It’s awards season time! I know of a few fans of homoerotic wrestling (and quite a few wrestlers, as well) that despise the year-end awards rigamarole. I, on the other hand, take probably too much pleasure in it, mostly for the excuse it gives me to pour over videos and photos of hot hunks who turned my crank over the past 12 months. BG East just posted their ballot for their besties. I just noticed that Cameron is following in BG East’s footsteps with a year-end awards call for fan voting this year. Alex does his personal best-ofs the industry. Joe has his lists of tops. Keeping with my annual tradition (started last year), I’m wading into the pre-awards season with my personal infatuation with some categories that, inexplicably, no one else seems to pay nearly enough attention to for my tastes. First up, I climb onto my ongoing soapbox about legs.
Honestly, it astounds me how precious little attention is paid to considering who has the sexiest legs in this business. I adore powerful, shapely, muscled legs for their aesthetics and their integral role in making homoerotic wrestling happen. Scissors. Leg locks. Scissors. Kicks. Scissors. Hot legs are an essential component to the sexiest wrestling matches. Yet again, I must register my formal complaint against the industry photographers who continue to snap those pin-up boy shots of scorching hot wrestlers cut off mid-quads or higher. Sure, some close ups on a sexy upper body are lovely, but absolutely ignoring everything below the waist is criminal! As an aficionado of wrestlers’ legs, I could generate a much longer list (see honorable mentions below), but I’ll mostly stick to my top 3 favorite pair of tree trunks to crush their way through 2018.
My third place pick for best legs goes to the gargantuan pillars on Zach Altovito. I watched him wrestle for the first time over at Muscle Domination Wrestling this year, and his quads stole the show. He also put in an appearance at Wrestler4Hire. Of all of the wrestlers currently competing, I’d most pop my cork to see an opponent worship Zach’s monster quads. His MDW match against Joey Justice comes close with Joey forced to oil the big man all over, but but I’m wanting to see some serious, slack jawed worship of those beasts. Zach’s granite pillars deserve nothing less.
In second place comes the international man of mystery, BG East’s masked punisher Thrash. Fuck, I’m loving this masked heel more and more every time I see him wrestle. I want to know his backstory. I want to know for sure if Thrash is getting as turned on by dominating his opponents as I think he is. But most of all, I want to drag my tongue from big toe to crotch and back again. Thrash’s legs are devastatingly gorgeous. The aesthetics are phenomenal, with his thick, shapely calves perfectly balanced with his buttery, beautifully built upper legs. His quads are nowhere nearly as thick as Zach’s, but they’re about twice as beautiful and alluring for my tastes as a result of proportion, shape and balance. Thrash drives me fucking insane, and my hope for 2018 is to see an opponent appreciate his hotness even half as much as I do.
Top honors for Best Legs of 2017 is a surprise to me, frankly. I haven’t written about gorgeous centerfold Austin Tyler before on the pages of this blog, so I fully admit to how strange it is to see him skyrocket into first place for a year-end call up like this. However, in doing the extensive research I do for these awards, I kept coming back to Austin’s magnificently gorgeous legs. Joe has been crushing on him from the beginning, and Alex credits Austin with bringing him back to UCW, but it took my background work for this post to convince me that I need to see much, much more of Austin, starting with his sweaty thighs. I’ve watched him in action at Wrestler4Hire, and clearly, like Alex, I need to reinvest in UCW to study this award winning physique in more detail. If anything, Austin’s lower body development is disproportionately massive in contrast with his hot, tight, tanned upper body. But this award is about the best legs, and holy fuck, Austin Tyler’s got them.
There are so many more sexy legs out there than I can squeeze into a top 3 list like this. So I just have to mention the bevy of beautiful legs that deserve to be very honorably mentioned for their appearances in 2017: Kid Karisma (BG East), Kevin James (MDW, aka Tank at Thunder’s Arena), Eagle (Thunder’s Arena), Mr. Joshua Goodman (BG East), Dolf (Thunder’s Arena), Damien Rush (MDW, BG East). Van Skyler (BG East) Steel (Thunder’s Arena), Payton Meadows (BG East).
