I admit to a special fondness for BG East's Motel Madness series for personal reasons. When, decades ago, pals of mine and I wanted to escape the panopticon of Christian college life and enjoy a forbidden night of beer and roughhouse ... and the groggy afterglow of same (when anything could happen, and did, only not as often as I would have liked) ... we pooled our cash together for a night at the Rodeway Inn. We wrestled plenty of times at the dorm, too, but crisp clean sheets on kingsize beds, cable TV, and no watchful eyes made these occasions extra special, and the beer and guilt gave us plausible excuses for never quite remembering what all transpired on those wild and hairy getaways.
The seven Motel Madness numbers in my collection contain the "yearbook pictures" that never were but should have been. The initial number of the series, featuring Bass Wallace against Flying Tiger Collins and Kid Leopard torturing Justin Fiori, is one of my all-time favorite erotic tapes (then, later, disks). So it was with great anticipation that I unwrapped the latest in the series, the just released Motel Madness 12.
The first three matches confirm my continued respect for the series. The first, Andy Hammer versus Raven, is a lot hotter than I expected. But then I sometimes forget that blond-on-blond violence is almost always a sure thing with me. Raven, in particular, tatted up and frostily peroxided, attractively "skinny-tough," proves that deep down I'm a dirty old man who likes young boys whose sting just might be lethal. Next, Ty Garrison versus Deni Depuis is every bit as sexy as I expected. We get all the bad blood the English have felt towards the French since the Norman Conquest, all scaled down to a tussle over mastery of the remote control--and, further, I'm reminded that, on a bed, giggling and wrestling go together like peas and carrots. Third, Neil Hewitt versus Trev Kinsley ties expectations in knots, as Trev struts in full of "top" attitude, only for Neil to teach him that knowhow trumps attitude every time.
But it is the fourth match (the main event) that knocks my socks off. It features two new wrestlers, Connor Cross, 6', 170#, and Arn Nedic, 5'10", 150#, who I hope intend to hang around BG East for a long long while. The first we see of young Connor is his ass in baby blue trunks--a view that turned me instantly into a fan for life. Connor epitomizes my ideal of WMB: altar-boy face, Greek-god torso, and rugby-player legs. In pitch-perfect contrast to him, we have Arn: mephistophelean goatee, lithe dancer's build, cosmopolitan sultriness. Their battle on a mattress on a motel room floor is energetic, heated, and damn near allegorical. Connor's got the beef and raw power; Arn's got the slyness, grace, and speed. Both win a round each, and both attribute the other guy's win to luck. That means, happily, that the two must continue fighting, with mounting intensity, till one of them decisively bests the other.
Taking away nothing from the first three matches, the fourth match is almost worth the $49 by itself. That's just my opinion, but Cross and Nedic really do it for me. I want these boys at the Rodeway ... now!