By Jayne Ellis
I looked out of the window and saw the Silver VW Golf swing into the Car Park of my studio. I bit my lip in thought. She was ten minutes early and as she alighted the car and slammed the door her face looked stern and impassive. I noticed that her walk was aggressive and purposeful. A twinge of nerves hit my stomach as I thought she wouldn’t have had the courage to show and that her temperament had been nothing more than the confident boasting of a model nearly half my age. But I’d been wrong, wrong to think that she would have backed out of our arrangement.
My mind drifted back to two days earlier – back to the photo-shoot. She had been difficult to work with from the word go. I had tried my best to get Siobhan to pose the way the magazine had requested, but such is the arrogance of young models and their respective egos, it was inevitable we were going to clash. The day had been a difficult one. I was facing deadlines. I, a veteran of fifteen years in the fashion photographic business, was almost turned into a wreck by Siobhan’s unwillingness and poor punctuality. And her surliness didn’t help matters. Pressure and patience had crashed and the angst between us had reached an uncomfortable pitch. Maybe I should have been more sensible about it. Maybe I should have handled it better and rang the Editor and her Agency. That way such stupid altercations could have been averted. But I hadn’t and had let my own emotions dictate my actions and we’d each argued ourselves into a challenge. Correction – a private challenge. So from out of the belligerent impasse between two headstrong women came this moment. A moment I doubt either of us would ever forget.
Amy, I thought. You’re in too deep to back out now so get out there and do your best. I frowned and shifted in my seat, awaiting the doorbell. I didn’t have long to wait. Then it suddenly buzzed and I rose from the sofa. I paced up to the door, hastily composing myself to give her as good as she was going to give me. That was what I was expecting. I was expecting instant aggression and feral stares but I was shocked to find her standing there all quiet and relaxed, her holdall held slackly in her hand.
“So, you’re all set for this,” Siobhan said as I gave her access. “My, Amy, you are one gutsy Lady. I never knew you had it in you.”
I wore a towelling gown and slippers with minimal makeup. Siobhan had dressed simply, wearing nothing more than a plain hooded sweatshirt, denims and trainers. Her hair had been tied back, as was mine. She looked at me and smiled a smile of the sort that I’d never expected from her. It was a smile that actually held a hint of warmth.
I said: “I’ve cleared the Studio and laid out a large yoga mat in there. It should be adequate.” I felt my voice go low with nerves and she sensed my weakness immediately. I could tell that she’d noticed the apprehension in my voice. Would she seize upon this betrayal of my own character? Would that drive her to overpower me? I thought it would, but she simply smiled and popped her holdall down on the sofa.
“I didn’t think we’d do this, Amy,” the young model said as I waited for her next move. “But you’ve proved me wrong – good for you. This should be fun.”
Siobhan was a bright yet annoying teenager. She was 19 years of age and blonde. She looked German but came from Colchester and had that rush of confidence that you either loved her or hated her for. I was 38 years of age and had dark brown hair. I was more mature but was still on the right side of pre-middle-age. I was fit for my age and practiced yoga and jogged and cycled and was happy with my sporting regime. I had a decent body and was still firm and toned.
Siobhan, on the other hand, was an occasional night-club junkie yet kept in trim with kick boxing and aerobics and swimming. I had never expected her to challenge me to a bout of submission wrestling. I asked her why she had chosen to wrestle me and she simply replied, “It was just something I’d fantasised doing for a long time.” And as she said those words it became clear that I, too, wanted to try this so much that I had queried my own sexuality. But was I bisexual? Had my leanings secretly desired to contend with Siobhan? And in that split second of my darkest, inner desires I had forcefully agreed to our secret challenge.
My young, athletic challenger slowly removed her sweatshirt to reveal her ample breasts and then untied her trainers and peeled down her jeans.
“Well, you not joining me?” she said and I fumbled blindly at my knotted belt as if indicated to do so. Siobhan smiled at my revealed body and leaned back on the sofa as she kicked off her training shoes. “Amy, you look far better than I expected and you look taut.”
Siobhan stood up and placed her arms on her full hips. She wore nothing but a light red G-string, the material covering just about what it needed to. She was around 5’ 2 and slim. I was slightly taller at 5’3” and of a similar weight. I had chosen to wear a fine, dark blue G-string. We had discussed wrestling attire previously and it was as if we’d both desired to fight our challenge topless. Aggression had secretly capitulated to longing and a sense of hidden sensual messages only that we understood. We both licked our lips as our nerves had started to make us feel dry.
“Ready?” I said softly?
