Preppy’s Delight

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Zip Zarella

I sat up and took notice when Zip Zarella returned to the BG East ring last month in Ring Kings. Once again, he’s sinking his teeth into a fellow indy pro veteran trying to make that dicey crossover into wrestling for a discerning gay audience. There’s something straightforward and upright about how he stares down the classic beefsteak Joey King. Math rules, as they agree to 30 minutes in the ring to amass as many submissions as possible. When the bell rings at the 30 minute mark, whoever has dragged more taps out of his opponent is winner.

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Joey King is ripped from an 80’s pro wrestling fantasy

I’m always partial to competitive matches, so the concession that both of these sensationally equipped pros will likely score gets me hard before they lay a hand on each other. Truth be told, their hot bodies play a big role in that growing pressure in my pants, too. Joey’s got the body of a classic brawler from the 80’s. He’s like a young, much more handsome, fitter Arn Anderson. Full beard, a light coat of hair covering his pecs and stretching across his magnificent muscle gut to disappear down the front of his classic trunks. His ass is in serious need of getting grabbed. He’s handsome, with an air of inevitability about him, like a boulder rolling down hill. I like Joey. Quite a lot, actually. But for me he’s second fiddle in this match because he’s such the straight man in the scenario. He’s so upright. He’s so completely indy pro that I could just as easily get worked up watching him on TV doing the same character for the presumptive heterosexual audience. He’s such an 80’s beefcake that I almost feel like I need to keep my raging desire to shoot a load across that powerful, furry muscled gut a secret, like this is some guilty private pleasure that only I’m entertaining back in my adolescence, discovering what a turn on wrestling is.

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I’d like to do something to Zip that makes him smile like that.

Thank the homoerotic wrestling gods that Zip Zarella shows up and drags this hot contest into the light of day. In still frame, he’s simply gorgeous. I know some of my fellow fans don’t enjoy pec tats nearly as much as I do, but fu-u-uck, I love every artistic angle of Zip. He’s smooth to Joey’s hairy. He’s harder and tighter than his opponent, with sharper angles and muscle separation. He strikes a leaner profile everywhere except those magnificent legs. Fuck, his thighs are sensational, with thick, shapely quads and that fantastic bulge of powerfully built hamstrings that ebb and flow, muscle transitioning smoothly to muscle as the back of his legs meet his bulging, hard glutes. I’ve got a major crush on the boyish smile that stretches across his face when he’s coasting on top. I’d like to give his lovely, tight nipples a tongue lashing to make that pretty smile shine.

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“You’re mine, bitch!”

Joe coincidentally just wrote a post reflecting on Zip’s enigmatic character. I like Joe’s assessment of Zip as a sadist’s sadist. He “beams instead of glowers,” Joe argues, noting that Zip is almost too personable and pleasant to really qualify as a heel. I get that. I also think that a lot of what I like about Zip’s spirit is a little extra he brings beyond just a transliteration of straight indy pro to the BGE ring. When he’s wringing Joey out with a reverse bearhug, his hips thrusting forward into Joey’s meaty ass, he snarls, “You’re mine, bitch. Tap!”  The tap tallies trade advantage back and forth, but when Zip starts to get a little distance, he targets Joey’s hairy gut with knees and punches, driving him to the mat and standing on the back of his head, choking Joey across the bottom rope. “I’m in control now!” There’s ecstasy in Zip’s voice. When Joey tries to punch his way free from being trapped between Zip’s insanely sexy thighs, Zip dials the big brawler back into being his bitch with sensationally sexy nipple torture.

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Joey’s offense highlights Zip’s assets.

It’s every bit as competitive a match as promised. Joey is vicious. He repeatedly targets Zip’s balls with flailing place kicks. He leers down at Zip at one point as Zip tries to peel himself off the mat, tries to claw his way up to his hands and knees. Joey straddles his back, hops up and drives his juicy ass down into Zip’s lean, muscled lower back. Zip stubbornly keeps climbing up to his hands and knees, and Joey keeps using that bubble butt to pound him back down. Joey’s brutal and bitter and does a fantastic job of holding up his end of the suspense. But where Zip lays down tauntingly erotic subtext, Joey’s trash talk is flatly straight. He tauntingly calls Zip a geek, a preppy.  He promises to twist him like a pretzel. It’s fun and domineering. But it isn’t, on its own merits, sexy.

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Joey can’t appreciate that gun show. That’s for you and me, fans.

