Hi again,

I hope you're well and happy. William and I spent most of June at the lake house. It was really therapeutic being there. And, it was great to get up in the mornings and not have anything that had to be done. Dog and cat were busy exploring their former haunts. The wildlife visits the place. I spent a lot of time with my daughter's and son's families – playing with and spoiling the hell out of my grandson. We flew back to the gulf a couple of times, but never for very long.

Anyway, back to the memoirs. I stayed with my parents for six weeks, then moved back on base. Otter and I sparred and worked on my fighting skills. I returned to training at the gym. I was becoming more flexible than ever (gymnastics) and increased my upper body strength. Did I mention my long, wraparound legs? My leg muscles were becoming more defined, even if they weren't big. We became friends with some other couples that I met at the gym. Since I was very competitive, my interest in wrestling for exercise was regarded as – more or less – OK. Some of the wives were curious, and some even worked out with me. We had a few “fun” matches. They never knew about my “other life” and I never told them.

One of those wives was Maria. She and her husband lived next door to us. They were both “military brats” and had lived all over the world. Our families became good friends and were often together. Privately, Maria and I became workout partners and, eventually, lovers. She was one of only three women with whom I would ever have that relationship. We still swap holiday cards and call every few years. But, we haven't seen each other since my walkabout in 1996. We were the same age and about the same size. My natural brunette hair was straight and fell halfway down my back. Maria had shoulder-length wavy blonde hair. We were such good friends that Otter and her husband (Bob) joked about us being Siamese twins.

I think it was a natural urge that led us to wrestle in front of our husbands. The match took place about a week before my 18 th birthday in July 1973. We were not yet lovers, but the match was directly responsible it. We were both nervous. Neither of us wanted to lose with our man watching. We agreed that our friendship wouldn't matter during the match – only winning and turning on our husbands. My friend didn't mention rules. I felt that I could win at any level she chose.

Bob and Otter took us to dinner Friday night. We were dressed to thrill – miniskirts, cutoff T-shirts, and pumps. We competed for attention. We went dancing afterward, then returned to their duplex. Maria and I “argued” about which of us was the best dancer on the way. Of course, the boys each supported their wife's point of view. Once home, Bob made daiquiris. Maria and I had a couple of drinks. The boys downed two pitchers. My rival and I went to the bathroom to “freshen up“ and walked back through the living room arguing over which of us was stronger. Everybody went to the kitchen, where we armwrestled. Each husband cheered for his wife and placed small meaningless side-bets. It was a struggle, but I managed to pin my “rival” three out of four times. Getting in the blonde girl's face, I spitefully purred, “Told ya!” and flounced into the living room.

Maria and I sat next to each other on the couch – bickering, cursing, and purposely causing our skirts to ride up around our hips. We teased, vamped, competed, bickered, and postured. Our hips and legs touched. We compared body parts and tested our strength by pushing against each other. I picked up a soft throw pillow and whacked Maria in the chest! She got another one and whacked me back. We rose as one from the couch and traded pillowed blows for a few minutes. Our competitive natures flared and the blows became more ferocious. Suddenly, Maria told Bob to clear the living room. I told Otter to help him.

She rushed to the bedroom. I stormed into the bathroom. Two minutes later, we were both in the living room wearing white bathrobes. My rival took off hers first – shoulder length wavy blonde hair, sky blue eyes, 17, 5-7, 101 pounds, and 33A-19-32 wearing skimpy red panties. I was next – 17, long mousy brown hair, hazel eyes, 5-7, 95 pounds, 32A-17-31 wearing tiny black panties. We briefly sat and wriggled on our husbands' laps – bragging and trash talking. We kissed our husbands, got up, and went to our knees on the rug.

Maria asked, “Are you ready for this?” I answered, “Always ready to beat you, girl!”

