Saturday, June 30, 2012

It is my policy to acquiesce to requests by subjects of my posts (performers, promoters, photographers) to remove content relating to them. I have no desire to use this blog to hurt anyone's career prospects or private lives through unwanted association with the blog or me.

I apologize for any inconvenience this causes visitors to the blog.

Thursday, June 28, 2012

Where Hearts Were Entertaining June









I marvel at Gil Barrios, 5'9", 165#, at BG East, his unruly black curls and smooth cafe-au-lait muscle. And you have to love the uncontainable joy he takes in beating up the competition ... smiling like a tickled baby as he slams his knuckles to another man's gut. The hot young Brazilian embodies a lot of useful archetypes for me: satyr, big brother, joker, hustler, wrestler. My favorite Barrios match (at the moment) is in Wrestle Shack 12, twenty catalogs ago, in which he takes on Skip Vance, 5'6", 138#, the ideal blond bottom, ideal as a visual contrast to Gil, ideal for his indefatigability as a grappler, ideal for the bossy way he has of just begging to get his ass kicked.

The match starts well: Gil and Skip doing crunches together, alternating heart punches, till the punches get too stiff and they break form and start to fight. But the golden moment of this match for me is after Gil demolishes Skip (the first time--I did say the kid's indefatigable, right?). Both wrestlers are shiny with sweat, and Gil peels Skip's blue underwear down his legs, revealing one of the most hypnotizing asses at BGE. Skip says, "So that's what you wanted," or something to that effect--it's not a moment when I'm paying close attention to dialogue. Gil just stands there, smirking. Then he slips out of his own briefs, commanding Skip to kiss his proffered bicep if he wants to get beat up some more, and Skip does not hesitate in kissing it, the horny little masochist. And then Gil makes him pay for that kiss. Sweet. As a theatrical moment in soft-core wrestling porn, it is unbeatable ... but that is hardly the right word, is it?


I have removed some photos featuring explicit nudity from this posting because they belong to The Arena at BGEast, which owns exclusive rights to them.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Moving Forward



Dashing UK wrestler Terry Frazier (the "Mean Machine") got some face time earlier this year in a UK Toyota commercial. Such a high-profile gig has got to pay better than a whole year of professional catch wrestling, and it's easier on the vertebrae. "It's so peaceful and quiet," he coos in the ad, "you feel you don't have to fight the city." But Terry got anything but a peaceful and quiet ride at IPW:UK in December, when he bumped up against portly Dave Mastiff, who is almost the size of a city. The crowd loved Frazier, doomed though he was, but I kept hoping for a last-minute turn of fortune for him. Now that a larger slice of the world knows how pretty he is, let's hope some hotshot director (I'm thinking Robert Rodriguez) will cast him in a 21st-century reboot of Mexican lucha libre cinema, where he won't have to wear so many clothes.





Tuesday, June 26, 2012

203








Who needs fantasies when reality shows up with just what you'd wish for? It wasn't long ago that my dream match was to see Eli Black and Joey Cantrell face off, one on one, at UCW-WrestlingWith reports that Joey is exiting UCW and with Eli stretching himself out among multiple underground wrestling companies, as well as a promising career in MMA, I wasn't sure I'd ever get to see the day. Just this week, UCW posted that match. I couldn't have written the story better myself. Call me a happy man. 

The idea of two skinny white boys with tattoos and bad reputations squaring off in a padded cell is on my top five list of kink-erotic scenarios for 2012. And if there are two wrestlers in the world who match my ideal of skinny white boys with tattoos and reputations, it's Eli and Joey. What's more, the blue-tarped hole that is UCW's default fight space is a perfect setting for these two bad-asses to slap, slug, and stomp each other senseless in skimpy gear that only almost covers their junk. 

Eli and Joey skip the usual I-don't-know-who-you-are preliminaries, fully acknowledging that they know each other by reputation and, by implication, respect what they have heard. They meet as equals, but equals who are eager to knock each other down a peg or two. They slap hands, toss aside their baseball caps, and get busy. On his home turf, Joey gains an early lead, pushing Eli immediately to the wall. Pushed against a wall, Eli does what he knows to do, throwing a wild unpulled punch that clips Joey's ears back. "Okay," says Joey, flatly and warily. Now both guys know the score: nothing phony, playing for keeps.

