Often it’s hard to notice the absence of a thing.  For example, out of over 7 years of blogging, feeling like I’ve said it all, knowing full well I’ve repeated myself often, I often don’t catch what I’ve neglected to mention. For example, it appears I’ve almost never mentioned how soon after discovering the liberating world of companies specializing in wrestling for gay eyes, combing through the catalogs of Can-Am, BG, and BG East, wanting to watch and own everything but having the resources for ordering up just a couple at a time, I purchased Can-Am’s Young Musclestud Wrestling 3 out of my instant infatuation with dazzling pretty boy Maverick.

Maverick: 5’11”, 180 lbs, green eyes, 25 y/o

Sometime between Top Gun and the underground alter ego of Tony Nese, there was this ridiculously delicious All-American hunk of man meat and Hollywood prettiness wrestling under the call sign Maverick. There were actually several wrestlers on Young Musclestuds 3 that turned me on from the catalog photos and descriptions, but my heart’s desire in ponying up the cash for this collection was crazy-beautiful Maverick.

Chris Duran: 5’9″, 185 lbs, green eyes, 24 y/o.


Speaking of crazy, Maverick’s singles opponent in YMW3 was what Can-Am described as “quirky” Chris Duran. Built like Conan the Barbarian’s little brother, as dazzlingly pretty as Chris is, he makes a good call in ceding the pretty boy role over to his opponent and throwing himself full throated into his “mentally unstable” gimmick. Before the action starts, he’s singing to himself, lounging in the corner, picking out ear wax and eating it. When the bell rings, he dances and twists aimlessly in and out of his opponent’s reach, and when he secures an immobilizing armbar on his confused opponent right out of the gate, Chris’ face twists into a Joker grin as he leans forward and threatens to kiss the pretty boy’s coverboy mug (fuck, yes). A sensationally toned muscle body like Chris’ belies a methodical commitment to the long game that’s surely completely incompatible with the unhinged, impulsive, fly by the seat of his pants character in the ring. Nevertheless, paired with Maverick’s heroic uprightness and show-stopping beauty, Chris’ irrational antics and maniacal offense come across as dangerously dastardly.

Maverick’s quads rock!

But like I said, it’s Maverick’s babyface beauty that reached right through my computer screen and grabbed hold of my wallet with one hand and my cock with the other. He wrestles in tangerine trunks and black boots. He possesses sensationally ripped, smooth legs and a dancer’s ass that will not be contained. Maverick has that thick, dark brown hair cut in the early-90’s anti-mullet, trimmed super tight across the sides and back and shaggy on top.  Happily for everyone (but Maverick), the glam rock mental patient drags him by his perfectly useful shock of hair early and often.

“Come and take a walk with Daddy!”

Maverick suffers like the bitterly frustrated muscleboy he is, his beautiful muscles taut with resisting the madman’s offense. Early on, Chris has the babyface on his stomach, straddling Maverick’s small waist, holding on to a hammerlock and waving his free hand overhead like a rodeo bronco rider. “How’s it feel to be rode, boy!?” Chris shouts with glee. “Here, come and take a walk with Daddy,” Chris demands, dragging Maverick to his feet by the armbar and using and Irish whip to send the battered babyface sprinting into and then bouncing off of the ropes at serious speed.

Maverick shows off his glam rock opponent’s ripped bod.

Off the ropes, Maverick  executes a pro level clothesline that slams the villain to his rock hard glutes. “What about that, hippie mother-fucker!? Huh!?” the gorgeous hero snarls with righteous indignation. He’s got a lazy Texas drawl that cups my balls just right (think Matthew McConaughey monologuing in Magic Mike). Although he has that heroic square jaw and dimpled cheeks, Maverick isn’t above retaliating with hair pulling and taunting trash talk of his own. But he never initiates that underhandedness. Like the magnificent babyface hero he is, he steps into the muck only far enough to keep up with his amoral tormentor.

Maverick roped and tied up like a calf back on farm

The story hinges on the judicious application of athleticism and technical wrestling by the gorgeous babyface farm boy counterbalanced by the unpredictable absence of concern for life or limb (of either of them) by the almost as lovely glam rock villain. Maverick is choked across the rope, with Chris’ fantastic muscled ass bearing down across his back.  The babyface is stretched out and displayed to perfection in a crucifix pin, while his dangerously disturbed opponent does leg raises and narrates the exercise in a Richard Simmons’ imitation. The villain kicks him when he’s down, taunts and torments body and soul, and our smooth, charming knight dances on the edge of despair.

