BG East

Posts Tagged With ‘BG East’

Rico Rave vs Sky Davis

Natural Enemies

Sky’s ponytail is not the only thing coltish about the babyface. Though experienced, he’s still green, and his long, slender legs aren’t quite as steady on the ring floor as they ought to be, but he bucks and bounds with youthful energy and high aspirations. His enthusiasm can be an advantage against a world-weary veteran like Rico Rave or it can blind the kid to the real risks of taking on a powerful, seasoned opponent. Both Sky and Rico come to us from the world of professional wrestling, but Rico has six previous BG East matches to Sky’s one. Rico also has about thirty pounds on Sky, which is a difference that can definitely be FELT in a pro ring war.

Rico takes one look at Sky and huffs contemptuously. He scrapes his boots on the floor like a bull ready to charge and then swaggers to the ring. He motions to Sky to keep his distance as he performs the slow and ostentatious ritual of removing his leather jacket and steel-rimmed shades in front of the mirror. The two wrestlers circle each other silently and warily and then suddenly lock up. Rico takes Sky down with a leg lock and proceeds to stomp the longhair kid’s hamstrings. Sky retaliates with a deftly executed cross armbar. After some spirited give and take, Rico takes command by pulling Sky backwards by his long hair and plowing a black boot into the youngster’s solar plexus. The two wrestlers are highly expressive, elevating the ring drama and pulling the viewer into the emotions and sensations of manual combat. Rico stands out as a heel who openly enjoys hurting people, especially young go-getters like Sky Davis.

No sooner does Sky push back than Rico reins him in by his long blond hair and slaps him into the ring corner. There Rico delivers a man-style drubbing with closed-fist punches to the face and boot stomps to the heart. Then he rakes Sky’s forehead and eyes across the top rope before thrusting him backwards to the center of the ring. Blindly and futilely, Sky charges back at Rico, only to be unceremoniously pounded face first to the mat. Rico circles Sky menacingly. He goes for one of his favorite holds, the side headlock, churning Sky’s head, his ponytail by now completely undone, between his bicep and chest. Sky elbows his way loose and springboards off the ropes for a valiant comeback, putting Rico into the same headlock he had just escaped. It’s a long slow grind as Rico struggles to escape by yanking Sky’s hair and pulling the kid up off his feet, but Sky latches on even tighter.

It’s a great moment for fans of the side headlock (you know who you are). Rico breaks free by driving himself and his opponent down to the mat. Quick to his feet, Sky bounds back, reapplies the hold and hip-tosses Rico to the mat. The two struggle to their feet, the headlock still in place. Sky releases the hold only to come flying back with a forearm thrust to Rico’s face. He briefly reasserts the headlock before segueing to a snapmare and armlock. But Rico’s added weight and years of experience come into play as pure brute force counters Sky’s bounce and vitality. Enraged, Rico trounces Sky against the ropes, on the mat, weaponizing every feature of the ring in his determination to squash the youngster.

Given the physical disparities between the two wrestlers, the persistent give and take comes as a surprise, a happy one, as experience and brute force butt up against passion and vigor. No sooner do we think we understand the trajectory of this battle than something happens to reverse the momentum. The ferocity of the fight intensifies minute by minute. Persistent hair-pulling and low blows suffuse the battle with a strongly erotic subtext, undeniable but understated throughout, not at all unusual for BG East, where martial dominance often equates to sexual power. Either man is capable of winning this match, as the action repeatedly demonstrates. Both reach near exhaustion by the end, when a volley of classic wrestling maneuvers (from camel clutch to crab hold to figure four) leads to the cataclysmic piledriver that neatly ties up the loose strings.

Jonny Firestorm vs Rory MacLeod

Fair and Square?

Best known to BG East fans for his now notorious run-ins with Aryx Quinn and Dick Rick, Rory Macleod takes on another one of the company’s stalwarts, Jonny Firestorm. From the beginning Rory has made it clear he is unwilling to roll over and play dead for any of The Boss’s stable of pretty-boy wrestlers. Proud of his fight skills and technical training in both the UK and US, he turned up his nose at the very idea that it is customary in pro wrestling to rub the newcomer’s nose into the canvas. “Then you better find a wrassler who can do it proper cause I am NOT a jobber.” Having now proved his mettle, even if without the perfect string of wins he had expected on this side of the Atlantic, Rory squares off against a similarly tempered fighter in Jonny, who comes to the ring in a blazing singlet with skull-and-crossbones painted over his midsection. The two men eye each other warily from their respective corners, each determined to prove to be the better man. Without speaking, Rory proffers his hand, signifying his intention to fight a fair and aboveboard fight. Jonny somewhat reluctantly reciprocates.