Next, Joey gets Eli in a front headlock, poised for a takedown. Eli speaks from deep in Joey's armpit, "I know a move from here too." "Yeah?" Joey replies, stopping in place, curious. "Yeah, I do," says Eli matter-of-factly. "Try." "You sure?" "Try it out." Eli boxes Joey's balls but good, and Joey, moaning like an old man, collapses to the mat, with Eli on top. (The idea that cranking a guy's cock and balls would ever be a jag in my fighting kink had never occurred to me, until the past six months or so of watching UCW videos settled the matter for me.) We're not even two minutes into the fight, and the stage is set for a real bruiser.

I like both these guys a lot. Part of the excitement of this fight for me is not knowing whom to cheer for. We've got a couple of dominant heels here, both of whom know what it's like to be on the receiving end, too. Pro wrestling tends to do a lot of the deciding for you. (Or tries to: I still cheer for Mike Bennett at ROH, even though my friend Elizabeth says that the running commentary makes it almost impossible to do so. And ROH doesn't cue its fans nearly as much as other promotions do.) It's nice to see a couple of hot bloods like Eli and Joey "color outside the lines," so to speak, getting down and dirty and refusing all limits. It's risky, of course, but both these guys know what they're doing.

Joey has a size and weight advantage (about six inches and 35 pounds) that's difficult to ignore, and he's not shy about using it, nor should he be. Eli can take care of himself. Joey dominates Eli for a good part of the match, though Eli makes it hard (and painful) to do so. This is not going to be a typical David-and-Goliath match, where Goliath cries crocodile tears for the fans, pretending helplessness against a wrestler half his size. Like the best short fighters, Eli doesn't ask his opponent to do anything but show him the best he's got. But don't come here expecting a clean squash, either. Eli is scary intense, and he knows his way around a scrap.

I have a bad habit of throwing around superlatives sometimes, but, believe me, I've meant every one of them. If this fight is not the best fight UCW has ever put out for us fans, it is most definitely in the top three. I'm inclined to go with "best ever" at the moment, my memory failing to come up with a serious objection to it. An hour or so after watching this historic bout twice, my cock is still making little doglike whimpers and my balls are tight as two little fists, tucked up in my boxers like steel pinballs, and, no lie, I can't wait to press the Play button one more time.

Images edited on request (17 Feb. 2014)

Monday, June 25, 2012

Am I Hard Enough?










If you can get past the sheer crystalline perfection of Rock Hard Wrestling's videography (these washed-out screen caps do not do it justice) and the company's knack for attracting the world's hottest fitness models to the wrestling ring, the magic of a good 90% of the videos in the catalogs, especially in the past year, is primal and elemental: the drama of vaulting ego giving in to sweaty, reptile-mind aggression. In the company's early years, one might rightly complain that the product was too polished perhaps, but now the company is tapping into its (and its wrestlers') inner savage. And it may still not have reached its potential, still not as raw as it can be, still a tiny bit stiff and self-aware at times; nevertheless, what it's doing right now is well worth paying close attention to.

The work of Austin Cooper continues to amaze. Admittedly, he would be impressive even if he did a fraction of what he's doing. But in the last year at Rock Hard, he has honed himself into an audacious and formidable heel. This impresses me all the more because of his white-bread, all-American good looks. His overall affect and physique would suggest a babyface, in particular one who jobs for tougher, more ruthless fighters, and it was thus that he was first introduced to us fans. But he must have realized at some point early on that heels have more fun ... and more fans ... and, therefore, he developed this winning persona as the arrogant narcissist who gets his kicks from maiming other athletes. It works, and it's a joy to watch the man in the ring. He gives his opponents hell, and when they eventually rise up and turn on him, he suffers eloquently.

Will Stanley is new to me. Though experienced as a wrestler, he debuts here at RHW, against, lucky for him, the intimidating Coop. It's a great start for Stanley. As expected, Austin makes the rite of passage as grueling as possible. Impressively, Will takes what's offered and, in time, divvies it right back up to his tormenter. He's a strong enough performer that, past the midpoint of Round 2, his doom is by no means assured. Stanley holds great promise, and I look forward to seeing him lift himself to new levels at Rock Hard. But this is Austin Cooper's show, as far as I'm concerned. Cooper puts the rookie over, and in the process achieves his own personal best, at least to date.

