Tag: MPJ

Rumble Again – The Bitter End

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So there I was, packed like a sardine into a Manhattan hotel room with 30+ gorgeous wrestling hunks, trying my best to resist the impulse to start stroking and, instead, to keep the camera pointed at the action in the ring. Part 2 of Sir Dark’s Watchfighters Rumble Match opens with four hot hunks left from the first half of the field. Masked Machine, Red Adrian, Chris Collins, and Alex the Great were still in the running to have a shot at winning this non-stop line up of some of the hottest and fiercest wrestlers in attendance at Wrestlefest NYC. Then the 17th entrant struts onto the mat, and my ability to resist dropping the camera and just jerking off then and there was sorely tested. Fuck. Beau Fucking Jordan. FUCK, this man owns the full throttle erotic end of the homoerotic wrestling pool these days. He made it to the final three of Sir Dark’s Rumble Match 1 in Toronto last year, and holy fuck, I am constantly breathless watching him, waiting to see if someone’s going to be submitted by this stunning muscle man or, perhaps, face fucked by him. I’m totally on board, either way.

Beau is unhurried, always cocky. Just casually wraps up Alex the great, leans back against the wall, and crushes the fuck out of Alex with headscissors. Adrian and Chris double team Masked Machine, and again, I just have to say, Chris Collins is fucking fearless. If anyone is about to count out a lightweight in a rumble like this, I warn you: do not count out buck-and-a-quarter Chris Collins. The eighteenth entrant is already cuing up though, and the bodies are piling up, and you know the shit is about to get seriously crazy when Sir Dark finally clocks into the match. “Bitches, daddy’s here,” he screams, before launching himself like a missile onto Alex the Great’s gut while Beau keeps casually leaning back with Alex’ masked head stuck between his thighs.

As I mentioned in my review of the Rumble Match Part 1, one of the challenges I discovered in trying to video record in this context was proximity. There was just not a lot of room at the margins of the mats, so framing some wrestlers standing, others flat out on the mat, the action stretched from corner to corner, was just impossible. And Sir Dark is all over the place, joining double and triple teams, stomping and stretching, up and down. See my many prior comments about just how sexy it is watching the blinding chaos of Sir Dark doing what he does best. Also, I’m seriously, seriously, seriously having a hard time containing myself when Chris Collins decides he’s going to try to take out Beau. Fuck, now that’s a sensational pairing!

Chase Addams gets counted into the mix next. Chase looks fucking sensational. He immediately locks horns with Sir Dark, which seems like a combustible combination. The bitter scrap between the two of them fights for attention with Beau, casually cranking on face-to-crotch headscissors on Masked Machine, resting his head on his hands like this is a day at the beach. Honestly, I feel like Beau could sell tickets for that ride next year and have us lined up around the block.

The next competitor to clock in is SilverFlex. Talk about here comes hot daddy! He’s got history against Sir Dark, so maybe that explains why he launches in the rumble host without skipping a beat. There’s just so fucking much eye candy, there’s no way I can do it justice, but I will say that Chase sitting on Beau’s face in a foldover pin and spanking Beau’s magnificent ass is my new desktop wallpaper.

Next to clock in is Nick Lean. I’d seen this hottie before online, but suddenly I was bumping into him everywhere at Wrestlefest NYC, starting with watching him literally leap into the fray and joining SilverFlex in going to town on Sir Dark’s gut. It felt like maybe there were bragging rights to be had for being the one to knock the host out of his own rumble. Regardless, Nick Lean was fucking gorgeous, with this sly opportunism about him. He’s practically high-fiving Silverflex for their intense double-team on Sir Dark, and the next second, Nick has leapt on Silverflex’ back and rolled him into a rear naked choke. Also, I want Nick’s trunks. And his ass.

Next to clock into the rumble is Canadian pretty boy, Ryan Reilly. Fuck, he’s such a boy-next-door-waiting-to-get-owned. Honestly, I’m a little worried about him, but then again, I was a little worried about Chris Collins, and he was a fucking rabid ferret in this rumble earlier. Ryan immediately hones in on Nick, which makes total sense to me. There’s the chaos corner of the mat with Sir Dark pulling down his trunks and planting his naked ass on Chase’s face, and the calculated corner with SilverFlex and Ryan having their way with spankable Nick.

SleeperMuscle clocks into the rumble hot and furious. Shockingly, he’s puts Sir Dark out in an instant with a rear naked choke, and I’m making a note that I need to find out more about this doe-eyed daddy who can take out the likes of Sir Dark looking like he’s barely trying. English pretty boy MPJ is counted into the fray next, immediately sinking his claws into Chase, which I still think is, honestly, the best bet here. Chase is just fucking dangerous, and unless you’ve got some heavyweight hitters on the mat, these middleweights better keep their eye on Chase.

