Face Turn

I thought often about the allure of the pro wrestling narrative of the heel turn: when an upstanding babyface beauty finally gets pushed too far, humiliated too much, cheated out of his just rewards once too often, and he snaps. Fuck, I love that drama. The dark side, constantly tempting and taunting, seducing and enticing, finally unmoors the boy scout from his moral compass, and all bets are off when beauty, brawn, and a disregard for the rules align into a terrifying synergy.  Think Brad Rochelle in Contract 6. Think Scott Rogers reborn as Dark Rogers.

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Turning Dark

Lately, however, I’ve been craving the opposite trajectory. I can work up a head of steam on the story of a vile, sadistic, juggernaut heel who is so out-heeled, so underhandedly brutalized, that he’s reduced to contemplating the vicissitudes of social justice even as he’s reduced to an impotent puddle of humiliation and tears. I’ve been warned by much more influential thought-leaders than I that such a story is verboten. The anti-morality tale inherent in pro wrestling narrative is loathe to witness the heel-turned-babyface. With perverse irony, the unwritten rules of pro wrestling are relatively inflexible around beatification of a formerly monstrous heel. Still, I can dream.

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Speaking of my dreams… Rusty Stevens

Rusty Stevens late career work with Can-Am scratches that itch of mine.  Rusty has been one of the sensationally sexy hunks I’ve obsessed about most on these pages. From his iconic work with Naked Kombat to his Can-Am appearances in the short-lived Arena series, Rusty owned the homoerotic wrestling heel character as persuasively and compellingly as anyone ever has, as far as I’m concerned. He was a completely graceless winner, absolutely reveling in totally humiliating opponent after opponent. He was fucking mean, unstoppable, and I still return to his magnificent heel work over and over again for chart topping satisfaction these years later.

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Rusty’s heel work for Naked Kombat was a work of art!

Even after announcing his retirement from porn, Rusty showed up back at Can-Am for a couple of appearances in their Pro Sex Fight series. While true, he’s a just little softer than at the height of his reign of terror, Rusty continues to be an insanely sexy muscle hunk with a gorgeous body, sensational cock, and sneering, snarling, supremely cocky attitude. But these years later, in the Pro Sex Fight ring, he’s far from invincible.

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Rusty stares down yet another pretty boy.

In Pro Sex Fight 5, Rusty came pec to pec with the franchise player, Michael Vineland. While I fucking love Vineland no end, climbing into the ring with Rusty highlights Michael’s weaknesses. For my tastes, he simply doesn’t sell, doesn’t own his own character, nearly as convincingly as someone like Rusty does. I think he has one of the hottest bodies wrestling today. But facing that shit-eating grin and cocky, curled lip of Rusty’s, I immediately think of Michael as seriously outclassed.

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Rusty knows he’s got this in the bag.

Of course, Rusty does, too. He’s eaten hot, sexy muscle boys with tons more wrestling experience than Michael. He has the entire canon of pro wrestling at his back, as the supreme heel who can take a younger, bigger, fitter opponent in hand and through superior experience and cunning, make him his bitch.

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Michael crushes the formerly invincible heel!

So when Michael works up a head of steam on the veteran heel, I’m absolutely gagging for it! He outfoxes and outwrestles Rusty, turning the dirty tricks and tools of diabolical humiliation back on his seasoned pro.

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Ball bashing is supposed to be Rusty’s move!

Rusty screams. He begs. He fucking cries, because a career in homoerotic wrestling has taught him that it isn’t supposed to turn out this way. His crushing humiliation isn’t fucking fair! He sold his soul to the emperor ages ago, and that was supposed to mean that he can dig deeper, be twice as vicious, and always come out in total control, than any ridiculously handsome opponent with superhero pecs and a chiseled jaw.

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It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way!

Rusty’s humiliation sends me places that I long to go to more often. If you could pick an invincible homoerotic wrestling heel to get turned, who would it be?

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Rusty Stevens is a brutalized babyface!?!

Throwback Thursday

WordPress tells me that I this is my 1,295th blog post. No wonder I can’t remember what I’ve talked about over the past 6 years. Since I migrated the pages of this blog to a new server just over 2 years ago, over a quarter of a million visitors (statistically measured with replacement) have clicked more than 991,000 page views. For those curious about trivia, the most page views in a single day happened on September 3 of last year, when there were 2,845 views in 24 hours.  Interestingly, the most popular time for people to check out what’s happening here is 11:00 am on Sundays (US Central Time Zone). Fascinating.

What summary cross-sectional statistics can’t say, however, is something about the landscape of the distance we’ve traveled over 6 years.  So let’s do a longitudinal look and see what we may learn about how my attention has evolved.