Zip, on the other hand, is just so fucking sexy.  I have no idea whose team he plays for on his own time, but his playful sadism dancing on the edge of homoeroticism makes me think that Zip understands that this audience is getting off on him. Some of the indy pro recruits in our homoerotic wrestling universe seem wooden and vaguely uncomfortable with the implicit nature and interests of the audience. But my intuition tells me that, at the very least, Zip is entirely cool with that. If anything, I’d guess that Zip enjoys being the object of our lusts. I can hope that, perhaps, our adoration might even get Zip hard in return.

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“I’m in control now!”

When Zip indulgently strikes an aesthetic pose and flexes his gorgeous body in victory, he does it for you and me. For that, I’m a fierce fan. I hope we see Zip swim out into the deep end and take on more than just the brittlely upright indy pros only vaguely at peace with wrestling for a gay audience. Keep looking like you do, Zip. Keeping doing what you do. It’s all good.

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Zip faces Joey’s brutality.
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Zip careens unhinged into viciousness.
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Zip takes pleasure in his work.

 

 

 

The Power of Purple

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Zip Zarella and Royce Perry bring the house down in Ringwars 26

You know how my heart beats harder in my chest when I get my first glance at a newbie. It’s all promise and potential at that point. In the opening moments of a debut, there’s as much my imagination of what could be at play as what is. For a little while, I can (and do, I guarantee you) overlay any homoerotic wrestling fantasy character over top of the initial impressions laid down by muscles and proportions and skin tone and hair and eyes and gear and vocal inflection. Not being cocky or anything, but I’d estimate 7 times out of 10 the fantasy I imagine for a brand-spanking newbie is more titillating than the reality. Newbies are typically a little rawer, more awkward, with less ring presence and focus on the combat narrative than they will be if they get promoted to sophomore status. But those 3 times out of 10, newbies wow me. They sell me. Occasionally, they even surprise me, surpassing my expectations and even hopes. So you can just imagine what a unique thrill it is to experience a double debut in which both newbies own it. The sensational final match on BG East’s recently released Ringwars 26 is just that, tossing the most rare combination of two newbies with the looks, the character development, and the ring skills to far surpass my hopes.

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Defiantly pretty Royce Perry

Alex already reviewed this match, and he pretty transparently signals that between Zip Zarella and Royce Perry, blond, blue eyed, mocha tanned Royce is his rookie crush.  I can totally see it. Fuck, this boy is so ridiculously pretty. Royce’s ass could very well be an early front runner for top contender spot with Kid Karisma by year’s end. And right out of the gate, he’s cocky, with astonishingly deep ring skills to back it up. He instantly crawls under his bro’s skin with a contemptuous smirk at Zip’s purple trunks. I’m not entirely sure what Royce’s hang up is with the purple trunks.  Maybe there’s a “purple is for sissies” implication, but it’s blessedly left unspoken. More likely, it’s just one young, ring-savvy pro wrestler getting under the skin of his competition with a bit of random hypercritical capriciousness.

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“Your arms are so big!” “Don’t I know it!”

It seems to work for Royce, at least early days. Zip is initially, verbally on the defensive about his choice of trunks. Having been psychologically knocked back on his heels, Royce opens up a magnificently brutal beat down. Damn, this kid looks like a Top Gun fighter pilot, he’s so insanely poised and steady. He latches hold on the advantage with speed and certainty, grinding gorgeous Zip to his knees with a wristlock before smoothly transitioning to a temple grinding side headlock. He yanks Zip around by his hair unselfconsciously and cinches tight a rear naked choke. “I… I can barely breathe!” Zip gasps. “Your arms are so big!” Royce doesn’t skip a beat. “Don’t I know it,” he replies. “The ladies love them.” After this match is over, I guarantee you the gentlemen do as well, Royce.

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“All day. Every day.”

Royce’s cockiness and viciousness are really, really expertly developed. Brutal bodyscissors. Insulting slaps to the face. He ties Zip’s muscled arms into the ring ropes and reigns down chops and kicks to his tattooed pecs. “You’re a monster!” Zip snarls bitterly, clearly rethinking if what started as a good natured bro-down about the color of his trunks was a fucking seriously wrong turn in his life choices. Royce drives down vicious, pelting elbow drops, one after another drilling into Zip’s sternum. Pausing to flex his dangerously pretty biceps, Royce smirks, “All day. Every day.”

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This much pretty has got to hurt.