Well, speaking of heavyweight hitters, welcome to the fray The Swiss Menace, Leon Cyrus. Fuck, the center of gravity shifts in an instant when Leon takes the mat. There’s mayhem for a while with bodies rolling on top of one another like a boiling pot of water, and it’s hard to tell what’s happening to whom. Chase gets a face full of The Swiss Menace’s ass, though, and Leon clearly sets his sites on taking out the perennial badboy.

Entrant #26 into the rumble is a quickly growing obsession for me, AlexxWrestler. I named AlexxWrestler my pick for best legs of 2025, but this was the first time I’ve ever seen him in person. I got to see the incredibly sexy stud sans mask before the rumble started, and holy fuck, this guy is drop dead gorgeous. Hollywood gorgeous. Honestly, I’m now suspecting he wears a mask just to try to be fair to his opponents who would get completely distracted by his devastating good looks. Of course, with the mask on, he completely devastates opponents with that fucking gorgeous body and, in particular, those luscious, award winning legs. And, true to form, within seconds he’s got MPJ’s face buried in his ass in figure-4 headscissors, and there’s just no coming back from that. Fuuuuck, AlexxWrestler tauntingly flexes his glutes, cranking up the pressure and making MPJ’s adorable face flush beet red. Lucky fucker. Just to drive me completely fucking crazy, he then sits on MPJ’s face and gives himself a wedgie to really bury the Brit’s nose up there deep. Holy. Fuck.

Ronin clocks in right around the time that MPJ and Nick Lean have to tap out. So, there’s a sudden shift in momentum, with AlexxWrestler, Ryan, and Ronin only possibly managing a counterbalance to Leon’s dominating size advantage. There’s an attempt at ganging up on the mighty Swiss beast, but he’s too skilled, too strong, and just to fucking big for them to handle. That is, until Sadistic Sid Shaw clocks in, and immediately sizes up the biggest threat on the match. Sid makes pretty short work of The Swiss Menace and in the waning minutes of the rumble, I’ve got to think he could be the bad ass to beat, as he and Ronin double team drop-dead gorgeous AlexxWrestler.

Pot-stirrer Ethan Axel Andrews stomps onto the mat with something to say about that, though. It seems like just a minute later, Tattooed Menace clocks in like he’s hot on Ethan’s tail, and true enough, he launches into Ethan like Ethan had stolen his yogurt from the lunchroom fridge.

Honestly, I was there, and at this point I’m thinking, how many more stars in the wrestling sky can there be to count into this bedlam? Well, welcome Ben Monaco as rumble entrant #31 (or so… I’ve seriously lost count). Again, I’m sort of fascinated that Ben bee-lines directly onto Ethan. Like, he sort of shoves everyone else out of the way. Was Ethan talking shit and pissing guys off in the waiting area, or something? Tattoed Menace and Ronin wishbone Sid, and then Ben and Ethan recalculate the odds for a four-on-one bid to knock Sid out of the fray.

The lucky last entrant to the rumble is Rocko Mortis. Rocko is always a wild card, right? But coming in fresh as a daisy after 31 wrestlers have torn into each other before you has got to put you in the pole position for winning this whole wild ride, right? As I mentioned in my review of Rocko’s tag team match at Wrestlefest Live, which happened the following day after the rumble, Rocko is another chaos demon that brings the unhinged and unexpected. The final five go at each other with abandon. You can practically taste the excitement as they work to clear the table until the rumble title is going to go to just one of two remaining hopefuls.

The finale has an old school vs new school feel to it that’s mean and raw with the final two competitors beating the shit out of each other for the last 3 minutes. Who do you think won? Who do you think ought to have won? Who do you absolutely have to see more of, now that you’ve savored this massive sampler plate of homoerotic wrestling talent bearing down on each other for nearly an hour? The scope of this somehow amazes me even more, now that I’m watching the recording, than it did when I was standing right there with camera in hand. One wrestler in the mix made a comment to me afterward, that getting all of these men on board for this ambitious project is a testimony to the sincere respect and affection so many have for Sir Dark. I saw that, as well as a ton of affection pretty much all of these guys have for each other and the joy of suiting up and going at each other.

Check it out. The entire two-part rumble is sensational and sexy and a pure showcase of homoerotic wrestling talent that deserves to be celebrated!

