When the stars align and my homoerotic wrestler of the month is also my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestling overall, it’s time to sit back and appreciate what makes a particular hunk so dominant in my affections. There are a lot of stunning attributes to Kid Karisma, many of which I don’t mention nearly enough. Those glacial blue eyes are riveting. There are not nearly enough hot, hunky gingers populating homoerotic wrestling, so again, Kid K fills a necessary role in what turns me on. And he suggested in my interview with him a while back that he’s actually particularly proud of his mammoth horseshoe triceps. But let’s face it, there will never be enough said, nor enough photographic studies done to exhaust the wonder that is his stunning ass. So, again I say, let’s face it…
|Mr. Joshua’s baubles make me feel all warm inside on a cold winter night!|
Mr. J’s latest jaunt into the ring occurs on BG East’s new release Demolition 15. He and his giant baubles square off against bewilderingly squashable Louie Lanza, a newbie that looks like Mr. Joshua could break in half with a stern look. I know (really, I KNOW) to expect to be awed by Mr. J’s pendulous package. I’ve appreciated its every bounce and wiggle, sway and swing in dozens of matches already. I live in constant unrequited lust to see his trunk monster released from it’s bonds, so of course I’m prepared to be impressed all over again anytime he climbs into the ring or onto the mat. And still, I experience a little gasp of shock when he shows up in those insanely tight plastic-wrap-style metallic silver trunks.
|Lovely Louie holds his breath when he feels Mr. J sliding into position behind him.|
There are probably few professions in which an endowment like Mr. J’s most prominent one can be quite so explicitly advantageous. Exotic dancing. Porn. Underwear model for gay men (because if he modeled for straights, you know they’d be completely freaked out and insecure). But thank Santa that Mr. J has found the niche in which his beauteous bulge is surely most appreciated, the homoerotic wrestling ring.
|Mr. J controls his newest twink conquest by a handful of hair and another handful of trunks.|
I love a good squash, mind you, so any compilation that includes Mr. J facing an achingly fragile-looking newbie who, let’s face it, just looks like he’s desperate to get his ass kicked, is going to be a crowd pleaser. This is, in my estimation, a good squash. Now, I prefer Mr. J in a more competitive scenario. To be completely honest, I really, really prefer Mr. J outmatched, owned, and stripped naked by a hungry hunk guaranteed to be my personal hero for life, although that preference has never been fulfilled. However, as he proves in his systematic destruction of lovely Louie, Mr. J carries off the role of muscle-bully exceedingly well.
|It’s possible to get so distracted by his bulge that you miss the fact that Mr. J is pristinely gorgeous from head to toe!|
I’m certain that my infatuation with Mr. J is far from exclusively explained by the mountain in the front of his trunks. In fact, there’s something intoxicating to me about a man as aesthetically beautiful as Mr. Joshua being a nasty bully. He’s so fucking pretty! I love his proportions. I love him smooth. I swear, if you licked him, he’d taste like a peppermint patty (that sweet!). So when he opens his mouth and out pours this torrent of scathing contempt, the soul crushing and unnecessary insistence on humiliating an obviously outmatched opponent… all delivered on a relentless IV drip of a hellishly sexy Boston accent… the contrasts to my senses are just so delicious. The whole package (not just THE package) is just so thoroughly, beautifully, and uniquely Mr. Joshua.
|Whatever Louie Lanza is thinking, he’s one lucky, lucky bastard!|
|Is Louie aiming to follow in Rocco’s footsteps?|
There’s nothing epic in Demolition 15 for Mr. Joshua’s storyline, as far as I can tell. He hasn’t offered his wildly tappable ass for a bar conquest to compete for, as he did with Randy Stanton. He isn’t facing down an astonishingly hands on, nearly unstoppable Napolean-complexed drill sergeant like he did with Gino Liotta. There’s no upperclassman bully session turned shockingly on its head this time, like there was with Austin Raines. It’s just little Louie caught between a rock and a hard place, over and over again, and soaking up every ounce of punishment he can take from expertly outfitted Mr. Joshua Goodman. Happy holidays, indeed!
Bard: So thank you so much, Kid Karisma, for talking with me today. I’m a huge fan, so this is quite a thrill! To start us off, I just wanted to share an observation: having watched several of your BG East matches, it appears to me that you enjoy dominating an opponent almost as much as your fans enjoy watching you do it. Is that accurate?
Kid Karisma: That is correct! Well, it’s not that I like to dominate. It’s more that I like to show I am in charge, and how do I make sure they understand that? I make them feel humility. [laughing]
|Kid Karisma: In Charge|
|Kid K teaching Z-Man the ropes of BG East wrestling|
|Kid K can feel Jake’s body melting|
|Kid K shows off his… triceps.|
|Red Baron teaches Kid K what friends are for|
|Hoyt Riley drops some hurt on Kid K|
|Kid K has some ideas about what to do to Christian Taylor’s body|
|Kid K is confident Rocco remembers this fondly|
|Kid K says Kirby Stone “looks like he’d
love to get beaten by me.”
|Kid Karisma, ready to party|
I’m positive that I’ve seen Magnum wrestling somewhere else, but for the life of me, I can’t remember where. He blew my socks off (pants, too!), when I saw him in his one and only (to date) appearance at Naked Kombat in a nail-biter against Phillip Aubrey. Phillip nearly took the big muscle brute in this match. If there was ever a tie, in the gestalt sense, these two boys were perfectly, evenly matched, despite having distinctly different styles and builds. John’s personality, though, is absolutely kink-stastic. He’s 110% present. He delights in every second of domination, and he struggles to free himself from absolutely ever nano-second under Phillip’s control. He’s a beautiful man, and although I haven’t had an opportunity to enjoy much more wrestling from him, I get a little contact high off of his tweets now and then.
I’ve marveled before that Coupe is a muscle freak. That does not always equate to homoerotic gold, but just like his trunks in his poolside back-and-forth with Cameron Mathews, Coupe is indeed homoerotic wrestling kink gold in my book. If ever there was a body that absolutely required comment, even awe from his opponents, it’s Coupe’s. But that’s not really what Thunder’s does, sadly. It’s much more frat house romp than full on homoerotic body worship. I haven’t seen him at Thunder’s in a while, but I’ll just put it out there here and now, if ever Coupe is looking for some homo muscle worship to make up for all the neglect the boys at Thunder’s have made him suffer, I’m first in line with the baby oil.
So how did you do? I put more weight in progress over time than any individual quiz grade, so I hope that you’re finding that you’re performance is improving as you take more Name That Ass quizzes. Don’t be discouraged if you didn’t do as well as you’d hoped. We both know that you love the subject matter, so devoting yourself with renewed enthusiasm to your studies should be no burden at all.
Art provokes. That’s the bottom line for me. If it’s too obvious, then it’s journalism. If it’s so esoteric that I don’t care, it’s folly. But if I’m provoked, if it makes me do a double take, if I’m perplexed, aroused, indignant or adamant in response, then it must be art. Like the Supreme Court’s struggle to define obscenity, I may not always have an objective definition of art, but I know it when I see it. Like the sight of Rocco’s face squashed underneath Kid Karisma’s ass while Kid leans back to crush his opponent’s skull, grimacing in concentration as if on the threshold of ecstatic climax… that’s art, boys.