Tag: Rusty Stevens

Man Enough

wrestlebard11 Comments

Our Google overlords bless us with a fickle blogger interface that frequently leaves me cursing.  Typically, I think, the frustration is almost entirely on my side of the computer screen. Occasionally, however, it seems to impact neverland readers.  One reader has repeatedly pointed out that the automatic program for verifying that people who attempt to comment are, indeed, human beings, can sometimes present such blurry and obscure text to try to decipher that it’s nearly impossible.  Sorry for that. I wish I had some control over those things.  I also recently discovered that someone attempted twice to post a comment on a recent session of gushing of mine over reigning (for one more day) homoerotic wrestler of the month, Austin Wolf.

Austin Wolf not masculine?

I approved the comment, after some pause, however I don’t see it anywhere on the blog itself.  It’s in my “approved comments” list, but doesn’t show up in any post I can find.  The pause came because I’ve been rejecting comments lately that seem to me to be bitchy criticisms of wrestlers’ bodies or personalities.  Too fat.  Too skinny.  Not butch enough.  I know that a lot of the homoerotic wrestlers I write about also read this blog, and I don’t want them reading that crap.  But I went ahead and approved this comment that referred to Austin as “sexy enough, if only he weren’t so femme in person…. He is not nearly as masculine as the image he is trying to portray,” the commenter reported.  There’s just so much there to think about.  Setting aside my first question, “when have you seen him in person?” and my second question, “isn’t every expression of masculinity (or femininity) an image, a mere portrayal, or as Judith Butler has called it, a “performance?”  Whatever.  So Austin isn’t as masculine in person as he seems to appear on camera.  I guess my real question is, so what?

Rusty Stevens: masculine enough for you?

Now I’m not trying to take this commenter to task.  At all, really.  I approved the post because it provoked me to think deeper about masculinity in homoerotic wrestling.  I mean, sure, hypermasculinity is a pretty well-worn trope on our scene, so I would be entirely unsurprised to discover that any number of the meanest, baddest, most dominatingly butch heels in homoerotic wrestling history are, in their personal lives, light in the loafers and sassy as blown glass.  I don’t care what they may get up to on their own time, I might say.  Just tell me that powerful story of domination and submission, power and suffering, agony and arousal that I love so much, and what do I care how far from the mark that wrestling persona is to how they act when their sipping apple martinis at the piano bar?

Xavier: Does body hair make the man?  Big muscles?  Facial hair?

But even that isn’t really where I settled with this comment about the purported incongruity between Austin’s presentation of masculinity on and off camera.  No, I found myself challenged by the idea of masculinity itself.  We’re clearly not in a post-gender age, of course, but as for me (and I’ll speak solely for myself here), I’m not sure I’ve got the clearest hold on what comprises the polar opposites of masculinity and femininity as far as homoerotic wrestling goes.  I know of big, burly muscle bear-looking bruisers who snarl and spit and I think, hot damn, that’s one hot bit of masculine hunkiness!  But if the same burly bear wears a pink cardi and giggles like a girl when Glee comes on, I’m still fully prepared to objectify him as a no-holds-barred object of my lust.

Lon Dumont: Smooth as a baby’s bottom and over-the-top masculine in the ring.

And there are relatively petite, smooth, boyishly beautiful wrestlers who wink and grin, and when slam an opponent into the turnbuckle or bash him across his knee in an over the knee backbreaker, I think, hot damn, that’s one hot bit of masculine hunkiness!  Deep bass Boston voices.  High pitched Southern accents.   Pretty in pink.  Dangerous in black.  Go-go-boy.  Construction worker.  Limp wrist.  Football fan.  Facial hair.  Man-scaped.  Do they have a cock and tell me a hot, hot wrestling story?  I’m in.

Damien Rush was quoted recently as saying, “Let me smother you with all my masculine hair!”

So if Austin Wolf cracks an opponent’s spine over his knee, claws his crotch mercilessly, then schoolboy pins the punk with his big, gorgeous cock slapping the loser’s cheeks back and forth, and then gets up, showers off with 5 different skin care products and quotes Bette Davis movies over cosmos with all the rest of the girls… well, fuck.  It just occurred to me that I think that’s even HOTTER!

Tell me again how I’m not masculine enough for you, bitch!

Homoerotic wrestling likely reifies stereotypes of masculinity (and, by default, femininity) in many, many ways.  But I think, and I hope, that it blurs some of the old standby stereotypes as well.  I like the idea that the same mass of 6’4″ sculpted muscle can threaten to rip an opponent’s head off in a camel clutch and the next day sing along with show tunes in the car as he goes antiquing with his gurl-friends. I harbor a deep seated and not at all sublimated sexual fantasy of the rise of the muscle sculpted sissies who may be as pretty as a prima donna, but will fuck you up in a heartbeat in the ring.  Maybe I’m too old.  Or too young.  Or just don’t have the good taste to want to cling to the sharp, clean lines of gender stereotypes any longer.  But even if Austin Wolf were a flaming queen, he’d drain me dry time and time again as long as he racks another wasted loser across those mile wide shoulders of his.  Hell, I’d pay a premium, in fact!

Ask Hoop right about  now if Austin is masculine enough for him.

Down for the Count

wrestlebard6 Comments

I received this email last night:

Kink is sad to announce that we have stopped production of Naked Kombat for the time being. There will be no new updates to the site for the foreseeable future. This was a difficult decision and we would like to extend a warm “Thank You” to all of our members and fans.

Truth be told, I haven’t been enjoying Naked Kombat as much as I used to. I know I’m not alone among the wrestling kink crowd in my waning interest in the pornboy-does-erotic-combat format.  For me, it may have been the relentless structure of NK that quickly became formulaic (which is a major criticism I have of porn in general). After a while it felt like each release was the same product, just with different bodies cycling through. It could have been the wrestlers. The pornboy stars lately have not been giving me the instant arousal that NK boys in the past have. My waning attention for NK could certainly have had to do with the kombat itself. Occasionally there were seriously enthusiastic and skilled grapplers hitting the NK mat, but too often the kombatants came across more as pornboys tussling as foreplay for the way they really make their money: the sex round.

Rookie Gavin Waters thinks he’s got my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy’s number.
Calm, cool, collected Trent Diesel knows better.

The factors explaining my waning interest probably have absolutely nothing to do with Kink’s decision to terminate production of NK.  But I’m still feeling a little grief over the loss of the company that has brought me several of my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboys. Trent Diesel, my reigning homoerotic wrestling pornboy, may be in serious danger of losing his grip on the title unless another company picks up his most entertaining talents (please!).

Ripped Trent Diesel teaches cocky Gavin Waters the price of losing at Naked Kombat.

