After the Holiday – part 2
by Aristocatch

The day arrived when we could put our plans into practise. Julie and I had spoken on the phone several times, preparing everything. This Thursday had been chosen as an oil wrestling evening, as we believed that this suited our plans best.

The two preceding fights took place before what appeared to be a larger than average audience. Then it was our turn. In place of our usual bikinis we were wearing T-shirts whose seams we had weakened on purpose. We had been given a longer time slot than usual though everyone had agreed that it would be as well that the fight did not outlive it's attraction potential.

The beginning was like any of the fights, making sure that we were both fully covered in oil and that every inch of the T-shirts were sticking to our bodies. This of course proved the size of Julie's chest, but did not show off my tan lines. This was when we deviated from our standard fare. Getting behind me Julie took my breasts into her hands, moulding the T-shirt ever closer, and then rolling my nipples between her fingers, teasing them out to a greater length, making them jut out through the T-shirt.

Before she had got too far I spun out of the move and returned the favour – adding pointed peaks to her stretched T-shirt mounds. Then it was her turn to escape and get behind me. She added a little breast squeezing (basically holding in her hand) and then reverted to teasing my nipples out even further. Our tests in the ladies toilets had shown just how far they could go, and how best to achieve that. Even after all that had happened during my sporting holiday I was surprised just what could be done – and the reaction of the audience showed that it was much to their taste.

Then it was my turn to do the same to Julie and by the time I had finished the point of her nipples was jutting quite some distance from her otherwise relatively slim body. We now had the audience exactly where we wanted them, but carried on alternating our roles one more time.

Pulling apart we looked daggers at each other and made it look as if were cross. Due to the oil we were on our knees, but we slithered closer to each other before risking rising to our feet and grabbing each others tits through the T-shirt. Supposedly we each shook the others chest before losing our balance, finishing up in the oil and advancing again on our knees. We weren't about to risk standing again, but our brief display had achieved the desired result – all the audience were waiting for a breast battle!

We didn't disappoint, initially mashing our breasts together. As we both had distended nipples these poked through the T-shirts into our breasts like little swords. When they came into contact the sensations produced coursed right through our bodies, despite the presence of the public.

This was only short lived, and we soon 'wrestled' Julie round behind me again. Instead of pulling my nipples through the T-shirt she reached her hands under the T-shirt and manhandled my breasts, seemingly seeking to hurt me. Of course I made the right noises, which played along with the audiences preconceptions. Reaching up I pulled on Julie's hair, dragging her off my breasts, until I in turn was round behind her. My hands squeezed up inside her T-shirt, having some trouble actually in the confined space as the T-shirt stuck strongly to her skin, and it was my turn to make her squeal.

The fact that we were actually manhandling each others tits was a significant advance over the standard fare provided at the club, and the audience reaction made clear that it was to their taste. In fully theatrical manner I ripped off her T-shirt, exposing her much admired boobs to her fans. She initially made to cover them and then to rub them as if I had caused her pain. This prepared her to turn towards me with the obvious intention of seeking revenge.

How could my (carefully prepared T-shirt) resist? Actually it survived longer than expected because it was more or less glued to my back in particular by the oil. This gave us the chance to ad lib and make it look as if I was trying to protect my modesty. We couldn't have planned it better.

Then my white orbs were on display, glistening with the oil and with nipples which still stuck out prominently. We hadn't planned that, but seeing the nipples Julie took them between her fingers. I retaliated and we apparently pulled each other around by our nipples. The oil made precise movements impossible and so we actually did cause each other a little discomfort, but nothing too devastating.

Julie allowed herself to slide away from me and I strode after her, if you can stride while kneeling. When it appeared that I was about to savage her she turned the tides, and grabbed my breasts, squeezing.

Julie's body was not tanned, and a uniform colour all over, slightly darker than my white areas, but not enormously so. We knew from my previous experience that it was possible to leave red marks on the white skin quite easily, without causing me untoward discomfort. We didn't know what the effect on Julie's skin would be. Her first attempts on my breasts were somewhat thwarted by the oil, which made them slide from her grip and also soothed any hurt, leaving marks which couldn't be seen at any distance. This required some rethinking.

My breasts were not the only white part of me; obviously the area under the bikini bottoms was also white. Most of mine were covered by what I was now wearing, but some white skin was visible, but probably not enough. Improvising once again we grabbed each others bikini bottoms and pulled them into wedgies, essentially to expose bum cheeks.

I hadn't experienced wedgies in my previous fights and, even though we didn't use them to their full potential this gave me some ideas for the future. It took a little while, giving up wedgies in favour of using the bottoms to pull the body up off the oil, to expose sufficient white flesh. Thank goodness we were wearing bikini bottoms which resisted to the pressure.

Slaps rained down on the white flesh, and if we couldn't slap we grabbed each others butt cheeks. It didn't take long for our bums to be red enough for the public to see. On the basis that less is better than more we didn't prolong this episode, but we did add an encore which was rather outside the range – we exchanged slaps to each others breasts.

I'm sure the audience imagined that there was real venom in the slaps but, we had seen that slapping oily bums made a louder noise than we would have expected, so our breast slaps carried little venom but lots of noise.

This was, of course, an oil-wrestling match and so far the public had seen little wrestling so now we got down and dirty, sliding around in the oil, each gaining the upper hand and each using the others breasts as a means of breaking a hold.

With all the preparation that we had put into this encounter, plus our previous fights together, we knew what we were doing, and released holds once our breasts were touched, as if we had been subjected to considerable pain.

Our nipples were no longer elongated and so, to add a bit of variety, we would seek to add a little tweak which, through the cover of all the oil was actually quite agreeable, though we didn't allow our audience to imagine that.

The finale was due and so, rising to our feet, claws out, we advanced as if to rip the others breasts off, calling each other names. Barely had we made contact than the referee who had kept completely out of things so far, blew her whistle and quickly moved between us to keep us apart. She had not previously set foot in the ring before and completely losing her footing she pitched forward heavily into the ring.

The fight therefore ended in strange circumstances as we helped the shaken ref to her feet, and out of the ring, following her out with the cheers of the public ringing in our ears.

Back in the showers we soaped each other all over and washed the oil out of every part of our now naked bodies. Had I shared the shower with the tennis coach, or even Carla the soaping may have led to other things, but with Julie there was no sexual interest and we merely aided each other to become thoroughly clean.

By the time we had finished in the shower the owners of the club were already advertising our 'revenge match', a fortnight hence, having conveniently forgotten to check with us first. When they informed Julia that a producer of wrestling videos had indicated his interest in coming, we could hardly refuse and the fact that the person who was supposed to have watched her today had never shown up was quickly forgotten.