Aaron and Chris

Until ten years ago, Can-Am was close to the center of my kink universe.  I'm still a big fan, but my involvement declined in the late '90s.  I wasn't interested in costumes and slave fantasies--huge at the time, if you remember--and now, as interest resuscitates, my budget won't make room for it.  I have not thrown Can-Am over.  Even though I don't subscribe to Can-Am Max right now, I buy a video from time to time, when I have pocket money.   As Bard pointed out, in a recent post, kink carries with it certain costs--and, in case you haven't heard, community college instructors don't exactly roll in the dough.  So most of the stuff you find in these pages about Can-Am tends to focus on the pre-1997 years.  

But what great years they were!

One match I enjoy thinking about is Aaron Aubrey, 5'7", 150#, facing Chris Divito, 5'9", 170#, under the unvarnished and generic title of Canadian Nude Pro Wrestling 2.  Pale Aaron with the Mormon haircut and the mauve dong strips and dominates tan, long-haired Chris in the squared circle.  Wow.

Frankly, this was not a match I expected to enjoy as much as I did.  I recall buying the tape (in those days of VHS) for Jimmy Dean in the opener and then peeking at the third bout more for Divito, whose wild-boy qualities drew my eye, than for Aubrey, who reminded me of somebody who creeped me out when I was young and in college (long story--and a pointless digression, guaranteed).

But Aubrey's quiet and methodical dismantling of the inexperienced but somewhat bigger and older heel made a lasting impression on my fantasy life.  There are Aaron's unblemished alabaster butt cheeks and 5-cell Maglite front and center, too, of course.  But Aubrey's patient nipple-twisting, erotic surfboards, and punishing scissors stick in my imagination.  And Divito carries his half of the show brilliantly, as well, whimpering when he's getting beat, snarling as he fights back.

Like all erotic wrestling, especially the early products, the fight has a ritualistic aspect, a practiced, stately, episodic, and ceremonial presentation of wrestling holds, almost as if numbered and counted like prayer beads.  So, oddly enough, there's a kind of restfulness to the mayhem.  I like that--in this one instance, anyway.  And, to state the obvious, both men are very nice looking.


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