After the holiday – part 8
by Aristocatch

After so much at times painful activity, I was not sorry that several weeks went past before any chance for wrestling came up.

I bumped into a lady I know slightly in the local supermarket and she said, rather shyly, that she had been hoping to see me. She explained that she had heard (who knows where from) that I did a bit of wrestling, that she had done some in her youth, twenty years before, and she would quite like to see if she could still manage any moves. All she wanted was a training session, nothing more. As she had a fully equipped house, how could I refuse?

She had a large detached house, across town from me, which even had a swimming pool that was covered. One of the bedrooms was virtually empty, and it took no time to create the space needed. On the first visit we did relatively little wrestling, dressed in shorts and T-shirts. It was clear that she had been well muscled, but that she had been doing little real exercise for the last few years. Her husband went away for work quite often and she was keen to get back into shape.

I went back twice more and learned that, at the same time, she had also started going regularly to the gym. The effect was quite noticeable, and with the tightening up of her muscles, she was able to wear some of her older smaller clothes once again. Each time what we did was more of a physical workout than anything else.

The fourth time I went I was surprised to find that she was not alone. In the swimming pool were her daughter and one of her daughter's friends. Maggie took me into the kitchen, from where we could make out the movements in the pool, despite the cover which helped keep it warmer. Maggie said she had something to ask me and explained that she had been introduced to a group of women her age, who met from time to time for a coffee and a catfight. She wondered if we could try it a little, as she wasn't sure that it was something she really wanted to do.

I said that I didn't see any reason why not, provided we kept it to a gentle and not very violent fight. She then said that she had talked to her daughter about it, which was why her daughter was at home! I felt that I had somehow got manoeuvred into a wrestling session that I had not planned, but as there was little chance that I could not dominate them, I didn't see any reason to refuse.

Soon after the girls came out of the pool. Maggie's daughter was quite plump, with oversize breasts that came with her roundness. I supposed she was eighteen or nineteen, but roundness always makes age more difficult to judge. Her friend was much slimmer, presumably much the same age and, judging from her costume, aware that she was quite attractive and determined to use that to her advantage. You know the type.

I had imagined that I would wrestle with the mother and the two girls would wrestle together, but it turned out that they wanted a round robin. I could see all sorts of problems in that, so I suggested that each fight be limited to five minutes, with the possibility of stopping if one wanted. No winners or losers. The girls wanted it to be a no-holds-barred affair, which I didn't think was a good idea, so we compromised on no hairpulling (the quickest way for tempers to be lost), and bikini bottoms (or knickers) to be kept on. They bowed to my greater experience, but overruled my idea that mother should not fight daughter – though they finished by accepting that that should be the last fight (I thought that one or the other might have had enough by then).

Because the girls' costumes were still wet we all ended up wearing knickers, rather than bikini bottoms. Maggie seemed the most reticent to shed her clothes, but once stripped to the waist it was clear that she still had a body that there was no reason to feel shame about. Her breasts were quite large, and dark tipped. Her tummy bulged slightly, but quite acceptably, and certainly much less than her daughter, whose breasts were large but relatively shapeless. In the body stakes, the friend won first prize very easily with nice pert breasts. I had decided to be very gentle, but the sight of those breasts was very tempting. I found myself hoping that she would fight a bit and give me an excuse to measure them in my hand.

No-one could decide who should go first, so we tossed a coin, which settled on the two girls. The kitchen timer was brought into the room and set at five minutes. Maggie and I moved to the side of the room and left them to it.

Maggie's daughter, Rachel, was plucky. Completely outclassed, but plucky. Fortunately for her, her friend was indeed her friend, and although she ran rings around her, she avoided hurting Rachel more than necessary. That isn't to say that she didn't touch Rachel, she did, regularly on the breasts and twice between the legs, but she didn't pinch, pull, squeeze, tug or otherwise produce enough pain to force Rachel to stop.

Maggie had told me, quite clearly, that she wanted me to cause her pain; otherwise how else could she find out whether she wanted to catfight with the woman's group? I did realise, however, that I could moderate that pain.

To my surprise Maggie showed more agility and more aggression than she had during our sparring sessions. I had decided that there was no way that she was going to get at my crotch, and in that I succeeded, but at the expense of my left breast, which she mangled with much more enthusiasm than I had anticipated. After that I wrestled to tie her arms up, out of the way, then to use my free hand to test the firmness of her mammary glands.

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't sadistic, merely keeping my side of the bargain. When I thought we were probably nearing the end of the five minutes I added a crotch claw, but not one that would ever have produced a submission. But Maggie was pleased, even more so that she had squeezed my breast. Clearly I hadn't put her off the idea of her woman's coffee morning catfights.

Round two went pretty much the same way. The friend danced rings around Maggie, proving from time to time that she could score when she wanted, without ever really hurting her friend's mother. Rachel was no contest either, though I couldn't resist tweaking her crotch a little more than I had her mother's. As the friend clearly pointed out, the most balanced pairings were those for the last round.

First up was mother against daughter. I had thought they would avoid touching each other's intimate parts – how wrong I was. As far as I know they generally got along perfectly well, but now they showed a willingness to fight that hadn't been evident before. They began by exchanging slaps to the face and then fenced for a while, sending out intermittent slaps whenever they felt they could reach a breast, making little effort to protect themselves from a retaliatory strike.