I so get it. Royce dishes up about 5 times the personality and 20 times the expertly sold pro offense of any newbie I can recall at this particular moment. His cornfed Midwestern boy heads to Cali to become a surfer stud look is insanely hot. He’s a headliner with a destiny for greatness, clearly. And yet, if forced to choose which of these delightful newbies I’d want to be cornerman for more, I’ve just got to say, I’m team Zip Zarella.

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Hand me the baby oil!

I’m sure the tats play into the complex formula of why it is I’d kick Royce to the curb for a chance to give Zip a baby oil soaked muscle rub down. Pretty much every time I mention tats, I get comments from guys who categorically hate them. Which I respect the hell out of. And completely disagree with.  Zip’s pec tats are ballsy and beautiful. They signal that this kid can fully commit. As dazzlingly pretty as Royce is, he’s white bread next to Zip’s gorgeous, illustrated muscles. It’s most definitely not only the ink that holds my attention on Zip’s body, despite the pretty pin-up boy strutting and smirking his way around the ring next to him. But for me, the tats are definitely value added.

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Zip’s had just about enough.

And when Zip finally has enough of getting his sensationally hot ass bullied around the ring by this pretty boy sadist, I discover a couple dozen more reasons to be instantly infatuated with him. All of that pent up frustration from getting owned and humiliated the first five minutes or so power Zip up to absolutely ring Royce out in an exquisitely long bearhug. Royce collapses to the mat, and Zip smoothly goes down with him, maintaining every last ounce of pressure.  Sure, he probably wants to even the score. Zip surely wants to defend those purple trunks that got this whole thing started. But suddenly Zip reveals what he really wants most of all. “Scream!” he demands, rearranging Royce’s internal organs. “Fucking SCREAM!”

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“I’m going to tear you limb from limb, and look good doing it!”

Just like Royce, Zip is Top Gun cocky and steady on the joystick. He slides seamlessly into a full nelson, mounting Royce’s back, pulling him up off the mat, and then slamming him face first into the canvas. “Right where I want you, you little monkey bitch!” Royce is bitter and furious on the receiving end, but Zip starts to sort of transcend the brawl. This hunk is an artist, people. “I’m going to tear you limb from limb…” he growls, “and look good doing it.” Holy shit. This “newbie” gets the very heart of homoerotic pro wrestling.

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“Fucking SCREAM!”

Like Alex, I was a little surprised that the obvious talents of these two phenomenal rookies turns on basically just that one plot twist. Royce rides roughshod for the first five minutes, and then Zip fucks him up relentlessly for the rest of the time. These two could easily have told a much more suspenseful tale. Personally, I choose to interpret the simplistic narrative as indication that Zip just fucking would not be denied after sucking on that mouthful of humiliation shoved down his throat for the first 5 minutes of his introduction to BG East fans. I know, I know. I’m sure it’s much less transparent, but as for me, I like to believe that Zip really is just that much meaner, stronger, and more vicious. He just fucking wanted it more, so when he was supposed to pass the baton back, the sensationally handsome devil just left Royce hanging there.

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Zip is too hot to handle

Those repeated face plants into the top turnbuckle drive me nuts. Both hunks sell them like seasoned pros. They hurt just watching them, but at the same time, trying to pound the pretty right off of Royce’s mug is just so sensationally right. Zip has his way with the blond beauty, long after he’s evened the score. He drops his knee repeatedly across Royce’s throat until the smart ass surfer can’t respond when Zip tauntingly asks, “Got anything else to say?” He doesn’t even stop when he’s sleepered the bronzed beefcake out cold. He just slaps him around until Royce rouses again (barely) and then torments and taunts him, pretend arm wrestling, fucking owning his dazed and confused hot self just for kicks.

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Zip is out to make an impression on BG East fans (by way of Royce’s throat)

Honestly, choosing favorites between two instant rock stars like Zip and Royce is next level shit. My recommendation is just to leave these things to the professional bloggers like me and Alex who have nothing better to do with our time than obsess over homoerotic wrestling new releases and catalog and evaluate every last inch of detail. Because the real winner here at the end of Ringwars 26 is BG East fans. These guys are high class, dazzlingly hot, and you can’t really go wrong popping one (or twenty) with your eyes fixed on either one of them. The distinctions between them are superficial and practically (if not statistically) insignificant.

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The winner is clear

Though BG East did opt to make my favorite, Zip, their Catalog 117.1 coverboy, relegating Royce’s flowing blond locks, perfect skin, square jaw and button nose to get buried under submenus. Team Zip clearly got the best of this magnificent double debut.

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#TeamZip!