You’ve Got to Have Friends

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There’s nothing worse than being the weak link in a tag team.

Seriously.

As you will undoubtedly remember, my debut match for BGEast was a tag match on Masked Mayhem 2, where I joined my bud Maxx Thunder in the ring to take on two big, beautiful studs, Drew Russell and Alexi Adamov.

I never really thought I’d enjoy a tag match, but with Maxx at my back and those two beautiful men in their skimpy baby blue bikinis on the other side of the ring…I could feel my cock stirring in my trunks and the desire to see those handsome hunks suffer rising in my loins.

If you’ve seen the match, you’ll also know that I was the weak link in Team Thunder, only insofar as Alexi caught me off guard at one point–never get cocky, no matter how easy the match has seemed so far–and put me through the ringer, even tagging big Drew Russell in to add to my humiliations. He eventually got me to submit, too, the big bitch.

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Team Thunder eventually triumphed, beating the crap out of the two big pretty boys.

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I still regret not getting a ring match with Alexi, just the two of us–I still remember the great joy he took in torturing me when had the chance, and while there was definitely some payback in that match, I’ve always wondered how a singles match with the two of us would turn out.

Well, not really. I would have handed Alexi his ass, like I did Drew when we got into the ring for a singles match. It’s more that I’m disappointed that the fans didn’t get a chance to see me handling Alexi by myself, playing his body like a drum.

It would have been a classic.

I never did another tag match for BGEast–although I came close a couple of times. That’s another regret of mine; it would have been awesome to team up with, say, the Enforcer and take on a team like Patrick Donovan and Mitch Colby.

And I found myself enjoying watching tag matches–like Brute Baynard & Matt Thrasher taking on Morgan Cruise and Damien Rush on Tag Team Torture 19.

(to be continued)

Go Your Own Way

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Truth be told, Justin and Nick are so fucking hot, does the match itself even matter?

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I mean, fuck me.

And as I said before, the match started out friendly enough; two new guys to the Arena, helping each other stretch and warm up for the match to come.

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LOOK AT THOSE LEGS.

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And they’re not just beautiful boys, either. They actually can wrestle! While that can be choreographed somewhat, you still have to know what you’re doing when you’re on the mats. Nick and Justin put each other through some great holds and reversals as they worked up a sweat, still feeling friendly.

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But even the nicest of guys can get a little carried away. After wringing a submission or two out of Nick–who wasn’t pleased at being trapped and forced to give in–Justin, not reading the situation right, chose to go for a little friendly taunting.

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Nick didn’t care for this. Not one little bit, and the future superstar heel started coming out.

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A little painful humiliation here, a little embarrassing and hurtful submission there…Nick knows how to wrestle, and also knew how to tear up an opponent–all the while never stooping to any low blows and cheap shots.

Impressive.

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And soon Justin was beaten down, exhausted, and down for the count.

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And not opposed to showing off his own physical pulchritude when it’s all over.

“We could have been friends,” he sneers as he walks off the mats.

A classic match in more ways than one.

Simply Irresistible

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So, where was I?

Sorry there, Constant Reader; I am trying to be better at making at least weekly posts, but real life has been a bit of a heel to me lately, trapping me in the corner and taking cheap shots. I am surfacing briefly today because, for one, I need a break and for two, because I fucking can.

Oh yes, I’d started talking about the match between these two, which was the first time I encountered either of them on the BGEast site.

Fuck me, right?

One thing BGEast has consistently done over the decades has showcased ridiculously good-looking men. If you have a preference or a type, chances are you’ll find a whole vast expansive catalogue of guys who press your buttons.

Lucky me, I don’t have a type. I pretty much can find something attractive in almost every man, so BGEast is a smorgasbord for me.

Both Justin and Nick had great runs at BGEast, and their bodies were always in top condition. At first, Nick seemed to have a preference for wrestling in square cuts or those football-style shorts (see above), but he eventually moved on to more traditionally cut ring trunks. I always had a thing for Nick, from this first match (Fantasymen 22) on. I liked that he was shorter and stockier; muscular and thick and in great shape, but not, perhaps, as ripped up or cut as others. His pecs and legs were nice and thick, and that ass.

Oh my God, that ass. It was a work of art.