“Let’s do this,” she said casually and my opponent stepped onto the mat with me. We crouched low in unison. Fingers flexed and spread as we darted and feigned to catch the other off balance but I felt brave and gripped her hips as she bear-hugged my waist line and went into a squeeze. I joined her and in a mutual hug. It was a clumsily opening gambit of poor grappling skill. We both exacted a testing opening pressure. Belly to belly, our breasts thrust forth and gave in their warm tight softness, as nipples chaffed sensuously. I winced as we struggled face-to-face. I felt my own fingers knot tightly in our strong embrace as her actions mirrored mine. Legs and thighs slapped softly as we attempted to trip the other. We twisted and groaned in both effort and frustration to best the other, but it didn’t come easy. I released my grip on her waist and instinctively attempted a headlock. Sensing my terrible wrestling skills, she kept low and slipped smoothly behind my back, gliding by my pulsing hips. Her hands came up my side and thrust under my armpits and she locked her hands behind my head and snapped on a full-nelson hold. She had taken me swiftly – too swiftly, and I cursed her venomously as I swayed and struggled against her young body.
“Gotcha,” she said. Behind me, I imagined her smirk. A full one-up-womanship grin that deserved a slap. I felt the arrogance of her full breasts stab into my warm back, her pulsing groin hard against my exposed buttocks. I glanced down and saw the fine red cords of her G-string swing occasionally out as she balanced to contain my hapless and subdued body.
“Damn,” I cursed as I tried to pitch forward. But I was trapped and held by the younger wrestler. And as we wrestled, I attempted to pitch forward and on the third and strenuous attempt, I let out a cry of angst and smiled victoriously as her feet shifted and lost their ground against the mat. I twisted and we overbalanced together. Siobhan let out a cry of consternation as we fell on our sides and she released her grip. But I was fast and turned onto her and thrust my full weight on top of her supine body. She let out a winded sound as my belly connected with hers and I reached out to contain her arms. I gripped and held her wrists as she strained to escape. I lay between her thighs like a lover, my groin kissing hers as our privates met. She instinctively bucked harshly against me as my legs swam with hers. My feet found her instep and I attempted to trap her in a delicious grapevine yet my skills were not that good, so I maintained my simple grip on her arms.
Her hips and groin bucked hard and I felt the passion rise as she assaulted my clitoris with her merciless thrusts. She moaned her own pleasure as I matched her gyrations. We were not lovers yet wrestled sensuously. It was an impromptu sex fight, but I was determined to contain her. I felt the first waves of orgasm jar my body as she cried her pleasure, but I didn’t want to be weakened by her sexplay, so I pulled back.
Mistake ! It was the worst faux pas I could have ever made.
Her hips crashed against mine and dislodged me. I overbalanced and we lay on our sides as she slowly took the advantage. On our sides, we struggled for ground, legs entwined and arms swimming savagely across the mat, we began to roll together but found nothing until I released her arms and freed my hands to get her into a side headlock.
My body lay at a 90 degree angle to her with her head firm within my side headlock and her left eye and cheek covered by my generous right breast. Now I was in control and she knew it. I squeezed and she let out a muffled cry. I smiled and said “You give?” But I heard the muffled “No”. “No, No No!”
I leaned back and applied more pressure and leaned my full upper weight onto her. My breast had began to cover her nose and part of her mouth and with a sudden slapping of her hand against the soft mat, she cried her hardly understandable ‘Yes, I givvveee ! Give!!!” The sound of her desperate submission was like music to my ears.
I released her and rolled away from my opponent. Siobhan lay on her back, her belly and breasts bellowing for air. An oily sheen of sweat glistened on her face. She looked annoyed and beaten and I rubbed it in further by getting onto my knees and giving a mock cheer and wobbled my bare breasts in jubilation.
She looked at me, her face sour. “Lucky fall,” she said. “Just lucky and it’s the best of three falls, Amy.”
“I still took it,” I said, “and fairly.”
Siobhan scowled her defeat and went over to her holdall and tugged out an Orange towel. She eyed me up as I towelled dry my sweating breasts. “Ready for round two, then?
I nodded confidently. My lucky win had given me a sense of credibility. “Ready when you are,” I said as I threw my towel down and adjusted my G-string. I felt the fine cord dig into my full derriere and as Siobhan turned and placed her towel down, her own G-string had done the same, the sensual cords buried between her beautiful muscular bum.
“Come on then, you old cow,” said Siobhan as she attempted to rile me. “Let’s go for a test of strength then...” She placed her hands out and still riding high on my victory I walked forward and locked my fingers with hers. I felt more confident as a wrestler by now and was ready to contend against this upstart. Grunting, we settled down into our tough strength test. We were both stood in the centre of the mat, our thighs taut and pulsed. We groaned and gasped our effort as we truly wrestled to force the other down. But we were of a similar strength, and as we stared into each other’s determined eyes, I knew that she was going to go all-out to pull back a fall.
