Face the Music

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Joshua Goodman up close and personal with Troy Baker’s bulges in Mat Hunks 4

Taking a brief break from the heavy diet of reviews I’ve been dishing out, today I’m lingering a bit on that supremely homoerotic wrestling hold, face-to-crotch headscissors.

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Chip Slater has a love/hate relationship with his face in Patrick Donovan’s crotch in Undagear 5

I’m sure I’ve mused about this hold before, but I’m too lazy to look it up.  So I’ll probably repeat myself when I say that my heart pumps harder in my chest when a straight forward pro wrestling story suddenly introduces face-to-crotch scissors. If you buy that all of pro wrestling can easily be read as an extended homoerotic innuendo, face-to-crotch sort of slaps down the implied erotic subtext and steps at least one toe over the line into straight up homoerotic text.

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Mitch Colby is about to pop with Cole Cassidy trapped between his thighs in Ringwars 15

How wrestlers carry it off, of course, can significantly add to eroticism. I suppose it’s possible to snap your thighs around another man’s head with that up close look at your balls in his face and it be solely about punishment and wrestling victory. But I love watching a wrestler snap shut that bear trap and then enjoy it, openly, luxuriantly, expansively. When someone on the delivery side of this hold pumps his glutes and shoves his hips forward with a little enthusiasm, when he milks the moment with pulsing flexed muscles beating out a morse code of agony from the gasping grunts of his opponent, when he stares down his own hot body and smiles at the sight of his opponent owned and getting primed for sucking cock, when he closes his eyes and leans his head way, way back and that look of an impending orgasm washes across his face, there’s nothing coded about this. This is hot, homoerotic wrestling gold.

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Rick the Prick looks like he’s struck gold with Joshua Goodman’s legendary bulge in his face in Ringwars 12

The catcher can certainly connect the dots as well. Regardless of who ends up on top after all is said and done, I love it when a captured hunk’s eyes roam hungrily up and down his captors body above him. He doesn’t need to, but if he stretches his hands up and strokes those crushing thighs, the rippling abs, stretching so far as to palm the bulging pecs of his tormentor, it conveys what I’m silently thinking deep inside at that moment. A smothered grappler doesn’t have to, but if he’s man enough to nuzzle the balls bearing down on his face, fuck, maybe even open wide and give the trickster’s treats a hearty lick, it just puts the exclamation point on what this hold conveys from the start: wrestling persistently implies homoerotic intimacy.

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Charlie Evans makes the most of the rare standing face-to-crotch headscissors at the mercy of Steel Muscle God in Oil Hunks 8 (MDW)

When the camera angles and storytelling are just right, face-to-crotch headscissors shine a spotlight on one man’s bulging package, bringing his entire, tasty physique into the mix, making even that swelling muscle of passion a part of the corporal domination of another man.  For me, it isn’t even so much about the oral sexual implications, as much as it signals that every magnificent inch of a wrestler’s hot body is engaged in dominating his opponent. Hell, when wrestling companies choose to transition from explicit wrestling to explicit sex, I typically push rewind. Because what’s getting me off is the homoeroticism of the wrestling, not the wrestling as foreplay for sex.

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Rio Garza cannot handle Aryx Quinn in BG’s Bad Boys

I suppose it isn’t such a far distance between why I’m such a fan of face-to-crotch headscissors as I am a fanatic for my favorite pro wrestling hold, the over-the-knee backbreaker. Both draw my eye to one wrestler’s bulging package. Both center the frame on the outline of a bulging cock and the ballast of balls. Both seem ripe with the erotic potential marrying gay sensibilities and a pro wrestling kink. Both make my pulse pound in anticipation of what happens next to, or with, or on behalf of one wrestler’s swollen pipe.

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So much erotic passion led up to this moment of Mitch Colby smothered by Brook Stetson’s sweaty pouch in Sunshine Shooters 4.

