The Motel Madness series at BG East holds a special place in my heart mostly because of the first video in the series, perhaps the first BGE video I bought, a double header of Bass Wallace versus Flying Tiger Collins and Kid Leopard versus Justin Fiori. On a more personal note, the series' premise reminds me of my college days, during which my dorm buddies and I spent our newly acquired plastic credit on motel rooms with reasonable rates for all-night wrestling bouts.
The centerpiece of the latest number in the series, number 13, is a private showdown between the charismatic and ever-slippery Joshua Goodman and the mysterious and merciless Cage Thunder. How do you spell "yum"? This sexy brawl is nestled between two other matches that also pique my interest, featuring Euro-hunks Aidan Calder, Connor Cross, Sasha, and Torvik Tirva. I love fit Euro hunks who wrestle. Still, I was bent on watching Thunder versus Goodman first, not so much out of America-first chauvinism as out of a drive to see what sort of sparks these two wrestlers would emit.
In my personal and admittedly often peculiar opinion, Joshua hasn't had a truly memorable match since Catalog 57, no discredit to him or his later opponents, a question of chemistry more than anything else. I was certain that Mister Joshua and the sadistic Cage would bring up the best in each other, and I was not wrong. Without warning, Thunder catches his opponent as Goodman comes from the balcony with a knee to the solar plexus. Goodman springs back, and the two lock up. Thunder beats Goodman facedown to the mattress and locks his arm back and upward. Even a mask doesn't hide Cage's delight in commanding the writhing hottie in baby blue trunks.
Goodman is a fighter, though, and he rolls over and plays dead for nobody. At least once he has hid behind a tag partner to elude an opponent, but in a tight pinch he's a terrific struggler. Through the struggle, Thunder gives us a premium tour of the man's luscious features: his crotch, of course, his muscular thighs and well-formed calves, his chest and midsection. the beauteous butt (made for the spanking it gets), and my favorite part (mostly) Joshua's face, so expressive and unaffectedly arrogant.
It was only seconds until I was feeling the physical effects of this fight. Early on, Thunder pins Goodman's knuckles to the mattress, leaps up, and smashes his chest and belly to Joshua's with a fleshy slap. I could have cashed in right then, even though the match had barely started. But it's then--or a second later--that Joshua reverses, catching the red mask between his coiled quads and making the hairy brute moan with (I assume) pain.
What also got me? I'll tell you. Joshua's breathy huffs and clenched teeth as Cage holds his arms back and scissors his ribs from behind. The hand-to-hand struggle as Joshua attempts to fend off another gut punch. Cage's unexpected vulnerability as Joshua crimps his spine in a crab hold. And the casual way Joshua braces one fist to the wall while executing that hold (see the second photo above). Not to mention Joshua's general overconfidence as he reigns over Thunder, a cockiness Thunder is unlikely to forget or forgive when the tables are turned. (And they will be turned ... at least one more time.) Later, the way Joshua meticulously drills his elbow into Cage's midsection. The stomach claw, which, along with Joshua's baby blues and bare feet, pays homage to the wrestling hero of my late 1970s, Kevin Von Erich. And last but not least, the cock claw, which pays another kind of homage to the short hairs in my pants.
In every way the smooth, canny bad boy is in dramatic contrast to the mean-daddy Cage Thunder, who wears black boots against Joshua's vulnerable bare toes, and a mask against Joshua's emphatic expressivity. Cage throttles his opponent. Joshua uses his wits. However, brawn trumps guile for most of this fight. This is the dream match I always thought Joshua had in him, and never have I so badly wanted to be in Cage Thunder's boots.