One of the aspects of NK that I’ve definitely enjoyed is their particular blend of wrestling and homoeroticism. The grapplers were always explicitly rewarded for bringing the sexy into the confrontation. They received points for cock abuse, force-feeding, ass slapping, etc. And then in the sex round, the victor’s task was to take possession of the loser and heap humiliation in any way possible (though imaginations were often wanting in round 4, in my opinion). Spanking, the pony ride, the rat tail… a relatively narrow repertoire of humiliation was sprinkled in amid the otherwise straightforward sucking and fucking.

Rusty is master at exploiting all 4 rounds to their maximum wrestling kink potential.

Arguably, no one exploited the format more entertainingly than Rusty Stevens, which also contributed to his very long tenure as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy. His leg choke while controlling Tommy Defendi’s every self-stimulating move like a sadistic puppeteer, was probably the most arousing and innovative sex round device I ever saw in NK.

Tommy Defendi is defenseless against the crushing tide of Rusty’s offense.

I believe Rusty was undefeated in NK competition, which is the way it should be, in my opinion. Left to his own devices, Rusty was a force of nature, beating away his opponent’s defenses like the rising tide itself, until one by one they fell and Rusty climbed on top. Elsewhere, Rusty has been more scripted, less spontaneous, which has simply not exploited the raw, animal, aggressive sexuality of this gorgeous pornboy.

Nikko Alexander mistakenly thinks he’s got it all wrapped up against lean DJ and his monster cock.

NK also gave me considerable pleasure in watching the character (and physical) development of NK scrapper, DJ. Setting aside the relatively racist undertones of his opponent’s trash talking, referencing his tightly kinky hair, most of the time DJ worked his own magic and won retribution for any pre-match slights by conquering one hard, bigger man after another through sheer force of will and ever increasing proficiency on the mat.

DJ is single-handely unstoppable against Cameron Adams & Leo Forte (combined!)!

That truly stunning monster cock of DJ’s didn’t hurt any either (except when ever inch of it was slammed up a loser’s ass). DJ grew on me over time. With every new match he got stronger, faster, and more technically skilled. His victory rounds got hotter and hotter, and there’s just about nothing as awe-inspiring as his performance teaming up with partner Trent against Cameron Adams and Leo Forte.

DJ and Trent Diesel illustrate teamwork at it’s very, very best!

The twosome of Trent and DJ are a striking pair to gaze at, but even their opponents agree in the end that DJ is a fucking unstoppable beast in this match. He’s the smallest man on the mat, and frequently he successfully dominates both opponents single-handedly during the grace periods when Leo or Cameron tagged in and had an opportunity to double team him. Double team my ass! DJ is like a cornered badger, more vicious, tenacious, and dangerous against two opponents than he is against just one.

Epic clash between muscle hunk John Magnum and lithe scrapper, Phillip Aubrey

As the life of NK flashes before my eyes, it occurs to me that there have been plenty of moments of homoerotic wrestling epiphany. John Magnum and Phillip Aubrey’s nail biter comes to mind. Magnum’s only appearance on NK was epic. He’s made for full-on gay pro wrestling if ever a pornboy was. He’s magnum sized, and even sexier, he’s absolutely giddy with delight in every moment that he manages to subdue and humiliate Phillip. He laughs proudly at his own mastery. He flings himself across the mat and into every hold. He trash talks from start to finish.

Phillip Aubrey restrains momentarily restrains the beast.

And even then, Phillip Aubrey was equally satisfying, perhaps more so because I expected myself to be so enthralled with the big muscle boy Magnum. Phillip is astonishingly sexy on the mat. He bends like Gumby, and he seems to have a tolerance for pain that’s simply off the charts. He seriously, seriously dominated his much bigger and stronger opponent a whole lot, and indeed, I personally think he clearly ought to have been the decisive winner. Even that drama, the disputed call of the judges, makes the Magnum/Aubrey match fucking hot, hot, hot!

Spencer Reed obliterates John Stone in March 2009

There’ve been other NK matches and pornboy wrestlers of note, of course. Big, dominating Spencer Reed, sincere as hell Patrick Rouge, muscle ass babyface Dean Tucker, the terminator Tyler Saint…. the list is extensive. However, most of the names that I come up with as epitomizing my affection for NK come from deep, deep in the archives. Speaking of, I don’t know what happens to the NK archives. I’m not going to keep paying for a subscription to a site with nothing new, and I figure they’ll have to roll the archives into some other aspect of the kink.com universe, which other than NK simply hasn’t appealed to what it is that turns me on: wrestling.

Gavin Waters’ first introduction to Naked Kombat and Trent Diesel’s picture perfect cock.

Despite my ambivalence about the recent run of NK, I’m still sad to see them go down. For the years of homoerotic pornboy wrestling entertainment, the blood, sweat and tears (especially the sweat), and the many innovations in wrestling kink, I thank you, Naked Kombat. To the producers, technical staff, and especially the beautiful pornboys putting their bodies on the mat and their asses on the line week after week, you will be missed.

Trent Diesel oils up with Ryan Rockford

Now, I know of some stunning pornboys all oiled up with no place to wrestle. Surely, someone can help these boys out.

What Goes Around

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Can-Am’s Pro Sex Fight 4 
Reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month, Rusty Stevens, is no stranger to the pages of this blog. He’s the third most cited wrestler here at neverland, and now that he’s back in the business, I wouldn’t be surprised to see him growl, flex, and dominate his way past my second most frequently cited wrestler, Brad Rochelle. Then again, with the news that Brad isn’t done with his contributions to homoerotic wrestling, it could be a dog fight. Let’s just sit with that image for a moment… Brad, Rusty, in the ring, brutalizing one another for their places in the pantheon of homoerotic wrestling iconography. Holy hell, now that would be a fantasy match that would make my head explode…
Can-Am’s Pro Sex Fight 4
Rusty is nothing if not provocative. At least, he never fails to provoke me. Perhaps the move the provoked me most was Rusty’s announcement that he was retiring from porn. I was instantly somewhere around both the 1st and 3rd stages of grief, desperately denying that Rusty’s retirement could include his work in homoerotic wrestling, and bargaining, pleading for his wrestling prowess to be exempted from his move away from the industry. Rusty went silent for nearly a year. I documented the existential crisis that this provoked within me, as I had to decide what to do when my very long-running favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy walks away with the title still belted around his waist. I felt toyed with, betrayed, angry, sad. So it should come as no wonder that I was profoundly moved yet again when Rusty showed up this summer in Can-Am’s Pro Sex Fight Series. He isn’t in quite the muscle-brute shape he once was, but he has precisely that same snarling, slicing, crushing mouth on him that has made one adonis after another wither. Regular readers here should have experienced no surprise at all to see Rusty crowned homoerotic wrestler of the month a few weeks ago.