I sometimes find it ironic that this blog attracts so many visitors thanks to the still frames I include, because it’s the story in and around any one captured slice of time in a wrestling match that tantalizes and titillates me. It’s not any one frozen image that becomes the perfect muse to my erotic imagination, but the drama played out in motion, the slow contraction of muscles, the arching agony in a lower back, the quivering pouch, the writhing feet futilely kicking the mat. I’ve lately talked in terms of “the moneyshot,” meaning that moment in a match at which point I’m likely to climax, but that moment is about the 1,600 seconds before that led up to that moment, the deepening jeopardy of one man, the swelling confidence of another, the bodies growing wet with sweat over time, the veins swelling and pumping harder with blood from the effort and the adrenaline of competition. I get off plenty to face-to-crotch headscissors, but I’m never just getting off to face-to-crotch headscissors.

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Kid Brock’s face swallowed whole between Blazes gargantuan thighs in Rainbow Restlers 2

If there is one valuable analog of face-to-crotch headscissors,  I think its the comfort a wrestling company has with the homoerotic eye of their gay audience. In scanning for face-to-crotch headscissors images across several platforms for this post, I found them concentrated in just a couple producers’ catalogs. And I think they play a part in direct proportion to how explicitly companies market to those of us in the audience tuning in and ponying up because we are sexually turned on by wrestling. Of course, face-to-crotch headscissors aren’t the only way of crossing the line from homoerotic subtext to homoerotic text. Hell, they probably aren’t even the best way. But from a strictly correlational perspective, I think they show up in proportion to how much I (at least) perceive of a producer as appreciative of and comfortable with me, as a gay man, watching their wrestling products as a means of sexual gratification.

So much sexual gratification when Logan Vaughn milks Trey Dixon into whimpering obedience in Florida Fights 5

So probably a close second as my favorite wrestling hold is face-to-crotch headscissors, because when they’re done wrong, they can reveal a whole host of troubled self-hatred bubbling beneath a veneer of nohomo bravado, but when they’re done right, I feel respected as a gay wrestling fan, drawn into the intimacy of homoerotic combat, and turned on hard.

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Kid Vicious puts his swelling cock where Niku Samir’s face is in Motel Madness UK 5

Riding Him Like a Pony

I was chatting with someone last night when the topic of getting choked in the ropes came up (you know, like it does).  I know there are wrestling fans who are far more into the fantasy of choking, but I certainly get it.  The element of control is so seductive when one hunk is literally rationing the air supply of his opponent. “You’ll breathe when I say you’ll breathe” is such an intimate, inside-out type of corporal domination. In any case the phrase, “choked in the ropes and riding him like a pony” came up, which sent me tracking down that particular moment in homoerotic wrestling archives. So much intimacy. Such control. So much humiliation. Sweet.

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This was the first image that came to my mind, of a raging, dominating rookie of the year Brad Rochelle in Wrestlefest 2 choking Patrick Donovan in the ropes, sitting on his shoulders as their fellow BG East wrestlers parade by slapping the wasted jobber in the face.
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Seems like something about gorgeous Patrick Donovan inspired many opponents to climb on board his sweaty, sexy back and shut down his windpipe. Here Jarret Cole saddles up in Patrick’s Wrestler Spotlight DVD.
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Beau Hopkins feels the weight of gorgeous Vic Silver bearing down on him in Can-Am’s Canadian Musclehunk Wrestling 5.
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Less riding the pony and more surfing the sucker, Colt Stevens crushes Gage Cordona’s throat underfoot in Rock Hard Wrestling’s Explosive Encounter.
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Dick Rick added a little torque hanging from the ring apron while choking the fight out of beautiful Mike Pitt in Ringwars 16.
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Can-Am’s Rush is the pony here, with Jay Moore reigning him in hard in Lean & Mean.
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Bodybuilder Larry Janson is as humiliated as can be with irrepressible Brian Maxon holding him place with just one boot in Maxon vs. Janson.

The Victory Lap

Is there anyone else who gets off on that moment when a wrestler just totally fucks around with his beaten opponent just because he can?  Of course there is.

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Bulldog Barzini makes Denny Cartier witness his own humiliation staring back at him.

Personally, I prefer that little bit of juicy drama to cap off a suspenseful back and forth battle of brawn and brains. I like to be kept guessing, tempted back and forth to jump to the conclusion of which hot hunk is going to reign victorious, only to have my assumptions and predictions called into doubt over and over. Then, once one roaring stud is driving that bus all over his opponent’s bested body, it’s incredibly provocative for me to watch him just mess with the defanged loser. You know, flex in his face. Rip off his trunks. Or, and here’s the topic I’m working a head of steam up about today, toss his broken, once dangerous body across your shoulders and take a victory lap around the ring.