As satisfying and invigorating as this match is, it raises the possibility of even better things to come from Cooper, from Stanley, and from Rock Hard. It's one of the top fights in the company's short history, and it ranks high among the matches of the past twelve months from any promotion out there. Entertaining, sexy, and highly recommended.

Submit!










Vancouver's ECCW dependably provides some of the most strenuous wrestling matches in the business, and Artemis Spencer is one of its most valuable assets in the company's straining and sweating department. Having recently praised NJPW for balancing body-to-body grappling and spectacular aerial maneuvers, I should add that, from what I've seen of it, ECCW uses the same crowd-pleasing formula. It also provides some of the most dramatic and sexy action photographs of its matches of any promotion anywhere, thanks to the talents of several photographers, in the present case, BRENNAN. Here we see Artemis, 6'0", 176#, take on ECCW and Pacific Cup champion Bishop, 6'4", 275#, at the TLC (Tables, Ladders, Chairs) show this past Saturday. Ultimately, Spencer submitted Bishop, winning the fourth of the Best of Five Series and tying the two rivals 2-2.

Sunday, June 24, 2012

Saturday, June 23, 2012

I Want It Bad


 



You are hardcore, you make me hard. 
You name the drama and I'll play the part. 
It seems I saw you in some teenage wet dream. 
I like your get up if you know what I mean. 
I want it bad. I want it now. --"This Is Hardcore" by Pulp (1998)
I like it both ways. I like a contest between two wrestlers who resemble each other--two brothers, two tall gangly guys, two salon-tanned peroxide blonds, two leather daddies. Also, I like to watch two wrestlers fight who have strongly contrasting personas and styles. UCW-Wrestling's new release (#201), Aron versus very promising newcomer Twisted Torment, is a near-classic example of the latter.

Last week in a bout with another rookie, Jesse, Aron barely escaped with his left nut. If he's still got a pulse after Twisted Torment is done with him, he is lucky. For most of this 35-minute download, he is not so lucky at all. Aron looks like the high-school swim team captain in a John Hughes movie, and TT looks like a mosh-pit extra in a Black Flag vid. Aron points up the contrast between them at the beginning of the match when he calls the new guy a "freak show." Twisted Torment does not need provocation like this to enjoy making Aron writhe and scream. Both men like to hurt people, but, in this instance, smooth, pretty Aron is either unprepared or plain outclassed.

Twisted Torment regrettably comes to the company too late for a matchup with newly exited Joey Cantrell, who could have provided a close match for this bad boy. Unless there's a "lost video" in the vaults (one can hope), we won't see these two tattooed punks face off. There's still a chance of a meet with eight-packed predator Eli Black. That would be awesome. Straight-edge Axel may have to hit the mat with this punk to teach him some manners and respect ... or try to, anyway. That, too, would be awesome.

For its being a debut match, Twisted Torment comes on strong. He stamps his arrival to UCW on Aron's quivering flesh. He hits the mat with a level of aggression and self-assurance that gets me hard. I want more of this.

Friday, June 22, 2012

Plot, Character, Style, Theme, Spectacle, and Lyricism


 








Two good ... no, make that awesome ... wrestlers, PAC and BUSHI, lock up in this video of a New Japan Pro Wrestling match on June 9th. BUSHI, 5'6", 183#, new to me and to this blog, is a Japanese wrestler fond of and experienced in Mexican lucha libre. He's been in pro wrestling for five years, previously under the names Tetsuya Shimizu and T28. UK wrestler PAC, 5'8", 171#, a familiar face (and physique) to these pages, has been dubbed "The Man That Gravity Forgot" for his jaw-dropping aerial acrobatics. 

What I like about this match and, in general, other NJPW matches I've watched online is the mix of elements in a single match. Both these guys are renowned high-flyers, yet they don't overload the bout with a continuous round of moonsaults and shooting star presses. Instead, they start off low on the mat with basic grappling holds and then open up to classic catch-wrestling theatrics in and out of the ring, well before they show what they can do off the top ropes. 

I feel like I'm getting a full meal in a match like this (lacking only the dessert, which perhaps only gay underground wrestling supplies). My basic food groups are met: action, aggression, body contact, justice, glimmering physiques, and grace. PAC dominates the first half of this nine-minute contest. BUSHI turns the tables at the halfway point. Rapid reversals in the last two minutes make the outcome unpredictable. Last, there is a solid finisher to put this baby to bed. Call me a happy man.

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