Rory is a good bit bigger and heavier than Jonny, but you cannot tell it from the way the two lock up. Jonny swerves behind his opponent, fastening his fingers just below the man’s sternum. Rory pries the hands loose and reverses. In turn, Jonny wriggles free and locks up Rory’s left arm. Rory rolls out of the armlock and again reverses. All legitimate textbook tactics, so we just might be looking at a purely scientific contest here, not a first or only for BGE but, let’s face it, still pretty rare. Fighting on the up and up does not preclude Jonny from grinding his forearm to his opponent’s shoulder joint, apparently to no other end than to cause the guy some pain. Obviously Jonny is itching to notch up the aggression in this bout. Unusually for a ring war, the competitors steer clear of the ropes, for the most part keeping the action on the mat. After some introductory give and take, Jonny takes Rory down for some folkstyle grappling, in which both men are proficient. On the mat the size difference between the two appears to make less of a difference.

Without a lot of trash talking (yet), Macleod-versus-Firestorm is still music to the ears for some of us. Some of us wrestling enthusiasts enjoy the human sounds of wrestling, the huffs and puffs of entwined combatants, the squeak of flesh and bone against the mat, the percussive groans of man struggling against man. Silent video footage or the overwhelming roar of a crowd robs a good match of a good two-thirds of its punch. Not so, here. Five minutes into the fight and you could swear you hear the sweat trickling off the wrestlers’ shoulders. A succession of moves that shift control from one man to the next provides lengthy riding times for both, bodies in tight on each other, the torso weighing down to limit mobility of the arms and legs. In this one area, at least, Rory may have an advantage, but Jonny’s having none of it, his quick and light movements sufficient to force Macleod to frantically grab for the bottom rope to escape.

The two separate. Then, Rory comes on like gangbusters, determined to make good on his intention to grind Jonny into the mat … but fairly and squarely, of course. Again, Jonny’s agility proves to be too much for Rory. Jonny squirms loose of Macleod’s noisy assault and leverages the man’s weight against him. He grabs Rory’s knees by his arms and legs and painfully splits his thighs, cracking the Scotsman open like a boiled crab. “No ropes this time,” Jonny announces, as Rory yelps in pain. Stubbornly refusing to submit, Rory manages to escape. What follows is a short series of excruciating holds, the two trading off the advantage, which for any other two men would end in panicked submissions. But Jonny and Rory hang tough through the pain, until Jonny gains the first fall with a pendulum backbreaker, dead center of the squared circle.

Rory tries to even the score with the next fall, coming on more strongly and brutally than before. When he nearly rips Jonny’s left arm from his socket, tempers flare, and the action takes a sudden turn towards all-out war. Snapmares, closed-fist punching, and use of the ring posts gradually swerve this contest towards the kind of merciless pro-style mayhem we have come to expect of BG East and most definitely of Jonny Firestorm. It’s a gladiatorial fight to the finish. Both warriors throw the rulebook away and go for the jugular, the action rising towards a spinning piledriver that knocks one wrestler out cold and leaves the victor still gasping for air as he exits the ring, limping slightly but victorious.

Joe Robbins vs Exavier

Mirror, Mirror…!

Wisecracking playboy Exavier is back at BG East to face off against the man he was born to wrestle: Joe Robbins! Robbins looks like he just stepped off the front cover of a classic DC comic … “cut in stone,” as he immodestly describes his superheroic physique. In his trademark silver trunks, he looks “peak” in every possible way, snapping his muscles to attention in a series of awe-inspiring poses in front of the mirror and camera. So caught up is he in self-adoration that he doesn’t even notice Exavier busting a few disco moves as he approaches ringside. Being ignored is not something Exavier tolerates, especially when Joe is hogging a ring that Exavier claims belongs to him.