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Brad Rochelle looked nothing short of orgasmic pinning beautiful Patrick Donovan in front of a roaring crowd of their peers.

I’m certain that the most satisfying victory lap I’ve ever witnessed is from the opening match of Wrestlefest 2. Moments before being awarded rookie of the year, Brad Rochelle is in a surprisingly tough tussle with then notorious jobber, sexy Patrick Donovan. The stakes are higher than normal because there’s a packed audience of fellow wrestlers watching, critiquing, urging on the boys from ringside. Brad is the it-boy. He’s tanned and phenomenally toned. Fans have been popping their corks uncontrollably for the past year since Brad debuted at BG East. Patrick has been racking up loss after loss, each one seeming to inspire yet a longer line of prospective opponents who want to dig their fingertips into his luscious pecs and make the pretty boy scream. There’s some sweet back and forth to start the match.  Patrick is no pushover. But Brad folds baby cakes up like a peanut butter sandwich, pinning Patrick’s shoulders with his noggin nestled nice and tight between Brad’s muscled thighs.  Someone eagerly urges Brad to make him squeal.  Brad takes the first fall to the applause of his peers, giving the jobber a light slap in the face somewhere between playful and insulting.  The fan favorite babyface rising looks like he’s got the jobber’s sweet ass tied up in a bow.

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Dazzling babyface totally humiliated by a “jobber.”

And then suddenly Patrick pounces.  The lean, handsome stud with mouthwatering pecs flips over his opponent, folding Brad up in the very same, humiliating hold he was just submitted to.  Patrick is raging, punching Brad’s ass, calling the jock stud a pussy.  There’s laughter from the audience, as it starts to sink in that it-boy Brad Rochelle is currently getting his fantastic ass beat bad. Patrick refuses to relent until Brad is tapping, yelling out his humiliated submission. The boys ringside can hardly believe it, as Patrick pumps his fist in the air and then strolls over to take a seat on the top turnbuckle, soaking in the sight of Brad flat on is back in a pool of sweat, nursing his abused shoulder.

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Just because he can.

What happens next? Fuck, I love that suspense. As it turns out, Brad opens up a can of testosterone fueled, face-saving whoop ass to what climaxes to a standing ovation from the hooting audience. He’s working out a little rage at being publicly humiliated. He’s gratuitously brutal, egged on by his bruised ego and the cheers of the audience. Patrick is laid waste, and Brad hoists pec boy across he shoulders and jogs around the ring as the boys at ringside go wild.  Brad’s face beams, feeling the victory deep down. He laughs at his total mastery, his complete ownership of the hot punk who a few minutes ago was calling him a pussy and punching him in the ass.  Shimmering in sweat, flexed, magnificently victorious, he takes another lap just because the moment is so fucking sweet he needs to savor it.

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The face of total victory.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more titillating victory lap. But I typically love one when I see it. It’s less compelling for me in a squash. When a boy’s been owned from start to finish, there’s less plot, less resolution of homoerotic wrestling tension wrapped up in a victory lap.  But yeah, when all is said and done, it’s definitely value added for me to see a winner just fuck with his battered prey. Just because he can.  Just because it feels good to demonstrate that he can do whatever the fuck he wants with all that potential, all that bluster and posing and prospective danger wrapped up in the muscled beauty beaten and now at his mercy.

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Brad relished the victory lap again against muscle hunk Billyboy.
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…and yet again in his legendary heel turn all over gorgeous Alexi Adamov.
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However, The Enforcer demonstrated this truism to Brad: karma is a bitch.
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Blue Rage dishes out the punishment and the victory lap humiliation all over Bad Dog.
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Cole Cassidy takes a leisurely stroll with Rob Berlin completely done.
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Dom the Dominator enjoys the feel of smart ass Rolando hanging helpless as he takes a lap.
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Pausing from a victory lap, Shane Styles lets Brendan Byers see what complete humiliation looks like up close.
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Jake Jenkins gets a kick out of parading Eli Black around the ring with Eli’s partner impotently watching on from his corner.
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Nik Knox and Shane Layne can’t stop congratulating each other as they take tandem victory laps in their tag team beat down of Cameron Matthews and Paul Hudson.
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Austin Cooper drove home the point that he’s the king of the ring by taking a victory lap with newbie Adam Atom.

