Dio Mio

Dio Characi vs Rocky Sparks, Glamour Shoot 1: Immediate Gratification (BG East)

Rocky says it's a photo shoot, but Dio knows better: "You want to wrestle me." Dio's right, of course. It's a safe bet since everyone, including me, wants to wrestle the sultry six-foot Brazilian bombshell, whose wrestling style combines heavy petting with tight clutching. Characi doesn't wait for a response. He takes Sparks down to the mat for a school-boy pin, in my book still the sexiest start and/or end position in roughhouse wrestling.

Dio's beauty is less about striated muscles than warm fleshy curves and bedroom eyes. Rocky's viewpoint is perfect for taking in Dio's tan torso and appreciating the pressure of Dio's ass on the stomach. Dio likes what he sees from his viewpoint, too. Rocky's jawline, tousled hair, and hairy chest are the stuff one sees on the covers of bodice ripper romance novels. Rocky struggles, less, I think, to escape than to test Dio's mastery. Rocky snaps one more shot to memorialize Dio's exquisite domination.

Characis bears down on Sparks, chest to chest, as his right arm curls behind Rocky's neck and latches onto the blond's right wrist. In a couple of seconds, he repositions to a side headlock, his right pec pressed to Rocky's chin, his thighs clamping down on Rocky's forearm. Dio tightens the hold to show off his strength and control. Rocky's face goes red. Dio presses his right nipple to Rocky's lips - very encouraging lips, I might add.

Characi tugs off Sparks's outer gear. Sparks grabs his camera to save the moment as Characi clutches Rocky's crotch with both hands. I'm pretty sure the folks at Polaroid had exactly this in mind when they invented instant photography. My vacation snapshots pale in comparison to Rocky's. But as so often happens when I watch underground matches, I visualize my romps on motel mattresses, tiled dorm-room floors, and ticklish lawns at midnight.

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