Can-Am’s Wrestle Bait

What Rusty does best, and what really provokes me most, hasn’t changed at all over the course of his homoerotic wrestling career. He delivers a cocky, contemptuous, ferocious character with smarts to match his beautiful body. I believe the first sight I had of Rusty was his Can-Am appearance against gorgeous tattooed porn god, David Taylor in Wrestle Bait. Rusty was lean and mean, and though the “prisoners forced to wrestle and fuck at gunpoint” gimmick was a little distracting for me, I already detected that Rusty was a hunk who hated to be dominated nearly as much as he loved dishing out humiliation. If David ever showed up on Naked Kombat (which seems entirely possible) to face Rusty, I’d put a whole lot of money on Rusty crushing David like a grape. In Wrestle Bait, the action was more scripted, and both boys took their turns on top.

Naked Kombat – Rusty Stevens v Tommy Defendi

I think the next notice I took of Rusty was discovering his back-catalog for Naked Kombat. Holy fuck! Rusty was made for Naked Kombat, and vice versa. In fact, every Naked Kombat match I watch now I automatically compare with Rusty’s performances. Arguably the most stunning physical and sexual domination I’ve seen from Rusty was his oil match against doe-eyed Tommy Defendi. This match is not close by any stretch of the imagination (7-58). However, unlike many squashes, Rusty has no problem maintaining intensity, pushing the pace, innovating and ad libbing, and making every single second pure joy for any homoerotic wrestling fan. I still think that his leg scissors choke on Tommy after everything else is said and done, barking at the loser, making Tommy stroke himself almost to climax and then denying the loser the right to cum, over and over, until Tommy is nearly ready to explode from the sound of Rusty’s voice alone… that’s got to be one of the most pristine, purest, unadulterated moments of thrilling wrestling kink I’ve ever seen.

Can-Am’s Arena Part 1

Rusty’s meteoric rise in the rankings of my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboys, however, really dates to his return to Can-Am, sporting his Naked Kombat physical conditioning, in the Arena series. Again there’s this incredible moment that frequently replays in my mind of Rusty having obliterated Brian Bodine in Arena Part 1, leaving the gorgeous hunk ass-up and unconscious in the middle of the mat. Aryx Quinn strolls in and insults Rusty’s handiwork, questioning his manhood, laying down a challenge of wit and skill. What the fuck was Aryx Quinn thinking? With his huge, beautiful cock erect and bobbing up and down as he strolled around Bodine’s unconscious body, Rusty unleashes a trash-talking assault on Aryx that twines together humor, domination, and humiliation in a way that I’ve never seen the likes of since. Aryx tries to keep up, tries to parry and counter. He’s no match, no how, for Rusty’s smart-ass mouth. The two never lay a hand on each other (until Arena 2), and yet that exchange ranks awfully high on my list of most erotic moments in wrestling.

Can-Am’s Arena Part 2
When Rusty and Aryx finally consummate this marriage of trashtalking and wrestling, yet again I give the verbal domination win, unquestionably, to Rusty. Aryx seems to think that’s keeping up, but he’s just not. Honestly, I get the impression that Aryx may be smarter than the average porn star, but trying to trade barbs with Rusty makes him look like a slobbering fool. The wrestling in Arena 2 is highly enjoyable. As is Can-Am’s way, both boys trade riding time. Rusty looks utterly defeated and humiliated with Aryx fucking him hard. But emblematic of Rusty’s homoerotic wrestling skill set in total, Rusty sneaks up from behind and snatches a crushing victory over Aryx from the jaws of defeat, with Rusty’s furious verbal assault always twice as erotically stimulating as his very hot sexual domination. My #1 criticism of the Arena series is the indulgent need for the whole scenario to be framed as a “Can-Am conquers BG East” backstory. It’s as if Can-Am was taking the opportunity of hiring the likes of Aryx (and Rio and Jobe and Cameron and…), all around that same time, to co-opt BG East fans. For me, that’s never going to fly. The two companies offer entirely different twists to my homoerotic wrestling kink, and every BG East boy that Can-Am touches seems to me to deliver a decidedly Can-Am performance for the west coasters. That’s fine, as far as I’m concerned. But I’ve never found anyone else turning my wrestling kink crank in the manner that BG East does, regardless of the performers involved.

BG East’s The Breaking Point: Sexiest

Ironically, after I went on my original rant calling foul on Can-Am’s attempt to co-opt BG East fans along with BG East wrestlers, BG East turned around and delivered my fondest fantasy. Never would I have imagined it as even a possibility, but just at the moment when Rusty was my #1 favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy and Mitch Colby (the prior #1) was running a close #2, BG East released the two of them in a sweat-soaked mat match in Florida. I hardly need to point out that Mitch (who is by far the most cited wrestler in the pages of this blog), will perpetually own favorite-emeritus status, and I was ready to witness Mitch deliver a wrestling performance that would decisively snatch the title away from Rusty. And it’s damn, damn close! The gallons of sweat make that match hard for me to watch more than about 2 minutes of at a time. Rusty is in the most attractive physical conditioning of his career (for my tastes… I know that others will disagree on that point). But it’s that mouth of his, as always, that made me confirm that Rusty remained at the top of the heap. Mitch took the match victory by jacking off Rusty in the end, but it was Rusty’s mouth that owned my homoerotic wrestling lust. “I’m thinking you may want to say you give… but then again my ass in your face.”

The Once and Future King?

So Rusty’s back. He sounds like he’s been smoking a lot, as he coughs and sputters in his suffering in the Pro Sex Fights (5 features Rusty against Michael Vineland, already available in Can-Am Max). He’s not as hard or big as he’s been in the past. And the stories seem to be built around the concept that the “returning veteran” needs to get schooled by the young new breed of homoerotic wrestling pornboys at Can-Am. He tops and bottoms (as is Can-Am’s way), and he strokes and gets stroked in the midst of entertaining pro-ring wrestling (which is a formula that I wholeheartedly endorse). But there’s no mistaking it. This is Rusty: beautiful, nasty, cocky, selling every second, and trash talking in a league all his own. Keep it coming, Rusty! Mitch may be ripe to get knocked out of the contender spot for my current favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy!