From Asses to Kissing

After Rudolph was the first to correctly identity the beautiful glutes in last week’s Name That Ass game, I asked him to name a topic he’d like to see a neverland post devoted to.  He named a classic figure from BG East yesteryears who, I completely agree, has been woefully neglected in the pages of this blog.  Honoring both Rudolph’s awesome game winner and the abundant merits of the sexy ass hunk in question, let’s chat just a bit about Sean Patrick.

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Sean “The Kisser” Patrick – 6’1″, 160 lbs., lips licensed to thrill.

Sean earned the name, “The Kisser,” by doing exactly that.  He used those luscious lips to lock on to an opponent mid-match and suck the fight right out of him.  He came out swinging in his notable debut against BG East fixture and ever-dangerous mat daddy, DW, in Undagear 2 (you may have to ask for it, since I don’t see it listed in the online catalog at this point).  A hot, long, sexy rookie leading with his lips is quite a way to establish your credentials, so it’s little wonder the BG East boys starting lining up to sample Sean’s wares.

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Sweaty Ted Hamill was apparently so satisfied by every inch of Sean’s body in Wrestleshack 3 that Ted never wrestled again!

I’ve mentioned before my impression that Christian Taylor became Sean’s heir apparent a few years later. The two bear more than a passing resemblance, at least in my estimation. Very similar body types. Less than an inch in height difference. Classically handsome, dark haired, luxuriously long. And they both have lips that absolutely scream out for some mid-match suckface.  Like Christian, there was an instant, intuitive homoerotic passion whenever Sean climbed on board. Kissing shows up with remarkable regularity with both of these pretty boys.

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Sean clearly had a major oral fixation!

Sean inaugurated the Sexy Showdown series at BG East in his sophomore release.  His opponent, Kurt Eriksen, came loaded for bear in order to work over the audacious rookie who had the nerve to completely distract Kurt’s buddy, DW, with those sexy lip locks.  So, in a way, the very concept of the Sexy Showdown franchise his built upon Sean’s searching, probing, aggressively grasping lips. There’s no need in Sexy Showdown 1 (or 2, or 3, or 4… Sean starred in them all) to read a homoerotic subtext.  The eroticism is right in your face, or, more accurately, planted squarely across the lips of his opponents.

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Iain Scott nearly rips Sean’s head off in his eagerness to taste those lips!

He regularly wrestled his way right out of his gear, and the lovely, lean stunner had an ever-ready rod proportionally long and, appropriately enough, a magnet for the mouths of many opponents. Sean broke-in epic muscle stud Iain Scott in Sexy Showdown 3, and the meat of both of these incredible studs played prominently in the explosive finish. In Showdown 4, Sean’s sword was once again unsheathed by sweaty muscle pig Bud Orton, who uses Sean’s incapacitation in a steamy figure-4 headlock to make the Kisser lose his load, and the match, but in Sexy Showdowns, who really loses?

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Hottest homoerotic wrestling finish in history? This has got to be a contender!

Sean also helped inaugurate the Tag Team Torture franchise, starring in what I continue to think of as the paradigmatic example of the essence of homoeroticism in wrestling by teaming up with Patrick Donovan and running into the brutal heel-buzzsaw of vicious, sadistic, perpetually horny Cruze and Jose.  There’s so much right about that bout. The pitch perfect positioning of beautiful, lean babyfaces staring down meaty, hungry heels is spot on.  Sean and his brave compatriot, Patrick, play their parts with skills that no pair of rookies should be able to, bravely flinging themselves again and again into the breach.  And the 2-on-1 double teams, brutal humiliation, and total disregard for common decency of Cruze and Jose send this match hurtling headlong into a genre-defining moment, as Sean and Patrick are stripped naked (Cruze also peels off his own trunks, but just because he’s so fucking turned on!), brutalized, and stacked like cordwood in an innovative double-dose suffering of a camel clutch/boston crab combination.  Just for kicks, and judging by the size of Cruze’s erection, he’s getting a major kick out of it, the heels finally force the doomed babyfaces into face-to-face simultaneous camel clutches, topping off (me) the homoeroticism by forcing the humiliated twosome to suck face on command.  That’s got to be in my top 5 most insanely sexy matches!

