Tag: Kid Vicious

In the Ropes

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These days, I’m getting worked over pretty hard. I’m working my ass off, just managing to stay on my feet. And, wouldn’t you know it, just when I find myself backed into the ropes, some nasty heel villain uses those very same ropes to work me over that much harder.
KV v Ken Mason (assisted by KL) – Tag Team Torture 1
Metaphorically, this makes my day-to-day life these days suck. On the other hand, literally, when someone uses the ring ropes to take advantage of an already battered hunk, that does not suck (at least not for the heel or for me, watching). Turning the set into an integral prop to tell the story is, in fact, a major turn on for me, further explaining my particular preference for ring action.
Brigham Bell v Patrick Donovan – Hunkbash 5
Sliced to hell and mean as a king cobra, Brigham Bell pretty much always used the ropes, and most of the time he took full advantage by not only capturing his hunks in the ropes, but then head scissoring them at the same time. Illustrated so delightfully in his ring action with Patrick Donovan, ultra-lean, muscled bodies put on artistic display is the icing on the cake. The cake itself, of course, is the completely gratuitous humiliation of an already suffering hunk. To capture 6’1″ pec-tacular Patrick so defenselessly, so vulnerably, and then to squeeze Patrick’s handsome face humiliatingly between Brigham’s tightly corded thighs… talk about the climax of a story!
Brad Rochelle v Patrick Donovan – Wrestlefest 2
Patrick, Patrick, Patrick… early in his BG East career, Patrick frequently occupied the restraints of the ring ropes. He just suffered so sweetly! It’s no wonder that opponent after opponent reveled in beating him down and then tying him up to not only soak up more punishment, to also have his ego crushed as decisively as his hot, long, gorgeous body. On his way to being awarded Rookie of the Year in Wrestlefest 2 (I vote for more Wrestlefests!), Brad Rochelle slapped Patrick into what I think, objectively speaking, is the hottest bit of ring rope torture ever captured on camera. Hunk-on-hunk, stunning body on stunning body, handsome face squaring off against handsome face, and Brad taking a foreshadowing turn to the dark side to lock Patrick’s throat between the bottom to ropes and then boston crag his legs, sitting his fine (fine, fine, fine, fine) ass down across Patrick’s shoulders to choke him that much more. 

Brad Rochelle v Dom the Dominator – Demolition 3

Brad, Brad, Brad… of course, any regular reader of this blog is already fully immersed in the drama of Brad Rochelle’s BGE career, as his fratboy face and go-go boy muscles went through years of jobbing, suffering like perhaps none other, not infrequently himself trapped in the very same ropes with which he’d humiliated Patrick and won rookie of the year. Dom’s boot in his ass and his back cranked backward over the top rope, Brad’s rope-suffering illustrates what is the tastiest pay off of all with rope work: the stunning body of a hunk displayed so fully and vulnerably.

Rio Garza v Donnie Drake v “Trevor” Mathews – Pro Bashed Triple Threat
I noticed in recent pics from Can-Am’s new (upcoming?) release, Pro Bashed Triple Threat, that Rio Garza is on the receiving end of some tasty hunk rope punishment at the hands of Donnie Drake. This is, perhaps, the best representation of my own subjective experience at the moment. Clearly outmuscled and at the mercy of a nasty, big, brick house bastard, like Rio under the control of Donnie Drake, I’m getting pried backward and pounded on with nothing to do but take it and look pretty (I can pull that off, too).
As I whine, just a bit, about my own woes (I can sell suffering when it’s my turn), I find some comfort in the sight of some beautiful hunks getting tied up and beat down with the assistance of the ropes. Well, okay, so perhaps “comfort” isn’t the word. But it does, somehow, make the nasty heels in my own life a little more tolerable when I spend a little time admiring the aesthetics and erotics of homoerotic wrestling heels taking the picture frame itself and choking the daylights out of the stunning portrait of a musclehunk in the middle.