Maverick twists Chris’ neck like he does when he wrestles the steer back home

The first fall belongs to the villain. Maverick is absolutely outmuscled and outwrestled to the point that I’m almost feeling embarrassed for him, with all that dazzling beauty and gorgeous physique tied up and tenderized like raw meat. The hero comes out guns blazing for the second fall, manhandling the maniacal muscleman with a graceful hip toss and a thunderstorm of leg drops and knees raining down on Chris’ bulging right bicep.  He isolates the arm with studied expertise, employing hammerlocks and armbars to apply steady pressure to the wounded appendage.

Maverick is used to being in total control

Maverick’s handsome face gets pounded into the turnbuckles so often, you just know that Chris is fully committed to beating the pretty right out of him. And that is, of course, the only true and right narrative that can make sense of all of that leading man beauty and classic fitness mag magnificence on Mav climbing into a pro wrestling ring. Can one man have it all, beauty, brawn, and confident athletic prowess that propels him to own the ring like he owns every room he walks into and every heart he instantly woos into total submission with his dimpled cheeks and built-for-erotic-worship physique? It’s hard not to root against the darling cowboy who has never, in his life, heard the word “no” before.

Maverick cops of feel of that muscled ass, like you get to do when you’re in charge

Like a lot of homoerotic wrestling from the early days (and not so uncommon still today), fortunes turn on a dime. Wasted warriors who one second struggle to pry their sweat soaked bodies off the mat, the next second are executing gravity defying flying drop kicks. Maverick takes the second fall with a fuck-I’m-no-rookie ceiling hold, not just executed to perfection but ante-upped by yanking on the glam rock madman’s out of control hair. Chris takes command to start the 3rd fall, but both ripped boys turn the heat way, way up as the momentum teeters back and forth. Maverick’s intensity triples, and I love the display of dominating control as he scoops his opponent up and holds him in mid-air, high and helpless, letting the blood rush to Chris’ head a few seconds before slamming him down to his muscled back with authority. Chris seems to be taking it personally, his shenanigans seeming much less arbitrary and much more competitive. A shocking snap mare reversal sends the babyface hero slamming to the mat, and Chris takes a lap to catch his breath and taunt. “I guess this long-haired hippie just kicked you in your redneck ass, huh?!”

Musclestuds careening to a climax

As beautifully fit as they are, both muscle studs are coated in sweat and sucking down air as the 3rd fall careens out of control. But impressively, if anything the pace speeds up. The holds and escapes, moves and reversals strike like lightning, over and over.  There’s a little less taunting because they’re out of breath and suddenly seem more intent on claiming the decisive third fall victory. In the rough and raw battle between a righteous, achingly pretty Texas farmboy and his magnificently ripped, mentally unhinged glam rock opponent, there are no draws. There’s no sportsmanship or hard won respect. Just one infinitely fuckable hot body twisted and tortured with nothing left in the gas tank to prevent him from screaming his completely humiliated final submission.

Classically stunning from every angle

Against 99.9% of the pro wrestlers I’ve ever seen, I’d have spent this entire post swooning over the physical perfection and unselfconsciously enthusiastic, over the top sell of Chris Duran.  But even now as I return to this sentimental favorite from so many years ago, it’s the babyface hero Maverick who holds my attention and demands my erotic fascination most. It’s quite a trip, re-watching this match so many years later. The homoerotic wrestling industry has come a long way, and the diversity of bodies and talents and characters has happily expanded greatly since the early 90s. These days I like a little more context and story behind a match than this one offers. I enjoy more slow boil and teetering, nuanced momentum. But even now, I look at both Maverick and Chris Duran and I think they have stunningly high quality physiques and gorgeous good looks. They’re unselfconscious about the ring, the cameras, or the pretense. They strut and suffer like champs, and they hold the suspense of a classic pro wrestling match with lush sell and endearing commitment. And though there’s no explicit erotic content, the trunks wedged high up both top notch asses and the intense focus on both physical and psychological domination leave me persistently crushing on the viewer-supplied fantasies of where all this near naked, intimate musclestud combat might go when the cameras are off and the victor takes full possession of the hunk he’s bested.