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Sean commandingly put Ian Nesbitt right where he wanted him.

Sean cemented his credentials as one of the founding fathers of explicit sexiness in homoerotic wrestling by starring in two X-Fights, first against Dick the Prick in X-Fights 22, then against Ian Nesbitt in X-Fights 23.  Check out this sizzling match description of The Kisser at the peak of his wrestling prowess and reputation:

“As this erotic epic begins “the Kisser” traps cute Ian in a vicious spladle neckcrank and the tone is set for some very aggressive mat mayhem. The feisty Scot counters with a ballgrab and a surfboard submission, but that just provokes Sean’s mean streak: Ian soon finds his face repeatedly forced into Sean’s crotch, wedged under his bare feet, defenseless against Sean’s infamous liplocks! After Ian “wedgies” his trunks, Sean cranks on a nasty boston crab and then makes him scream in a surfboard. Visibly horny, Sean strips the now less-resistant Ian, trapping him in a nude guillotine/legsplit complete with cocklock and kissing! More humping, more feet in face, with Ian finally “exploding” his load trapped in Sean’s figure-4 headscissors. As Ian cries “I submit,” Sean shoots his load on the Scot’s pretty face. Intensely erotic mat punishment. HOT!”

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Simply too satisfying for Sean?

Sean’s final match. as far as I can tell, was against his former tag team partner Patrick Donovan in Submissions 6.  Apparently there was no love left by the time the two lean stars collided on the mat.  Maybe the shared public humiliation at the hands of Cruze and Jose was what ratcheted up their Submissions 6 collision to such a vicious, fevered pitch.  There was still kissing, of course, but holy fuck, it was so brutal, so aggressive!  They nearly rip each other’s heads off in this battle. Face sitting, crotch-ripping, neck-wrenching full nelsons and tit-for-tat guillotines… maybe this was always going to be about determining who has to walk away with the lion’s share of the Tag Team Torture 1 shame. Whatever the reason, we don’t seem to have heard from The Kisser since settling his score with Patrick.

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WANTED: The Kisser!

So, on behalf of Rudolph, let me just put this out there into the ether: what did ever happen to Sean Patrick!? Is he still wrestling somewhere?  Is he a corporate banker with 3 kids and a 4th wife? Rudolph wants to know, and I’m first in line if anyone can track The Kisser down for an interview.   Spread the word. Lots of us have plenty of love left for Sean Patrick!

Trunk Pull Tuesday

It never hurts to have a little extra leverage to get the job done. Well, it doesn’t hurt unless you’re the job getting done…

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A classic image of the master at work: Kid Leopard grabs hold of anything he wants on Sailor Rob.

 

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Jonny Firestorm doesn’t need the extra leverage, but he just enjoys adding that much more humiliation and brutality as he pounds gorgeous Z-man into jelly in Hunkbash 14.
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I’ve been longing to see what’s under Muscle Mask’s trunks for years. Leave it to Aryx Quinn to give us a sneak peak in Masked Mayhem 11.
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Because a 2-on-1 mugging isn’t advantage enough, Jose also nearly rips Patrick Donovan’s trunks off as he winds up for another crushing blow in Tag Team Torture 1.

Wednesday’s Woes

I keep thinking that I’ve run out of sexy Trees of Woe to feature for my alliterative Wednesday post, but alas and again, another assortment to amuse the aficionado of the application of this hot hold.

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Kid Leopard demonstrates woe from multiple angles on hunky, hung, hung-out-to-dry Ken Decker in BG East’s Demolition 4.
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Dick the Prick has muscle hunk Casey Cutler right where I want him as he grinds waves of woe in BG East’s Ring Wars 3.

 

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The source of endless woe, Brooklyn Bodywrecker digs his elbow deep into trapped Mark Nelson in BG East’s Demolition 3.
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Jonny Firestorm first holds Zach Zilver suspended by his hair in a ToW, then let’s go, pounding the twink’s head into the mat in BG East’s Demolition 10.
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Who here wouldn’t trade places with young Patrick Donovan, trussed up so sweetly in a ToW and then finding hot young hunk Brad Rochelle’s muscled ass resting on your face?! It’s in BG East’s Wrestlefest 2!