He also had the most amazing pouty lips, gorgeous eyes, and that New England/Boston-ish accent that’s always gotten my attention.

Justin, of course, was no slouch either. Beautiful beautiful face, startling blue eyes, and the body was of course perfectly proportioned, defined, and just big.

The match started off friendly enough as the two new guys help each other go through their warm-ups and help each other stretch. Even the wrestling, once it gets started, is friendly enough.

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But matches that start out friendly rarely end up that way….

To be continued…

All the Pretty Wrestlers

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How have I never yet blogged about Justin Pierce?

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I mean, Christ on the cross, look up perfect in the dictionary and there he is.

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Those eyes! Those abs! Those legs! Those pecs! Those arms!

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That ass! Those pouty lips! He’s just, for want of a better superlative, fucking gorgeous.

I first discovered him on Fantasymen 22, a tape I’ve already discussed (I think) because I was enamored of the Sean Ribeiro/Antonio match, which opened the tape in the ring. The match that introduced me to Justin also included another wrestler who drove me wild with his looks and skills and attitude: Nick Archer.

 

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FUCK me.

(to be continued)

I’m Still Standing

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Every match is a lesson.

As I said before, one of the biggest lessons I learned from getting in the ring with Cole Cassidy, heel extraordinaire, was to always leave something in reserve. Don’t use all your energy and all your best moves because one that’s gone you are fucking done.

So, yeah, I got to put Cole through some of my best holds and moves.

But he had something in reserve–and all it took was a low blow (or two) to flip the switch on a match which I thought I had won and in the bag.

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Filed under being a nice guy and fighting fair in the ring is fucking stupid.

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And let’s face it, when your balls hurt, there’s not much else you can fucking do–another valuable lesson from the master.

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Yeah, this isn’t going to end well.

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Told ya. And this was just the fucking start, bitches.

Final, and most important lesson: the match ain’t over unless your opponent is out cold.

The first step on my path to becoming a heel myself was finished.

I Get Around

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So, not only was I finally able to get into the ring–I also tossed Cole back in by his trunks.

Turnabout is fair play, after all.

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Heels can also get over-confident, particularly when the match has, frankly, been pretty fucking easy for them so far. Cole gave me an opening and I took it.

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And once I was in the ring, I was determined to not only get my own back, but to give him the ultimate humiliation of losing to someone he didn’t see as a credible threat.

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His gorgeous, perfectly defined abs made for an oh-so-inviting target, too.

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He didn’t seem to like me standing on them and flexing.

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As I listened to his groans as I put him through the wringer, I began to believe, you know? Believe that I could beat him, believe that I could be a BGEast star, believe that I, a rookie in my first match for the company, could take down one of their biggest and nastiest heels–something no one else had done so far.

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I also was learning that I liked being in control, punishing my opponent, and even humiliating him a bit.

I also learned about over-confidence.

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TO BE CONTINUED

Touch My Body

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It took me a while–and a lot of pain–to finally make it into the ring with Cole Cassidy.

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He kept ambushing me–and beating on me–and not letting me get into the ring. I could get up to the ring apron, but once there–yeah.

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Did I mention he kept taunting me, too? Yeah, there I was, crumpled on the mat outside the ring, my back and abs aching, trying to catch my breath…and then over it all I can hear him sneering at me.

Sneering.

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Yeah, I took a lot of shit from him.

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But you see–there’s another lesson I learned early in pro wrestling: never go to the well too many times. Cole kept coming back out of the ring and after me…enjoying himself, obviously–and finally his overconfidence (and to be fair, who wouldn’t be overconfident at this point? It’s not like I’d even landed a fucking blow) was his undoing.

I got a great punch into his abs and doubled him over.

And it was time for some goddamned payback.

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to be continued

Body Rock

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No, not intimidating in the least.

 

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The set up for the match was basically this: Cage, new wrestler in the BGEast Arena stable, wants to wrestle, and has challenged, Cole Cassidy, one of the nastiest heels ever to climb through the ropes for the BGEast cameras.

This is what the write-up on the website has to say:

Cage Thunder is one well-traveled wrestler. He’s faced some of the toughest men all over the world, but is always ready for more challenge. Of course, plenty of his hard-earned experience has come at the cost of some harsh punishment, but the masked star has never backed down from a challenge yet. Still, someone might want to offer Cage a little friendly advice before he bites of more than he can chew, if he hasn’t already. When Cage let slip he’d be willing to take on dom heel and destroyer of men Cole Cassidy, more than a few ears perked up, and at least one devious mind set the wheels of fate in motion.