Finally they got beyond slaps and into a clinch. Maggie took her daughter down to the floor, and they struggled for top position. Maggie was fitter, but her daughter was younger and this difference evened out the struggle. Finally Rachel got into a position where she took hold of her mother's pussy lips and began to twist and pull them with her fingers.

Rather than try to remove Rachel's hand, Maggie took hold of her daughter's tits and gave them a real going over, looking her daughter straight in the eye. Rachel's friend and I were mesmerised. Before our eyes mother and daughter were pushing the other's resilience to the limit in the most intimate manner possible. Years of frustration was being revenged in a few seconds.

Actually a few seconds would be an understatement. As each applied more painful holds the other matched them. It was a question as to who would cede first. I would have thought that Rachel's attack on her mother's pussy would have been the more painful of the two attacks, but Maggie resisted with a smile on her lips.

It was Rachel who finally withdrew her hand from her mother's pussy to try to remove her mother's hands from her chest. When she did there were red finger marks clearly visible on the skin. Having proved a point Maggie hadn't finished, and she now grabbed her daughter's pussy with both hands. Rachel hesitated a moment and then latched onto her mother's breasts and especially the left nipple.

Their breathing rate accelerated, and little squeals escaped their lips, but neither gave in. As Rachel twisted her mother's breasts and nipples, Maggie pulled harder at the pussy lips that lay between her hands.

The pinger brought an end to all that, with honours seemingly even. Mother and daughter fell into each other's arms and tears fell from all four eyes. Rachel's friend and I looked on in silence as mother and daughter bonded in the strangest way possible. They may wrestle again in the future but I very much doubted that they would put each other through so much torture.

We left them alone for quite some time, waiting for our final bout. Rachel's friend challenged me to fight her nude and to extend the fight to ten minutes, given that we had neither been exactly pushed up to then. This seemed a brave, but rather foolhardy idea to me, so I agreed.

Rachel's friend had a pretty white body and I set about reddening it. She was fast and slippery, but cautious, having correctly judged my wrestling superiority. I let her use up her energy, blocking her attempted attack, and delivering a nice little slap of my own. I mostly targeted her small buttocks with just the odd breast slap, to make sure that she didn't underestimate my capacities.

You cannot dart around like that for ten minutes and so she began to tire. As soon as I had seen her pert breasts, I knew that I wanted to manhandle them, something which Rachel and her mother had singularly failed to do. Allowing one of her slaps to reach its target (just below my breast) I pulled her into me and flipped her around, so that I was behind her. It was child's play after that to take a breast in each hand.

Initially I was content to just feel the warm flesh against my palm, with the hardened nipples between two fingers. I felt no need to actually hurt her. She tried to stamp on my feet to escape, and thus forced me into plan B, where I gave her pertness a nice squeeze (painful, but not unkind).

Her hands tried to prise mine off her breasts, which put paid to her trying to stamp on my feet, and allowed me to continue squeezing a bit.

She had specifically requested that we fight nude, which meant that she was challenging me to give her pussy a good squeeze. I couldn't do that in the current position, and I didn't want to disappoint her. I simply released my hold, which caught her by surprise and allowed me to take her down to the floor.

I hadn't really seen her in action on the floor in either of her two other fights and so I had no reason to know in advance the quality of her floor wrestling. It now transpired that it was much better than her efforts standing. Her speed and slipperiness stopped me from dominating as I had been doing, and so I got to do some real wrestling.

Finding herself on top, but with me blocking her hands away from my body the little vixen began to rub her thigh against my pussy in a manner which clearly said that she knew what she was doing. There was no way that this could continue for long enough to make me lose my control and so I didn't panic and try at all costs to throw her off. Quite the contrary. I rubbed back, so that our pussies came into sticky contact. She hadn't anticipated such a reaction and I had no trouble tipping her over.

Her two arms were held by my left hand, and my right hand was free. Naturally I directed it towards her pussy but, instead of attacking her pussy lips, I began to rub her sex most provocatively and when she began to protest, I pointed out that it was she who had started it.

I wasn't of course there for a sex fight, but I continued just long enough to sow the seeds of doubt in her mind. Then I gently took a pussy lip between my fingers and pulled. Letting it go I did the same to the other. Spreading her lips apart I ran a finger along her sex and found her clitoris. As I hadn't hurt her in pulling her pussy lips individually, the seeds of doubt returned just long enough for me to use her loss of concentration to turn her over, and kneel on her back.

Spreading her bum cheeks apart I placed a finger against her bum hole. She screamed no, so I applied a little more pressure, having absolutely no intention of going any further, but she didn't know that, did she?

Having those small white buttocks there was just too tempting, and I rained a series of slaps onto them, admiring the colour change that ensued.

The ringing of the timer put paid to any more fun. Her initial reaction was to be cross, but I think it quickly dawned on her that I could have hurt her quite a lot, but that I had chosen not to, and a smile soon replaced the frown. It got even bigger when I told her that if she really wanted a harder catfight I knew someone who might be interested. I later gave her Caro's phone number.

Maggie was pleased, and ready to try out her catfight coffee mornings. Rachel had a new understanding with her mother, and the knowledge that she wasn't really made to be a fighter. Her friend tried to talk me into fighting her again at another time, but I left her in no doubt that I wasn't interested.

All in all it was a good couple of hours.