Wrestlefest Live – 2025

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Like Wrestlefest itself, Wrestlefest Live grew in leaps and bounds this year. I attended WF Live last year, and it was an awesome, fascinating, intense, and immensely entertaining event. Last year, the Live show had the feel of getting smuggled into a speakeasy during prohibition. We were escorted, one elevator-full of wrestling fans at a time, to the undisclosed location. Seating was limited in a sparse, Manhattan loft space on the upper floor of a high rise. It was mat wrestling in front of an intimately small but enthusiastic crowd. The matches were bigger than the setting, really, with some fantastic, high profile wrestlers from the underground scene, stars of both self-published and corporately produced homoerotic wrestling. Seated inches away from match after match of sizzling hot bodies grappling for dominance was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before, and when the box office opened online for the show this year, I eagerly snatched mine up hours after they went on sale, which turned out to be a good thing, since the show sold out in about 12 hours.

Wrestlefest Live this year was billed as more. More matches, a lot more wrestlers (accounting for tag teams, celebrity refs, and unannounced ring takeovers, turned out to be A LOT), but the one element that piqued my interest most was the promise of a full blown pro wrestling show in a ring. I was in suspense, wondering how they’d pull this off, knowing it was set in the same club where the kickoff party had occurred the night before (see my account of drooling over Dio Characi there). I tried to moderate my expectations, frankly. I was picturing the possibility of sort of a backyard wrestling feel, but in this case, in the backroom of Red Eye. Let me be clear, I admire the fuck out of backyard wrestling, with the young wrestling enthusiasts who improvise a pro wrestling setting on the cheap in order to live out (and record and share) their fantasies of being larger than life pro wrestlers like the ones they love watching on TV. Sometimes the “ring” is a trampoline or maybe just a few traffic cones and an unsecured rope marking the imaginary boundaries of a ring. Seriously, I’ve enjoyed watching some backyard wrestling from time to time on YouTube, when I find some hot young men going all in for the raw love of it. However, I wondered if Wrestlefest Live this year might similarly require the audience to imagine more than it literally delivered, sort of like backyard wrestling enthusiasts with the passion, if not the actual equipment and budget, of indy pro wrestling.

But, whoa. Like, WHOA! This was a legit show, the actual incarnation of unapologetic pro wrestling for a homoerotic wrestling audience that I’ve always fantasized about but never quite believed I’d get to witness. Sometime between the end of the kick-off party and the start of the show, an army of elves (who I’ve since learned were primarily made of up many of the wrestlers in the show) literally assembled a pro wrestling ring in the back room of the club. It took up about 80% of the floor space, and they packed in the 70 or 80 of us who purchased tickets into the remaining 20%. You know how eager I was for this, considering I gave up the opportunity to keep chatting up Ben Monaco, Beau Jordan, and Mickey Knoxx at the bar to elbow my way to near the front of the line as soon as the doors opened. I scored a ringside seat near the corner of the ring where the wrestlers made their entrances. I mean, everyone had an up close and incredible view, but fuck, I could literally reach out and touch the ring. When Mickey Knoxx made his ring entrance with Rocko Mortis for their tag team match, he peeled off his top and tossed it out of the ring at my feet (I haven’t asked Mickey, but I prefer to believe it was intentional). Moments later, when their opponents, Beau Jordan and pinch-hitter Seon Cruz took the ring, Beau ripped off his tear-away stripper pants and also tossed them down right in front of me (again, I tell myself it was an intentional bit of titillation especially for me). Like, fuck, I was right fucking there! When Sid Shaw and Zach Reno’s off-the-rails match spilled out of the ring, it was nearly in my lap. For a couple of seconds, Sid had a hold of my shoulder and was trying to climb over me and my buddy next to me because sensationally sexy lightweight Zach was about to thrash the living shit out of him. Fuck, I was right there, and we were ALL right there, and what played out in front of us was incredibly hot, hilarious, and gorgeous pro wrestling action.

Most of the wrestlers on the card have grown up before our eyes, turning their passions for wrestling into entertaining videos on WatchFighters. Quite a few have headlined for companies like BG East, Wrestler4Hire, and Weekend Wrestling. I suspect few of them have done anything quite like this before, pulling off a live match in front of a roaring crowd of guys turned on by wrestling. But honestly, you wouldn’t have known it. The entire show had polish about it. There was an earnestness and unblinking sell about it that was totally un-self-conscious. The slams where hard and loud. Bodies were literally catapulted off the ropes. The face plants into the turnbuckles shook the ring and hurt just to watch. The slaps and stomps popped with this spontaneous authenticity that left bright red hand prints and yellowing bruises behind. I’m mean, sure, I’m certain there were moments that I needed to suspend my disbelief, but as I look back on my memories of the event just over a week ago, I honestly don’t remember them. I just remember the stories playing out in front of us. And the hot bodies. I remember those really well.