BG East just dropped catalog #120, and it’s packed with favorite wrestlers of mine in what appear to be cock-blowingly sexy match-ups. I have yet to really sink my teeth into all of them yet, but I saddled up as soon as I could to take a ride on the latest installation in the Masked Mayhem franchise. To cut to the chase, let me just put it out there right away that this single-match release was deeply satisfying and very quickly worked me into a lather. It hits all of my favorite notes, including the immense value added of giving me a little more than I even knew to hope for.
First of all, I want to talk about packaging. The bodies in this match turn my crank with both hands. The self-annointed “favored one,” El Favorito, is lushly long and lanky. There’s a twink vibe about the architecture, but with a light-fur upholstery there’s also a raw, meat-eater edge to his look. The flat stomach with tight, visible abs could give the impression of a sparse, carb-deprived pretty boy desperate for the next opportunity to rip his shirt off at the club, but wait until he turns around. That ass! Fuck. That gorgeous, round ass is extravagant. Everything else about him seems honed to a fine edge for the purpose of dominating and punishing an opponent, but then that ass is just so fucking pretty. It’s like the mouthwatering hunk of cheese in a mousetrap.
And then there’s Thrash. I was a Thrash fanatic from about 5 seconds into his debut match against living Academy Award statue Trey Dixon. He’s back with that exact same look and allure in Masked Mayhem 12. There are a half dozen things that drive me crazy about Thrash, but to stick to my outline here, let me just start with the body. In an industry that seems to be increasingly infatuated with six-packs, Thrash strolls in and demands the spotlight with that sexy as fuck muscle belly. He’s solid as shit, mind you. This is a hunk who’s quite clearly, lovingly building incredibly powerful muscle mass. He’s already a frontrunner in my own personal award category of the year’s best legs at BG East. Not to be outdone by El Favorito, Thrash’s muscle packed bubble butt is of a size, proportion, and perfection that makes my jaw drop. But frankly, what I’m seriously infatuated with is that magnificent gut. When he’s all cinched up tight in his circus strong man super-tight black singlet, his gut catches my eye. But once the singlet straps come down and we get an unobstructed view of his sweat soaked midsection, I’m fucking done. That reveal alone got me off my first time watching this match. Maybe it’s some alchemy in the pairing of El Favorito’s ultra lean washboard and Thrash’s beautiful, burly muscle belly, but whatever accounts for it, I’ve got intrusive fantasies of shooting loads across both of their abdomens, preferably at the same time.
Masked Mayhem 12 also appeals to my explicit tastes for being a narrative-driven match. Mysterious hottie El Favorito is monologuing like a comic book character as the scene opens, tying tight his mask for the first time and predicting a whole new beginning for him today. Whether this is a new beginning to his BG East wrestling career or just a new beginning for some underestimated Clark Kent who’s ready to open a can of whoop ass on the villains of the world now that he’s donned a mask is initially unclear. Just to add to the superhero/supervillain vibe of the scenario, Thrash walks in wearing a cape. Seriously, a cape. It’s both an endearing nod to glam pro wrestling sensibilities of two generations ago, and a sweet homage to the larger than life comic book angle of masked men doing battle. “You’ve got to earn that mask!” Thrash snarls, quite clearly promising that if he conquers the masked newbie, there’s an unmasking in the offing.
I know not all of us are as pleased with dialogue in the ring as I am, but I’m a little surprised and incredibly turned on by the banter from both men. I don’t remember Thrash being nearly this vocal in his first match. There’s something that much more hypnotic about hearing a voice with no visible face attached to it. I’ve watched a lot of masked wrestling conducted almost entirely in silence, relying on the mysterious masks to convey all the menace. Not so Thrash, nor El Favorito. In the initial moments Thrash is building some sweet muscle momentum all over the “the favorite.” This is only the start of it!” he crows, both driving home the point that his opponent has thus far appeared impotent and promising to drag out the blue boy’s suffering long and hard. Moments later, as El Favorito pieces together a shockingly expert reversal of fortune, the masked newbie drives the badboy to the mat and smoothly rolls him into a spine-snapping Boston crab. “You said this was just the beginning, right?” El Favorito chuckles openly at Thrash’s gasps of pain. “My new beginning!” El Favorito snarls with a lusty, hungry yank on Thrash’s legs that shockingly drags a humiliated first fall submission out of the strong man.
