Hi Lover,

I wrote you earlier about my match with Lauren. I wish you could have been there. Maybe if things had turned out differently … Oh, well. It doesn't make sense to dwell on that now. You once asked how I became involved in wrestling … and other stuff; but I never told you the entire story. I'll try to fill in some of the blanks for you here – and in other letters to come.

I was almost 15 when my first husband entered my life. I was about 5'7” and 90 pounds, all arms and legs, flat chested (32AA) with long, mousy brown hair. I was the girl no one invited to the dance, the one that none of the boys took to the movies. A tomboy, I could kick field goals better and punt further than any boy in our junior high. I could outwrestle all the guys my age in the neighborhood. But, it didn't get me the kind of attention that I wanted from them. I was “one of the boys” and by then very much wanted to be more than that.

One of the girls from Otter's neighborhood, Lisa, was a girlfriend of mine. We were at the Elks Club swimming pool a few days after school let out for the summer and wanted a ride to town. She called Otter. He was 18 and THE hometown hero –a U.S. Navy Seal with what seemed like a chest-full of medals, just back from his first tour of duty in Vietnam . He was on stateside duty rotation. Six-feet tall and about 210 lbs., he had sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, and muscles everywhere. Otter flirted with and focused his attentions on me all day. He was a dream come true. I was wrapped around his little finger and couldn't give enough of myself or get enough of him. We started dating on his next trip home. My virginity lasted half-way through our second date. Otter gave me a “friendship” ring on my 15 th birthday. I was in little girl heaven.

My first clue about how much it turned him on to watch women wrestle and fight was at a party given by one of his friends. Two of the girls there got into a screeching brawl. Otter became very passionate while watching and held me really close. That passion was overwhelming, and I gratefully responded. The next time he came home, I took him to a “professional” wrestling show held at a local VFW hall, featuring a women's match. We watched some second rate “bad girl” beat up some jobber. My parents weren't pleased that I didn't get home until after 2 a.m. I was smiling and giggling, and walked funny for several days.

It was soon brought to my attention that Linda M. was telling people at the high school she was going to kick my ass. She had been his girlfriend before he went to Vietnam , but had been playing around on him and, eventually, sent him a “Dear John” letter. Linda was 17, about 5-8, 130 or 140 lbs., with long black hair, and a huge (to me) 36C chest. I had heard how Linda had once sent a girl home “tore up” when that girl tried to come between her and some paroled jailbird she'd been dating. Now, she wanted Otter back. Because of her size and reputation, I was very concerned. Because of the differences in her cleavage and my “wish I had” cleavage, I was intimidated. There was no doubt that Linda would confront me – probably sooner than later. And, knowing how Otter reacted to girlfights, I knew he would probably let it happen.

Well, it happened very suddenly on a hot Saturday afternoon at Hole in The Wall, on a grassy river bank just below the broken old dam. It was August and less than a month after he gave me the ring. We had been swimming and were lying on the grass– wrapped around each other and driving ourselves toward a predictable finish. He had been wearing gym shorts. I had already discarded my purple hotpants and cropped white T-shirt. We heard a noise and looked up. You guessed it – Linda was headed in our direction – wearing an ugly black and pink flower print bikini – cursing and yelling at me. Otter kissed me and said, “get her, baby.”

The bitch reached for me, and I did what came naturally. I punted. My foot slammed into her belly. Linda doubled over, holding her stomach and gasping for air. Never one to argue with success, I did what came naturally. I punted again – this time catching her in the chest. The older girl twisted around and fell to the ground, wheezing and groaning. At Otter's urging, I took her feet in my hands, spread her legs, and kicked a field goal. The bitch curled into a fetal position. I fell on Linda and moved into a schoolgirl pin, slapping her face back and forth, back and forth, until the older girl said she'd had enough and begged me to stop.

My future husband kissed me hungrily and took me there on the grass near his beaten ex-girlfriend. Two years later, we were married when I was almost 17. We would eventually have two beautiful children together, and stay married for almost 20 years. During those years, he became my “manager” and “trainer,” and would eventually set up over 200 matches for me.

I won't even try to tell you about all of them. But, I'll try to relate some of the ones I believe are most interesting.

Love,

TOTGA (The One That Got Away)