Reading the Contract

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I just posted my latest flight of fancy over at the Sidelineland group. It’s a sequel to my resurrection/homage to BG East’s “The Contract” series which featured muscle jobber extraordinaire, Brad Rochelle, being made everyone’s bitch until he finally had enough, turned heel, and started laying out fresh face after fresh face. Like so many, I miss Brad, and it’s not hard to detect my nostalgia for some sweet Brad performances in this new piece of wrestling fiction.
In fact, Brad plays a role in the unfolding story of James Dawson Martin’s forced face down with the terms of the contract he signed with BGE boss Kid Leopard. In real life, Martin is a YouTube phenom, Britboy transplant to LA who’s been trying to work up traction as a fitness model, actor, personal trainer to the stars… whatever a smoking hard physique on a 6’3″ flawless body coupled with an English accent will get you (in my book, it’ll get you far).
Brad is a supporting character in this bout, leaving the head-to-head rookie slamfest to one of my rising favorites currently at BGE, Joe Robbins. Joe delivers the action, but I must admit that this story is merely foreplay for one of my fondest recurring fantasies, that being Brad moving into an explicitly homoerotic sex wrestling direction. I’m a big proponent of the argument that wrestling most certainly doesn’t need to involve fucking or sucking to qualify as homoerotic. That said, even the more conventional wrestling motif in homoerotic wrestling typically fires me up most when I can’t help but picture a post-match scenario that turns physical into sexual conquest. It’s a little like unrequited love that Brad never took a turn in the more explicit niche of homoerotic wrestling. That never stopped me from imagining it, though… fondly.
BG East has been generous in giving me their permission to post pics here, and they seem to tolerate the license I take with their hot characters as I write them into my own homoerotic wrestling scenarios. BG East and the fantastic performances of folks like Kid Leopard, Kid Vicious, Brad Rochelle, and Joe Robbins have given me a lot of satisfying entertainment for a long time. My hope is that writing them into fantasy matches of my own making is as respectful, humble contribution to promoting the BG East and larger homoerotic wrestling universe.
And writing them turns me on.

…In My Hands

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Having returned to a fixation on asses, here’s yet another ode to the wonders of the wrestling muscle butt. I’ve mentioned before the particular joys and plot of the ass slap. A slightly different story captivating me lately is the ass grab.

Fine distinction, perhaps, but we’d hardly say a forearm to the side of the head is the same as a excruciatingly long side-headlock, would we? No, (to answer my own question), we would not. The slap is a humiliating strike, the playful sting that delivers the message of pain on command. The grab, on the other hand, is the more sexualized sign of ownership.
My favorite wrestling pornboys are most sympathetic to me when squeezing their opponent’s cheeks. Hands down, that’s the moment through which I’m most intimately living vicariously in the homoerotic wrestling scenario. When Sebastian Rios finds himself on his knees in front of a thonged, oiled Rafe Sanchez, he does precisely what I would do… what simply has to be done in that moment (well, at least one of the things that must be done). He slides the palms of his hands up Rafe’s gorgeous cheeks and underneath his thong. Any opponent that fails to take an adoring squeeze at Rafe’s ass is a little unbelievable to me.
I surprise myself just a little at how much I get into Bruno Sinclair and Ricardo Dias’ cub training session. Ricardo’s lingering squeeze on Bruno’s muscled glute just looks so right. That’s an authentic moment that sucks me right into the scene. Whatever else I may not quite believe about homoerotic wrestling products, I’m utterly convinced by the slow, solid squeeze of a hard ass cheek.
When it happens in the heat of battle, all the better. I totally get it when Michael Wood finds his head captured in Ross Davidson’s arm, squeezed against Davidson’s ribs and inches away from his muscled ass, and Michael grabs two, open-fingered handfuls of muscle. Sure, it doesn’t do anything to counter Davidson’s advantage. Okay, so perhaps Michael will suffer that much more for his distraction. But that’s so very much, precisely, absolutely what I’d have to do, were I in his position.
The victory squeeze isn’t bad, either. After the story is told and one man has been owned, the appreciative cup of the cheek, once again, makes complete sense to me. I believe that my libido and Kid Vicious’ hands are, in fact, psychically linked, considering he always grabs, pounds, and squeezes exactly what I’m thinking. After delightfully owning Niku Samir in every humiliating position possible, Kid takes a feel of Niku’s ass appreciatively. The drive to dominate and humiliate, paired with the lustful adoration of a loser’s physique, is just genuine in my mind.
Truth be told, I’m a softy at heart. The mutual ass squeeze, naked and sweaty, at the end of a balls out battle is just about the most satisfying denouement for my money. I don’t care for watching a lot of pulled punches, or at least not a lot of poorly sold punches, but I completely buy it when ferocity to dominate turns into mutual worship. Cock pressed to cock, hands squeezing each other’s glutes, the wet heat shared as hearts pound, chest to chest… that’s what it’s all about for me.