So, we’ve covered the hot bodies, the strong storyline, and the on point vocals. That would be enough for me, but fuck, then things get seriously sexy. Thrash is the primary sexual aggressor, which I have to confess, is what tips me into announcing my loyalties as entirely behind Team Thrash about halfway through this match. El Favorito turns up the sexual innuendo heat nicely, mind you. His chuckling, “You’d better get used to this,” as he smothers Thrash with face-to-crotch headscissors is right along that line of playful/domineering. But there’s just something about Thrash’s obvious attention on his opponent’s honey trap ass that kicks this match up to that point where we most definitely would not see this action in any indy pro shop or Wal-Pro megamart. At one point he has El Favorito whimpering like a bitch in a neck wrenching full nelson. He pounds the blue masked face into a turnbuckle, before pulling him out of the corner. El Favorito is clearly knocked a little senseless, his knees buckling just a little, and he bends forward teeteringly. Thrash just holds tight onto that full nelson, saddling up firmly against the newbie’s sweet ass and letting El Favorito’s own efforts effectively grind Thrash’s swollen crotch between his cheeks. “This is the perfect place for me to be,” Thrash gloats a little breathlessly.
So the bodies are scorching hot, the story is compelling, the dialogue is value added, and it’s explicitly sexy. Like I said, I’m guaranteed to get off on this over and over again based solely on those criteria. But lastly, let me just laud Masked Mayhem 12 for being competitive. To be honest, I had my doubts in the early moments, because El Favorito gets caught flat footed and digs a deep hole for himself in the first few minutes. The four back-to-back ball claw suplexes Thrash applies are breathtaking, beautifully executed, and make my balls ache just watching them. This could’ve been a squash, heel destroys useless newbie. But it isn’t. At all. And while I’m still on Team Thrash, El Favorito’s rallies turned to all out vicious bullying have me on the edge of my seat. Both hunks came to play, and unlike some gimmick-forward wrestling, they both are seriously impressive technical wrestlers. There are stunning bursts of speed and precision mixed beautifully with long, grinding, soul sucking, punishing holds. The odds seem like they’re stacked on Thrash’s side, but El Favorito keeps promising to live up to his name with gut check reversals of fortune that test my allegiance hard. The suspense is thick and sweet, all the way up until the moment that one infinitely fuckable hunk has the other infinitely fuckable hunk trussed up in the ropes and ceremoniously unmasks him, ending his all-too-brief masked wrestling career.
I love an unmasking done with such respect for the genre, so I’ll leave you in suspense as to who is unmasked and whether the exposed mystery man is a known quantity. But I do have to say that his shameless, weeping, open begging not to be unmasked, not to be revealed for the mere mortal underneath, is satisfying as fuck. The uncontested and merciless winner literally shoves the mask down the front of his own trunks and uses is to jerk hard on his already aroused cock. The unmasking is so incredibly intimate, so intoxicating for the contrast between one man’s invincibility placed side-by-side with another man’s complete vulnerability.
The explicit narrative is that the winner leaves the ring with the loser’s mask still wrapped around his cock, soaking in the sight of his vanquished prey to play over and over again in his erotic fantasies. But I’m just saying a prayer to the homoerotic wrestling gods that these two studs were as genuinely turned on by each other as it appeared on screen, and that they fucked each other for days like the supermen they are.
This is an incredible sexy match for all of the reasons that make me such a fan of homoerotic wrestling. Both incredibly hot wrestlers tap into a ferocity and libido-driven wrestling narrative that I desperately hope we see from them both again soon. If you’re only satisfied with underwear models and bodybuilders, then I’ll understand if you give this a pass, but if what gets you off is hot, beautiful men in highly skilled pro wrestling drama, pick your favorite and tuck in. This is a magnificent masked match.