“Damn,” I groaned as we shuddered and gasped. “You really are strong for a young one.”
“So are you, sweets,” Siobhan said through her painfully contorted yet still beautiful face. “Very strong.”
I sensed her mutual admiration and we painfully smiled briefly and found ourselves looking deeply into each other’s eyes, our lips but inches away. I felt her sweaty breasts oily against mine as we stood in combat, belly to belly once again with our arms set at a quarter to three. In even wrestling, we simultaneously rested forehead to forehead. Through tired groans and moans of discomfort and muscular pain, Siobhan moistened her lips as we strained on.
“How long can we do this....?” I gasped.
Then I let out a cry of anguish. Siobhan let out an almost animal cry. My arms buckled and she stepped closer, and sensing my wrists fail I struggled and almost felt the tears and sweat of frustration burn my eyes. Siobhan was forcing my hands backwards and around up my back, and using her breasts and upper body weight to force me down, she did so and we slowly drifted down in seemingly slow motion to the mat. She now had me as I had forced her earlier, into our lover’s position. Siobhan lay between my thighs and forced her groin hard against mine as she lay above me dominantly, her belly soft and damp against mine. She rose up on her arms yet still contained mine against the mat. She ground hard against me yet didn’t thrust in stimulation. I sensed the dampness between our strings as I tried to displace the young wrestler but I was caught and she knew it. Instead, I thrust my legs up and scissored her waistline in desperation. She let out a cry of horror as my scissors bit hard. She quickly released my arms to attack my hold. Shock and disgust mingled. She knew she was trapped and the hold was like a brutal vice.
“You bloody bitch!” the young wrestler cried out.
“Submit,” I gasped through my straining. “Submit to me!”
But she shook her head painfully and gripped my knees. I instinctively countered by locking my ankles. And smiling, I knew I had her. But I didn’t anticipate her next move and she simply rose from her kneeling and swung me over, my legs still tight around her and then it became apparent that she had me – in a Boston crab!
She lowered her bum against mine slowly as the agony ground into my spine. “Ah!” I heard her breathless glee. “Now who has who?”
I must admit, I wasn’t feeling too good and my smile seemed like a million miles away. Her bum bounced and pulsed. My back screamed and pain shot across the base of my lumber bones. Another second went by and I cried out my submission. Siobhan let out a laugh and released my legs. I lay prone in pain and humiliation for a minute. That minute felt like an hour. I heard her pad barefoot away from the mat and towel herself down. I rolled onto my back and looked up at the white ceiling. My hair felt damp and my bare breasts were heaving. I watched as she walked back to me and held out her hand to assist me in getting to my feet.
“That was excellent wrestling,” I said as I got up. “You certainly deserved that fall, Siobhan.”
“Thanks,” said Siobhan as I walked my losers walk to the kitchen to get some cold fruit juice. “Want some fresh Orange Juice?”
“Yes, please, “said Siobhan as she followed me into the kitchen. “You know, you really are a great wrestler, Amy. “I felt your power back there. Have you wrestled before?”
“Only my ex boyfriend in playful fun,” I said as I poured out two glasses. “But that was that. And you?”
“Oh yes,” Siobhan said with a slight grin on her face. “My lesbian friend introduced me to it when I turned 18 just for fun and we wrestle on occasions just to work out. It’s a great way to get rid of the stress.”
I felt stupid. No wonder she wanted to wrestle me. “Oh brilliant, now you tell me,” I said feeling cheated and foolish. “No wonder I’m a lot less skilled then you.”
Siobhan drank some juice. “Hey, you took that first fall well. You had me fooled and beat. I was worried when you head-locked me. I nearly suffocated. I actually thought you were an ex wrestler, that’s why I asked.” I looked at her and smiled. I shook my head. She looked young and beautiful and her face was flushed through the effort of our wrestling as no doubt was mine. She looked wonderfully toned and supple and as she sized me up, I sensed she must have been feeling the same.
I drank some juice and walked back to the mat. Siobhan padded softly behind me. We placed our empty glasses onto the table top and I swept my long dark hair back over my ears. I re-tied it back. Siobhan’s hair was tousled and damp as we had grappled hard beneath the studio spotlights. They provided excellent lighting for an evening’s wrestling, but made you sweat profusely.
“So, deciding fall, right?” I said as I adjusted my sexy G-string. “The moment of truth about who is the better woman.”
Siobhan let out a smile. “I’m still up for a good long fight,” she said. “But I want to take this victory fast.”
