Saturday, October 8, 2011

Movement in the Ranks

The mental exercise of crowning "favorites" among the homoerotic wrestlers that I enjoy watching fascinates me. I get attached to my overall favorites. I don't want to let them go, to let someone unseat them once I've said out loud, "This guy rocks me harder than just about anybody else." So regular readers will back me up when I say that it doesn't happen often that one of my favorites is replaced. Today is just such a momentum occasion, however. Mitch Colby has held the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy or at least top contender for that title almost without pause since I started keeping track of such things. I find Mitch's body profoundly moving, and there's an authenticity to his wrestling that, without fail, has the effect of making it nearly impossible for me to tear my eyes away from him as he grunts, strains, flexes and crushes his way through one opponent after another. I'm deeply aroused by the sight of Mitch's focused concentration as he picks apart some lucky loser, and I'm arguably even a little more aroused to watch Mitch throw everything he's got at some superhuman freak only to be conquered and dominated in the end. Any new release with Mitch is instantly at the top of my to-buy list.

Mitch got those beautiful abs of his tested hard in Florida Fights 3
However, all that said, his latest new release came out in a batch of fantastic BG East wrestling that figuratively positioned Mitch side-by-side with a certain ferocious, rumbling bundle of nerves, nerve and sexuality that I've had my eye on for quite some time. I simply couldn't ignore the juxtaposition of Mitch's Florida Fights 3 bout and my growing crush on a certain grappler from Mat Scraps 1. While it's certainly not that I don't love Mitch's high impact ring battle with Vlad Varek, I cannot help but note that Skrapper's mat scrap against epic coverboy Z-Man has catapulted the skrappy one over top of favorite emeritus Mitch. It's been a rare day in neverland that Mitch has been out of the the top two, but today I'm lustfully and enthusiastically elevating Skrapper to the position of number 1 contender for the title as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy - right behind a dangerously quiet Trent Diesel.

The new #1 contender to the title of my
Favorite Homoerotic Wrestling Pornboy
I'm just going to put it right out there. I do not believe that Skrapper is pretty. I do, however, think he's sexy... as... HELL.  Typically I wax poetic about the size and heft of my favorite wrestler's bulges, but Skrapper is a different story. Not to say that he doesn't have a gorgeous ass and more-than-a-mouthful of a package, but the first words that pop into my mind in contemplating Skrapper's physique are lean, lanky, and wiry.  He's got beautifully conditioned muscles in all the right places, but he's no pretty coverboy with low slung pecs or massive biceps. At 5'10" and 145 pounds, he's an astonishingly tight package without an ounce of bodyfat or merely gym toned muscle. He's got an unconventionally handsome face with awesomely kissable lips and an aristocratic nose. I'd pick him out of any crowd as someone I'd desperately want to notice me. And if he did, and if he opened his mouth to speak, I'd be a goner.

"You're losing so fast, dude!"
That voice! To be completely transparent, the word "Dude" is not a turn-on for me. And yet when Skrapper uses the word, as he does with relentless regularity, the timbre of his voice somehow skips right past my cerebellum and speaks directly to my cock. Perfect case in point: just about 2 minutes into his fearless face off with babyface extraordinary and homoerotic wrestler of the month, Z-Man. As is often the case, Skrapper starts wrestling about 2 speeds higher in intensity than his opponent. Z-Man looks for a moment like he's going to have absolutely zero to offer against the raging focus of the skrappy one. "Damn!" Skrapper snarls, "you're losing so fast, dude!" Holy shit, that irreverent, cocky, nothing to lose so I'll fuck you over 9 ways to Sunday, skater badboy bass voice of his makes me nearly lose a load before Z-Man manages to get his groove going.

Beat that shit-eating grin off of face, Skrapper!!!
But it's later in the match that Skrapper seals the deal to knock the knees out from under Mitch and demand my affections. Z-Man has a history (at least as far as I'm telling it) of hamming and mugging for the camera. BG East has been beating the living shit out of him since he arrived within their sphere of influence, such that he doesn't have much time between grimaces to manage a cheesy smile. He does, however, still puke one out every so often, and they remain a serious buzz kill for me. So when Skrapper nearly rips the coverboy in half, he heaps on what is undeniably more punishment than is really necessary to make the muscleboy submit. When Z-Man hops up to his feet after conceding the fall, he looks like he's ready to punch his fist through the back of Skrapper's skull. "What!?" Skrapper demands. "That's what you get for smiling at me, dude!" There. Right at that moment. Skrapper climbed into the top contender spot right there, punishing Z-Man not just for being pretty and cocky and screamin' for it, but because Skrapper knows that fucking grin on the coverboy is a buzz kill and he deserves to be punished mercilessly anytime he pulls it out. I've been jonesin' for someone to not only punish him for the shit-eating grin, but to call Z-Man out for it!