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

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September has already rolled in, and I’m behind in everything. Most relevant to today’s post, I’m late in crowning a new homoerotic wrestler of the month. Somehow, I feel like I didn’t give Kid Karisma quite the fawning adoration that he deserved during his reign last month. However, if he continues to work that gorgeous muscle-ass of his the way he has been lately, I predict he’ll be one of the very elite wrestlers to repeat as homoerotic wrestler of the month.
August was one bizarre, topsy-turvy, wild month for me.  On the one hand, it seemed to be a month filled with homoerotic wrestling moments, including my pilgrimage to BG East and the profound thrill of meeting all of “the boys,” including Kid Leopard, Kid Vicious, and Jonny Firestorm. On the other hand, tragically, I didn’t actually get the opportunity to watch that much wrestling. So selecting a homoerotic-wrestler-of-the-month from among the newly released titles feels like a bit of a challenge. The upcoming releases for BG East don’t count, because they haven’t technically been released yet.  So the options from which I’m choosing are including just a few of the wrestlers who managed to catch my eye during the distracting month of August include: Jake Jenkins, Austin Cooper, Cliff Johnson and Nick Collins (mini-Jake!)  for their tag team tussle for Rock Hard Wrestling; DJ and Drake Jaden for their appearances in opposing tag teams for Naked Kombat’s August 3rd release; Jobe and Rio Garza for Can-Am’s Rio’s Revenge; and Michael Vineland and Rusty Stevens for the newest volume in Can-Am’s promising Pro Sex Fight series. There very well could be other worthy contenders that aren’t in this list, but this is just about all I’ve taken note of amid my travels last month. And my pick for the new reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month is…
Rusty Stevens.
I’m not completely convinced that the pro ring is Rusty’s most natural habitat, unfortunately. I think the less spontaneous format of the ring with the increasingly formulaic Pro Sex Fight scenario doesn’t display Rusty’s wrestling skills to their fullest. That’s all I’ve got to complain about though.  The return of Rusty to homoerotic wrestling is such an incredibly welcome second-coming, after the crisis of faith his announced “retirement from porn” threw me into last November. Somehow, the homoerotic wrestling universe seems to make more sense with Rusty back in game.

My selection of Rusty to climb atop the throne this month is admittedly more than just a little motivated by nostalgia. Rusty was my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy when I started crowning wrestlers-of-the-month. After entertaining me so commandingly, Rusty’s wrestling career peetered out right around the same time that the competition was just heating up for the monthly title. As a result, despite Rusty absolutely owning my erotic affections like nearly no one else, he never got the nod as my homoerotic wrestler of the month. So even if his Pro Sex Fight work hasn’t been as thrilling as prior matches, it’s still entirely sufficient to kick the contenders in the crotch and leave him all on his own atop the heap.

Rusty’s match with STUNNING bodybeautiful Kevin Crowes was delightful, and I’m keeping my eye out for more from gorgeous Kevin. In August, Can-AmMax began releasing Pro Sex Fight 5, in which Rusty faces off with Can-Am’s reigning ring champion, huge and gorgeous Michael Vineland.  While Can-Am hasn’t release pics from PSF 5, that’s the performance that I’m crediting with earning Rusty his reigning title. 

Rusty isn’t quite as thickly muscled as we’ve seen him before, but he’s every inch a sexy, sweaty muscle god! And while I’ve picked on his ring wrestling, his mouth remains his most devastating and, frankly, his sexiest weapon.  His suffering is poignant. As Michael dominates, Rusty sputters and chokes in agony, selling the abuse wholeheartedly. But there’s nothing quite as sweet in my book as Rusty in control, physically dominating as well as psychologically overpowering. It’s those moments, in particular, that work like a push button, arousing me quicker than just about anything else can. When Rusty works Michael in the ropes, snarling and spitting and humiliating him in word and deed, he brings back to homoerotic wrestling a powerfully kinked quality that’s just been missing without him.

Welcome back, Rusty! You’ve been missed!

Tightening Bard’s Belt

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My post on the cost of my wrestling kink generated a lot of feedback. One nice result from my nervous confession that I’ve never tracked down permission from Can-Am to repost their pics is that I got an email from Can-Am giving me permission to repost their pics (thanks!).

Thiago Diaz and Jobe Zander – Can-Am’s Decrotchery

Speaking of which, I had to pick my jaw up off the floor when I saw the preview pics of Jobe Zander’s new match for Can-Am against one of the hottest new muscle bodies I’ve seen in a long time, who goes by the name Thiago Diaz. Thiago is absolutely phenomenal to look at in still frame.  My head is about to explode in anticipation of seeing if he’s just as kinetically hot and whether he can sell some sweet homoerotic wrestling. The sustained ball torture he appears to endure in his rookie debut entitled Decrotchery looks like seriously nasty shit of the variety that Jobe specializes in. If Thiago shows up in Can-Am’s series Pro Sex Fights, I may need CPR (preferably delivered by Thiago).

Rusty Stevens and Kevin Crowes – Can-Am’s Pro Sex Fight 4

And speaking of my jaw dropping (and hot muscle bodies and Pro Sex Fights), Can-Am has also posted in their store their newest Pro Sex Fight starring former long-time holder of the title as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, Rusty Stevens! I don’t know what this means for Rusty’s announcement that he was retiring from porn last autumn. But knowing nothing other than that Rusty has climbed into the pro wrestling ring, I can already say with absolutely certainty that he’s back in contention to slam, squeeze, pound and fuck his way through the ranks of my favorite homoerotic wrestlers. And this rookie that he’s squaring off against is making my head spin with almost as much velocity as Thiago Diaz! Kevin Crowes is devastatingly handsome, constructed like a go-go boy addicted to his workout endorphins, and sporting what looks to an epic cock and major league, aesthetically gorgeous ink. Smart money might be on Rusty totally owning the rookie hunk, but then again, Rusty’s long resume of wrestling domination doesn’t feature much ring action at all, and this very well may be the first time that I’ve ever seen Rusty out-prettied by an opponent (possibly with the exception of David Taylor).

Jake Jenkins and Austin Cooper – BG East’s Ripped Rookies 1: A Score to Settle

In addition to the happy bonus of getting word that Can-Am is okay with me reposting, joining the ranks of the generous folks at BG East, Thunder’s Arena, and Rock Hard Wrestling, my post on the cost of wrestling kink also generated some sincere efforts from several folks giving me advice about what subscription I ought to choose to be the one to drop. Jon gave me more of a psychological assessment of my core beliefs and motivations, concluding that his read on my equivocation is that I should drop Can-Am and Thunder’s. Off line, I had one adamant reader insist that once you’ve seen one Naked Kombat, you’ve seen them all, so I shouldn’t expect anything too new or novel to need to keep investing in them. Someone also made the most fair point that the real cost-benefit ratio should be measured at the top end of the discounts that all 4 of my subscriptions offer (even if I’m too undisciplined to budget the big bucks for one time per year cost savings).