Winning the Hard Way

Jake Jenkins is stunning to watch use those muscles to choke out Eli Black

Sometimes I think of myself as a homoerotic wrestling kink therapist.  I often hear from wrestling fans who have questions and problems they want solved with regard to homoerotic wrestling.  “Tell BG East to…” or “Why does Rock Hard Wrestling always…?” And not uncommonly, I get messages from readers who tell me that they “just need to vent.”  For example, a reader and homoerotic wrestling fan recently “vented” to me in an email regarding a recurring frustration.  Like me, he’s a major Jake Jenkins fan. And like me, he enjoys watching Jake kick ass.  So when he sees a lot of JJ’s new releases in which the stud puppy clearly gets squashed, he’s irritated.  This reader knows my recurring answer to these types of questions: tastes vary.  Some of us likely get more kink for the buck to see a hot muscle kid like JJ dominated, while others of us get a harder push over the edge by watching handsome Jake on the conquering in of the equation.  But this reader still questions what makes those on “the other side” tick, and what makes them want to see more and more of JJ getting owned.

Jake goes down in a puddle of sweat beneath a victorious Kid Karisma

This exchange brought to mind a similar brief correspondence I had with a reader several months ago, who asked me to exercise influence over Steel Muscle God to convince him to tape some wrestling action in which the godly one gets dominated.  This is hardly the first time someone has vastly overestimated my influence. And it’s actually not the first time I’ve heard this particular plea.  Personally, I LOVE watching SMG totally use an opponent, particularly one of those hot muscleboys he’s pummeled lately.  There’s an absolutely intoxicating scene in SMG’s recent release of a ring “bout” in which he repeatedly sleepers a hot, hard hunk.  He puts the fiesty stud out flat on this stomach, and I’m 110% on board with the sell that this is an actual choke out.  The hunk goes limp like a noodle.  And when SMG shakes and shoves him and rolls him over, the hottie looks absolutely out cold.  SMG prods and pokes the unresisting hunk, standing over top of him and flexing his guns, leering down into his slack face, until finally after a half a minute or so, the vulnerable hunk of meat comes to.  Fuck me there something so erotic about that little exchange!

Steel Muscle God wreaks divine justice all over another hot muscle buddy

But ripping myself back to my topic for today.  Some readers have repeatedly complained that SMG “always wins.”  Why doesn’t he star in a muscleboy-in-trouble-scenario for those desperately waiting for him to stroke that g-spot where many fans get topped off by the powerful muscle stud shocked, laid out and humiliated?  For the record, SMG has said that he does have a wrestling match in which he “loses,” but I haven’t actually seen it (I think you have to buy it separately from the membership site, and I’m too frugal).  But the issue seems to be repeated from many of my kink therapy clients: “my getting off on a homoerotic wrestling match requires that my primary object of lust win (or lose).”

Brad Rochelle wrote the book in making a muscleboy loser epically homoerotic.

And both of these conversations call to mind still another set of exchanges I’ve had with a long-time commentator and avid student of homoerotic wrestling who more than once has chided me that I’m too focused on who wins and who loses.  What tweaks the subconscious wrestling kink, he argues, is almost entirely unrelated to specifically whose shoulders are pinned to the mat or which hunk sobs, “I give!”  The passion play that homoerotic wrestling presents us is about themes broader than the specific “winner” or “loser,” like broken egos, revenge on bullies, the battle of might versus right, or our personal secret longings to be dominated or to dominate.  And, this commentator has also argued, it’s about much more specific elements than the literal “win” as well, such as the particular sell of suffering, how persuasively we’re sucked into longing to see someone punished, the precise angle at which a wrestler’s lower back is pried backward in a Boston crab that convinces us he’s hurting while simultaneously displaying is gorgeous body and bulging package so tantalizingly.  There’s definitely the school of thought that literal “winning” and “losing” is almost entirely beside the point.

Brad Rochelle also looks GORGEOUS milking victory out of Patrick Donovan’s withering body!