Breaking Down the Unbreakable

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When I was about 7 years old, my older brother offered to let me punch him in the stomach. “Sure!” I said, since he was always bullying me. I swung for the rafters, not really knowing how to put much behind a punch, but fueled with a desire to make him hurt. He winced, but his flexed abdomen was none the worse for wear. “Now it’s my turn,” he said ominously, beginning a gut punching session that I had never agreed to. He was often a dick that way.
So gut punching tends to take me back. These days, I more often identify with the puncher. Perhaps I’m living out my fantasy of what I should have done to my brother when given the free shot. Frankly, though, I don’t really have my brother in mind when I see Ricky Martinez’s tasty ass planted on Troy Baker’s babyface as he humiliates the goldenboy while rapidly pounding Troy’s stunning abs.
Vinny Trevino’s double fisted pounding on Patrick Donovan is an awesome example of the erotic testing of a muscle stud’s core. Patrick was destined for this moment of agony painted across his face from the moment he stepped into the ring with this badass bodybuilder. He should have known that outweighed and outmuscled, there was nothing but humiliating pain in his immediate future. But cocky overconfidence is a jobber’s bread and butter, and so Patrick squeezed into his pink and white trunks banking on his ring-veteran savvy to overcome Vinnie’s power and youthful invincibility. Fifteen minutes later, Patrick is on his back, clutching desperately at Vinnie’s wrist, screaming in pain with his ankles in the air. Very nice story.
In babyblue and white trunks, Justin Pierce was similarly suited up for a devastating pounding from the fists of sadist musclepunk, Joe Mazetti. The systematic picking apart of the muscle stud who has complete faith in his own invincibly shredded abs is absolutely awesome. I want to see the muscled babyface on his back, writhing in pain, with his pride-and-joy six pack quivering and defenseless. I want to see Justin owned. Joe does not disappoint.
Sadist extraordinaire and aptly named, Kid Vicious never fails to deliver. His relentless attention to Steven Thomas’ wall of muscle is a work of art. With Steven’s wrists bound overhead and his lower abs bright, bright red from being used as a punching bag, Kid drives home the point that some beautiful bodies are simply made for suffering, and when it’s done right (KV always does it right), it’s a win-win-win situation.

Not that KV needed it, but he does take advantage of a 2-on-1 scenario at times to break down Steven. The 2-on-1 gut pounding is a particular delight for me. I know, I know. Not everyone is into a double-team beatdown. I’m a big booster of the 2-on-1 most of the time. When two gorgeous muscle sadists, Daz and Big John (where the hell did those two priceless gems disappear to!?) capture and immobilize infinitely arrogant Mr. Joshua Goodman, Joshua’s truly marvelous, ripped abs are primed for punishment. It’s not like Daz or Big John needed to double team Mr. Joshua. They’re both powerful and nasty enough to have broken him and his lamb-to-the-slaughter partner, Kieran Dunne, singlehandedly. But the double-team, like the gut punching session itself, is about the story of breaking down the hunk who believes he’s unbreakable. Much more than just about a decisive victory, it’s about proving the arrogant face wrong, destroying his ego, transforming him into a humiliated piece of property who will never again be able to strut and preen without one eye looking over his shoulder.

So when SteelMuscleGod offers to let his sidekick use his abs for a punching bag on YouTube, I’m seeing so much potential opening up for SMG. I’ve suggested that Lon Dumont do the honors of welcoming SMG to America (admittedly, in order to see more of Lon as much as to see SMG in the ring). BGE has a whole stable of hungry studs who could do the honors nicely, though. Who would you suggest to roll out the red carpet for SMG’s debut in the arena in which his godlike status was clearly born to be tested?

Never Had a Chance

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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 crushes Joe 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’s motel 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.

Welcoming the Surprise Guest

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I’m still a little flush from the muscle competition at Bodybuilding.com yesterday. The image in my mind of James bent over Eightpak’s knee, his trunks wedged high up his crack, and Eightpak spanking his athlete’s cheeks is still seared into my brain. What an image like that does to me brings me to today’s musings: uses for a wrestling hard-on.