You only have until the end of the day Thursday to register your vote for the Best of BG East in 2016, so I’m going to power through the remaining categories for those waiting for the completion of this voter’s guide. As always, take it with a grain of salt. My opinions reflect nothing more than my opinions. Just vote. It’s supposed to be fun. All of these wrestlers are beautiful, and we’re lucky to get to enjoy their wrestling, so heap praises on all of them.
I’ve asked for clarification on this category before, but not really gotten any. The options are matches, but they aren’t all really submission matches, so the category isn’t best submission match so much. But we don’t get to vote on a particular submission within a match. I’m sure I’m over thinking it. In any case, I’ll keep my comments brief in the interest of getting through the remainder of the ballot before the polls close.
Two sensationally skilled indy pro wrestlers add up to incredible submissions. I was torn between including a photo of this Mexican Ceiling hold or Lucky’s gorgeous stretcher, hanging from the ropes and wrenching Dick every wrong way. Very top quality wrestling, with sensationally executed submissions.
The options for sensational submissions exponentiate when you throw three highly skilled indy pro veterans in the ring for a free for all. It’s hard to beat Guido’s simultaneous camel clutch on Brute and Boston Crab on Jonny for innovation and strength. This is my second favorite submission in the mix.
Submissions fly every which way between Drake and Ethan, so it’s hard to pick out just one to highlight. I’m partial to this gorgeous figure-4 face-smothering Ethan uses to put Drake out cold. Of course, two pony rides in this match sort of epitomize submission. Extremely hot back and forth in this battle.
Again, I’m not sure which one submission to highlight, but I’m pretty sure it’s one where Skip Vance is getting his skinny ass handed to him on a platter (because that’s pretty much every submission in this match). I do like everything about this particular submission hold featured here, with Paul applying scissors, a vicious hammerlock, and grinding Skip’s screaming face into the mat, all at the same time. Art, people. Art.
Again, so many options to choose from. I’ll call out Jonny’s leg choke, over the ropes, with a pec claw chaser, but I’m nearly as much a fan of the fish hook camel clutch. And the ball bashing. And the… wait. We’d better move on if I’m getting through this voter’s guide.
Now consider the submission possibilities with 4 wrestlers in the ring, often simultaneously. This is my vote for Best Submission mostly based on how blown out of the water I was by this out-of-nowhere gravity defying torture hold from debuting newbie Chase Addams. Chase calls this hold the Will Breaker, and you should hear 6’2″ Christian crumble like shattered glass when the devastating newbie trusses him up as if he’s been doing this for decades. My second favorite submission from this match is Christian and his tag team partner Charlie teaming up to squeeze a submission out of Ty Alexander with simultaneous face-to-crotch headscissors and a Boston Crab. Tag team wrestling done so, so right in this match.
Talk about open to interpretation. Actually, I suspect most of us gauge this category based on how successfully a match got us off. So that means the criteria is extremely subjective, and guessing who may win seems incredibly difficult.
Fuck, this match is sexy. Ty is nobody’s jobber in walking this pornboy through his pro wrestling paces. The match is explicitly and directly about sexual conquest from well before these two even make it to the ring. Surprisingly deep when it comes to the wrestling drama, this is an outstanding entry into the X-Fight lexicon.
Total newbie Calvin Haynes likes the look of Christian Taylor, so he initiates the hottest foreplay on the planet: wrestling. This is another erotic-forward match packed with the drama of two gorgeous, hot studs so obviously turned on by each other. The pool wrestling is brutal. The towel off is tender. And the bedroom wrestling finale is a magnificent combination of both.
At the beginning of the match, I thought this “loser gets shaved” things was a little gimmicky. About halfway through, in the middle of gallons of sweat, I was stunned by the intensity and balls out seriousness of the wrestling. By the end, this has always been about hot, steamy, lush passion, with a little side serving of tender loving to give it that sweet finish. I think this is my second place choice for Sexiest Match this year, but buckle up, because this is not the last you’ll see of Drake in this category.
That’s right, sabotaging his own success as only Drake can, he’s competing against himself for Sexiest Match in Ring Releases 4. Incredibly compelling match with equal parts scream queens, Hitchcock, and Bel Ami. My only complaint is Drake’s gear, which mercifully gets ripped off him soon enough in the match.
