Down for the Count

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.

Playing to the Audience

Kid Leopard v Matt Carlton – BGE  Live in San Francisco

Today’s BG East Arena update features several galleries from the vintage Live at San Francisco collection of matches. In addition to reminding me that I need to get a copy of these live audience matches featuring some of the early lions, it also reminds me that I really like homoerotic wrestling in front of an audience.

Brooklyn Bodywrecker v Scott Rogers & Matt Carlton – BGE Live in San Francisco

A reader recently chatted with me about the concept of gay wrestling in front of an audience. We both agreed that the concept really moves us. I’m not entirely certain what all the moving parts are that multiply the eroticism of homoerotic wrestling with a live audience, but I have to believe it has to do with the shared intimacy of watching arousing, hardbodied athletes playing to a mutual kink.

Reed/DJ v Rouge/Tucker – Naked Kombat – December 23, 2009

Naked Kombat taped three incredibly hot matches in front of an audience before calling that venue quits. Their boys always got hurt when they wrestled in front of a crowd of cheering fans. Did the kombatants experience an extra rush of adrenaline when the boys in the stand roared with delight at each homoerotic hold? Did they find themselves trying a little too hard, pumped a little too much, with a jeering, cheering, hungry audience egging them on like the crowd that inevitably forms around schoolyard scraps? Maybe that’s part of the equation of what turns me on, as well. There’s an extra dose of adrenaline with an audience watching. There’s not only the fantastically intimate relationship hammered out between the wrestlers, but also the relationship between the wrestlers and the audience. Like a threesome, it adds something exotic and extra intense to an already erotically charged moment.

Reed/DJ v Rouge/Tucker – Naked Kombat – December 23, 2009

My recent introduction to the illustrated storybooks Sexfights at the BG Arena captures this ménage à trois sentiment quite nicely. The story of one night in an explicitly gay, live audience, ring wrestling arena, suggests that the wrestling studs fighting to cum out on top experience a synergistic, orgasmic psychic connection with the audience, carried across the sound waves of the audience’s shouts of encouragement, instruction or derision. The wrestlers, financially rewarded on a sliding scale based on how hardcore the victory sex gets, find themselves nudged further in brutality and passion as a result of the boys in the chairs, aroused and enthralled at the live, homoerotic, 110% wrestling kink action occurring just a few feet in front of them.

Chuck Tiger Collins v Fallen Angel – BGE Live on Campus

So perhaps a Sexfights at BG Arena scenario might have trouble finding an insurance carrier (which I assume was the real nail in the coffin of Naked Kombat’s live audience matches). And perhaps as homoerotic wrestling has become more established, there’s less opportunity for the ragged spontaneity of a Wrestlefest, for example.

Brad Rochelle v Patrick Donovan – BGE Wrestlefest 2

But I’ll keep a candle burning for the hope to someday buy my ticket for a ringside seat to watch the kink infused melodrama of homoerotic wrestling played out close enough for me to smell the sweat. Surely the seats would be packed for an opening bout with, say, my favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy division Lon Dumont swagger out and climb commandingly through the ropes to work his bodybeautiful, indypro-informed magic on – how about – BGE veteran delight, Patrick Donovan. Patrick would be rewarded by those of us in the seats for copping some gratuitous feels of LD’s gorgeous pecs, but LD would surely pound his amorous opponent into a sweaty, exhausted, defenseless pulp, earning even more awed adoration from us in the crowd. Match 2, I’m thinking, should be a little kinkier. Let’s say Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!), eager to show up LD, climbs into the ring next, against Grapple 101 emcee, Ashley Ryder. Ashley lets us in the seats know that if he conquers my top contender for the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy division – he’ll give us all what we’ve been swooning for for more than a decade: an unobstructed view of Mr. Joshua’s stripped cock and balls. Hell, the crowd would turn on Mr. J in a flash, wouldn’t we!? Our blood would pump faster with each small advantage that Ashley managed to claim over Mr. J. When Ashley found himself bullied and slammed by his opponent, we’d roar in protest, desperate for our fresh-faced champion to deliver the goods he cockily promised. Knowing Ashley, sooner or later, boots would be stripped and the tension would rise over his fetish for claiming his opponent’s socks. And, let’s face it, Mr. J would likely capitalize on Ashley’s single-minded devotion to his gimmick, beating the Britboy’s face into the turnbuckle, tying him in the ropes and battering him with every appendage, before choking him out in the center of the ring as we catcalled, watching our hopes to see Mr. J’s goods fade with Ashley’s consciousness. But as full of himself as Mr. J is, he isn’t immune to the adrenaline rush of the roaring crowd. We’d chant, “take it off, take it off, take if off,” making the adonis pause as he’s stepping through the ropes to make his exit. “Take if off, take it off, take it off,” we’d chant like devotees of our druid god, weaving a spell so powerful that Mr. J, in his lust to be worshipped, couldn’t refuse. He’d tease us. He’d start to strip, and then wag his finger at us, plucking our pumping heartstrings like a harpist. Take it off, take it off, take it off… we’d keep whispering, breathlessly, desperately, until his eyes closed in rapture at the sound of our worship, and as if with a mind of their own, his hands peeled his skin tight trunks down his long, muscled legs. He’d grab his balls in his right hand and his cock in his left, giving them a habitual tug, before lacing his fingers behind his head and flexing his eight-pack directly over top of Ashley’s prone body, soaking in the impassioned shouts and grunts of our climactic adoration.

Dennis the Menace v Jay Austin – BGE – Paradise 2

Holy crap! I got completely lost there in my own fantasy of a BG live audience event, now didn’t I? Surely there’s got be at least another two or three more matches on the card, but I’ll save the rest of that fantasy for another day. For now, let me just say again that I think there’s an awesome chemistry to live audience wrestling, as evidenced by straight-up mainstream pro wrestling profits, that would only be that much more appealing in undisguised homoerotic fare. My candle is lit for a return of live audience action to gay wrestling, and me with my ticket to a front row seat.