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Sam Champion & Chris Cuomo. You could see the sexual tension pulsing off of them (Sam).

Exactly six years ago I was obsessing about an enduring topic here, hot newsmen. Specifically, I was bitching about some transparent PR work to make sure viewers knew that hot Italian of my dreams, Chris Cuomo, was straight. Yeah, yeah, yeah.  I was also raising questions about his bromance with weatherman Sam Champion, significantly before Sam came out publicly.  Not like the sexual tension between the two of them, both featured on Good Morning America at the time, was difficult to notice. These days my morning newsmen obsessions tend toward desperately hoping to see more shirtless, soaking wet features starring Gio Benitez and Matt Gutman, preferably together. Oh, who am I kidding, preferably in g-strings and coated in sweat pounding the fuck out of each other in a wrestling ring.  Maybe in 2016…

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Brenn Wyson asks Jack Hammer the eternal question: “Who’s Your Daddy!?”

On August 13, 2010 I was reflecting on how hot verbal banter can make so many near misses a bullseye. This was back when I was actively subscribing, and sincerely enjoying, Naked Kombat. Specifically, their then-recent release of Brenn Wyson squaring off against Jack Hammer was on my mind. I mentioned in the post that I was in a pretty-boy mood, and neither of these battlers were tickling my bone.  Yet it was Brenn’s aggressive, smart ass mat banter that was holding my attention and making me grab my crotch, demanding that Jack “call me fucking Daddy Wyson!” Yeah. Personality has been turning my crank for the duration of my blogging days. I miss those good old days when Naked Kombat had more personality.

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BG East Wrestlefest 1 Battle R’Oil descended into total chaos. The fabulous variety.

If you checked in here this date in 2011, I was deep in homoerotic wrestling metaphor to make sense of riots around the globe.  Sociological theory meets hardcore gay wrestling fetish.  There’s still something bewildering to me about mass violence and killing. Of course, these days we have sanctimonious ISIS nut jobs quelling dissent with beheadings and institutionalized terror. I think, as I did 4 years ago, that there’s something in the human condition that can be pushed only so far, though. Bullies and oppressors are notoriously shit at gauging it, but it’s there, inside each and all of us, ready to go ape shit and fuck conventions and rules and throw our lot in with desperate chaos, when pushed over the line. Revolutions seem to always take us by surprise. But clearly, they shouldn’t.

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Of course Roman Sebrle trashed the homoerotic wrestling decathlete competition. Look at that body!!!

On this date in 2012, my homoerotic wrestling imagination was still running wild from seeing so many Olympic athletes pumped and primed in competition. The summer Olympics were over, but my obsession with translating those stunningly world class bodies into homoerotic wrestling scenarios was still roaring full speed.  August 13 was for crushing hard and imagining the pleasures of watching the Olympic decathletes climb into the ring and work their phenomenal cross training bodies. Damn, I enjoyed writing those Olympic Spirit stories!  For the record, the singles homoerotic wrestling decathlete title went to hot daddy Czech Roman Sebrle, heeling his salt-n-pepper hotness all over golden boy American Trey Hardee.  However, Trey won a taste of retribution, pinning the hot naked Czech ass to the sky for team America. Damn, I can’t wait for Rio 2016!

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Kevin Crows naked back is a work of homoerotic wrestling art!

Two years ago today, I was fixated on hotly muscled backs as wordplay on celebrating being back from vacation and getting back to updating the blog. This reminds me of the way that continuing this blog has been about ebbs and flows, sometimes finding a ton to say and time to say it, sometimes not. Over the years I’ve often emphasized that this is truly just at the edges of what pays my bills. So life often keeps me from musing further. But I always miss it when that happens. And as much as I mull over whether I’ve said absolutely everything I have to say about the topic of homoerotic wrestling, I keep finding more to write.

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Three cheers for Jake’s bro Eli Black for putting Jake out cold!

If you tuned in exactly one year ago, you’d have found my grand finale of my Making Jake series.  It took over a year to work my way through the alphabet, marveling at how pleasurable it is to watch opponents bring out so much, such variety, and every bit of hotness from Jake Jenkins. Of course, the end of the alphabet sucks, but still, I was pretty pleased to call out the joys of seeing opponents make Jake unconscious, vertical, wet, x-rated, yelp, and zealous.

A lot has changed in 6 years.  A lot hasn’t. Looking forward to seeing what next year brings!

Just Wrestle

This will surprise no one, but I begin today’s post with the premise that I like male bodies.  A lot.  I like them in a variety of incarnations, proportions, hues, and composition. There are certainly specific male bodies that I don’t like, but the collection of bodies that fall into the “like” category are varied.

