Tag: Mitch Colby

Bard’s Ass Get’s Kicked

wrestlebard2 Comments

This day is kicking my ass! Holy hell, I’m in danger of losing my hard-fought momentum to post something new each day. That would suck at this point, since I’m closing in on less than three months to go of a full year of daily posts.

But as I say, this day is beating the crap out of me as I run from meeting to meeting, and I’ll I can do is stand here and take it. If I’m going to get the crap beat out of me, I can think of so many more satisfying scenarios. They pretty much all involve Mitch Colby (no surprise).
So wish me luck that I can stumble across the finish line today, and forgive me if this is a little bit of a half-assed post for your reading enjoyment.

That Air of Invincibility

wrestlebard2 Comments

But how does YouTube know what to recommend? Not that I’m complaining, mind you, but when YouTube tells me that I should check out this young hot thing bare-assed, flexing, and in undisguised love with his own body, I have to wonder: Is YouTube God? Does YouTube know the secret longings of my heart?

It’s really All American Guys that get the credit for this bit of fluff. This cocky bit of invicibility brags that his biceps are about 17″ thick right now, “but around 5 months ago they were probably sitting at around 18, 18 and a half.”
He tell us he’s planning on putting a couple more inches back on the biceps, filling them out and making the peaks pop out even more. That’s what he’s planning to do, he tells us. Then he corrects himself: “That’s what I WILL do.” I get the impression that this blond adonis with big white teeth is used to getting what he wants. Perhaps, more precisely, he’s used to taking what he wants.
What a priceless moment in time is captured here. That moment when the cocky muscle stud is in awe of his own physique. That moment when a little time in the gym makes his testosterone-soaked muscles balloon up in an instant. That moment when he looks at himself and his eyebrows arch, as if thinking to himself, “Hell, I am fucking amazing!”
Right at that moment is when he needs to step up and into a ring, convinced of his own immortality and invincibility, in awe of himself, stunned by his rocking body and unwaveringly certain that everyone who lays eyes on him will be slack-jawed in adoring awe. That’s the juiciest moment in time for a young cock to strut into the ring and come face to face with the mature, patient, battle-built body of a master who’s broken more than his fair share of stallions.
Sure, kid. Go rest up after getting tired and sweaty from your photo shoot. Sure, kid. Shower off and relax naked in the dressing room for a while. When you’re ready for the big show, step on out, climb on up, and take your shot at destiny.

Stunning Salesmanship

wrestlebard2 Comments

I’ve decided that I’m not particularly a fan of the serial wrestling match. Can-Am dribbles out 6 minute segments of some of their upcoming releases, sometimes leaving me frustrated a week or so at a time between clips. When it’s a match featuring the rising stock of 6’1″ beast, Rusty Stevens, the delayed gratification can seem cruel.
Speaking of cruel, though, I’m transfixed by the second movement in this symphony of pain, when Rusty recovers from some initial suffering to put his foot on the gas pedal and treat 5’9″ Aryx Quinn like a defenseless rag doll. Rusty is selling fierce better and better in each match I see him. He’s using the extra pounds of muscle mass he’s been packing on to string together absolutely relentless and impressive power moves, punctuated by some feral growling and snarling. He crushes Aryx in bearhugs that go on for days, keeping the smaller man off his feet convincingly. Rusty slams him repeatedly, spitting out his humiliating banter that assures Aryx that his ass is destined to be owned. But it’s Rusty and Aryx’ selling of repeated over-the-knee backbreakers that truly transports me.

I have always been in awe of the repeated OTK backbreaker, as one man drives his opponent’s back across his thigh, tortures him there for a while, then scoops him up again to start the cycle of devastation over and over again. The size differential between these two boys comes in handy, here, I’m certain. Rusty looks like he’s beating up on some cocky adolescent here, bending Aryx backward with convincing brutality. Rusty’s massive chest is flexed and stunning, and as he throws his battered boy to the ground, his taunting is savage and completely demoralizing.
I have to say, Rusty is mounting a stunning run in my imagination to overcome Mitch Colby as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy. Depending on how Rusty polishes off Aryx, I think this could spell an upset in the rankings. As Mitch doesn’t have a current release out, he’s left watching this drama unfold, his fate entirely in Rusty’s hands (just like Aryx’ ass).
For those who still want to exercise their right to vote in choosing the boys who will do battle to join the secretarial pool in the fictional wrestling-obsessed world of the Producer’s Ring, I’ll be keeping voting (top margin to the right of this page) open for another day. So far, Nick Auger, Jared Prudoff, Kerry Degman, Rafael Verga, and Sean Sullivan appear to be poised to claim their spots in the upcoming elimination tournament. The remaining two spots look like they’re up for grabs.