Hands down, the sexiest match of the year for me was Matmen 26, between Drake and Skrapper. The match is so aggressive. It’s so intense and brutal and it careens like a runaway train into sweat soaked erotic passion so authentically. I don’t think we see nearly enough full naked wrestling in this homoerotic industry, so the portion of the match that keeps charging ahead well after they both lose their gear is so satisfying. Even though I’m a big fan of both of these boys, this match took me by surprise by how totally compelling it was, and the erotic tension from start to finish is superb.
Best Ring Match
This match is what happens when you put a big, bulging pro wannabe in a ring with a bigger, more bulging, sensationally seasoned pro. The story practically tells itself, though you have to watch it to get the bait and switch that Kelly sells so remarkably successfully. Biff suffers so sensationally that it brings a tear to my eye. This is my second favorite ring match of the year.
Again, if you want an outstanding ring match, toss two extremely experienced indy pros into the BG East ring and insist they battle until one of them wins with a 10 count. Guido and Dolph classed up the place when it comes to quality ring wrestling and pro brutality. I love the grit and egos and battle of wills. Endurance sport with thoroughbreds like this is rare and gorgeous to watch.
And then there’s that magic again that you get when you toss a beefcake wrestling wannabe in the ring with a seasoned pro heel. I always, always have a bias toward homoerotic wresting that’s more homoerotic, so this is my second favorite ring match on the ballot. Bigger than life. Beautiful as hell.
Again, my vote goes to the opening match of Tag Team Torture 19. From the opening sequence in which Charlie Evans introduces himself to BG East by perfectly executing a Ginger Snap, to the corner to corner melodrama between the teams, to the magnificent intramural contest between Team Vanity to get their opponents to name which of them hurts them worse, to Chase’s Will Breaker, to this Beauty and Beast double team combo (by the good guys, no less), this match is packed with classic pro tag team wrestling with just the right amount of homoerotic flair to make me recognize it as our own.
And then there’s what comes from throwing two pretty boys who we’ve watched grow into this business tear into each other. I don’t think of either JJ or Chace as naturals in the ring, which makes the pace and power of this ring match such a pleasant surprise. Not nearly as homo or erotic as TTT19, still there’s a big BGE stamp on this match that comes from the way these two have developed under the guiding hand of the Boss.
And now, for your consideration, the combo of an experienced indy pro jobbing for yet another pretty boy who we’ve watched grow into a magnificent BG East-style pro. I’d almost considered voting for this on the off chance that giving more praises to matches in which Kirk gets clobbered would inspire more of the same in the future. But you don’t have to carry my grudge against Howdy Doody to see a lot to like in this match, not least of which is hot muscle domination, buckets of sweat, and big vs.little boy bashing.
My least favorite category, so I’ll say the least about it. I do love a good squash on rare occasions. Not nearly as often as a lot of you, clearly, because the industry pumps out so many more squashes than I can consume. But sure, on occasion, a one-sided total mauling of one hunk by another hits some sweet notes to savor.
Kip squashed like a bug. Gorgeous. I still say that Flash LaCash is far prettier than he seems to get credit for. But it’s hard to focus on the pretty when he’s such a devastatingly effective muscle heel.
You had me at “Kid Karisma.” If anyone can carry a squash narrative and keep me engaged, it’s Kid K. He is a fucking BEAST in this match. I’d say more, but it would mostly be about Kid K’s body. This would be my second choice for this category, if pressed to have one.
My vote goes to Trey and Thrash for a few reasons. First, Trey Dixon is a god. Doomed, but a god. Thrash is outstandingly compelling. He’s another incredible debut that could easily have deserved a spot on the ballot there as well. And finally, Thrash destroys Trey in order to own him. A lack of motivation sinks most squashes for me, so when Thrash starts signaling where all this beauty bashing is heading, I’m hooked. Fuck, more Thrash. More Trey Dixon. Please.
Maybe this is my second choice. I don’t know. I will say this match turned me into a big Kelly King fan. Huge push to Biff’s consideration for Top Jobber.
I have no idea what motivates Cybertron. He’s a magnificent specimen of a man, but honestly, he won this match against Mister E about 45 seconds in. But he doesn’t stop. Why is that? Why don’t I “get” squashes more than I do?