Exavier tries to out-gun Joe with a few poses of his own, only to be unceremoniously shoved aside as Robbins reclaims the center of the squared circle. In a true old-school heel move, Exavier retaliates by assaulting Joe from behind. The thing is, though, Joe doesn’t even register the attack, budging not one inch! He merely turns around and blithely shoves his attacker into the ropes. Exavier springs back, and the two lock up in a collar-and-elbow worthy of a couple of Titans. Pushed into the corner ropes, Exavier pantomimes fear and respect with a supplicating gesture, luring Robbins in for a reversal and corner beating. Joe fights back but swaggeringly falls for the oh-my-god-you’re-so-strong ploy again, only to find himself getting clobbered in the opposite corner.

Exavier seems to think his fast cunning and brains can trump Robbins’ raw power and muscle, but he’s got another thing coming. He fools Joe twice, but self-confidence weighs nothing compared to the steely brute aggression Joe has demonstrated time and time again here at BG East. Getting too close to the cyclone, Exavier lands facefirst to the turnbuckle with Joe’s boot grinding into his lower back. He proposes that the two of them “share” the mirror, but at this moment Exavier is in no position to negotiate. “Can’t you take a joke?” he sobs as the humorless muscle god uses him as a doormat and then kicks him out of the ring.

“You can pose as long as you want,” a suddenly conciliatory Exavier sputters, on his hands and knees at ringside. But now that his appetite for fighting has been whetted, Joe pulls him back through the ropes for some more roughing up. Joe wrings out Exavier’s spine like a wet rag, then pounds the man flat to the mat. “I’m not a toy,” Exavier objects. “This stuff hurts!” he says, his voice cracking. As any longtime fan of BG East could have told him, Exavier’s whinging complaints only fuel Joe’s deadly determination to humiliate and destroy him. Bent backwards over the man’s knee, Exavier escapes by raking his fingernails across Joe’s eyes, but his punishment is still far from over.

If he can only keep his eyes on the prize, Robbins can defeat the spineless trickster, but there’s that damned frigging mirror to contend with! The mirror is Exavier’s secret ally in this match, drawing Joe’s eyes away from the demolition of his wisecracking opponent in the wine-red velvet trunks and giving fancy-pants Exavier some spare seconds to plot and execute a reprisal. Exavier’s ace in the hole is his penchant for cheap low blows and Pier 6 brawling. It’s his willingness to go as low and as far as necessary that keeps this war from being a one-sided beatdown. After Exavier repays Joe smack for smack, we enter into the dizzying final stretch of this fight, as torture racks counter ramrods to the crotch, leading up to a killer finish as victor chokes out the loser and then rolls him to the floor, claiming the BGE ring as his own! These guys are at their very best against each other, and they squeeze the last drop of drama out of this sure-to-be classic matchup!

Guido Genatto vs. Chet Chastain

Oh Hell Yeah! Hero Worship Literally at the Hero’s Feet

“That’s right there is a SEX GOD!” Guido proclaims as he pops his biceps in front of the mirror. Standing on the ring apron, Chet is his moonstruck audience, a longtime fan, anxious to learn the fine art of heelery at the feet of perhaps the most brutal and charismatic heel at BG East today. Chet Chastain caught everybody’s attention earlier this year in a badboy-versus-badboy duel against Dolph Danner. He was indeed impressive. Then, again, what could be more perfect? He has the face and bod of a babyface and the soul of a cad! The kid has dreamed of becoming a pro-wrestling heel since kindergarten. Still, he’s facing the Daddy of All Dirtbags in Guido Genatto, the man who famously introduced himself to sweet, young Kip Sorell last year by kicking him in the head. Consensus here at BGE is that young Mister Chastain is going to be taken to school in ways he cannot even imagine, and all in the name of hero-worship!

Guido orders the heel-in-training to perform a few squats. He wants to check out the guy’s form. Nothing to complain about in that department. Straight back, firm buns, well-formed pecs and abs. Next Guido wants to see his pushups. Chet complies. Then, true to form, guileful Guido hops on the recruit’s back and clutches his chin, mussing Chet’s hundred-dollar haircut against his hairy chest. Genatto eases down into a riding position, his thickly muscled thighs flanking the smaller wrestler’s ribcage. “Doesn’t it feel good?” he asks suggestively, murmuring into Chet’s ear. “No, it doesn’t fuckin’ feel good!” Chet spits out the words. “Spread those legs!” Guido demands in his velvetiest voice. He forces Chet’s legs open with his knees. Guido’s messing with the wannabe heel’s head in a big way. Chet strains to push himself up, attempting to escape, but Guido is just too big to budge.