Leo Forte & Trent Diesel – Naked Kombat – The Bondage Match June 22, 2011

With that in mind, let me point out that I could get 365 days of BG East Arena delights for $125. A year of Can-Am Max and the opportunity to pine over the likes of Thiago Diaz would set me back $179.95. The most cost-efficient means of enjoying Thunder’s Arena’s Thunder TV is 90 days for $59.99 on a recurring bill (not sure why a non-recurring 90 days should suddenly jump up to $100… should that be a year?), which would equate to $240 for a full 360 days. And finally, for Naked Kombat’s exclusive content, I could be maximizing the fuck for the buck with their 1-year subscription at $169.99.

Z-Man and Dallas – Thunder’s Arena’s Custom Match

Since I’m not made of money, and since I anticipate some big bills coming up related to a barrage of travel obligations in the next 6 months, I feel like the cost-benefit analysis brings me to an unmistakable conclusion. Thunder TV, I’m afraid, is the weakest link. I’m going to sign back off of them, regretfully, but I’ll check with Joe at Ringside at Skull Island for any can’t miss new releases that he reviews from Thunder’s. Thanks to everyone who gave me your thoughtful advice. Now, if anyone has any other wrestling kink websites out there that I’m not tracking, let me know if you think I’m missing out on some major kink gold. And of course, should Rock Hard Wrestling come out with an exclusive content membership option, I’ll have to reconsider everything. It would require a whole new cost analysis of my overall wrestling kink budget, of course…

Testimonials

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Naked Kombat’s Phenix Saint explains his plans in his pre-match interview this week. “My strategy is to get him with the speed and the agility, and I have the experience. And I’m going to use everything against him, and let him think he’s in control. And just when he thinks so, I’m going to…” Phenix snaps his fingers, “…flip it on him. Bam-bam-bam!” he mimes spanking his opponent’s ass. “And bam-bam-bam!” he illustrates three quick punches.”

It’s the “bam-bam-bams” that spike my wrestling kink! Fight dialogue (before, during, after) exponentiates the erotic in homoerotic wrestling, for my tastes. You’ve heard this from me before, many times. Everything about homoerotic wrestling works on me, but what comes out of a wrestler’s mouth can be a turbo boost to the already fantastic formula of hot bodies, skimpy gear, sexy swagger and intimately dominating physical combat. The testimonial is a particularly entertaining vehicle for highly eroticized wrestling text. Naked Kombat plays this up in every match, requiring that wrestlers stand silently, with their backs to the camera, listening as their opponents trash talk and make their predictions about just how much humiliation that they’ve got in store for the poor loser behind them.

“Hi, I’m Rusty Stevens,” Rusty introduced himself before his oil match with Tommy Defendi. “Six foot. 190 pounds. I’m 3-and-0 here on Naked Kombat, soon to be 4-and-0. I’ve called that win out before each fight,” Rusty flexes his left tricep and examines it nonchalantly, “and I’m calling it again.” Rusty has got to be the premiere deliverer of the erotic delights of pre- and post-match trash talk. With his totally smokin’ body, he always bragged that he didn’t bother training for his matches because he knew that his opponent would be a piece of cake. “My strategy,” Rusty explained before his match with Tommy, “is to tire him out so bad that I throw him around like a little doll. When I beat my opponent, first I’ll ride him around like a pony, then I’m going to apply the usual fish hooks, but then I’ve got some new tricks that I’m going to try on him today,” Rusty rubs the palms of his hands together eagerly, “and he’s not going to like. That’s what the loser gets.”

The “here’s-what-I’m-going-to-do” chat feels a whole lot like foreplay between me and the wrestler giving me his blueprint for destroying his opponent. On Top Wrestling had that format, at least for the few OTW matches I saw (almost entirely to obsess over celestial, golden musclegod, Steve Shannon). Each wrestler would take turns with a close-up testimonial, explaining why it is he expected to come out on top. Steve Shannon, as I remember it, was always selling an “aw, shucks” banter that made me putty in his hands. With my eyes hungrily sucking up every twitch and tremor of his incredible body, Steve would point out that his opponent looks big and awfully impressive, but hopefully he’ll manage to out-hustle him into a submission or two. I always feel a little guilty when I find myself sucked into pining for a prettyboy, knight-in-white victory of the good guy.

Of course, I never feel that guilt when enjoying a Rusty Stevens match. And I’m equally as aroused by the “that’s-what-I-just-did”chat, when a sweat soaked victor, his chest still heaving as his lungs suck in recuperative oxygen, snidely delivers the blow-by-blow retrospective on his dominating ways. Unlike many/most Naked Kombat wrestlers, Rusty never breaks character even when all is said and done. “Tell me I didn’t call that one. Tell me I didn’t call that one!” Rusty challenges the off-camera interviewer for the post-mortem of his match with Tommy. “He put up a fight, I’ll give him that. Uh, I think he’s got a little ‘boo-boo’ on his forehead, or something. Pretty much everything I tried worked for me. The only thing I couldn’t do was the grapevine hold in the oil match, because as soon as I’d get him in the hold, he’d slip right out…. My first oil match. It was hot, though. Cause, like, I remember when my stomach was sliding across his, and I was hard and my dick was bent down, it felt like I was fucking, the whole, like 3-feet that I slid across him. It was like, ‘Oh yes, I’m already topping, I’m already topping.” In response to the question of when Rusty realized that he had the match in the bag, Rusty skips no more than half a beat. “When I got on the airplane to come here this morning. Or maybe it was the cinnamon roll, cause that was my carbs for the day.” Advice for your opponent, Rusty? “A word of advice? Uh, yeah, try training with your little sister, cause training by yourself sure as hell ain’t working. And maybe she could teach you something like the nails or the kick to the balls or something you might actually be able to use. Cause all that sliding around shit, what was the score? 50-something to 5? Yeah, this isn’t even sweat, this is still oil from the oil match!” Rusty didn’t need to keep humiliating Tommy. He’d had his way with him in every humiliating possibility for the prior 50 minutes, so this post-match testimonial didn’t amount to anything more. But Rusty reaches right in and grabs hold of my wrestling kink with his relentless, dominating, humiliating trash talk absolutely crushing Tommy Defendi’s ego into dust on that mat.

Thunder’s Arena taps into this banter-angle just a bit in their members-only section, with testimonial mash-ups with some of their headliners. Before his match with BamBam, Cameron Mathews lounges on the couch at Thunder’s Arena wearing only the scant evidence of brief red trunks. “Hey guys, how ya doing?” he asks the camera, all friendly-like. “I’m just relaxing, waiting for my ‘big’ match with BamBam.” Cameron sighs. “Probably the typical Thunder’s Arena jobber.” He flexes his left bicep and admires himself. “Not like me,” he explains, “the champ. Just loungin’ around. I skipped going to the gym today. Figured I didn’t need it. So we’ll see how it goes. Maybe… maybe I’ll let him get a couple of moves in… probably not. Maybe I’ll even let him win. Unlikely. But at least watch it so you get to see me,” Cameron flexes his right bicep, “and me,” he flexes his left, “doing what I do best.”