The Gift that Keeps on Giving

wrestlebard2 Comments

I’m so pleased with a couple of President’s Day presents I got this year. What, you don’t exchange presents on President’s Day? How sad for you. You should consider it next year. It’s fun.

The first present I received was a nice, hot piece of wrestling fiction giving us a glimpse of what Bode Miller’s future might look like if he ever accepts an invitation to meet with Vince McMahon. Bode won bronze just a couple of days ago at the Olympics. He also gave an interview with Matt Lauer that made me think that Bode’s still a little dickish. Matt had to spoon feed Bode some lines to get Bode to say something warm and fuzzy about his baby.
Bode still has a naughty fratboy air about him that I continue to think would serve him well in pro-wrestling. This new piece of fiction now posted at the Sidelineland wrestling fiction group paints a picture of Bode’s up-close introduction Chris Master’s granite pecs.
Then, totally coincidentally, another reader dropped still another fictional wrestling match in my inbox to share with the Sidelineland wrestling fiction group. Sweet! From an entirely different angle, this second original piece of hot creativity paints us the picture of what it would look like for the boys of the 80’s TV show CHiPs to finally prove who’s in charge. I seriously love me some of Jon’s blond farmboy look, and frankly I was ready to put money on him cracking Ponch like a hazelnut across his knee. But don’t count out the Latin heartthrob.
I was so inspired with the spirit of giving, I put my nose to the grindstone and finished off a fictional match I’ve been working on for a while. Ripped from the headlines, my twisted imagination wondered what might it look like for fitness model muscle god, James Dawson Martin to answer Mitch Colby’s MySpace ad looking for some musclehead to wrestle. Mitch, the reigning title holder of my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, has his hands full with the massive muscles of ambitious young James. The production team gets sucked into the action in this BG East fantasy fight, as muscleboys learn, once again, the importance of reading the fine print before you sign your contract.

For anyone interested in reading and, hopefully, contributing some original wrestling fiction, you can find these hot and sweaty tales of hardbodies at the Sidelineland wrestling fiction group.

Seriously, this was my favorite President’s Day ever. By far. Hands down.

Never Had a Chance

wrestlebard1 Comment

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.

A Stunning Upset

wrestlebardLeave a comment

There’s a shake up happening in the pecking order of my homoerotic wrestling favorites. Mitch Colby still has his championship belt around his waist, but shockingly, Derek da Silva has been toppled out of his #1 contender position.

Just to recap, Derek stunningly wrested the championship from Mitch’s hands last Fall when he posted on Twitter commending this blog. Since I’m the sole arbiter in this competition, Derek was playing to the judge. And that’s always a winning strategy. It doesn’t hurt that Derek is also a gorgeously tattooed, sweat-prone muscle stud into yoga and post-structuralism. Mitch was soundly defeated, and Derek was my #1 object of wrestling kink lustful worship.
Mitch’s Wrestler Spotlight tape, and in particular his smoking hot match with Patrick Donovan turned the tables. In a closely fought reversal of fortunes, Derek was demoted to #1 contender, as Mitch mounted his pedastal and pumped his double bicep in victory once more.
It seem that Derek was so focused up the ladder, that he failed to notice that he was in someone’s sights from below. Frankly, I’m a little astonished by this turn of events myself. Derek’s sadomasochistic delights wrapped up in such a hot package seem pretty unassailable by anyone who isn’t Mitch.
Derek’s been off the wrestling kink radar for too many months, though, and Rusty Stevens has climbed in the ring, walked up on Derek from behind, and suplexed his furry body to the canvas. It was Rusty’s playground banter with Aryx Quinn in Can-Am’s new release Arena series that lifted him so dramatically in the standings, I think. The moment he pumped his hips and mimed spanking Aryx ass, Derek should have recognized that he was a threat.
Derek’s tats continue to blow my mind, but the “lip prints” tattooed around Rusty’s crotch and ass reinforce the image of Rusty as both sexy and possessing a sense of humor. The massive GABRIEL tattooed across his upper back isn’t quite as stunning as Derek’s art, but it’s beautiful. It also demands that I guess that Rusty’s “real” name is Gabriel (or that his boyfriend’s name is Gabriel… for his sake, I hope it’s his own name, because getting your boyfriend’s name tattooed on you never ends well).
Winning the competition for #1 contender homoerotic wrestling pornboy of my heart isn’t necessarily always about “winning.” Frankly, Derek’s begging of Mitch to slap his balls harder in Crotch Crushers was a stunning powerbottom move that earned Derek major points for both the kink value and the impressive performance itself. To not only stay hard, but to be brought to ejaculation while your sweat soaked opponent tortures your balls is seriously twisted and outrageously hot.
But Rusty has a nasty side to him that makes me think that even pain-slut Derek couldn’t keep up. Whereas Derek had Mitch obeying his command to beat his balls, I’d have to imagine Rusty cruelly withholding the torture that Derek is so desperately hot to experience. Rusty would have Derek twisted into the pretzel that only a yogi could achieve, but he’d keep Derek begging until Derek was his bitch.
If you’re like me, you did not see this upset coming. I think Mitch had better be looking over his shoulder, because Rusty is looking hungry and fierce. Still, I’m not about to count out Derek entirely from the competition. In fact, I’m hoping this little upset lights a fire under that unbelievably round, poundable ass of his to get back in the ring with renewed focus. In the mean time, though, it’s Rusty knocking at the door, determined to ride his momentum all the way to the top.