For me, the hard-on opens up a whole smorgasbord of opportunities. A sweet, hard fought battle is arousing enough to witness, but the appearance of hard-ons indicates that observer and observed are on the same page in recognizing that wrestling is about sexual domination. Competing companies handle the hard-on differently (so to speak) it seems to me, so for today I want to just consider BG East’s treatment of the wrestler’s erection.
What to do with the hard-on once it graces us with its presence… Jarrett Cole and Jake Omega take time to simply welcome each other’s hard-ons with gentle, appreciative awe. They take turns stroking each other’s hard-ons from outside their trunks. Jarrett’s index finger tracing the heft of Jake’s hard-on suggests a literal, comparative measuring of one another’s manhood. I also have to imagine Jarrett’s mind is already ticking off the things he’s planning on doing with Jake’s impressive tool.
I’m not sure who this cheerful stud is from BG East’s roster, but he shows another approach to the appearance of his opponent’s sizeable erection. He simply grabs the thick shaft and gives it a tug. Frankly, clawing his balls would probably inflict considerably more pain, but when hard-ons arrive on the scene, wrestling isn’t entirely just about strategic advantage. The hard-on begs for being touched, grabbed, held and squeezed, letting your opponent know that his arousal is noted and will be dealt with directly.
Here we see Gabriel’s defensive grab of Mike Martin’s cock. Stripped, hammerlocked and choked, Gabriel feels Mike’s hard-on knocking at the door of Gabriel’s naked ass. With remarkable presence of mind, Gabriel uses his free hand to squeeze inside Mike’s trunks and grab hold of his knocker. Knowing Gabriel’s work, we must wonder whether this is actually defensive, though. He very well may have in mind enhancing Mike’s pleasure in order to better facilitate showing him the hospitality of welcoming him across the threshold.
Jarret Cole’s approach here deserves a second look. He has his opponent beaten down on his stomach in the center of the ring. This pleases Jarret, obviously. Unpacking his own hard-on, Jarret slides it inside the back of his opponent’s trunks, capitalizing on both the friction of the fabric and the frottage to feed his hungry python.
And speaking of feeding, for those of us orally fixated, the erection demands special attention. Here, Dark Rogers, one of the princes of the aroused altercation, cracks his light-headed opponent backward across his knee. Seeing the kid’s pleasure inches away from Dark’s mouth, Dark applies some mutually gratifying mouth and teeth action. Now this is the proper way to capitalize on an over the knee backbreaker!
Perhaps the most common scenario is illustrated here by one of the men of my dreams, Rafe Sanchez. Rafe’s own hard-on is screaming out at him for servicing. His command of Sebastian Rios has engorged Rafe’s insatiable member. Conveniently enough, he finds Sebastian’s face trapped, inches away from his throbbing cock. Grabbing a handful of hair in his right hand and cupping the back of Sebastian’s head in his left, Rafe rubs his opponent’s head humiliatingly into his erection. The force feed, both inside and outside of trunks, epitomizes the rewards of victory.
What’s still missing? In the interest of modesty, I’ve left out the pics of hard-ons put to good use in pec frottage. Most of the rest are variations on the theme: hand to cock, cock to face, cock to ass… One technique that I wasn’t able to put my hands on was the bodyscissors transition to capturing the suffering man’s erection between your feet. Christian Taylor is in prime position for this move here, if he just unlaced his ankles, bent his knees up further, and captured Jonah’s cock in the arches of his feet. I’m not entirely sure why that makes me see stars, but I’m a huge fan of this move on tape and in real life, both giving and receiving the joy. Of course there’s the dick slap, the figure-four force feed, the anal probe standing, seated, spooning, etc., etc., etc.
This is what makes mainstream pro inevitably inadequate, at least on its own. Straight grapplers who can’t manage to get themselves worked up are always at least a little disappointing to me. The generous welcome of the raging erection is a joy of infinite variety, to be welcomed like an esteemed guest, honored with lavish attention, and satisfied with relentless hospitality.

More Sublime Suffering

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An enthusiastic reader recently, generously offered to stretch me out across his knee in a backbreaker and work over my gut and pecs. That sweet talker. The offer got me thinking once again about one of my favorite wrestling holds: the over the knee backbreaker.

The promise to work over my gut and pecs sent my mind cataloging a few of the delicious possibilities of what can be done with a relatively flexible hardbody folded backward across your knee. Cliff Conlin (the consummate seller) illustrates nicely how grabbing the ankle of your prey gives you some extra leverage in prying your man backward at a breathtaking angle.

There’s an aesthetic to the OTK backbreaker that can make this moment in the ring an awesome work of art. Dirk Shannon from several Can-Am classics relished the OTK, and he clearly appreciated the beautiful form it could take. In Canadian Musclehunk 8, Dirk finishes off Peter Genilli like Michelangelo carving a block of marble. He presses down on Genilli’s thigh and chin with only the balls of his hands, his fingers extended purposively perpendicular to the mat. Dirk’s taut upper body and the fierce flex of his jaw are gorgeous all by themselves, but his presentation of Genilli’s suffering form belongs in the Louvre (or Le Cordon Bleu, perhaps).