With a derisive laugh, Guido rises to his feet, commanding the flunky to get on his back. Again Chet unquestioningly complies. Guido stands on the toes of the rookie’s boots. He wants to see some sit-ups. He admires the flexing abdominals before him. As if unable to stop himself, he lunges, sinking his fingers into the midsection. Guido iron-claws Chet’s abs, pressing down with his full 235 pounds, his forearm braced against his victim’s jaw. A double claw hold follows, then a couple of pincer-like plucks to the crotch. Guido knows his audience by now. Hell, the guy arrived at BG East knowing his audience like the back of his hand. Equally a master of painful holds and raunchy humiliations, in Fan Fantasy 3 Guido gives full rein to his talent for double entendre and double top wrist locks.

Trust us on this one: Few things are more enjoyable than to watch lithe Chet struggle and squirm in the grip of Guido’s figure-four choke hold, which soon enough transitions to a luxuriously long head scissors. Chet coughs drily, his lips just inches from the daddy-heel’s crotch. Ready to show his mettle, Chet reverses the scissors, seemingly with success, but then Guido casually peels the legs away like he’s removing a winter scarf. Guido resumes choking the ambitious stud, bringing him back in line, bending the newcomer to his will. In a bold and frankly bizarre move, Guido lies on his back, spread-eagle, and orders Chet to squat down on his face! Chet is unnerved by Guido’s sadistic laughter. He balks. He seems to know better but for some reason can’t stop himself from stepping … er, “squatting” — into yet another of Genatto’s cleverly laid traps.

“Look at us! Look at us together! We are going to be the best team ever!” Guido exults while admiring the tight, merciless leglock he binds Chet with, somewhat later in the match. If in fact Guido succeeds in whipping Chet into shape as a Grade-A bad-ass, these two will no doubt sizzle as daddy-and-son heels in future matches. (We can only hope and pray!) Ball grabbing, hair pulling, dry humping, extreme (like-you-wouldn’t-believe) crab holds, and forced hip swiveling: this fantasy fight is bursting with malicious treats.

Drake Marcos vs Steven Ponce

Pleasure and Pain

Despite earnest and persistent efforts to chat him up and be friendly, Drake complains that Steven Ponce, a well known disc-jockey and stud around town, won’t give him the time of day. Drake harbored horny hopes that the hairy hunk might be interested in a very private match one warm South Florida night in a darkened BG East Arena. He had met Steven more than once at previous BG “events” but the randy redhead seems unable or unwilling to remember or recognize an embarrassed and annoyed Drake. This seemingly rude rebuke sticks in Drake’s craw and when the opportunity arises to take Ponce on for the BG East cameras, Drake salivates at the prospect of claiming some respect – the hard way!

Steven Ponce’s form-fitting bodysuit catches Drake Marcos’ attention right away. Drake likes it alright, but he was kind of hoping for something … less. In any event, he takes the initiative, dragging the ginger latino down, trapping him in his arms and legs, and then binding him in a combination of full nelson and body scissors. He transitions to a double chicken-wing hold and a stiff spanking. Steven returns the favor, initiating a taunting pattern of give and take (and oneupmanship) that persists for most of the match.

We last saw Drake and Steven in X-Fights 38, in which Steven made eternal twink Skip Vance his bitch and Drake butch-bottomed for Lorenzo “Jake” Lowe in a match BG East customers voted the sexiest of 2014. It’s no surprise, then, that these two should set their sights on each other for this 42-minute hot and horny skivvy skirmish.

Though close in weight, Drake and Steven are physically a study in contrasts. Perenially smiling Drake is lean and long-limbed, four inches taller than confident Steven, who is broad-shouldered and meaty. Drake Marcos personifies the “boy next door.” Steven Ponce is made of somewhat darker material, as he demonstrated last year against macho-daddy Ray Dalton in Dark Knights 11, also nominated as one of 2014’s sexiest matches.