There were competitive matches packed with impressive athleticism and wrestling technique. Babyface hero Dash Halley put those meaty pecs of his on the line against massive muscle bruiser Leon Cyrus in a best-of-5 battle that hit hard and kept us guessing to the sweaty end. My buddy Bobby Carter’s match against the institution, Lobo Gris, also started as one of those highly competitive and suspenseful battles, with pounding muscles and long, wrenching submission holds. But all of the matches showcased personalities and drama at least as much as they did stunning athleticism and technical wrestling. Both of the tag team matches were both dripping with melodrama, which is what tag team wrestling demands. When Kid Canuck and Ryan Reilly faced off against MPJ and Bruno the Beast, there was a shocking tag team partner betrayal culminating in a humiliated jobber pile of hot, sexy, demolished pretty boys. In most of the matches there was the teetering back and forth of the balance of power, with wrestlers owning the momentum and taking liberties and threatening to count their chickens before they hatched. Oh, and did I mention there was hot, hunky stripper wrestling? I feel like that deserves to be repeated.

The messiest and the most polished matches were back-to-back. My pick for messiest match was Gabe Steel taking on Drew Harper… and then Gabe taking on Dash Halley… and then Gabe taking on surprise reveal of Jonny Firestorm… and then Gabe taking on both Gabe and Drew. It was all high impact moves, with piledrivers for days. Honestly, there was so much going on I lost the thread of what the hell was exactly happening and who I was rooting for. Entertaining? Absolutely. But way, beautifully messy. The Weekend Wrestling feature of the evening was pretty much the opposite. Sadistic Sid Shaw took on Zach Reno, as I mentioned before, and it was smooth and polished to a glistening shine (just like Zach’s ass, which yes, we saw). Sid and Zach told the story of the underdog little (hot) guy refusing to be intimidated by the big, unhinged muscle brute. There was forced stripping, trunks pulled to show off two sets of hot glutes, and spanking. It was tightly told, with a couple of extensively experienced wrestlers to make every bump and spank feel spontaneous and part of a bigger story, including pulling in some ass whooping on Cole Cassidy (Weekend Wrestling Producer) which was oddly satisfying (not sure why I keyed off on seeing heartthrob hunk heel Cole get his ass kicked as much as I did).

And then there were just these unique moments that speak to the diversity of wrestlers and wrestling that populate this fabulously sexy community. Sir Dark’s match was just entirely off the hook and unlike anything else in the ring that night (in a super fun way). He was feral and bloodthirsty, out to fuck someone up so bad that he impulsively takes out the ref before a pop-up challenger can be identified from the audience. When KC Ryder steps in to be the beautiful blond babyface hero to stand against the forces of chaos uncorked by maniacal Sir Dark, the drama really got intense. Their match was ego-fueled and larger than life. It was sexy as hell and had me holding my breath in suspense and awe. Not sure if I’m conveying it, but it was just a whole different flavor to add to the buffet of Wrestlefest Live. The inaugural championship match between beefy babyface Ben Monaco and take-no-prisoners muscle heel Tarz Lando was (possibly) the the most thoroughly sweet treat for squash fans. The championship belt was decided in a super hot muscle massacre, dripping with cocky swagger and taunting trash talk and gorgeous, huge hairy pecs everywhere. The range throughout the evening was delightful, and the bench was deep.

It wasn’t perfect. There was a 20-minute delay at one point to try to troubleshoot the livestream that stopped working. There were blown moves, an occasional oversell, and even a frew more undersells. I saw Gabe Steel icing a swollen-shut eye after his match, and I’ve seen hints on social media that he may have more story to tell about things that didn’t go to plan. But as a gay fan turned on by wrestling, by sexy wrestlers and the drama and the battle for domination, it was magnificent. It was larger than life. From the rainbow ring to the ball claws and face sitting, it luxuriantly gay. It showed a ton of respect for the art and science and athleticism and beauty of professional wrestling. And it felt deeply respectful to a standing-room-only crowd of homoerotic wrestling fans. Those with credits for this sensational production included KC Ryder, Rocko Mortis, Cole Cassidy, and my cousin Scooter for what had to be a shit ton of upfront organizing and legwork, and there was another small army of guys holding the cameras and running the equipment. A quick shout out to the hot, handsome nerd-hunk ring announcer who should’ve thrown down the mic and ripped off his shirt (but didn’t). All of the celebrity refs (Chase Addams, Ethan Axel Andrews, and new-to-me muscle god Boy Radio) brought the sexy-in-stripes vibe and helped stir the pot of drama inside the ring at every turn. The Red Eye staff were uniformly delightfully hospitable and gorgeous (especially the bearded server with that hot-ass singlet serving drinks at ringside). I look forward to posting more detailed reviews once the matches go up on WatchFighters, but in the meantime, I’m combing through my hundreds of pics and videos I snapped, despite the announcement at the start of the show encouraging us to only take pics and videos “sparingly.” So not sorry!