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Produced by Greenwood/Cooper, Director Tom Kurthy, released 1994

Early in my exploration of the homoerotic wrestling universe (that sort of makes me feel like Captain Kirk), I found the Greenwood/Cooper produced video “Wrestle” in my enlightened “home video store” (wow, now I’m feeling old).  I felt rather daring picking it up off the shelf and paying to rent the provocative VHS based on the promotional jacket.

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The product description on the back reads, “Competition wrestlers, pitted against each other in combat, strain their tight, sinewy, well-muscled bodies and their indomitable wills to bring you an experience of unequaled beauty and force.”  Uh, yeah.  This was at a time when I was a lot more cautious about outing myself, but there was no way I wasn’t going to slap down $3 to study this work of art for every second of the 3 day rental.  I’m pretty sure I skipped at least a couple of my graduate school classes to get every penny’s worth out of “Wrestle.”  It was soft core, set in and beside Roman baths. The wrestlers were young and gorgeous. As I remember, the wrestling pairs started in posing straps or towels wrapped around their waists, but most of the action was entirely naked, presenting for anyone who appreciates the male body 6 spectacular specimens entirely unadorned and videographed in intimate, up close detail. The combat was highly stylized, severely restricted by tile mosaic floors. It came across to me like perfectly pitched performance art, presenting my deepest fantasies in fantastical and inciting beauty.

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I strongly suspect that were I to set down with “Wrestle” again, I wouldn’t be nearly as awed as I was in those early days.  My homoerotic wrestling library needs a new wing built onto my home these days, and the novelty that made me dizzy in soaking in “Wrestle” many years ago just isn’t as compelling for me today, in and of itself.  Then I again, whether or not it’s the nostalgia talking, I think I may try to track it down again, if for no other reason than sometimes what I really, really want to watch is two beautiful, powerful, entirely naked male bodies locked in combat.  And surprisingly, considering the size of my library, it isn’t always easy to find.

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Landon Conrad wrestles naked with Alex Adams at Naked Kombat.

I think Naked Kombat comes closest to stoking that nostalgia I feel as I think about my experience of discovering “Wrestle.” When the NK pornboys finally rip each other’s gear off and go to town entirely naked, there’s a depth of intimacy and vulnerability that makes the physical combat that much more captivating as a spectator.  Naked Kombat is hardcore, however, and the artistry and beauty so appropriately named in the product description of “Wrestle” take a back seat (or perhaps just tenuously being towed along in a trailer far behind) to the sex and fury.  Not that I don’t get off on NK sex and fury frequently.  But NK is a different breed than “Wrestle.”

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Z-Man and Jake Jenkins are homoerotic wrestling art.

Some homoerotic wrestling producers manage to capture the “beauty and force” that “Wrestle” managed, but steer clear of the daring genre of pitting their wrestlers against one another naked.  Rock Hard Wrestling, Movimus, and Thunder’s Arena come to mind, playing on the relative innocence and innuendo of old school soft core like “Wrestle.”  Thunder’s is playful and specializes in beautiful muscle, but their playfulness and tongue-in-cheek score low on the earnestness meter. RHW’s commitment to video production quality makes me think more of the earnestness of the camera angles in “Wrestle.”  Both “Wrestle” director Kurthy and the production crew at RHW clearly have a commitment to artistically document the living sculpture that is beautiful male bodies grappling. But a full 20 years after “Wrestle” was produced, RHW does so with a more demure tack, letting the homoeroticism be conveyed primarily by the viewing eyes, and not stepping into the hetero-iconoclastic territory of full-on naked bodies.

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Brian Bodine and Rusty Stevens briefly grapple naked in their full-throttle Arena match to see who gets fucked.

Can-Am and BG East both feature naked wrestlers, and again, both get my engine running hot. However, neither of the big boys in the business tweak that nostalgia (or stroke the still valid sweet spot) that “Wrestle” did.  Like NK, Can-Am tends to cast pornboys, and the naked chapter of the combat is too often all too briefly sandwiched between geared wrestling and the post-match fucking. Some of Can-Am’s Arena series featured the wrestlers in naked falls, but even as satisfying as it is, for example, watching Rusty Stevens and Aryx Quinn crushing one another nude, the surprisingly brief moment between combat and full throttle sexual content is simply a different animal than the hour or so of pure and simple naked wrestling in “Wrestle.”

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Gear Wars 4 briefly turns naked wrestling for Skip Vance and Trey Dixon.