A classic

Fashion Police 9-1-1

Cameron Matthews invites you, the consumer, to explain why incredibly hot pro Maverick and rising rookie Zach Reno are going at it in their new release match, Pro Wrestlers: Up Close. It implies an interesting confessional: this is a match in need of a narrative. The pace and intensity of both bearded beauties is fantastic. Zach is clearly in way, way over his head, but pro Maverick sells a solid plot, letting the hirsute rookie hang with the back and forth battle of punishing holds until Mav snarls, “I’ve had enough of this,” and opens up an industrial size can of whoop ass. He fucks Zach up relentlessly in the corner.  He wraps his fingers up viciously in that manic tangle of long locks and drags the slack-jawed rookie all over the mat by his hair. Whatever Maverick’s motivation at the start of this match, he soon demonstrates dastardly delight in driving his drowning opponent to the brink of terror, threatening to break his back, snap him in half, drag out the torture a good 15 minutes past the point that the consummate pro could count the burned rookie out. I’m gasping at Maverick’s bounce off the rope moonsault, after which he crows about how brutal it must be for Zach to feel the pro’s steel clad six pack abs pounding down on him. By far the highlight for me is a flat-footed standing dropkick in which all of those bulging muscles on Maverick leap ridiculously high into the air, coil like a spring, and then explode, driving his boot heels squarely into Zach’s chin. Takes me back to being driven crazy watching Kevin von Erich defy gravity with that sort of grace and power.

It’s the trunks.

So I guess I do have my theory about why it is these two stunning fantasy men are “going at it” from the start.  I think impeccably groomed and perfectly appointed Maverick is seriously pissed to share the ring with Zach Reno’s trunks. The rookie’s washed out lavender pro style trunks completely distract me, so I’m going to project (a lot) here and say they drive Maverick past the breaking point.

Maverick hangs Zach, and his trunks, from the turnbuckle like dirty laundry.

Since Zach’s appearance in BG East’s Gazebo Grappler’s 17, we’ve seen him with an increasingly unkempt mass of panhandler rats nest on his head, hairy torso, and a thickening, full beard disguising his handsome face. My reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler, Kid Karisma chuckled and called Zach “Cave Man” when he first saw this primal look on the rook. Other than the fact that the beard is covering up way too much handsomeness (Zach, please take a cue from Maverick and clean that shit up!), I’m solidly sold on a feral, primal, diamond in the rough persona, particularly on a dazzling beauty like we know Zach to be. I think it’ll be a crime if he ever cuts his hair short again, because that mass of tangles makes opponents irresistibly drawn to drag his gorgeous ass all over the place by them, which is value added in my book. Hell, I’ll lose it for a smooth chested muscleman like Maverick 4 out of 5 times over a hairy torso, but I’m entirely sold on Zach’s tastefully clippered coat of fur.  The ragged and raw edges, the arms length from a comb or scissors, the slightly uncivilized grittiness of Zach is golden as far as I’m concerned.  But those trunks…

Those fucking trunks make Zach’s beautiful ass disappear! Fucking crime against humanity!

I’d like to consult with everyone’s favorite wrestling fashionista, Ty Alexander about this, but Ty appears to be giving me the cold shoulder for failing to include a photo of him in my recent post on the asses turning me on in new releases. For the record, I didn’t think there was a promo shot for Ring Release 2 that did Ty’s ass justice. I’d bend him across my knee any day, mind you.  But without Ty’s expert eye, I’ll venture to argue that Zach’s trunks in Up Close fail on several points, the most egregious, I think, being that they’re a half size too big.

Maverick’s grooming, skin tone, matching trunks, knee pads and boots framing a perfectly proportioned classic Greek god physiqe.

Take a look at Maverick’s standard black and green pro trunks. They could easily be painted on.  They aren’t so tight as to give the zero body fat hunk a Michelin Man look.  Just right, suction packed to his gorgeous, muscled ass. Personally, I’d like to see them with about 3 inches lower rise.  Ah hell, let’s be honest, I’d give a kidney to see them ripped off his fantastic physique entirely.  But to my point, they fit. Perfectly. They accentuate everything right. They are seamlessly part of the wrestler Maverick, framing his gorgeous proportions and complementing every bulge to perfection.