Seven minutes in, Drake wins the first fall by submission. It’s a hard-won victory, and by now both wrestlers are sweaty and panting for air. Drake rubs his solidly built conquest down like a racehorse while freeing him of his bodysuit, saying, “Let’s see what you got underneath here.” Steven doesn’t resist, unaffectedly standing buck naked, his cock having firmed up in the press and strain of defeat. Drake rummages through his bag for something smaller for the guy to wear. Drake settles on a pair of luminous blue briefs, which Steven slips into while muttering, with a slight, mocking smirk, “You’re dead.”

Seconds later, a full nelson has Drake writhing in Steven’s arms, whether in agony or ecstasy, it’s hard to tell. Drake retaliates by climbing all over Steven till a schoolboy pin suddenly fastens his shoulders to the mat. Steven thrusts the crotch of his briefs to Drake’s mouth. He tells Drake to surrender to him. His voice makes the word “surrender” seductive. He slides down the tall, slim body so they are crotch to crotch while he stretches Drake’s long arms high over his head. A camel clutch finally convinces Marcos to tap out.

The combination of foreplay and horseplay raises the temperature in the mat room to scorching. At the halfway point, Ponce looks like the man in charge, though it would be a mistake to count Marcos out this early. Both wrestlers lose their gear, Drake first, then Steven. Full nelsons, bear hugs, and 69 headscissors keep the two bodies interlocked and writhing. In the end, the victor pins his opponent and strokes his cock to climax while the loser sucks his balls. Next, it’s the loser’s turn to shoot, while the victor stands over him, foot on the side of his face, his neck, and finally his chest. Man mastering man never looked sexier. Another hot hit from the X-Fights series, unique to and available only from BG East.

Lon Dumont vs Charlie Panther

Don’t Piss Off a Bodybuilder!

Competitive bodybuilder Lon Dumont is one of the most methodical, disciplined, focused athletes you’ll ever encounter. All of that hard work earns the hot hunk dividends, both inside and outside the ring. Having just won a trophy in his latest bodybuilding competition the night before, still sporting his spray on tan, Lon indulges in his post-competition ritual of binging on pizza to cap off six months of starvation dieting.

Pro-wrestler Charlie Panther is intrigued to find the bodybuilding champ stuffing his face ringside. Convinced he deserves the trophy more than Lon, Charlie challenges the bodybuilder to a pose down. “The world wants to see who has the best muscles this arena has to offer!”

“Fans of mine have come to expect a certain look from me,” Lon declines politely, “and right now, today, sure I look better than anyone else, but I’m not up to my personal standards. So, some other time.” As you might have guessed, however, Charlie Panther doesn’t take “no” for an answer. Bashing the bodybuilder with his own trophy, Charlie launches a brutal assault on the carb-drunk physique star. Ripping off Lon’s top, he insists on giving the fans the side-by-side muscle comparison he knows you’re craving. “That’s what you get when you don’t give the Big Cat what he wants,” Charlie sneers, stomping Lon in the gut. “The people want to see your body next to my body!”

Starvation dieting leaves even premiere athletes like Lon with depleted reserves and a short fuse. He sucks down an avalanche of domineering abuse from his skilled opponent, growing angrier by the second. Suffering helplessly in a chinlock, back wound around Charlie’s knee, Lon’s championship musculature is on beautiful display. The normally dominant heel is clearly sluggish, caught off his game and entirely out-of-sorts. Charlie exploits the moment with relish, bullying and brutalizing Lon long and hard. Lon’s chiseled torso is stretched out vulnerably when his opponent crushes his skull in smothering headscissors. “Those washboard abs aren’t doing you any good now, are they, champ?” he smirks, pounding fists into the bodybuilder’s ripped muscles.

Lest you count out Lon Dumont too soon, rest assured that all of those lauded muscles are good for a lot more than just winning bodybuilding trophies. When Lon’s years of indy pro-wrestling experience kick in, along with the rush of cheap carbs finally flushing his depleted muscles with renewed energy, he turns this bodybuilder squash into a highly competitive, low-down, heel-versus-heel battle of the bad boys. The dangerous wrestlers both choke out submissions, but only one can chain together a furious barrage of crippling submission holds that absolutely crush his opponent in body and soul. Coming between a post-competition bodybuilder and his pizza may be a stroke of genius or the biggest mistake of Charlie Panther’s career. One way or the other, only one rock hard hunk manages to shut his notoriously trash-talking opponent up for good and walk away from the ring with that trophy in hand.