BG East is always right in my wheelhouse for their earnestness, but theirs is an earnestness about the integrity of wrestling itself.  “Wrestle” advertises as “competition wrestler pitted against each other in combat,” but BG East much more legitimately owns the current scene with regard to experienced, accomplished, enthusiastic wrestlers in their matches than just about anyone else producing (Cameron Matthews is making a strong play for that market lately, however).  But I’m hard pressed to think of a BG East match that simply lets two “well-muscled bodies” wrestle naked for very long. In the new release, Gear Fetish 4, Skip Vance and Trey Dixon (current homoerotic wrestler of the month for this match) slowly trade for skimpier and skimpier gear until the last fall is fully naked. But that last fall lasts, what, 45 seconds?  Not that I can blame the boys for being clearly driven to distraction by the full throttle fetish arousal they’d worked up to a lather by that point, but it’s not a “naked wrestling” product, in the sense I’m musing on today.

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MDW is teasing naked bodybuilder wrestling in upcoming Oil Hunks 4, featuring full monty Specimen and Mutant.

Nakedness does appear more frequently at Muscle Domination Wrestling lately, and there’s a particularly enticing teaser of Thunder’s Arena bodybuilder alums Mutant and Specimen appearing to be about to wrestle entirely naked in the ring in their upcoming season.  MDW’s commitment to the narrative, though, along with a lower production quality than most of the producers today, makes me think that as surely as I will be pulling up a table to feast on naked bodybuilders grappling in Oil Hunks 4, it won’t quite tweak the “experience of unequaled beauty and force” that “Wrestle” did for me.

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The more I muse, the more I think that I’m caught by nostalgia. It may have been less about Greenwood/Cooper’s “Wrestle” itself, or the 6 hot hunks who starred in it, or the setting or camera angles or lighting, than it was about me, 20 years ago, in a different time and place, with a different perspective, exploring something new and titillating and dangerous and novel.  I’ll definitely have to find me a copy of “Wrestle” to sort this out.  Then again, if I saw this DVD cover in a store today, I’d snap it up for 20 times the price I rented it 20 years ago.

It’s Political

My interest in professional football has primarily centered on a three-way ring wrestling fantasy in which Aaron Rodgers, Jordy Nelson, and Clay Matthews beat the living shit out of each other (obviously including extensive double-teaming by Aaron and Jordy), until they’ve all been stripped out of their trunks and the winner gets a blow job from one loser while he racks the other across his gargantuan shoulders (yep, you can pretty much guess who’s who). Actually following a season has been outside of my frame of reference for well over a decade, and actually paying attention to draft day has frankly never been on my radar. But it was hard not to notice Michael Sam getting drafted by the Rams and sucking face with his boyfriend in celebration. The kiss seemed a tad forced and uncomfortably choreographed to me. Nevertheless, it was hot.  For me.  Others were clearly offended. There were apparently the predictable junior high level “ewwwwws” from the un-self-reflected narcissists privileged to remain far too long in angst-ridden adolescent ignorance and knee jerk self-defensiveness around their own secret same-sex fantasies. There was the wildly hypocritical “shield my baby’s eyes” indignation from the same mothers who blissfully see no irony in wanting more guns in their children’s schools while earnestly believing that witnessing g-rated affection between consenting adults will scar their offspring permanently. And there’s the “homosexual agendaists” who whip themselves in sackcloth because of the “politicization” of sport, and sports television, and masculinity itself.  Whatever it means for football or football fans or sports television, the kerfuffle highlights the simple truth that persists regardless of where you stand: the personal is political. Oh, and two men kissing is sexy.

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Wrestleshack 18
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Pro Sex Fight 10
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X-Fights 35
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Pro Sex Fight 4
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Pro Tag Team Sex Battle 1
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Raunchy Rookies 7
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Passion and Punishment 1
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Lockerroom Sex Encounter
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Wrestle Shack 18
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Gazebo Grapplers 16

Friday Fashion

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Pete Sharp wore it best.

No one should try to out-pretty Pretty Pete Sharp without expecting a serious fight. Pete was the overwhelming victor in last week’s Friday Fashion poll, earning 100 votes to Darius‘ 36 votes, decisively owning having worn those baby blue Adidas trunks best. Pete may have had an unfair advantage for having chosen trunks the precise shade of his eyes. And then there’s the gargantuan bulge he’s smuggling down the front of them that’s so very persuasive as well.  I still say this probably should have been the year that Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) had to turn over his best bulge title to  the beast writhing underneath don’t-call-me-pretty Pretty Pete Sharp’s pouch. His consolation, I suppose, is that he wore it best.

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Even Kid Karisma had to take a moment to appreciate how well Pete wore those trunks!