Have I mentioned how much I hate those trunks?

Zach’s trunks, by comparison, bunch up, too much fabric left hanging.  We’ve seen how phenomenal his ass looks in the right trunks, so just look how these panties make those gorgeous glutes of his flatten out and disappear. If he squeezed into tights at this point, he’d be a late 80’s commercial for the social faux pas of panty lines. Maverick, on the other hand, could slide his trunked body into tights and be as smooth as… well, a muscleman’s bottom.

Somebody needs to punish Zach until he promises never, ever to wear those trunks again.

The coloring is wrong for Zach as well, I’d say.  Washed out, the blotchy lavender makes Zach’s pale skin contrasted with his dark hair all over seem anemic.  By comparison, Maverick looks vibrant, 3-dimensional, in full technicolor as the shading and shadows of his mountainous muscles pop. I know for a fact Zach can pop. It’s those fucking trunks.

Pro Wrestlers: Up Close

Maverick delivers three (because he likes doing things in threes) awesomely intimate piledrivers to put the feral rookie down for good at the end of this match. The sight of both of their faces inches away from each other’s crotches, repeated again, and again, is what makes sense of the title of this match for me. What doesn’t make sense to me is those terrible, terrible trunks. Someone, please, rip those travesties off his body… pause…. and then give diamond in the rough Zach Reno a homoerotic wrestling fashion makeover. Please.

Asses Named

No perfect marks for this week’s Name That Ass quiz, but that just means you’ve got more delightful studying to do. Let’s start with a closer look at these beautiful butts:
Ass #1 belongs to…
BG East rookie muscleboy, Marco Carlow.
 Marco’s debut in Motel Madness 11 against BG East first-timer (but hardly a rookie) Dev Michaels is such a feast for those looking for muscleboy wrestling in private. Marco is gorgeous from head to toe, and that round, hard ass is stunning. Love it. Lusting after him. Waiting for more Marco!
Ass #2 belongs to…
Naked Kombat’s rookie pornboy, Gavin Waters.
 I’ve already talked quite a bit a about Gavin’s tag team bout alongside fellow overconfident bully, Nikko Alexander. It’s an ensemble work of art, and my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, Trent Diesel, rocks me hard. But sweet man alive! Gavin Waters is a beast! Love his attitude. Love his body. Love that ass.
 Ass #3 belongs to…
Can-Am’s Lincoln Lode.
 Lincoln’s been out of the scene for a while, as far as I can tell, but his brief tenure in homoerotic wrestling made a big impression on me. His face isn’t quite as classically handsome as, say, Marco Carlow, but the frat boy smirk on that sliced and diced gymbunny physique never disappointed. He almost always paired up with red-head Andrew Lane, which made me write a lover-backstory for the two in my own mind. Here Lincoln and workout buddy Billy Watt play wishbone with Andrew’s legs in Hotel Hell: Toronto.  This match illutrates my point: Lincoln’s ass was almost as perfect as glutes get.
Ass #4 belongs to…
…BG East’s new wrestler (but again, not a rookie), Torvik Tirva.
 I’m a sucker for an accent…. and a nice ass… and tattoos… but even still, there was something that caught me by surprise by how turned on Torvik’s motel match with Brad Flash made me. When Torvik gloats and taunts, it’s absolutely fantastic entertainment. When he wrenches on Brad’s knee until the scrapper can’t stand up, Brad extends a hand of gentlemanly congratulations on a job well done. Again, I say, when Torvik slaps the extended hand away with lip-curling contempt and congratulates himself with a sweet flex in the mirror before walking off laughing at his injured opponent, I’m sold.
 Ass #5 belongs to…
 …Can-Am’s handsome babyface hero, Maverick.
 Homoerotic wrestling is littered with beautiful bodies who lingered far too briefly, and Maverick is a prime example. He had a face of a big screen movie star, the body of a Greek sculpture, and the chin-up, knight-in-white hero vibe that had me reverting to pre-adolescence and lustfully rooting for the good guy. And that ass! His opponent in Young Musclestuds Wrestling 4, Trey, seems to be as awed by that work of art as I am.

In honor of “big” news in U.S. politics this week, there’s no way in the world that next week’s quiz could be anything other than a new edition of Name That Cock. So study up on your homoerotic wrestling cocks now!