Okay, maybe this is my second place. Whatever. I will say that it’s a little shocking that these two sensational physiques got completely shut out of the body part categories. Though I did put Viggo up for my personal “Best Legs” contest. In any case, massive, mega squash, pretty on pretty.
We’re so close to award season and nostalgic retrospectives of the year in review that I can taste it. Remember 2016, back in more innocent times? After Obergefell, but before Emperor Palpatine was elected as Supreme Chancellor by the gullible representatives of the Galactic Republic? I think I’ll always look back on 2016 as good old days. But as we prepare our hearts and minds for the supremely sobering task of registering our votes for homoerotic wrestling favorites in this era when winners and losers all admit that democracy is a sham, I want to offer a send up to a category that we seem to never get to vote on. Best legs.
I sort of assume I’m one of about 4 gay wrestling fans who seriously get off on hot, powerful legs. This assumption is based on several pieces of evidence. For one, as I mentioned, there’s never a category in the year-end polls for legs. Asses, sure, but anything at lower altitude is always neglected. Further, scanning the “muscle” section of BG East’s Arena galleries, I find that there are literally 21 galleries devoted to abdominal muscles, more than 15 galleries highlighting arms (and most of the generic galleries are all about biceps), and at least 10 galleries specifically about pectoral muscles. Look closely for legs, and I can find 2 galleries, and most of the pics don’t even include full length looks at wrestlers’ legs. I have to deduce that there simply is not a raging market obsessed with wrestlers’ legs the way that I am, because otherwise, the industry would pay much more attention to hot, sexy legs.
I’ve bitched before about the way that cameras consistently dissect wrestlers at mid-thigh or higher, as if the only objects of erotic lust exist north of there. There are billions of close-up pics of pumped, peaked biceps filling the camera frame. Side chest poses and most muscular poses draw the gaze irresistibly to big, bulging, pumped torsos, but 9 times out of 10, those pin-up beefcake shots crop out 75% of a wrestler’s legs (there’s lots of math there, sorry). So I concede that I must be a rare breed who swoons like a Victorian at the sight of full, powerful, pumped quads and thick, broad calves. When we’re treated to hot shots of scissors and leg chokes, apparently the rest of you are fixated on some element other than those sexy as fuck legs pulsing with punishing power. Clearly, I must be the only one with a running fantasy (starring an ever revolving cast for the male lead) of having my erect cock squeezed to climax between the rock hard quads of a wrestler with killer lower body credentials.
Of course, as with everything, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Personally, I like legs strong, which means that hot legs can come in different proportions and sizes and still check my box. This also means that the degree to which a pair of legs may turn me on is likely (and I’m sure often is) enhanced by the sell of their opponent. But as for sheer aesthetics, I can’t get enough of big, thick quads with massive, low hanging tear drops. I particularly key off on legs with monster quads and multi-headed, shapely calves stacking up a rock hard foundation.
For the 12 or so of us who would, if offered, lap up more focus on hot, sexy legs in this business, I thought I’d offer a send up to the homoerotic wrestling legs that grabbed my attention in 2016. Just for kicks, I’m including a poll on the BG East contenders highlighted below. Someone is going to bitch about the whole thing being rigged. Probably it’ll be the winner. What the fuck ever. Who did I miss?
So let’s take a look at the BG East boys whose legs made me do a double take and whip out my notepad. In alphabetical order. Vote below.
I hope everyone had a shocking Halloween. I’m also hoping to get another photo report from our favorite homoerotic wrestlers who delight in dressing up and showing us their costumes. In the mean time, I was mulling over a topic I’ve touched upon tangentially in the past, that seems particularly relevant this time of year: terror.
