French Twist: Gaby vs. Angel: Part II

In April 1978 SR Wrestling ran a spread on a phenomenal match between a beautiful, sleepy-eyed, French seductress named Gaby and a blonde, American beauty, oh-so-appropriately named Angel—what a piece of heaven. That spring these two beauties exploded in one of the most erotically charged matches I’d seen in a long time, and believe me I’d seen the best the apartment wrestling scene could offer. Gaby and Angel battled across the room, tumbling over leather furniture, exchanging blows, fighting savagely, and without mercy. They both battled to exhaustion, each vixen believing she was beating her opponent. I can’t recall how long the fight lasted. What I do remember is that we had to separate these women before they harmed one another grievously. With each woman believing she’d won, with each one believing that any other decision, including declaring a draw, was a threat to her stature, the theft of a rightfully earned victory, a rematch wasn’t long in the offing.

The match would take place in the same apartment. The guest list included the same movers and shakers. The atmosphere was electric with anticipation.

The evening’s opening couldn’t have been timed any better. As if on cue, two spectacular specimens of combative womanhood arrived together. The fight almost started then and there. They rushed at one another shrieking, screaming, and clawing at each other. Luckily (in more ways than one) I intercepted Gaby, grabbing the brunette around the waist, holding onto her for dear life, and swinging her away from the inrushing Angel, who in turn was intercepted by Dave Moll of all people. Gaby damn near scratched out my eyes. Luckily I averted my face and she left no scars. She stared daggers at me. Angel slapped Moll with one hell of a roundhouse and knocked him on his ass. Gaby and Angel stormed off in preparation for their battle, slamming the doors of their respective rooms so hard that the walls shuddered. Moll and I shook our heads and grinned. We knew that night was going to be one hell of a night.

Angel began her preparations with some deep breathing exercises and stretching. She slid into her light red, flowered bikini with yellow strings. The material picked up the light beautifully and accented all of Angel’s features, ranging from her well-shaped ass and hips, to her fine breasts. Her bikini wasn’t quite as snug as the ones favored by so many of the grapplers nonetheless it beautifully complimented the blonde’s assets. Her fingernails were a bright, lacquered red. She was so calm at this point you would’ve thought that the hellion who’d knocked Moll on his kiester wasn’t the same woman.

Gaby, on the other hand, was every inch the wildcat that had tried to have my eyes as a snack, even in private. She even glowered at the mirror, angered that she’d been prevented from ripping apart Angel. Throwing her clothes into a pile, she virtually painted on her tiny, tight, dark pink bikini. It rode low on the brunette’s hips, accentuating her figure. The top revealed a pair of delicious looking, full, firm, ripe breasts. Gaby paced the room impatiently, awaiting her call to sally forth into battle with Angel. The call came—but from Gaby.

While we all refilling our glasses and preparing to settle in for the evening’s match, Gaby slammed open her door, stormed toward Angel’s door, and kicked it in. Needless to say we were startled. The French beauty began yelling at Angel as she strode in and yanked the blonde out by her hair. Angel was screaming and trying to keep her balance as her pink-bikinied nemesis pulled her out onto the floor. Angel stumbled and fell to her hands and knees, clearly shaken. Gaby, angered that the blonde had the temerity to fall as Gaby was tormenting her, exploded. Turning on her heel, she kicked the stunned blonde in her side two or three times, knocking the wind out American, driving her to floor where she curled into a ball rocking and shaking with pain and fear.

Gaby wasn’t satisfied. With her left hand she yanked Angel up by her hair and gave her a crashing open-handed slap, followed by a backhand that sent the American sprawling to the floor on her back. Gaby yelled at her to get to her feet and fight like a woman. Before Angel could respond Gaby was on her like a lioness. She put the blonde into a bow and arrow that looked as though it would rip off Angel’s right arms and leg. Angel struggled, but it was to no avail. When Gaby tired of this she switched to a surfboard hold, bending the blonde backward and grinding her foot in to the small of the American’s back. The French wildcat was at her evil best. She was clearly angry. Her rage mixed with her well developed, but natural cruelty and her carefully cultivated dominant streak. Tiring of this, Gaby put Angel into a scissors, squeezing the life out of Angel. The blonde was clearly beaten, but she was unable to bring herself to surrender. She weakly tried prying Gaby’s steel thighs apart, but failed. She grabbed at the Frenchwoman’s breasts, and latching on to the left one she worked hand toward Gaby’s nipple, pinched it as hard as she could and twisted. Gaby was an unusual woman. Rather than reacting as most would, and screaming, she let out a noise that sounded like a deep-throated roar and an orgasmic moan combined. Angel twisted again, and Gaby threw her head back with what seemed to be pleasure. All Angel had done was awaken the dominatrix in Gaby. The French grappler clearly enjoyed Angel’s counterattack, but she had more important things to do before allowing Angel the honor of pleasuring her.