Lon Dumont vs Pete Sharp

Lon’s Short “Sharp Shock”

Pete Sharp began impressing fans and opponents alike the moment he first arrived on the scene at BG East. His magnificent muscle definition, flawlessly bronzed skin, and piercing ice-blue eyes have won him an army of fans, but it’s a different, impossible-to-miss, stunningly prominent attribute that won the blond bombshell the vote for BG East’s “Best Bulge of 2014″. With buzz like that, it’s little wonder that he caught the attention of competitive bodybuilder and seasoned pro-wrestling heel Lon Dumont. Lon even offered pretty Pete an introduction to indy pro-wrestling as Lon’s very own tag team partner. Apparently, that didn’t go so well.

“You may look like a million bucks,” the bitter heel snarls, “but you’ve got a 10 cent brain.” Lon sets out to start completely over with the popular rookie’s training, treating Pete to a remedial lesson in pro-wrestling 101. “I’m going to show you how to lock up. It’s called collar-and-elbow,” Lon lectures condescendingly, grabbing hold of the dazzling blond beauty. In a flash, the seasoned veteran snaps on a side headlock and congratulates himself. Perhaps a moment too soon. Pete hoists the smaller man up into the air and daintily deposits lightweight Lon on a top turnbuckle, mussing the veteran’s hair playfully while wearing a cocky grin.

His dignity bruised, Lon flies into a rage. Grabbing hold of powerful Pete’s wrist, he tries to whip the big man across the ring, but he literally cannot move the mountain of muscle. Pete reverses, viciously driving Lon’s lower back into the turnbuckle and dropping him to his knees. Lon simply cannot fathom that a “brainless,” oh-so-beautiful rookie can be manhandling him like this. “Try to do that again,” Lon dares. Pete does, and when Lon comes violently bouncing off the turnbuckle, the Best Bulge winner snaps his lightweight opponent up off his feet in a breath-stealing, belly-to-belly bearhug. He flings the hapless heel about like rag doll, promising to snap his ribs if he doesn’t submit. Sure enough, Lon submits, and quickly finds himself flung to the mat to stare up at the magnificent muscleman flexing over top of him. “You look pretty ‘smart’ there on the ground now,” Pete taunts.

“Did I say you were dumb? I didn’t mean that,” Lon grunts as he climbs to his hands and knees and lands a sickening right hook to Pete’s award-winning package. “I didn’t mean dumb. Asinine, perhaps. Idiotic, maybe. A very, very bad listener!” Pretty Pete gets the full treatment from the dastardly heel. Lon rakes those baby blue eyes relentlessly with his fingers, the ring ropes, and his boot laces. Powerful Pete looks like Prometheus bound, suffering in anguish with his phenomenal physique tied up tight in the ring ropes. The bronzed-god’s proportionally perfect pecs draw the most bitter ire, as Lon digs his fingers up to the knuckle clawing and ripping at Pete’s illustrated chest. Mounted on the battered beauty in a cocky schoolboy pin, Lon slaps down taunts and scorn until suddenly Pete hooks his legs under Lon’s arms, rolls him to his back and slaps down an astonishing 3-count pinfall!

Beauty, brawn, and savvy presence of mind in the ring? Pete’s superhuman proportions are certainly not the only attributes making him a serious contender in the BG East ring. The only question left is whether Lon Dumont is truly smart enough, strong enough, and experienced enough to back up that endless stream of trash talk to dig himself out of the deep, humbling hole that this fan favorite rookie has put him in.

Lon Dumont vs Biff Farrell

All American Biff on the Hoof!

When you have a hankering for massive, muscled wrestling hunks, is there anything as satisfying as Grade-A American beef? Prepare to have your hunger sated by bulging, blond beefcake Biff Farrell! His high and tight haircut, stars and stripes trunks, and luxuriant mass of thick, powerful, sculpted muscles are a profile in all-American hunk perfection. There aren’t enough superlatives to convey just how stunning a specimen of mouthwatering muscle Biff is. Even Lon Dumont, normally never at a loss for words, finds himself momentarily speechless as he pulls up a stool to sit down and marvel at the sight of the remarkable rookie.