I’ve pushed back against that hard line.  I think the drama of coming out on top is very central to what strokes my homoerotic wrestling kink.  The notion of two powerful men, both fully expecting to be top-stud as they climb into the ring is precisely the tension that thrills me.  One of them will end up defeated, knocked down a peg, put in his place, while the other will stride out of the ring victorious, top dog, in control.  Turn this into a non-competitive, everybody wins, nobody loses, passionless dance of pretty bodies, and I might as well be watching a yoga class, which even when the bodies are smoking hot, it’ll never do for me what a hot wrestling match does.

Pectacular Patrick Donovan also looks dizzyingly hot slapping down a humiliating victory all over Z-Man’s  beautifully vulnerable muscle-bod.

And then there’s one last mental association I’m having with all of this talk of winners and losers. At the BGE Headquarters discussion group, someone who has frequently commented on this blog wrote a seemingly straightforward opinion, suggesting that he’d prefer the initial photo galleries in the membership site of BGE not “give away” which wrestler wins and which one loses.  He suggested that he’d prefer to maintain the suspense, particularly for those matches that he’s planning on purchasing.  Give him enough time to get the new release shipped to him before revealing who ends up top dog.

Z-Man can also delight in victory as he rips apart loser muscle boy Brody Hancock

Personally, I think this sounds entirely reasonable and well-reasoned.  However, another commentator left a bizarrely mismatched diatribe mocking anyone who could “believe these matches aren’t fake.” This commentator prejudices his own oddly aggressive response by tying them to appalling politics, but my point is actually not his apparent political self-hatred.  My point is really that he misses the point entirely.  The point is not how choreographed wrestling-for-pay may be in any given example.  The question of wanting to milk the suspense of not knowing who wins is wholly unrelated to whether the wrestlers or promoters are staging the matches as melodramas rather than as Olympic sport.  It seems to me that the investment many of us have in winners or losers in homoerotic wrestling is entirely about how wrestling speaks directly to our erotic fantasies, not some “objective” evaluation of who, in a fair fight, would kick whose ass.

Babyface Brody Hancock also make victory look so, so sexual when he puts magically nippled muscle hunk Cody Nelson on his back for good.

Suspense, anticipation, the establishment of tension in the plot, the development of compelling characters who establish motivation and commit to their particular roles… these are essential elements of satisfying homoerotic wrestling as far as I’m concerned.  However much a pretense it appears in any given match, the context of combat is a core component of what turns me on and tops me off as a homoerotic wrestling fan.  It isn’t so much who would win in an actual barroom brawl (not at all, really), but who tells a provocative story about passion and heat, power and strength, skill and strategy, muscle and beauty, and, without a doubt, winning and losing.

Sweat soaked and savoring victory, Cody Nelson titillates musclebully fans when he crushes handsome, lanky, lovely Christian Taylor aka Chris Cox.

So why do some JJ fans never seem to get tired of seeing him humiliated and defeated?  Why are others desperate to watch him use those gorgeous muscles of his to pick apart and make another hunk his bitch?  How are some fans filled up on a steady diet of SteelMuscleGod owning one opponent after another, while others are insanely aching to see SMG crushed and dominated?  I think this state of affairs is simply the landscape in which we live as homoerotic wrestling fans.  Our fantasies vary, even as we share a common passion for the eroticism of wrestling drama. It seems clear to me that winning and losing is far from beside the point, and who wins and who loses is directly and intimately tied to what strokes many of us hardest.  It’s not that we’re naively buying into the competitive pretense of wrestling-for-pay. I for one love watching Olympic wrestling, but the hottest amateur match is only a fraction as sexy as even the average homoerotic wrestling product as far as I’m concerned.  Explicitly homoerotic wrestling is much bigger than the raw rules and tests of strength and skill of amateurs, and more importantly, the point is entirely different.  The point of amateur wrestling is entirely winning and losing.  But the point of homoerotic wrestling is to get you and me off, and while it’s not the whole story, the drama of winning and losing is one of the elements that makes wrestling the kink that defines me (and many of you!).

For my tastes, Christian never looked hotter than when he brutalized his lover and rumored-to-be tag team partner Skip Vance, tying together homo, erotic, and wrestling in as beautiful a bow as any victory ever has!