All Comers

wrestlebard2 Comments


Last week, Mitch Colby posted this provocative message on his MySpace page:

XXX Scouting for wrestlers- sexy muscle boys for new vids for http://lnk.ms/487PQ – who wants to make a little cash and wrestle with me! send me a message!

Sadly, the link is dead, but the concept is making my head spin with possibilities. Mitch as a homoerotic wrestling scout is a fantastic concept. Personally, I’d be the one paying the cash for a chance to wrestle Mitch. I can’t believe it would be worth my money, though. Seconds after Mitch wraps his legs around me, I’d shoot my load uncontrollably and be reduced to begging to worship him. I’m far too enamored with Mitch to have any staying power on the mat with him. He’s looking for competition, it sounds like, and I’d just be putty in his gorgeous, big hands. I’m sure I can dream up some better competition for him, though.
So I’m lining up surrogate scrappers for tryouts in my imagination. I’ve already started a wrestling fiction match between Mitch and James Dawson Martin. The way I see it, poor muscle god, James, fell on hard times after getting spanked in the bodybuilder.com spokesmodel competition. Hard up for alternative ways to turn the marble sculpture that is his body into rent money, James needs to answer Mitch’s call. 6’3″ muscle god versus 6’3″ homoerotic wrestling champion (of my heart). Truly, that would be a match made in heaven. I say an “undagear” style match on the mats.
Ben Godfre should throw his hat (or jock strap) in the ring as well. The backstory I’m writing for Ben is that he has a secret need to be dominated. He dangles that stunningly crafted body with those grade A tattoos in front of the world, longing for some muscle daddy to demand to conquer him. Ben would make Mitch work for it… hard. With goods like Ben is packing, he’d have to demand only the very best daddy to work him over and own him in body and soul. I think Mitch would be up for it. 6’0″ babyface Ben getting thoroughly owned by 6’3″ sweat soaked Mitch is golden. I promise. Trust me, Ben. You want a jockstrap match with Mitch in the Florida bungalow.
My final recruit for a wrestling audition with Mitch (for today) is fitness model extraordinaire, Greg Plitt. I can attest to the delight of working over pretty boy Greg (in or out of my imagination, it’s up to you to decide). Greg appears to have martial arts training, which makes a homoerotic wrestling set up tough to script. But my backstory for Greg is that he’s a glutton for pain, dishing and devouring. He’d be more than a handful for Mitch, but I think Mitch’s skills have evolved enough that a strategic capture of Greg racked across Mitch’s shoulders would spell a simultaneous three-way orgasm (counting me). 6’1″ Greg cock to cock with 6’3″ Mitch would burnout servers with the demand for downloads. Seriously, we can make this worth your effort, Greg. Start out in pro-style trunks in the wrestling ring, so we can see what it looks like to work over a muscle god like you in the ropes.

Corporate Intrigue

wrestlebard5 Comments

A discussion broke out several weeks ago on the BG East HQ group about Aryx Quinn’s appearance in a new Can-Am production. Was Aryx disloyal for working across companies? Is it all water under the bridge?