“Good lord, you are a horse! What beef in the ring right now!” Lon finally manages to articulate the awe that big Biff inspires. “I’m in the mood for some spine tingling male thrills,” Lon announces, clearly convinced that this granite-carved powerhouse is just the man to make his (and your) spine tingle.

As ready as he is to admire impressive beefcake Biff’s body, Lon remains convinced that his own ripped aesthetics and superior intelligence are guaranteed to overcome the obvious, raw advantage the rookie has in size. An opening arm wrestling challenge, however, proves that a quick wit is no match for Biff’s gargantuan biceps.

Lon bashes the smirking beefcake in the gut with the stool. “Do you think that’s in any way okay, attempting to embarrass me like that?!” He viciously digs his fingertips into the rookie’s eyes. He chokes big Biff with his jacket and brings the behemoth to his knees. What Lon may lack in equivalent size, he’s more than ready to make up for with years of experience delivering vile, underhanded heel moves. He quickly decides that just beating the bulging rookie is nowhere near enough. Lon announces that nothing short of forcing the dazzling rookie to flex will give the raging veteran satisfaction.

However, Biff Farrell doesn’t just look spine-tinglingly hot. To Lon’s shock, the rookie has moves. Out of nowhere, he defies Lon’s demands to flex, and instead turns the tables. The newbie traps Lon in the corner and drives his gargantuan shoulders over and over again into the heel’s gut. Lon’s noggin disappears when the rookie stuffs it between his tree trunk thighs in a standing headscissors. This is no naive, flat-footed rook who uses leverage and speed to rain down crippling blows and joint-wrenching holds. Like a seasoned pro, Biff grabs hold of the momentum with two big, burly hands and doesn’t let Lon go from a rib-crushing bearhug until the weeping veteran submits. Big Biff is definitely no rookie meathead!

In case you were worried that the promise of a forced-to-flex match goes unrealized, don’t be. With two fantastic physiques like these, muscle fans will rejoice to see the vicious back and forth turn towards all-out muscle humiliation. The price of submission requires humbling lat spreads, demeaned double biceps, and humiliated most-muscular poses. It takes brawn and brains for one of these powerhouse competitors to leave his opponent crushed and out cold. But which magnificent muscle hunk is the one to make your spine (and other parts) tingle?

MJ Vergara vs Denny Cartier

Straw, Meet the Camel’s Back

If there’s one thing that pisses of Denny Cartier the most, it’s a poser. Denny is one of the most serious students of amateur wrestling you’ll ever meet, and it shows, in his technique and in his demeanor. Arguably our most skilled mat wrestler, it’s the rare day when any opponent gets the better of him on the mats. He lives and breathes wrestling, and his unflappable mat face intimidates even the most experienced opponents – just ask Jonny Firestorm! But when he finds acrobatic street hunk MJ Vergara taking up space on the mats in order to admire his finely sculpted muscles in the mirror, normally even-keeled Denny absolutely loses his shit. Denny has faced his share of self-appreciative muscle heads.

“This room isn’t for fucking flexing!” Denny snarls. “It’s for wrestling!” Mirror-mesmerized MJ just keeps flexing his stunningly developed and exquisitely defined muscles. “You’re just jealous,” the ripped young acrobat smirks. Denny is not known for having a short fuse, but MJ has just lit it, and Denny is on him with a vengeance. The hot, lightweight physique star looks like little more than a practice dummy as Denny puts him on the mat hard and instantly controls him from behind. “I’ll throw you around all day, buddy!” Denny promises.

MJ has been a quick study since first arriving at BG East with little more than an oversized ego and some street fights on his resume. Sure, he’s a poser. With a fantastically fit physique like his, can you blame him for wanting to stare at his lusciously sexy muscles all day? But when he’s able to rally all of that incredible muscle and mind-blowing flexibility, any opponent will rue the day they underestimated him on the mats. And when push comes to shove, MJ isn’t shy about resorting to street tactics to level the playing field.