The talking stopped abruptly when we came together quickly – reaching, grabbing, blocking, tumbling together on the rug and struggling for position. Our arms were wrapped around each other's body; our legs were scissored together. We rolled all over that rug – first, me on top, then Maria, then me again. We stared into each other's eyes, the intense desire to win written on our faces. My body pressed against the blonde's – breasts mashed together, taunt bellies rubbing, hips bumping together and grinding, dueling for advantage.

Her struggling body felt good against mine. My nipples hardened, my breathing changed, and my garden of paradise began to tingle. The unexpected sexual feeling surprised me. Maria's breathing told me that she was feeling the same thing. Our struggle intensified and changed to a desire to do more than win. Winning would not be enough. We wouldn't stop until one of us, for the first time, dominated the other. I was stronger. My time on top became progressively longer. My friend's legs unclenched, her free leg pushing at the floor for the advantage to roll us back over. I held on with my legs, crushing her thigh. I squeezed harder with my arms. Maria weakened and I saw a flicker of desperation cross her face. The view was erotically electric.

My best friend's arms lost their grip. I was able to grab her wrists and roll Maria onto her back. We briefly fought for dominance. I slammed her wrists to the rug beside her head, slid up on her belly, and spread my legs wide to ride my victim and hold her there. Looking deeply into each other's eyes, we struggled for a short time. She couldn't dislodge me. I slowly slid down the blonde's body and pinned her hips with mine. Desperately, Maria tried to dislodge me, weakly humping her pubic bone against my crotch.

I grapevined her legs and spread them open. Our husbands had close-up views of our womanly charms. I lay down on Maria, my body covering hers. Looking into her big blue eyes, I said, “Give up.” She stared defiantly at me and didn't reply. I smiled and yanked her legs open wider! The blonde gasped. “Give up. Now!” I said. Maria didn't answer, but I could see her willpower fading. I growled and yanked her legs wider! “Say it!” I ordered.

My best friend looked up at me, sighed, and said, “I give up.”

Three Days Later…

I didn't see Maria for the rest of the weekend. But, we worked on our tans together Monday morning at the base swimming pool. The subject of Friday night came surfaced on the way home to our duplex. The blonde said I got lucky and asked for a rematch. I laughed and agreed that she should have another chance. Once home, I escorted my opponent upstairs to the king-size waterbed in our bedroom.

We sat on the bed talking, discussed the feelings that arose from our match. Maria admitted that she didn't give up sooner because she couldn't say it. Sometime during the final pin, my friend experienced a small orgasm and was “too shocked at the time to think clearly.” I admitted to her that I had purposely kept our contact close because of the way it made me feel, too. We looked at each other, stripped, and faced off on the bed.

We locked up on our knees the same way we had that Friday night. There wasn't enough room to roll around like before and the match became a contest of strength and willpower. We bearhugged our bodies hard against each other. Steadily, slowly, and surely, I wore down my best friend. Our girlish naked bodies sweating under the air conditioning – nipples stiff, with breasts, bellies, and pelvises in constant contact. Maria lost her balance and I rode her down to the bed. Several minutes later, I had the blonde's body under control. Her legs were scissored; my left arm controlled both of hers.

My right hand caressed her belly. My fingers explored her lush fur, teased her little woman, and gently stimulated her labia until it was swollen and sensitive. I relished dominating her again. My crotch rubbed against her thigh muscles, giving me a thrill I had never known before. And my mouth kissed her throat, sucked and nipped gently on her nipples. I brought both of us to the edge of madness – and stopped. Looking into her confused blue eyes, I said, “Submit. Say you submit to me!” The blonde whispered her submission. I rewarded myself by smothering the girl down and out with forward and reverse facesitting. For several hours afterward, we experimented and discovered worlds we'd never even dreamed of before. We became lovers. I never lost to Maria and dominated every match. I guess you could say I made the woman “my bitch.”

We wrestled several times a week until Otter got orders for another assignment. After that, whenever I won, I would always make my victim look into my eyes and say the words “I submit.”