Rock Hard Wrestling has done just a little of the wrestler testimonial to help set the scene, but not much. BG East and Can-Am don’t seem to work this much at all, as far as I can think of, though I think it’s perfectly pitched for BG East’s pro-style ring matches. I’d love to see some old-school professional wrestling interviews pre- and post-match with the likes of Lon Dumont, Jonny Firestorm, Denny Cartier and Kid Karisma, in order to blow out the confines of the wrestling fantasy moment even more. A little “here’s-what-I’m-going-to-do” strutting from both hopefuls, and the “that’s-what-I-just-did” sweat-soaked gloating victor, would go a long way to cranking my homoerotic wrestling kink with both hands.

“This is Rusty Stevens, and I’m still 4-and-0 on Naked Kombat!”

A Fan Favorite

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Yesterday I celebrated Brook Stetson, co-owner of my homoerotic wrestler of the month title. Today, at the risk of repeating myself, I turn to Brook’s partner in crime, the other co-owner of my homoerotic wrestler of the month title, Mitch Colby.

Mitch was a running feature obsession in this blog almost from the beginning. When he debuted for BG East in Alexi Adamov’s Wrestler Spotlight tape, I was instantly a fanatic. Drop dead gorgeous, strong as an ox, and glistening with sweat, there’s nothing that I don’t like about Mitch’s physique. But it was always something more, something unexpected that Mitch brought to the table that has made me never be able to take my eyes off of him when he wrestles.

It’s his maturity, by which I do not mean some asinine euphemism for his age. True, he showed up on the scene a decade or two later than some of the youngest bucks that vie for our attention in the homoerotic wrestling world, but frankly that’s neither here nor there for me. Mitch possesses a chilled calmness, an unflappability, a stone cold centeredness that reflects a mature soul. I mean, let’s face it, it’s hard to out-pretty Alexi Adamov. But Mitch is every ounce as gorgeous, as far as I’m concerned, and he’s a good bit sexier because he seems to understand exactly who he is at every moment, no matter what the trash talk and mind games his opponents toss his way. The way Mitch puts Alexi in his place and leaves him flat on his back in the gazebo is all sorts of pleasing.

I won’t try to give a comprehensive blow by blow of Mitch’s career because, let’s face it, that’s been an ongoing labor of love throughout the nearly two years of this blog. Rather, let me note the highlights that taught me something new about the big, beautiful Mitch. For example, after a hard, sweaty gazebo battle with pretty boy Alexi, things turned down right nasty for him when he climbed into the wrestling ring against one of BG East’s resident bad boys, ripped stud Cole Cassidy, in Ringwars 15. Sadly, this is Mitch’s only appearance to-date in the ring. Perhaps the seriously vicious beating he took at Cole’s expert hands (and particularly the torture Mitch’s pecs took in Cole’s claws) left Mitch with PTSD for ring action. Mitch works some nice offense in on the little powerhouse, but when it comes to decimating and displaying a big, hard hunk, there’s arguably no one better than Cole. Happily, Mitch proves that he can suffer and take a beating like that hard, ripped body of his would imply.

Mitch’s first motel match was notable for me, particularly, because he squared off with Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) in Motel Madness 7. Yes, the reigning top contender for my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy went toe-to-toe with the reigning top contender for my favorite homoerotic wrestler – nonpornboy division. Mitch’s physique is simply perfect in this match, and I don’t blame him a bit for allowing Mr. J to maneuver him into position to shove that massively packed crotch of his into Mitch’s face.

My next stop on Mitch’s memory lane is another motel match, in which Mitch showed what he would do if BG East dangled a little bit of fluff in his face, by which I mean twink delight, Jeremy Burk, in Motel Madness 8. This is classic big v little wrestling, and I’m on the record repeatedly as partial to that scenario. What makes this match hit my list of must mentions about Mitch are two things, really. 1) This is a fantastically erotic match that’s expertly paced. Some squashes are downright boring, but there’s nothing at all boring about Mitch’s systematic pummeling of Jeremy. It gets hotter, more painful, more humiliating, and sexier with every passing moment. And 2) this was my first peek at Mitch naked. After crushing Jeremy, Mitch takes his little piece of fluff to the bathroom where they peel out of their gear and explore one another’s bodies in and out of the shower. My fetishistic lust to scrub Mitch down from head to toe with a thick, slick coat of lathered soap probably belongs on a different fetish blog, but suffice it to say, I’m bitterly envious of Jeremy.

Back to the Florida sunroom, and my next notable highlight of Mitch in action is his sweat-fest with Skrapper in Catchweight 3. Seems that Mitch has a taste for the lightweights, and despite putting up some serious offense, Skrapper was always destined to be schoolboy pinned with Mitch’s sweaty crotch shoved in his face. What stands out from this match, however, is the post-match pool play. Mitch fireman-carries his twink out of the sunroom (with Skrapper slyly copping a feel of Mitch’s glutes along the way… I tell you, that Skrapper impresses me!), and then tosses the spent punk into the pool. One last bearhug in the middle of the pool turns from a device for inflicting pain into a passionate embrace, as they make out enthusiastically. Many, many more homoerotic wrestling matches should end this way.

The same Florida sunroom is the setting for a true epiphany in Mitch’s resume. He takes matters firmly in hand against Derek da Silva in Crotch Crushers 1, tapping into his sadist side to beat, pound, claw and, indeed, crush Derek’s testicles. In addition to being the first time I saw Mitch really grab hold of his opponent’s manhood, it’s also memorable because it was right around this release that Derek stole the title as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy from Mitch for a brief time. The contrast of short, pale and hairy muscleboy v tall, tanned, and smooth muscleboy is aesthetically stunning.

It was the release of Mitch’s Wrestler Spotlight tape that helped Mitch rip his inaugural title belt away from Derek and slap the hairy Italian into second place. Most specifically, it was Mitch’s matroom sweat fest with Patrick Donovan that turned my affections decisively back to Mitch. This match is profoundly arousing from start to finish, but it’s the bearhug competition right in the middle that makes my heart pump hardest. Patrick and Mitch are in the same league when it comes to almost everything… height, weight, good looks, fit physiques, wrestling skill, and maturity. So it’s that much more climactic when Mitch once and for all puts the veteran down, climbs on top, and locks lips with the loser.

