Hi lover,

This is about my first “arranged” match. Remember that this happened about 31 years ago and I may not have all the details exactly right.

After the honeymoon, Otter and I settled into married housing where he was stationed. I was deliciously happy. I hosted parties for him and his friends. In return, He made sure I was well satisfied in all aspects of our life together and treated me like a queen. I just about worshiped the ground under his feet. Because we were with a few hours of home, we visited our parents and friends often. It was on one of those visits that Otter set up my first “arranged” match.

Her name was Becky B., the daughter of a longtime friend of his family. In fact, she was the first girl he ever dated – sort of. He once escorted Becky to a social at her dad's lodge. He was 15 and she was 12. They had been friends ever since. Becky was from a “redneck” county, muscular for a girl, my age (17), 5-8, at least 135 pounds, with long, wavy black hair, green eyes, and already a 38C. In junior high, her girls' physed class held semi-pro-wrestling matches for two years, until parents complained that they played too rough. Becky only lost two of those matches, In the past year; she had been in several street fights with other women over husbands and boyfriends. She was also a champion barrel racer at local rodeos. I didn't know about all of this until a few years later.

We ran into Becky at an early morning breakfast in a local eatery. She joined us. They talked about “old times” and, eventually, Barbara. As it turned out, Barbara and Becky were neighbors – with no love lost between them. Otter told her about my match with Barbara. Looking me over, Becky suggested that we “should wrestle sometime.” Otter jumped it. Moments later, I was scheduled to wrestle that afternoon. The conversation went so fast, I barely had time to nod my head before the negotiations were finished. Otter and I left and went straight back to our bed. He spent the rest of that morning praising, encouraging, and massaging me.

When we got to that farmhouse, my opponent and her date were waiting inside. As we entered the back room, Becky took off her robe, revealing a white bra and lacy white cotton panties. If I had been more experienced, I might have refused the match then. She was 40 or 50 pounds heavier than my 95, an inch taller, and had great muscle tone. I took off my shoes and blouse. Not needing a bra (and refusing to wear a “trainer”), I was topless. I got everyone's attention when I dropped my skirt, showing my scandalously tiny red panties. Becky quickly removed her bra and walked over to me. The rules were simple. We would wrestle best three out of five falls won by five-count pin or submission.

“Are you ready?” she asked, hands on hips and pointedly brushing her large nipples across my small ones. Her date quickly took two Polaroid shots of us standing that way. Otter got one. It would later be the cover of my “scrapbook.” Becky was blatantly attempting to humble me. “Sure,” I said with some conviction. “You're heavier than me, but I'm a really good wrestler. I'm going to surprise you.” We went to our corners. Otter gave me some last minute encouragement. The big girl stood there – smiling.

We came together; and I backed off, refusing Becky's offer to lace fingers for a test of strength. We locked up almost gently, gripping forearms and testing each other's strength. I leaned into the big girl. Quickly and relentlessly, she pushed me back into our corner. I bumped into Otter. Becky broke the grip and went back to center mat – smirking. The rodeo queen was incredibly strong! Embarrassed and angry, I rushed the bitch. We locked up close to my corner, each of us struggling to get an advantage. The big bitch gripped my wrists, putting me on the defensive, trying to pull away and break them free. Getting nowhere fast, I changed tactics and attempted to push the raven-haired girl back across the room.

Becky suddenly gave way and turned sideways, taking me off balance, stumbling past her. She swept me feet as I passed and let me fall to the floor. In a heartbeat, the girl dropped down on top of my back, knocking some of the wind out of me. I struggled to turn over, my arms and legs flailing. The big girl rode me, staying behind and on top of me. When I paused to get my bearings, Becky wrapped me up in a full nelson. My face was sideways on the carpet, my arms trapped and nearly useless, my legs kicking uselessly, wanting to get the heavy bitch off my back. Grunting and growling from her efforts, Becky rolled us over. Her legs snaked around my waist, securing a bodyscissors.

That was when we discovered that there was something somehow “different” about me. The girl had strong thighs from riding rodeo. She should have been able to cut me in half with the scissors. Becky's muscular thighs were causing extreme discomfort, restricting my breathing, and weakening me. I won't deny that there was some pain involved. But it wasn't enough to make me submit. I could see the rodeo queen was frustrated and getting angry. To this day, I have never submitted to any woman's bodyscissors.

Rolling me face down on the carpet, Becky sat on my ass, wrapped both hands under my chin, and yanked my head off the floor. My back was violently bent! I gasped, waving my hands wildly in submission. The black-haired bitch released her hold, and I flopped down onto the carpet. It was almost 20 minutes later before I was ready for the second fall.

Becky came out of her corner quickly. I tried to evade her, but found myself scrambling to keep her off me. The girl plowed through my weakened defenses and snared me in a side headlock. She stood there for what seemed like hours, grinding on my head and scrunching my ears – but it was only a minute or two. Then, with a shout, the rodeo queen jerked me off balance and kinda threw us both to the carpet, with me still in the headlock. She landed on top. The air whooshed out of my lungs and I was gasping from the effort to breathe.

Lying sideways, the rodeo queen was kinda bridged, pressing her weight into my chest. She cinched the headlock tighter, covering my mouth with her big breast, leaving my nose barely exposed. Looking over and past her tit, all I could see was her shoulder, head, and one hand clinched on her wrist. Becky worked that wicked headlock for a long time – cranking my head, less and more, bending my neck upward, sometimes burying my whole face in her breast. She was smothering me down. I tried to bridge, to turn us, but only succeed in getting my ass off the carpet – my legs kicking and swimming, my arms futilly pushing, grabbing and prying hers.

Becky let go and unhurriedly sat on my belly. The bitch snared my wrists and stretched them roughly over my head. Leaning forward, she extended her legs and wrapped them around mine. Grapevine! It was my first time to experience that hold. I gasped and moaned – it hurt! It felt like I was being ripped in half. Her hips ground into my belly and made breathing very difficult. I could only weakly moan and watch helplessly, while the rodeo queen slowly spread my legs ever wider and lowered herself down on me.

My crotch felt like it was on fire! Becky's biger body flattened mine. Her breasts enveloped my face. I was locked in, unable to move, get a breath, or even submit! I could hear her date slowly counting the pin. One! “Mmmngh.” Two! “Whine.” Three! “Nnngh.” Four! “Muh.” Five! It was almost a half-hour later before I could come out for the third fall.

It only took a couple of minutes for Becky to win the fall and the match.

Exhaustedly, I stumbled into the rodeo queen. She wrapped her left arm around my head. I desperately to avoid the headlock. But, that wasn't what she had planned. Becky quickly shoved her right arm between my thighs, lifting me up and holding me across her chest. I was dazed and confused. The bitch laughed, turned me upside down, and dropped me on the floor. Owwww! My back! I bridged and tried to roll. Looking up, I saw the big girl dive toward me. I was too slow to avoid it. Splash! She landed chest first on my torso.I was breathless, stunned, spread eagled, and arms akimbo. With deliberate slowness, Becky stretched out on me, body to body, and grapevined my legs. She didn't bother to pin my arms. I was done and everybody knew it. Like a bird watching a snake, I saw the girl slowly lower her breasts onto my face, enveloping it. I couldn't breathe and I couldn't fight. Eventually, the darkness took me.

Becky and her date were gone. Otter had several Polaroids of my final humiliation. One would eventually be put on the back cover of my “scrapbook.” I told my husband, “If I'm gonna keep doing this, you're going to have to teach me more than I know now.”