I just saw the opening clip of Can-Am’s newest pre-release with Aryx battling muscle god Rusty Stevens in Arena 2. As in Arena 1, Rusty pretty much destroys Aryx in the opening salvo of playground taunts. Rusty has a sharp wit, and when he displays for Aryx what it will look like when Rusty has him beaten to a pulp and getting fucked from behind, it’s pure poetry. Rusty swings his hips and mimes slapping Aryx ass like a rodeo rider. It’s hilarious, humiliating, and, frankly, hot.
There’s a bizarre cut in the middle of the taunting. Clearly the boys were getting some coaching about where to go with their trash talk. As the camera’s zoom in on each fighter, Rusty brings up BG East by name. Aryx, who’s simply not nearly as quick on his feet, awkwardly works in a slam on BG East. “I’m standing on the ruins of BG East!” he boasts. Rusty finally gets tired of trash talking circles around Aryx, and he growls and pumps his stunning body like a charging bull.
One of the most recent appearances Aryx made in BG East featured him humiliated at the hands of massive muscle boy Eddy Rey and the BG East boss himself, Kid Leopard. It makes a nice story to tell of Aryx getting run out of town by BG East and then showing up at Can-Am as if he’d wiped his hands of his former masters. Between you and me, Aryx isn’t one of my favorite fighters to follow. Rusty, on the other hand, is rising stock in my personal homoerotic wrestling pornboy competition in my mind. I’d pony up my credit card to own Rusty snapping and snarling at champion Mitch Colby, but frankly I’d prefer a BG East-style production here to a Can-Am piece.
I don’t know if the trash talk in Arena 2 is a serious attempt by Can-Am to take a dig at BG East. Like I said yesterday, I think they offer two distinctly different types of products, and Can-Am poaching Aryx does not blur the lines of the differing styles of the two companies. When I’m looking for some domination porn with a wrestling appetizer, I’ll probably keep turning to Can-Am. When I’m looking for some homoerotic wrestling kink with a porn chaser, I like BG East. At this point, I’m just keeping my fingers crossed for a Rusty/Mitch throw down in Boston…

Potpourri

wrestlebardLeave a comment


I have a few odds and ends to share today. First, I’m ripping off a great idea from superherofan. He keeps a running pic in the margins of his “current #1 crush.” Since I can never get enough of my favorite homoerotic wrestling boys, I decided to include a similar pane just to keep straight who’s the running champion of my heart. Just to remind everyone, it’s still a close competition. Gorgeous post-structuralist tattoed god of pain, Derek Da Silva, is certainly the #1 contender for the title after he lost it a couple of months ago. But just barely holding on to the homoerotic wrestling championship (in my eyes) is still beautiful Mitch Colby.

Another addition to who and what I’m tracking these days is a new find to my favorite links. PiledriveU has started his own hard-hitting blog of some of his favorite wrestling moves. What I continue to like about him is his readiness to paint himself (and you… and me) into the scene. His blog, Piledrive U, is a steamy hot challenge daring you to see if you can stand up to the devastating, humiliating abuse he has in store for you. He promises to school us over at Piledrive U. See you in class.
My final reflection for the day is born out of gratitude, yet once more, to the sharp eyes and sharp wit of 1000 Holds. As I’ve documented, Billy Jack Haynes gets at least a little credit for turning me into the gay wrestling kinkster I am today. I was an adolescent when I first saw Billy Jack climb into the ring. He was ripped to shreds, by far the most muscular wrestler I’d ever seen, and I was instantly in lust.
1000 Holds has a nice, brief Billy Jack match from what I think of as the prime of Billy Jack’s physique. Nostalgically, my favorite memories are from before he was quite this massive. When he was about five years younger, he wasn’t quite this thick and invulnerable. But honestly, the size of every muscle on his body in this match is made-to-order for the professional wrestling ring of the late 80’s and early 90’s.
The commentator is in awed lust with Billy Jack, just as I am. He’s stunned when Steve Starr throws a shoulder block “and ricocheted off that massive chest… and Billy Jack’s saying, ‘come on, fella, gimme the best you got!” The commentator marvels that Billy Jack was complaining that he hadn’t had an opportunity to work out in five days, reporting that he felt out of shape and disappointed that he could only bench press 505 pounds. “He’s as fast as a cobra, strong as an ox.” “He does it all and does it well.” The only worship missing from this commentary is a reflection on Billy Jack’s butt-slap on the ref at the end of this match (I’d like to be next in line. please!).
Watching Billy Jack dispatch Steve Starr so devastatingly and quickly takes me directly back to being a teenager, staying up after everyone else has gone to bed, adrenalin pumping in anticipation of seeing Billy Jack’s stunning body climb through the ropes. It was just Billy Jack and I, really, with the lights out, only the flicker of the television screen casting shadows around the living room. I was always rooting for him to clamp on that fullnelson that no one could escape, but secretly (I’d never have admitted it to Billy Jack), my most passionate pleasures accompanied the sight of his muscles overcome, his superhuman body tortured, and his face contorted in suffering humiliation.