A few months after Mitch regained his title as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, he lost it in stunningly fast fashion against the wickedly nasty stylings of Rusty Stevens. From the realm of Naked Kombat and Can-Am, Rusty managed to grab my attention and hold on with both hands. Mitch slid into the top contender spot behind Rusty’s razor sharp trash talking and primal determination to dominate his opponents. So when BG East, just a few months later, released the Breaking Point: Sexiest, in which Rusty and Mitch have it out in the Florida sunroom, I was in awe. This was my fantasy come to life. I mean, most homoerotic wrestling is in one way or another my fantasies played out for me, but this was quite specifically and particularly my fantasy of pornboy v pornboy wrestling. While Mitch came out on top (at the same moment Rusty was cumming from the underneath), I had to say decisively that it was Rusty who aroused me most in this match, primarily on what is undeniably his #1 strength: his witty trash talk and delight in dishing out humiliation. It was a battle for the ages, but Mitch was relegated to stick it out in second place in my rankings.

And then last month, BG East released Mitch’s most recent match for Sunshine Shooters 4, which earned him the homoerotic wrestler of the month co-title. Mitch is also currently in possession of the top contender spot for my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy yet again, chomping at Trent Diesel’s gorgeous ass to take the title for the third time. Regardless, however, Mitch will always be a favorite, and wherever he is at any particular moment in the rankings of my favorites, I will always be a Mitch fanatic.

Backseat Driving

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Yesterday I was full of myself sufficiently to presume to offer advice to the hardworking, creative minds at Rock Hard Wrestling. I’m such a backseat driver. Worse, I’m the first to admit that I’ve never in my life produced a homoerotic wrestling video, so I’m sure I can’t imagine the challenges of working with athletes, sets, lights, cameras, gear… Producers of homoerotic wrestling are always free to slap me upside the head and chew me out for second guessing them all the time.
Dane Tarsen v Leo Lessard – BG East’s Britbouts 2
One thing I recommended to RHW yesterday was that even without explicitly sexing it up, they’d probably speak even more provocatively to the gay wrestling kink crowd with some of the bread ‘n’ butter devices that signal a wrestling match is at the very least implicitly homoerotic, and not just latently. For example, some nipple torture seems to me to be a tried and true move that directly links dominating pain and homoerotic pleasure.
Chip Slater v Jeff Jordan – BG East’s Wrestlefest 2
Take Chip Slater and Jeff Jordan from BG East’s Wrestlefest 2 (I love that entire collection!). Chip is a notorious sadist who, I believe, never failed to crank on his opponent’s balls with awesome viciousness. Perhaps it was when Jeff had the temerity to grind Chip’s nose against his pec in a face-rearranging side headlock that Chip couldn’t help but notice the beautiful target of Jeff’s nipples. Sure enough, climbing on top and twisting until the hunk screamed, Chip latched onto Jeff’s nipple like a clothespin.
Shane McCall, who was in the audience for Wrestlefest 2, must have been taking notes. When Shane had a go at Jeff a while later for X-Fights 23, he seemed to be taking a long, hard look at Jeff’s sweaty pecs and shiny nips as Shane reveled in the sight of his domination in the mirror in front of him. Did Shane have a flashback to Chip’s assault on those very same big nipples?
Shane McCall v Jeff Jordan – BG East’s X-Fights 23

Whether or not it was an echo of Chip, Shane inevitably slapped Jeff to his back, immobilized the hunk’s right arm behind his neck and trapping Jeff’s left arm underneath Shane’s body. With Jeff’s big, round pecs completely vulnerable and open, Shane grabbed hold and cranked on the dial with gusto.

The pain contorting Jeff’s face juxtaposed with the wide eyed, enraptured joy on Shane’s face as he watches the fruits of his labors is absolutely smokin’ hot.

Dick the Prick v Patrick Donovan – BG East’s Ringwars 4

When Patrick Donovan faced Dick the Prick in Ringwars 4, you had to expect Patrick’s broad, sexy pecs and gorgeous nipples to be in the sights of the Prick. Pretty much everyone had a go at squeezing every ounce of suffering from Patrick around that point in his career. Tall, handsome, lanky but with aesthetically compelling muscle tone, Patrick was on the menu over and over again.

Which made it all the sweeter when Patrick laced those mile long legs around the Prick’s abdomen and trapped Dick’a arms over his head, in order to have an unobstructed angle to pinch the punk’s right nipple. You can just see the look of fierce concentration forming as Patrick begins to go to town. There were a lot more blunt forms of abuse that Patrick could have employed at that very point, but his choice to twist the Prick’s nips so methodically signals to me that this is far from being simply about beating his opponent. This is about the delivery of pain for both physical and sexual domination.

Bud Orton v Mark Nelson – BG East’s Wrestleshack 4

There was nothing but sexual domination that ever seemed to be on Bud Orton’s mind. Bud seemed to have a look about him as if he was perpetually moments away from an orgasm. Sweat soaked and aroused in Wrestleshack 4, he looks absolutely ravenous as his gaze fixes on Mark Nelson’s pecs.

Trapping Mark’s wrists behind his back, sure enough, Bud proceeds to torture his opponent’s nipple with his teeth. Of course, anything done with a wrestler’s mouth is going to be that much more homoerotic than if it were done with any other part of the body. RHW may want to pay it straighter than that, but the theory stays the same: some focused attention on nipples signals this is homoeroticism and not just latent sexuality disguised as macho aggression.

Rusty Stevens v Mitch Colby – BG East’s The Breaking Point

Examples are everywhere, of course. One of my favorite examples to illustrate pretty much anything is Rusty Stevens‘ clash of the titans with Mitch Colby in The Breaking Point. Rusty puts on a cocky, “I’m impervious” face to start any competition, but the display of his gorgeous body above seems to center his left nipple like a target.

And, indeed, Mitch takes aim and scores with a love/hate maneuver of simultaneous nipple twisting and kissing.

Kid Leopard v Rusty Behr – BG East’s Punishment 1

On and on, nipple torture has a long and storied role in the homoeroticism of homoerotic wrestling. So RHW (or any other wrestling company, for that matter) is welcome to tell me to go fuck myself for backseat driving. I’d totally understand. And yet, still, I must persist. Give me a little stronger dose of the homoerotic in my wrestling if you aim to really satisfy.

Kiss It Some More

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Ace Hanson v Antonio – Thunder’s Arena’s No Holds Barred 5

If there’s one image that put Ace Hanson over the top in winning my homoerotic wrestler of the month title, it’s got to be the image of him flexing his huge bicep in Antonio’s face in No Holds Barred 5. Sweat streams down Ace’s forehead, drops falling from his brow. His freckled back is browned from the Florida sun. He presses the peak of his stunning bicep against Antonio’s nose humiliatingly, surely the scent of Ace’s sweaty body filling Antonio’s nostrils. “Kiss it,” Ace demands. And Antonio kisses it. Good God, that turns me on.