Something visibly snaps in the calm, calculating Cartier. On the receiving end of sucker punches, suddenly getting humiliated on the very mats he has rightfully owned for years, our most technically superior mat tactician simply goes ape shit on his shocked opponent. He doesn’t just spladle MJ’s gorgeous body, he also batters the boy’s six-pack abs. He doesn’t just make the street hunk submit, he rips his jungle print trunks off of his gorgeous body!

“So THAT’S what it feels like to cheat at wrestling?!” Denny marvels, obviously relishing the moment he sheds the shackles of sportsmanship and fair play. Digging deeper into the dark side, he looks hungrier than we’ve ever seen him, and the look of horror on MJ’s face says it all. There may be no more terrifying sight than Denny Cartier, one of the most dominant forces in mat wrestling, now relieved of the pesky constraints of following the rules.

The mat room becomes MJ Vergara’s personal torture chamber as the newly-minted sadistic heel Denny works out years of pent up frustration for being ball-bashed and sucker-punched by opponents with a fraction of Denny’s mat skills. He literally picks the street hunk up off his feet and flings cute MJ Vergara into the nearest wall. Not once, but again and again!

A vicious, completely unnecessary choke leaves the acrobat croaking for mercy, but all Denny can hear is, “Hurt me harder!” MJ gurgles, gags, chokes, and pleads, “I said that I submit!,” but Denny just doesn’t give a fuck anymore. BG East wrestlers and fans, you are officially on notice. Denny Cartier is done with being “Mr. Nice Guy”. Look out! What a finale!

Blaine Janus vs Andy Hammer

Blond vs. Blond: Erotic Babyface Battlers!

Climb into the way-back time machine and get a load of Blaine Janus and Andy Hammer as two sensationally sweet, babyfaced rookies desperate to impress The Boss and BG East fans. Both wrestlers have come a long way their impressive debuts now so long ago.

Blaine has established himself as one of our fiercest and sexiest erotic mat wrestlers with a serious kink for dishing out a titillating combination of sensual pleasure and punishing pain. Blond Blaine’s beautiful big eyes, his sultry, seductive sex appeal and cocky, feisty and exceedingly mouthy attitude have made him a favorite among many sectors of BG East fandom.

Fans know Andy as one of the babiest babyfaces on record, with baby blue eyes, a mouthwatering bubble butt, and a superhuman capacity for not just enduring, but getting off on the receiving end of crushing corporal punishment. Not the least bit surprising given that he was a “special” recruit of Kid Leopard who took “special pains” to train Andy himself, this attention reflected in Andy’s impressive arsenal of intricate holds and sexy submissions.

But before all of that came into focus for these eager young wrestlestuds, hell, before Blaine was even out of his braces, they faced one another in the BG East mat room with nothing but beauty, blond ambition, and a bristling desire to have at each other.

If you think you know what to expect from these two wrestlers, think again. Toned and tanned Andy swarms all over his overwhelmed opponent, quickly establishing complete control over Blaine’s body. Blaine is helpless as his hot young tormentor doesn’t just pin his face beneath his crotch, but repeatedly, violently pounds the Canuck’s dazed face with his cock. Just when Blaine manages to squirm free, Andy is two moves ahead, sliding like grease into an expertly applied sharpshooter that leaves Blaine screaming for mercy.

You can begin to glimpse the fan favorite wrestlers these wet-behind-the-ears young bucks are destined to become. Blaine licks his lips as he locks his opponent up tight and tortures him viciously, even pulling at Andy’s blond underarm hair! The cocky, erotic sadist we know and love swells with excitement at every whimper and scream he elicits from cute Andy.

Fans of watching hot young Hammer swallow gallons of agony will delight to see the first stirrings of his lustful pleasure in the hands of a vile and vicious sadist. There’s no mistaking that these boys are still relatively raw rookies at this point in their careers. Neither of them holds onto an advantage for long. Rough around the edges, they struggle for finishers. Sure, they trade submissions, but they have yet to master the pressure points and tolerances of an opponent’s body to sufficiently beat the fight out of each other.

Until, that is, one young buck lands a breathtakingly solid jab to his opponent’s balls. Finally he chains together a series of moves that drive his opponent to the edge of total panic. You may be surprised by which handsome hunk leaves the other literally weeping at his feet, but you shouldn’t be shocked that all of that raw, raging fight finally devolves into a scorching hot, sweat-soaked, groaning, grinding make out session. Action as ONLY BG East can produce!