BG East’s Kid Brock (who disappeared far too quickly), opts for the left hand clamped tightly across the throat of Eric Moreira. Kid has his opponent bent so far backward that Eric’s head is being smashed to the mat. The fulcrum here, Kid’s massive thigh, is driving directly into the small of Eric’s back. Note the line of sight in Kid’s gaze, though. The OTK, by definition, shine’s a spotlight on the suffering man’s package. The tormentor and the audience share the vision of the broken man’s most intimately vulnerable moment, with his spine being twisted in a way never intended by the human anatomy, and his cock and balls propped tantalizingly at the apex of his arched agony. The drop of sweat hanging from Kid’s nose here is what makes me feel a little faint, though, I must admit.
Confession time: I’ve caught myself more than once snarling at the screen, thrilled by the sight of an OTK, but frustrated that the sadist with his man broken backward across his thigh is seemingly ignoring the prominent pouch of his punk. To have that vulnerability so exposed and presented, but to do nothing with it, should be a crime punishable by (me) cracking the negligent battler’s head into the nearest turnbuckle. Fortunately, BG East’s Kid Vicious never needs my coaching. The world champion sadist never seems to fail to take stock of all of his opponent’s assets as his disposal in an OTK. With rookie Frank Daly cracked across his knee, KV is like a hungry man with a sampler plate. Daly’s cock is uncovered and suffers a blood-pumping, double fisted squeeze. Eventually his nipple’s and cock find their way into KV’s mouth, all the while maintaining the rookie’s vulnerable position across his knee. The work of a master is a beautiful thing to behold.
No one, but no one bends and suffers like Brad Rochelle. I’ve spilt plenty of ink marveling at Brad’s capture across the knee of Jeff Phoenix in the past, but I simply have to include another OTK capture of Brad, displaying another great option for the hold. I can’t sleuth out what match this pic is from, but I think this heel is Sid O’Reilly. He’s illustrating another great use of an OTK, which is to claw the crap out of a muscleboy’s exposed six pack. The heel’s fingertips look seriously dug in there, and Brad is letting us know what it feels like to have someone’s claws rearrange your internal organs from the outside.
Even the pros clearly take carnal delight in the OTK. Whether you’d like to imagine yourself getting broken by Chris Benoit or breaking bodybuilder face, Tommy Zenk, the combination of the two is fantastic. Chris’ ownership of Tommy is savage and complete.
This old pic captures a grimacing blond in the act of bringing Kerry Von Erich’s stunningly muscled back down across his knee. As Wrestling Arsenal points out, for our purposes, the most notable feature here is the blond’s hand indulgently squeezing the very ample handhold of Kerry’s muscled bubblebutt. His wrist and hand are jammed up so tight, Kerry’s cheeks are spread wide and completely vulnerable. Kerry’s mouth is saying no, no, no, but I suspect his prostate was saying yes, yes, yes!
The possibilities are seemingly infinite. The OTK offers a provocative canvas for the work of the true masters. Whether you’d like to crack me across your knee and pound out my pecs and gut, or whether you’d like to be captured and brutalized in this fantastic means of torture, I’m always and forever a fan of the improbable, unmistakably homoerotic over the knee backbreaker.

Shaved for Your Pleasure

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So let’s get this straight: I do not believe consistency is, necessarily, a virtue. I’m unashamed by self-contradiction. Take, for example, my obsession with hair pulling. Love it. Totally into it. Write it into just about every wrestling match I write. A nice, thick head of hair waiting to get yanked around is sweet in my book.

Then I go and find myself obsessing about wrestlers with shaved heads. Lon Dumont (I keep wanting to call him Lou, for some reason), got me careening down this path. I just saw him in his debut match for BG East, and I’m instantly a fan. He tells an awesome story, with a lot of smart banter. He sports genuine swagger. He has a fantastic whimper when he’s suffering. And when he’s in control, he’s brutal. But it’s that sweat-soaked scalp that’s sending me over the top. I must see more of this savage warrior!