When word reached Cole he had a potential challenger (victim) in the making, he just had one question: “Where is he hiding?” Cut to Cage Thunder’s daily gym workout at one of the rings he frequents: sans mask, pumping iron with thoughts of taking Cole Cassidy to the mats on his mind? When none other than Cole himself barges in, Cage is caught off guard to say the least. His hopes that the alpha male doesn’t recognize him, and just there for a workout, quickly dim as Cole’s attitude makes it clear he’s not here for a pump. The beast is a specimen of physical perfection as he slowly strips his street clothes away, down to a simple pair of briefs, revealing his marvelously muscled physique, every curve and ridge of muscular definition standing out in stark contrast, as though to impress anyone in the gym able to catch a glimpse.

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When Cage tries continue his routine, Cole humors him, sliding into a weight machine himself and working up a sweat as he pumps up his already impressive pecs, watching an increasingly nervous Cage from across the gym. When Cassidy has finally had enough of the game and gets in Cage’s face, the soon-to-be victim tries to rise to the challenge, only to have Cole bury his fist wrist-deep in Cage’s abs. Thunder finds himself slammed to the wall, gasping for breath before Cole’s fingers clench ’round his throat and force him upright. A few more fists and knees to the gut with Cage pinned to the wall and Cole finally lets him slump down, choking and panting. “I thought you wanted to wrestle Cole Cassidy?” He mocks his already downed and exposed challenger.

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And yes, for an aspiring pro wrestler, there’s nothing quite so humiliating as getting your ass kicked completely before you even get in the ring.

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Choked, stomped, slammed, punched and beaten before I even got in the ring!

And it was beginning to look like I was never going to even get in Cole’s ring….

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to be continued….

Ole King Cole

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When I first started doing pro wrestling, I was told, “look at every match as a learning experience.  The only way to get better is to learn.”

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So, what did I learn from wrestling Cole Cassidy?

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I learned that he knew a variety of ways to bend my body into insanely twisted shapes, for one.

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I also learned that an expert heel always has a reserve left in the tank–no matter what you’ve done to them, no matter how much pain you’ve put them in, no matter if you’ve wrung some submissions out of them–you pretty much have to knock them out to claim the win, because they’ll always, like Jason or Michael Meyers, rise from the dead even more energized than before.

They feed off being punished.

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And despite what you might read on the website’s write-up of this match, I wasn’t a complete practicing dummy for Mr. Cassidy. I got some licks in.

TO BE CONTINUED

Small Packages

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So, before I get back to talking about my match with Cole Cassidy, let’s spend some time appreciating him, shall we?

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Despite the way his charisma and personality make him seem larger than life on camera–and in pictures–he’s shorter than I am: 5’8 and weighs 166 pounds. Despite the small stature, let me assure you in all my years as a fan, I never noticed his size.

He always loomed large to me.

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Maybe it’s the viciousness? Or did giving up size to his opponents turn him vicious? Some mysteries will never be solved.

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I am sure no small part of his presence has to do with the extraordinary vascularity of his impressive musculature. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone before (outside of bodybuilding competitions) with such exceptional size and defined so perfectly. Look at the veins roadmapping his quads, his lower abs, arms and shoulders.

Fuck me.

I would literally have to work out every day and exist solely on protein shakes for a year to get that cut and vascular.

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The sunglasses are a nice touch, and even when he smiles…you never completely relax…

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Plus, he does the evil cowboy look perfectly, and that’s a button for me.

He often surrenders size to his opponents–Mitch Colby, Powergunz, Alexi Adamov and Drew Russell all come to mind, out of the scores of people he’s beaten the shit out of for BGEast–but the advantage you’d think this would give his opponents is negligible.

He can cut an opponent down to size pretty fucking fast.

As I said, before I met and got into the ring with him, he was kind of an idol of mine. He still is–I still enjoy watching him cut some arrogant muscleboy off at the knees and making them whimper and plead for mercy–and after wrestling him, I admired him even more.

TO BE CONTINUED