Thanks, 1000holds, for the flood of happy memories.

Words and Silences

wrestlebard5 Comments


An online collaborator on a writing project recently mentioned to me that he doesn’t always “get” dialogue in wrestling. As for me, I’m always writing in taunting bravado, snarling verbal domination, or humiliating tirades. The dialogue makes it as much a head game as a battle of bodies, and both together are a bigger turn on for me than either one separately.

Similarly, I also recently replied to a reader’s comment by saying that the Enforcer’s epic beatdown on already beaten down Brad Rochelle in BG East’s Contract 4 left me desperately wanting to hear the big baddy say something. He’s creepily quiet as he tosses, slams, pries and pummels sweetly suffering Brad. Brad cries and whimpers, “why…?” as he’s twisted into astonishing angles, but the Enforcer’s silence is somehow even more dominating. He refuses to explain himself, to answer any question, to justify his devastating mugging. Still… if he just once whispered, “‘Cause I want to see you beg…” I’d have spontaneously exploded at the very instant.
Still again, I realize that the topic of dialogue came up in my review on Monday of Rock Hard Wrestling’s latest release. The first match between Cameron and Tommy is technically nice grappling. Two big, gorgeous bodies working up a sweat (perhaps enhanced, nevertheless), is art worth standing up and taking note of in my book. But they’re so eerily silent as they fight. It’s a little more like watching a chemistry experiment than the battle of two cocky studs both believing that they are fated to prevail. Words could tell me that this isn’t just about muscles and skill, but it’s also about balls (and cocks, for that matter), as two big boys play the game that boys have always played throughout time: whose is bigger; who’s badder; who will be the conqueror and who will be conquered.
The dialogue is one of the things that makes BG East’s new Fantasymen match debuting Lon Dumont such a turn on for me. Lon is barking at Eddy throughout the match, demanding that he flex for him. “I’ve seen that one!” he shouts when Eddy pumps out another double bicep in submission. Lon carries off cocky taunting convincingly, wrapping the physical action into a through-story based on Lon’s scene-opening challenge that he doesn’t give away poses of his hot body for free. Lon never accepts a whimpering submission from Eddy without snapping at him, “That’s not good enough!” and demanding a new, stunning flex of Eddy’s sweat-soaked, bulging body. Hell yes, that’s what I’m talking about!
One more example of what’s working for me: Can-Am is unfolding a new product called the Arena in their premium pay site, Can-Am Max,. It stars BG East bad boy, Aryx Quinn, new face Brian Bodine, and g—orgeous Rusty Stevens. After the first match up, Rusty has Brian beaten, fucked, and lying on his stomach in humiliation. Before Rusty can leave in undisputed victory, Aryx charges in, challenging Rusty to an East Coast vs. West Coast battle. They circle Brian’s beaten body, trading insults. Rusty is post-match naked and hard as a board, with that massive muscled bubblebutt bouncing with each stride. Aryx is in shiny gear and boots. Aryx says that if Rusty thinks Brian was competition, then perhaps he should walk across the street to the grade school to find more opponents he could beat up. Aryx is supposed to be the fast talking challenger, but Rusty has a very quick wit and sharp tongue that manages to best Aryx in the head-game of improv taunts, in my opinion. The constant circling of naked Brian, Rusty’s stunning, huge body aroused and on display, and the playground choreography of the taunt, the challenge, and the challenge accepted is by far the most erotic part of this match thus far (including the fuck scene).
I probably write too much dialogue in my wrestling fiction for some. The quotation marks probably serve as little more than a distraction to many fellow kinksters out there groaning to just get on with it, start the tussle, slam some bodies together. But for me, the taunts, tantrums, screams and submissions are absolutely delightful icing on the cake of hardbodies, sweat, and suffering. The talk tells the story of not just physical domination, but the domination of one man’s will over another. It’s about the ante up, the smack down, and the claim at the end of the day when one stud is helpless on his back and the other is reminding him, “I told you so.”