Finding myself obsessing about Lon’s shaved head makes me take stock. I’m a fan of a lot of shaved heads in the ring, when I think about it. Kid Vicious has been looking beefier and balder in every new product he puts out for BG East. My desperate hope is that KV’s giving Lon some sadistic heel training behind the scenes, and someday we’ll see the both of them destroying and dominating helpless hunks side-by-side.
Can-Am classic, John Thor was a hairless musclegod built for worship. With a metabolism of a tit-mouse, he always worked up a dripping sweat instantly in the ring. And he was very generous with letting us admire every corner and crevice of his astonishing anatomy.
Mikey Vee was a handsome bastard with a full head of hair. Now that he’s shaving it, he’s metamorphosed into a fantastically sexy beast. Mikey will surely merit his own edition of “Bodies Over Time.” It doesn’t hurt, in my book, that his bold and beautiful ink has also been growing. But I’m sure it does hurt (a lot) to have that massive man clamp his python arms around your neck from behind and smile Zen-like as you pass out.
There are plenty of pros that could always capture me with their perfect pates. Tyson Tomko and Bobby Lashley pull off the shaved head masterfully.
So as much as I’m enamored with the moment when a hunk gets hoisted up by his long locks, I’m also entirely into shaved-heads as well these days. Life is a paradox. That’s what makes it interesting.

…In Love and War

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There are plenty of products out there showing gorgeous men in skimpy trunks grappling, dominating and submitting. Sometimes, though, I want a little more of the “homoerotic” in my homoerotic wrestling. Of course the dick slap across the face, or the post-match blow job or fuck gets to the point. But a little more subtle, and often much more erotic, is the wrestling kiss. When they pull out the liplock, suddenly I’m not trying to guess if these guys are actually gay or just toying with us. When one man’s tongue is shoved down another man’s throat, I don’t really care anymore.
I’m not referring to the post-victory seal of ownership, though that’s nice as well. But the aggressive or defensive kiss in the middle of a match is a really delicious plot twist. In the middle of Patrick Donovan’s domination of Brandon Aldrich in Mat Brats 1, Brandon employs a defensive liplock that derails the veteran Patrick. Pecboy Patrick returns the favor with a cranking headlock on Brandon, who’s flat on his back with Patrick’s tongue down his throat. Patrick breaks the liplock, explaining that any further reward for Brandon will require him to earn it through abject suffering.

Patrick’s no stranger to kissing as ring-plot. His partner in Tag Team Torture 1 was the notorious kisser, Sean Patrick (in my mind I always wrote the backstory that these performers were lovers). In humiliation after humiliation suffered at the hands of heels Jose and Cruze, Patrick and Sean find themselves in naked, face-to-face, mirror-image camel clutches, with their lips shoved together in the middle of the ring (I confess I love this so much I wrote it into my fiction, with Adrian Pasdar and Milo Ventimiglia in a helpless liplock in the clutches of Sendhil Ramamurthy and Christopher Meloni). The choreography here is sweet. This isn’t the only time this device is used in BG East, but it’s certainly one of the sweetest. Cruz and Jose also torture the skinny studs in a remarkable naked, stacked, double camel clutch and boston crab that’s got to be seen to be believed.
Though Sean Patrick earned the moniker “The Kisser,” it must be said that Kid Vicious has got to be the master (of many things but in particular) of the aggressive match kiss. KV’s knack for using his wiry body to systematically pick to pieces his hot stud opponent’s is “mind”blowing all in itself. But his sadistic joy in wrapping his prey up in paralyzing positions and slapping a forced liplock on gets my motor running.

An astonishing tag moment near the top of my homoerotic wrestling favorites is the fantastic beatdown that the Brooklyn Bodywrecker and Shane McCall put on Liam Ryan and Brian Powers in Tag Team Torture 2. I think all tag team matches should include the overt storyline of teams of lovers fighting one another. After BBW made Shane is boy in Dark Knights 5, they show up clearly having sorted out their daddy/cub relationship. Liam and Brian similarly let us know that they had each other’s backs well before arriving in the ring. There’s a brief moment of fun when skinny boy Liam puts some ecstatic hurt on leatherboy BBW, but inevitably the heels slam the shit out of the Liam and Brian. Ultimately, Brian’s taped into one corner, and after having Liam’s face shoved in his partner’s crotch from every angle, the heels torture the skinny Irishman in the center of the ring. Near the final moment of victory, BBW gives his cub a treat by pinning Liam’s face against Shane’s crotch while the two heels enjoy some convincing making out. On paper, this may all sound like it runs thin, but I buy this from start to finish.

Sometimes my kink is just seeing guys beating the crap out of one another. Sometimes I’m really looking for some humiliation. But serve me up some genuine liplocks as aggression (or defense) in the wrestling ring, and I’m sold.