Holy.... shit. Good God almighty. Sweet Jesus! There's just no other way to describe it. This was a religious experience for me. I am completely captivated and captured by this match!
Kid K and Jake tell a truly classic pro tale. The rookie is all eager, flexing in the locker room mirror, tucking in the drawstrings of his stark, white speedos and pulling up his kneepads. He's a rock hard, barefoot warrior ready to conquer. Like a spider, however, Kid K descends in black boots, black knee pads, and black trunks. A locker room ambush is the rookie's first lesson: always keep looking over your shoulder, Jake!
It's a schooling, nearly from start to finish. Kid K drags the rookie around, quite literally by the scruff of his neck. He toys with Jake. He preens and proves over and over that this is "sport" only in the sense that shooting clay pigeons from the deck of a cruise ship is sport. Lightweight hunk Jake is easy prey for being tossed and flipped, hurled and hammered mercilessly by a salivating Kid K. The Kid sets his sights early and unceasingly on Jake's beautiful lower back. A few body slams to soften him up set the stage for the first of several excruciatingly lingering camel clutches that stretch and strain Jake's neck and back. Prying the rookie's head sharply backward with a fistful of hair on one hand, Kid K crunches out a massively peaked single bicep with his other, all to the soundtrack of Jake sobbing in agony.
Kid K is nastier than I've ever seen him, and he's punching every button I've got. He looks like he relishes every boot he pounds into Jake's naked back almost as much as he's seriously getting off on flexing and posing over top of the battered rookie. I expect Kid K at any moment to yank down his trunks and pound out a couple of quarts in eye fluttering ecstasy. He doesn't, of course... me, on the other hand....
Kid K is like a master artist in this match. He has a delightful knack for carefully positioning almost every long, lingeringly held hold so that he (and we) can admire both his and Jake's ripped bodies. There are no wasted motions, nothing abrupt or interrupted as the master chips away at this masterpiece. Right around 7 minutes into the match, he has Jake weeping in another camel clutch. As the camera zooms in for a close up, Kid K looks right at you and me with a sly grin, even as he barks at Jake, "Give up!?" He captures Jake's chin in his left hand and pries the rookie's head both backward and around, making the veins in Jake's neck rise to the surface. When Jake refuses to give, Kid K rocks back and forth, sliding his hips forward and backward, wrenching on the poor rookie's back that much harder. I swear, it looks like Kid K is dry humping the young stud's sweaty, corded back.
Kid K pushes his luck, like all narcissists do sooner or later. He throws in one too many showboating cartwheels on his way toward using his body like a battering ram against Jake in the corner. At the last moment, Jake lifts his elbow and catches the red-headed terror in the face. A truly stunning flying head scissors illustrates that Jake is filling out a legitimate pro wrestling arsenal very quickly. Kid K's unnecessary roughness has bruised hot young Jake's ego a little too much, perhaps, inspiring the rookie to return the favor and drag Kid K to his feet by an iron clad fistful of hair. The massive sweat stain that Kid K leaves on the mat after getting awesomely flattened by a Jake Jenkins drop kick makes me swoon, hit rewind, swoon again, hit rewind again, and then swoon for a third time. Suplex after sweaty suplex winds the boy in black. But not for long.
Prying Jake's back like a twist-tie around the ring post is every second as long as it needs to be to get the job done on Kid K's side of the camera and on mine. And, okay, so I don't have a strangling fetish, but sweet Jesus, when Kid K plants his claws around Jake's neck, schoolboy pinning him and making the rookie's face turn bright red, I can't deny it. That's fucking hot!
I can't decide who's ass works me harder (though I'd love to give that a road test), Jake's tightly packed, athletic glutes or Kid Karisma's mind-blowingly round muscle butt. Jake's sweet ass is beautifully and generously displayed, as Kid K lifts him off his feet in a groaning, gasping bearhug. A reverse bearhug chaser, gives us a long look at just about every inch of Jake's dripping body. I swear, a reverse bearhug never looked so much like a power-fuck!
So I've got just a few conclusions to wrap up this inadequate attempt to capture a profound spiritual experience. First conclusion, I was never so right as the day I picked Jake Jenkins to be my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month. I'm on my knees begging the gods to send us more of Jake. Second conclusion, someone (and he knows who he is) seriously needs that spanking for keeping this treasure out of my hands even a second longer than necessary (you didn't think I'd seriously forgotten!?).
And a third and final conclusion, Kid Karisma can simply do no wrong when it comes to my homoerotic wrestling kink entertainment these days. Time after time, he's brought his ridiculously sexy brand of nastiness into my wrestling fantasies, doing to one pretty little thing after another, with masterful precision, exactly what I'm longing for him to do. It's a momentous day, and regular readers can attest that this does not happen all that frequently, but Hunkbash 12 has convinced me without a shadow of a doubt that Kid K has broken into the top ranks of my favorite homoerotic wrestlers - non-pornboys. That's right, Joshua Goodman! Kid Karisma has refused to call you Mr. Joshua and instead slapped you and your pendulous package back into the ranks of the not-quite contenders. I wouldn't be at all surprised to see Mr. Joshua claw his way back into contention, but for now, as of this moment, Lon Dumont had better watch his rippled back, because Kid Karisma is my new top contender for the title of my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler - non-pornboy.