I should confess I’m a terror movie junkie. I tend toward the mind-fuck variety of horror flicks, particularly the sacrilegious, but the raw, mass body count movies are also on my list. I like the extra heavy heart pump they inspire. Even when I know the outcome, I can feel the blood pulse harder through my veins when I’m watching good, terror inducing entertainment
So it’s a short hop to thinking about the element of terror in homoerotic wrestling entertainment. Just like in a good horror flick, terror is a delicate ingredient. You can’t throw in too much, too soon, or the escalating adrenaline drops from habituation. On the other hand, too infrequent, too improbable (hello, Paranormal franchise, I’m looking at you) and the heat doesn’t have time to reach a boil. And under or over sold, and the whole suspension of disbelief comes crashing down in a heap.
But in homoerotic wrestling, when done right, it’s incredible value added for my tastes. When a brave, cocky, impenetrable stud throws himself into the fray, gets outmatched, gets convinced that he could very well get broken, broken into, or crippled for life, the unfolding drama is sensationally arousing to me. He’s got to believe he’s going to make a respectable showing to start with. And then, incrementally, he’s got to be dragged to the despairing, horrifying truth that he’s getting owned, and his opponent is just nasty enough to seriously jeopardize life and limb. And then, that juicy, potent psychodrama has to play out on his face, in his eyes, in the rising octaves of his screams and choking sobs.
When done right, I get that same adrenaline pump I do when I’m watching fine horror. That, paired with hot, hard bodies and the inherent eroticism of grinding, crushing, dominating wrestling, and I’ll swing for the fences every time.
Interestingly (for me, at least), I occasionally stumble across this ethical dilemma in seeking out terror-rich homoerotic wrestling fare, when I come across the implicit threat of rape. On the one hand, rape is not sexy. In real life, it’s vile and destroys lives. I don’t enjoy it, and don’t get aroused by it in gay porn. Frankly, it creeps me out. On the other hand, in addition to being terrorized by threats to life and limb, homoerotic wrestling terror at least occasionally drifts into the psychodrama of sexual violence. Threats that revolve around “what I’m going to do to you when I’ve beaten you to a pulp,” start down that path. Hell, every so often there’s the pretty explicit dialogue about how a victor will fuck his cowed conquest like the spoils of war. And, all that I just said on the first hand notwithstanding, I fucking get off on that.
Of course Naked Kombat pretty much is all about sexual domination as the spoils of erotic wrestling. But there’s an implicit contract in the fighter’s opening introductions. They’re signing up for this. They know the stakes are win or be fucked, so it’s more like high stakes gambling than actual rape. The loser my not enjoy it, but the bitterness and brutality are mostly about the humiliation of the loss, not about being involuntarily fucked. And the more recent post-match testimonials almost always make explicit that the everyone involved had a grand old time.
Can-Am has come pretty close to explicitly centering a narrative on wrestling as pretense for sexual assault. Their Wrestle Bait release made me check my political correctness credentials a few times, for example. The plot, as I remember, is that a sadistic jail guard (Jobe Zander) gets his psychojollies off on forcing inmates to wrestle for fuckstakes and freedom. Jobe literally holds a gun to their heads and coerces them to strip, beat the shit out of each other, and then have the winner force fuck the loser. If they don’t fight hard enough, he threatens to shoot them. So, guns turn me off. The threat of watching someone get shot turns me way off. The implication that the losers in each Wrestle Bait match are getting fucked against their will tugs at my conscience. But despite myself, even as I question my moral compass, I’ve pounded out dozens of times to that shit. In my defense, it was the first time I ever saw Rusty Stevens or David Taylor.
But I don’t have to have boundaries crossed for the terror ingredient to spice up my favorite homoerotic wrestling fare. It’s the terror itself, rather than any questionable-consensual sex act, that’s the common thread. So when it dawns on one gasping hunk that he’s got no shot of winning, and in fact has a very good shot at spending a few nights in the hospital, and that recognition visibly washes across his face… fuck. When a sniveling pretty boy literally tries to flee the scene, crawling on his hands and knees in a primal effort to distance himself from his natural predator, I’m so sold. When he chokes and quivers on the fear, when he weeps and begs, abandoning all pretense to dignity, when he out and out screams because he’s certain he’s about to break for real, that will top me off every time.
So today, I salute the homoerotic wrestling scream queens who toy with my moral compass and somehow shove their hands right down my pants by selling out and out terror as a device for propelling a wrestling match to a screaming, pleading, magnificent conclusion.