Mitch Colby v Jeremy Burk – BG East’s Motel Madness 8
I just don’t really watch much straight-up wrestling these days, but I have to imagine that this is not a common plot development. One man’s lips planted on the body of another is inherently homoerotic. I suppose even straight-up pro wrestling might dabble in a humiliating bicep kiss as an act of subjugation, sort of a bully’s prank, chuckling at the “degradation” he’s wrought on his loser opponent. Some of you who follow straight-up fare can tell me if this does, indeed, pop up from time to time. Regardless of whether straight-up wrestlers work a forced bicep kiss into their repertoire, I still say there’s something essentially, unmistakably homoerotic about one man’s lips on any part of another man’s body. Mitch Colby, with his massive hand holding Jeremy Burk’s head like a grapefruit, pressed the twink’s mouth against his beautiful bicep in Motel Madness 8. That kiss, along with Mitch shoving Jeremy’s face into his crotch and scissoring the twink’s head while Jeremy copped a completely understandable feel of Mitch’s pecs, decisively turned this motel pick-up match unavoidably down the path that would lead them to end up soaping each other up, tongues down each other’s throats, soon afterward.
Kid Vicious v Lobolito – BG East’s Wet & Wild 4
Reigning BG East sadist-extraordinaire, Kid Vicious, may not have the biggest biceps, but they’re nonetheless beautiful and more importantly, devastating. Every KV wrestling match is a morality tale in mastery. And the moral of the story? Don’t fuck with KV, or more truthfully, get ready to be fucked over by KV. Skill, cunning, and the complete determination to sexually dominate will overcome all challengers, particularly fresh faced newbies who think that because KV isn’t a a massive musclebound stud, he can’t be all that dangerous. The Wet & Wild 4 taming of Lobolito captures the image perfectly. Lobolito’s right hand is stretched, seemingly lovingly, across KV’s lower back, his tongue obediently lapping at KV’s rock hard bicep (KV is looking particularly toned in this bout). It it weren’t for the look of abject anguish on Lobolito’s face, the sneering domination written across KV’s face, and the leather studded belt wrapped around Lobolito’s neck, the better for KV to completely exercise his vicious control.

Kid Vicious v Kieron Knight – BG East’s Bootboy Brawl 5

I haven’t seen them all, but I’m assuming every KV match includes his opponent’s lips pressed against his body. And why not? If you’re as accomplished at the homoerotic arts of physical domination as KV, why wouldn’t you insist that every conquest include some carnal worship? Babyfaced Kieron Knight from Bootboy Brawl 5 is clearly an awed protege of the vicious one, as quick off the dime to kiss his bicep as he is to do his darnedest to show the master the best he’s got. To know when to be tender and to know when to be tough is surely the sign of a zen-homoerotic-wrestling master.

Rusty Stevens v Mitch Colby – BG East’s The Breaking Point: Sexiest [by far]
And just to cover my bases on the topic, I also want to mention that I’m a big, big fan of the self-worshiping homoerotic wrestling hunk. Any self-worship has it’s delights, but particularly the self-worship of a stunningly muscled, accomplished and always dangerous wrestler like Rusty Stevens, pushes the same buttons for me as the forced bicep kiss from an opponent (well, the buttons are at least kink-adjacent). It’s cliche, I know, and yet I’m always a sucker for a hunk with baseball biceps lifting his arm to his face and planting a lingering, adoring, lustful kiss on his own bicep. Any beautiful physique can pull this off satisfyingly for me, but particularly a physique that I’ve seen dominate hunk after hunk, inflicting precisely measures quantities of pain and humiliation, putting every aesthetically perfect muscle to no better possible use than to one overmatched stud after another. The bicep kiss is just giving credit where credit is due – showing some love to what got you there, and to what it is that will bring home victory after sexually dominating victory.

Tats Named

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No one won the grand prize for perfect marks on yesterday’s quiz. One regular reader came pretty damn close, but he’s only getting a gold star. Here are the answers that would have won someone a pic of one of my tats:
Tat #1 belongs to…
…Rusty Stevens.
This pic was from his delightful clash of the titans with Mitch Colby, wrestling for BG East’s Breaking Point release last summer. Fan-freaking-tastic match, which was one of my all time favorite moments of the year.
Rusty also has those provocative lipstick-tats around his crotch and ass. Damn, I’m still bitter that he’s forsworn porn.
Tat #2 belongs to…
…Derek Da Silva.
There’s a bit of mystery about precisely when this posed pic may have been snapped, but I do believe it was in conjunction with his Jobberpalooza 9 beatdown of Kevin Lee.
All that astonishingly gorgeous ink, that wide, muscled back, that incredible ass, and the delightful pain-play… Derek is a homoerotic wrestling god as far as I’m concerned. And he has entertaining tweets.
Tat #3 belongs to…
…Angel.
Specifically, this is Angel’s 2-on-1 scrap with rookies Jackson and Scooter in Mat Wars 22 for Thunder’s Arena.
In case you missed it, 5’5″, 135 pound Angel is the 1 in this 2-on-1, but that awesome sleeve and the ribcage ink even the score, as far as I’m concerned.
Tat #4 belongs to…
…David Taylor. 
In particular, this is David getting a riding rear choke from the owner of Tat #1 above, Rusty Stevens, for Can-Am’s Wrestle Bait.
I think David’s ink is possibly the most attractive in homoerotic wrestling history (me being the judge, of course). His long-held bearhug, suspending Rusty off his feet, with Rusty sitting across David’s fantastic erection like a fencepost, is also possibly the most arousing homoerotic wrestling image I’ve ever had seared into my memory.
No one ventured a guess at Tat #5, which in fact belongs to…
…Can-Am’s mysteriously named “Derek.”
Linger a while on the slabs of beef that are this man’s pecs, then continue when you’re ready to learn more.
So Derek, or Derek(2) as he’s listed in the by-model search at the Can-Am website, was quite the eye-catching muscle stud when I first caught sight of him in promotions for Ropin’ Ruckus. His pubescent, is-this-guy-legal opponent here is Oliver Swift. Derek was one handsome hunk of beef, who appropriately enough gets roped and ridden by young Master Swift. Derek(2) also appears in Can-Am’s Hotel Hell: Toronto and SuperMatch 25/26 tape for those of you as taken with the sight of him as I’ve always been.
So nicely played, those of you who checked your scores with me privately. Keep studying, and one day, perhaps, you’ll be teacher’s pet.