“Well, you have to earn it,” I said defiantly and circled my opponent as she did me. I darted fast and caught her in a head-lock and strained as her head was held fast between my steel bicep and my hip. I felt her arms embrace my waist and her left hand crept up my arm and neck and found my jaw and face. She groaned as she pushed brutally against me head, forcing my head to the side awkwardly. I let out a cry but wouldn’t relinquish the hold. We stood and strained, her bottom swinging round as I turned and then slipped down to the mat, keeping the headlock in place. I heard Siobhan curse and pant. But I wasn’t going to be shifted from my goal. She cupped my jaw awkwardly and tried to force me back and although in deep discomfort, I increased the pressure on the lock.
“Give.” I muttered inaudibly though her vice-like fingers, “Give!”
But she gasped and groaned a definite “No.”
I moaned and released the lock and dropped down to smoother her body with mine, wrestling again through instinct as opposed to genuine skill. I was now relying more on weight than strength to contain her. I lay across her body as she bucked and slammed her feet against the mat. Her orbs felt warm and soft against mine. Breasts flat against breasts, I bore down on her with my weight and upper body, fighting to contain her left arm. In a cross-press, I held her down to tire her in the hope that I could gain her submission. But her youthful limbs held so much wiry strength and even though damp with perspiration, she seemed set on taking this match to its ultimate possible limit. I groaned at this train of thought. I was finding wrestling a very hard and profoundly frustrating sport; but with erotically charged moments, too.
Thrusting her hips up, she tried to throw me off but I rode the wrestler well and kept my weight down hard. I pushed forward and my body crept and swept further along the mat, my damp belly suffocating my opponent’s face. Siobhan moaned a muffled “No, no” as she felt the air get hot and tight and stale. But I was desperate to take this fall and win the match. Stupid pride propelled me. And I started to enjoy the thought of being a mature topless wrestler. I felt there was something daring erotic about it, almost feeling liberated to have endured a match. But through our struggle and sweat and oily flesh, I failed to contain Siobhan and she worked her way painfully and agonisingly out of my press. I cursed as she rolled from me. I leapt onto her back as she tried to crawl away to the edge of the mat. I straddled her and we rolled onto our side and twisted in a flurry of sweaty moves and arms and legs. Again, we found ourselves face to face and breast to breast. Her soft damp orbs ground against mine as our fight for womanly supremacy continued. She suddenly reversed round and parted her body from mine so swiftly, I was confused. Like a lover changing sensual position and startling their partner, I was jolted from the predicable to the unpredictable. Her damp G-string suddenly swung upwards and her legs parted. I cried out and tried to avoid the advancing ‘V’ of her thighs and it was only at that last moment that I realised what her intent was. Her thighs snapped shut around my head and neck and I felt my legs fly up as she executed a perfect head scissors and began to squeeze.
“No Way!” I cried.
“Way,” came the relaxed voice beyond unyielding muscle. “Way”
I gripped her thighs and balanced on her arms as she tortured me and mocked my struggling body. I was wrestling hard and expending the energy I didn’t have, dredging my reserves and nervous power as she shifted her body weight from one side to another to make this hold as uncomfortable as possible.
I smelled her salty sweat and groaned as I felt her power. I was in her vice and she was enjoying my pain. I tried to get to my knees but I was sapped of strength and she knew it. I thought she was going to apply a little more pressure to make me cry my defeat. But for some reason she was holding the pressure constant. Was she actually savouring my defeat? I struggled to escape the head-scissors. And it was sapping all my reserves. Suddenly, she released me and threw herself down on top of my supine body, gripping my shoulders. Again, we lay close like lovers in our missionary position of wrestling supremacy.
I felt her groin and pubes grind hard against mine and she seemed to be bringing herself off against my clit. The sensual wave of release came over me savagely and I arched my orgasm as she let out a feral cry and then she slumped and rolled from me. Breathless and confused I turned and looked at her. She lay back and let out a girlish laugh, her long blonde hair wet with sweat from our match.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “You could have taken that fall if you’d held that scissors.”
Siobhan smiled. Her face was sheened with perspiration like mine, she said, “Yes, maybe, but I feel we shall call this a draw as then we can always return and wrestle that final fall anytime. It gives us something to look forward to and savour in anticipation.”
I smiled and nodded. I held out my hand and she shook it. As our friendship and great working relationship was forged that night, I looked back at match with a good heart. Smiling, we lay back and talked for ten minutes before we showered together, enjoying the nude intimacy of non-combat but simply as two women enjoying their ablutions together in private.
The next day, we did the photo shoot and the Editor said the magazine was pleased with the photos and would I like to work with Siobhan again. I smiled as I thought back to our match a few nights back: the tension and the pleasure and the pain and the evocation of mutual respect and friendship. A match that had produced such a good result and one that would stay with me until the day I died.
“Anytime,” I said dreamily, unaware of the Editor’s quizzical look. “I would be happy to, anytime.”