses in hand), both fully aroused and ready to blow. This is a wonderful piece of homoerotic wrestling.