This week’s Friday Fashion poll was spotted by long-time friend of neverland, Jose. Jose noticed that both pre- and post- drenched in sweat, both porn star Rusty Stevens and award winning babyface, Jake Jenkins wore the identical 2xist jock straps. Rusty wore it first in his one and only appearance for BG East, the Breaking Point, making my fondest fantasy come true by giving Mitch Colby everything he’s got, including mountains of trash talk, gallons of sweat, and at least 1/2 a pint of cum. Jake showed up several catalogs later in the same fashion choice, revealed once stunningly beautiful Marco Carlow peeled Jake out of his shorts in Undagear 20. These are two very, very different wrestlers, different looks, different attitudes, different bodies, but they both wore the same gorgeous-ass-framing designer jock. But who wore it best? Vote below.

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Porn star god turned hardcore homoerotic wrestler, Rusty Stevens has never failed to look good in anything and, especially, nothing. But when he still had this grey 2xist jock strap on, did he wear it best?
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There’s a reason this vision of beauty has won the title of top babyface two years running at BG East. But in this fashion contest, he’s up against his stiffest competition yet. He could be the most handsome stud in the stable, but did he wear it best?

Friday Fashion

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Rusty Stevens wore it best.

It’s a rare pretty faced rookie who can pull an upset off on one of the veteran heels in wrestling.  Early in last week’s Friday Fashion poll, I thought beautiful Brit Darren Madison was going to do just that, taking a commanding lead in early voting to determine who wore those orange and blue N2N biker shorts best. Slowly, but surely, the veteran and perennial top tier favorite here at neverland, Rusty Stevens, calmly came up from behind (which you know is one of his favorite moves) and then pounded the pretty boy’s ass into the mat, winning the vote with nearly 58%. The attention Darren drew is telling, I think, and I hope that we see more of the rough-n-tumble fratboy with an accent. However, the voters have spoken, and it’s not hard to see why fans would think that Rusty Stevens wore it best.

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Rusty strains and struggles, sweating straight through those N2N shorts.

Today’s poll draws again from the N2N fashion drawer, and once again let’s look at that same style of biker shorts, but this time in gold and green. First up is the immensely popular Aryx Quinn, who managed to hold onto this gear an astonishingly long time against, appropriately enough, Rusty Stevens in Can-Am’s Arena 2. Aryx never fails to own mountains of fans with his fuck stakes wrestling, but that’s not the question here.  The question is, did he wear it best?

Battling for the vote this week is fellow Can-Am alum, Tyler Reese, who wore the exact same gear in Jobe’s Justice. Tyler never fails to show up cut like crystal, with a boyish face that’s easily overlooked because of that phenomenal physique. Those N2N biker shorts look like they’ve been applied with a butter knife on his incredibly lean, muscled legs. He’s stunningly beautiful, but again, let me remind you, the question is whether he wore it best.  Check out the options and vote below!

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Aryx Quinn’s bulges stretch that gold and green beautifully. Pretty as a picture and vicious as a viper, Aryx is unquestionably a wrestling fan favorite. But did he wear it best?
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Bring your dirty laundry, because Tyler Reese as one of the most ripped washboard abs in the business to along with his lean, powerfully muscled body and adorable babyface. Yeah, you wanna wrestle him to the mat and unleash that trouser snake bulging through the contours of his shorts. But did he wear it best?

Friday Fashion

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Attila Dynasty wore it best!

It was a relatively close contest between Attila Dynasty and Lou Terassi with regard to who you thought wore those pastel pink undies best. Polls here at neverland are frequently blow outs, but Attila took the popular vote with about 60%.  Now let’s see Lou and Attila in the ring in a finish-to-start match, with the boys starting out naked and wrestling to see who gets to walk out of the ring room wearing the aforementioned gear.  Who’s with me?!

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Attila Dynasty’s trunks always have to work overtime.

Today’s Friday Fashion poll is a rare cross-production contest. N2N has been making eye catching undergear that’s been a favorite choice at Can-Am. However, a few of the BG East boys have sported N2N gear as well. Take, for example, These biker shorts from N2N. Blue, orange, and muscle sucking sexiness all over, they look like they’re painted on Rusty Stevens. But damn it all, if they don’t look like they’re painted on and aching to get ripped off UK motel battler Darren Madison, as well!  It’s another veteran heel going head-to-head with a achingly fresh faced rookie.  I think they both wear the fuck out of these trunks, but who do you think wore it best? You know the drill: check out your options and then vote below.

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Rusty Stevens squared off in these N2N biker shorts against Aryx Quinn in Can-Am’s Arena 2.
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Darren Madison squeezed so many gorgeous bulges inside the very same biker shorts in BG East’s Motel Madness UK: New Breed?