The pink-bikinied vixen grabbed Angel’s left wrist, tearing it away from Gaby’s aroused nipple, and twisted it behind Angel’s back. Leaning forward, Gaby rotated held scissors so that she was now atop the writhing, sweating blonde’s belly. Angel feebly swatted at her new mistress, but her blows were deflected easily. Gaby grabbed the free right arm, pinned it to the floor, and twisted it behind Angel’s back. The pain was excruciating and exhilarating. As Gaby tortured and Angel struggled the blonde arched her chest skyward, displaying her ripe, sweaty tits to the room. Despite the struggle her top still contained them, but not her jutting nipples. Angel thrashed and convulsed. Her hips and abdomen jumped up, but all it did was excite Gaby even more.

Angel’s tormentor released her hold, standing over her prey like a tigress. Gaby’s chest heaved; her skin gleamed with perspiration. She pulled Angel to her feet and brought over to the leather sofa these voluptuous beauties had turned into a battle ground in their first encounter. Gaby threw Angel into the sofa, her sweaty skin sliding on the leather. Before she could get up the brunette forced her back over the one of the sofa’s arms. Gaby maneuvered herself into a standing headlock with Angel’s lovely face forced into the valley of Gaby’s hot, bikinied ass. Gaby pulled the blonde’s face deeply into her cheeks and began squeezing. As she did so she began driving her fist into the American’s belly. How much would Angel take? Not that surrender would make her fate any more pleasant. Angel’s body bucked and straightened violently as Gaby yanked the red, flowered bikini upward, into Angel’s pussy. She followed it with a slap to the blonde’s vulnerable snatch. Spreading Angel’s legs Gaby slapped her conquest’s twat even harder. She began alternating it with rubs and pinches calculated to drive Angel to orgasm—if Gaby pitied her.

Gaby now reversed her scissor and pulled Angel’s head into her own hot, moist twat. Holding a handful of blonde hair in her left and reaching back to arouse Angel with her right, Gaby was one busy woman. She was also possessed of quite an active agenda for Angel’s demise. Following her pussy massage by Angel’s face, Gaby brought the now stiff and sore blonde to her feet, facing the arm of the sofa. She wrapped her arms around her slick-with-sweat conquest’s hips and slid them upward, gliding over Angel’s hips, her firm stomach, and finally up to Angel’s breasts. Gaby massaged them roughly, working over Angel’s nipples like she’d done to Gaby. The brunette yanked the red, flowered triangles to the sides, exposing a wonderful rack. She continued working over the blonde’s tits, but now adding to her own arousal by grinding her hips into Angel’s ass. Gaby released the blonde’s tits and pushed her face forward into the sofa, her ass presented to the victorious Gaby like a prize. Gaby put her hands tightly on Angel’s hips and began grinding herself into the American. At first slowly, and then faster, Gaby worked over Angel’s ass with her snatch. Gaby’s drowsy good looks were alive with lust. Rather than cum, Angel stood up her now compliant sex toy and brought her to the front of the sofa. Gaby sat and spread her legs.

Without saying a word Angel knelt before Gaby’s swollen labia. They were juicy, wet, and full, threatening to engulf the crotch of Gaby’s fast-becoming-soaked bikini. Angel dutifully slid the bikini crotch to the side and began lapping at Gaby’s pussy. Her tongue worked the Frenchwoman’s labia and clit, sucking, swallowing, and nibbling on them. Gaby was pleased. She stroked Angel’s head as she pulled it into her sex-starved cunt, grinding Angel’s features into a steaming, ravenous woman-hungry pussy. Angel’s hands began massaging Gaby’s thighs, working their way up toward Gaby’s tits. Gaby freed her nipples before they ripped through her top and directed Angel’s fingers to them. Angel pinched and twisted, but not hard enough. Rather than speak, She grunted savagely and pulled the blonde’s face deeper into her steaming love box. Angel savaged the brunette’s nipples, driving Gaby mad with passion, making her buck on the leather and into her conquest’s face. Gaby couldn’t contain herself. She screamed like a banshee as she came. I’m surprised she crush Angel’s skull as her legs locked together and tightened with the convulsions. After a moment she arose. Gaby straightened her bikini and curtly nodded at Moll and me. We raised our champagne flutes in salute. Angel was led to her room, where she remained for remainder of the evening and next day. Gaby showered, changed, and left. She’d clearly won and had no further need for us.