Driving home the point that you might want to just leave a
sleeping Skrapper lie.
Skrapper does not always win his matches. This is not a problem, and indeed it can heighten a wrestler's allure as far as I'm concerned, if he makes the most of even a loss. Take, for example, Skrapper's eventual loss at the hands of AJ Lyle in Undagear 17. Seriously, justice is on Skrapper's side. He was just sleeping in the BG East matroom when AJ comes in, wakes him up, and tries to bully him out of his way. Fast-forward to the end of this scrap and you'll be treated to Skrapper stripped naked and battered into complete and helpless exhaustion as the sweaty victor climbs on to use the skrappy one like his own electric blanket. Now rewind back to the beginning again, and watch how fucking irrepressible Skrapper is every single second of this match. True enough, he takes the loss and humiliation in the end. I sort of suspect he may have just had a hankering for a taste for giving up a cock-to-cock submission. But any way you slice it, pause the DVD at pretty much any point in the relentless battle, and you're likely to see Skrapper firmly in charge or battling his way back from getting tossed around by his bigger opponent. Win or lose, you get the impression that Skrapper never really relinquishes the reins of psychological control in a match.

Kid Vicious & Skrapper's understandable mutual admiration in Sexy Showdown 5: Florida Fun
It's no wonder that in his relatively brief career in homoerotic wrestling, BG East has put him in the faces of some of the biggest and baddest boys on record. His encounter with notorious heel Kid Vicious left me breathless for all the right reasons, first and foremost the amazement to watch KV have to work to keep up with the eroticism (which he does, of course)! This is the most intensely erotic match I've seen Skrapper in, and frankly I'm not sure if there are many other than the likes of KV who can really match the inherent sensuality and eroticism that Skrapper brings with just a look and a snarl. There are moments in the match that make me gasp because Skrapper doesn't just get riding time and take control of arguably the baddest boy in the stable: he humiliates him. Folding KV up, sitting on his face, and peeling the vicious bastard's trunks down to expose his ass in utter helpless humiliation is a position that far bigger and more accomplished wrestlers have only dreamed of.

It's not easy, but clearly it's rewarding to take
Skrapper firmly in hand
This match is also where Skrapper earns his way into the adored ranks of homoerotic wrestling pornboys, the way I count them. Not only do both wrestlers lose their trunks, but KV succeeds in planting his ass across Skrapper's mouth and, after pummeling Skrapper's cock forEVER, he teases and strokes that battered joystick back to life until Skrapper erupts in ecstasy, his groans of pleasure muffled up KV's ass. Holy hell! Have I used that expression already in this post? Those words come out of my mouth multiple times in just about every Skrapper match I've had the pleasure to enjoy.

Passing the torch
And speaking of enjoy, it's so ironic as to seem like fate that Skrapper and Mitch generated such intoxicating chemistry in their voracious mat battle in Catch Weight 3.  The weight differential is simply  too much for Skrapper to make up, but he makes Mitch pay dearly for absolutely any split second of distraction or loss of focus. No wonder at all that he earns a trip hoisted over Mitch's stone-carved shoulder once all is said and done, to be fireman-carried poolside and tossed in. Illustrating why Mitch has so long been in the ranks of the elite of my favorites, he quickly dove in after his prey to crush him once more in a wet bearhug that merges seamlessly into a make-out session with Skrapper perched across Mitch's crotch.

I call next!
It seems hard for most of Skrapper's opponents to resist the temptation to slide their tongues between those beautiful lips sooner or later.  Skrapper's one victory, prior to knocking Z-Man out cold and wreaking divine retribution on behalf of all of us who've screamed at our computer screens when the coverboy broke character and grinned like a Cheshire cat, was a lightweight battle for the books against  perennial jobber Skip Vance. Seriously now. If Skrapper can make the likes of Brook Stetson work his 240 pound ass off to finally tame the feral beast, 135 pound Skip was doomed from well before the start of their Wrestleshack rendezvous. Gorgeously naked bodies, crushed and battered, seamlessly meld into sweat-soaked, fully aroused paramours. Skip hardly seems to mind Skrapper prying his face to the side with a handful of Skip's hair in order to lock lips and grind crotches.


I'm sure Mitch will always work me hard, but it's a lightweight, lanky, skater punk wildcat with an obvious lust to dominate that leaves him so loathe to submit that even the big, big boys have no choice but to knock him out cold and carry him from the mat in order to make him quit, who's in undisputed possession of the top contender spot in my rankings of homoerotic wrestling pornboys who turn me on. And a little word of advice to Trent Diesel: you'd better get your ass back out on the mat soon, pretty boy, because there's a feral, lanky unstoppable force of nature with a wildly sexy bass voice and a complete lack of awareness of when to give up who's ready to plow you into second place... dude!

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