CAST: BOBBY CLARK, TOPHER DIMAGGIO

DIRECTOR: RON SEXTON

RELEASE DATE: 10/1/2014

Wrestled, Worshipped, Fucked

Where to start with a title like this...it's everything you've ever wished for in one title. Add the astonishing talents of Topher DiMaggio to the bill, and you've got a recipe for flawlessness.

Topher DiMaggio is a living, breathing action figure. From his flawless dark haircut to his shiny red boots. As for everything in between, we're talking 100% perfect, steel abdominals, shadow-casting pectorals with perfect nipples, legs and thighs like thick slabs of meat, and biceps cut from solid stone. Not to mention a tattooed back, rippling with muscles. To top it all off, DiMaggio wears it all with a cool confidence, and a boss-like ownership of his sexual dominance.

Enter adorable Bobby Clark, who matches DiMaggio in sexual bravado. But this action figure come from another collection. Fair, boyishly handsome, all chest and ass and pendulous cock concealed beneath a bright orange speedo. Clark makes no secret of his attraction to DiMaggio...who could. And DiMaggio, for his part, returns Clark's advances with half smiles and long, tender embraces. Soon these two titans are oiling each other up and rubbing each other down, in preparation for a nice, even fight.

"You're all sweaty now," DiMaggio says to Clark, before taking a series of abdominal blows that somehow leads to a mouthful of orange speedo covered balls and a fair amount of spit on his sizzling abs. On the floor they reach the standstill of every true gay sex fight, the equivalent of hair-pulling in a cat fight, where each fighter tests his own pain threshold while also testing his opponent...mutual ball torture.

"You grab mine, I'm gonna grab yours!" barks DiMaggio, fiendishly gripping Clark's massive bulge, while Clark does his best to hold onto DiMaggio's impressive package. And it doesn't stop there. Clark attacks DiMaggio's hog with slaps, elbow rubs, and fist nuggies, until both men break apart, and go at each other again, true equals.

Clark spits on the floor, spits on DiMaggio's cock, spits his protests as he suffers in tanned man's grip, only to return the pain with schoolboy pins and torturous leg stretches, before he rises like a titan and stands over his victim, flexing his own impressive biceps.

"You're nothing!" he chants, as DiMaggio reels from the pain. DiMaggio returns the favor with a sprawling backbreaker that leaves Clark practically sobbing, with DiMaggio's bright red boot planted square in his back.

Now it's time for the payoff. What's the point of pairing two such stunning competitors if all they're going to do is fight. Muscle worship paired with mutual dick stroking is the order of the day, and Clark is all too willing to give DiMaggio the rubdown he deserves. Lips blend, tongues explore the many muscular regions available, and soon Clark is where he belongs, in the losers position, the bitch space, on his knees servicing DiMaggio like the God he is with oil and tongue and eventually, his glorious ass.

Never before has Can-Am brought you such an amorous, thrilling, sexually awakening sex scene. These two men are the perfect match, both physically and emotionally. Each man knows his place. DiMaggio thrusts and stabs with his tree-trunk cock like a true professional. Clark's lightly hairy ass is a play palace of erotic perfection, spread apart and fully explored by the searching, confidant hands of DiMaggio. Soon Clark's pendulous
member is bouncing with glee as DiMaggio's tree-trunk gently invades that most excellent ass. Clark all but chews on the ring ropes he's clutching for support as DiMaggio thrusts and stabs with greater accuracy and ease, making a perfect home for Clark's ass in the alluring space between his thrusting thighs...creating a striking balance between the lightly hairy Clark and the smooth, action figure-like DiMaggio.

These men truly appear to lose themselves in the radiance of their fucking. The symphony of pleasure sounds grows and crescendos musically. Camera angles effortlessly glide past tensed biceps, tempting patches of armpit hair, or faces twisted in glorying expressions of purest, profound pleasure.

The title promises you everything, and it delivers, and delivers, and delivers...