[man-of-sea]

Bridget's ghosts

Bridget stood in the kitchen, her burnt blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, the scent of her favorite chicken casserole wafting through the air. She glanced at the clock; it was almost time to pick up the twins from school. As she stirred the bubbling pot, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for her pre-mom days when she had the energy to hit the gym after work. Those days felt like a distant memory, replaced by bedtime stories and early mornings.

The door swung open, and the boys barreled in, backpacks flying and laughter echoing off the walls. Mark, her husband, followed close behind, his face flushed from the cold. He took one look at Bridget and grinned. "You still got it, babe," he said, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her cheek.

Bridget rolled her eyes, playfully shoving him away. "You're just saying that because you don't want to deal with the wrath of a tired wife," she teased.

"Maybe," Mark chuckled, "but seriously, you're as fit as ever. And if Rachel's wrestling, we should go watch."

Bridget's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Rachel. With her fiery red hair and piercing green eyes, Rachel had always been an enigma to Bridget. She had heard rumors of Rachel's prowess on the mats but never had the opportunity to see it firsthand. The idea of watching her in action, in a tight-fitting singlet that would surely showcase her powerful physique, was both intriguing and slightly intimidating.

"What do you think, Bridget?" Mark's voice brought her back to the present. "Should we grab some tickets?"

Bridget paused, considering. The last time she had seen Rachel in anything remotely athletic was at the school talent show, where she had done a gymnastics routine that had left the audience, including Mark, utterly spellbound. Her powerful thighs and firm abs had been on full display, and Bridget couldn't deny that she had felt a twinge of... something. Jealousy? No, it was more like admiration.

"Sure," she said finally, "why not? It'll be a good night out."

The evening of the wrestling match arrived, and Bridget felt excitement and nerves as she slipped into a tight black dress that accentuated her curves. Mark looked at her with appreciation, his eyes lingering on her firm 34D breasts before they left the house.

When they arrived at the gym, the air was thick with the scent of sweat and anticipation. The octagon cage loomed in the center, its steel bars gleaming under the harsh lights. Rachel was already there, warming up in the corner, her red hair tied back in a tight bun, her green eyes focused and determined. She was wearing a skintight singlet that left little to the imagination, and Bridget couldn't help but feel a thrill of attraction as she watched Rachel's muscles ripple with every movement.

The crowd was a mix of parents from the school, gym regulars, and a few die-hard wrestling fans. Bridget felt a little out of place in her dress, but Mark's hand in hers kept her grounded. They found seats near the edge of the octagon, close enough to see every drop of sweat and every flex of Rachel's muscles.

Bridget couldn’t tear her eyes away from Rachel as the first match began. The redheaded beauty was a force to be reckoned with, moving with a grace and power that seemed almost inhuman. How her singlet clung to her toned body was mesmerizing, and Bridget felt a heat spread through her that had nothing to do with the room’s warmth. Rachel's opponent, a burly man at least twice her size, was no match for her. She flipped him over with ease, her thighs squeezing his head in a vice-like grip that made the crowd gasp.

Mark leaned in close, his breath warm against Bridget's ear. "Remember when you used to wrestle in college?" he whispered, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "You could take on Rachel."

Bridget's eyes narrowed slightly, and she watched Rachel’s skilled maneuvers with a newfound interest. It had been years since she had set foot on the mat, but the competitive spirit inside her stirred at the thought. “I don’t know,” she murmured. I'm not sure I'm in that kind of shape anymore."

But Mark's words had planted a seed of curiosity in her mind. She had always enjoyed the challenge of wrestling, the feeling of her muscles straining, and the rush of adrenaline. And Rachel… Rachel was something else entirely. Her confidence and strength were intoxicating.

As Rachel emerged victorious from the cage, the crowd erupted into cheers. She strutted over to Bridget and Mark, her chest heaving, a smug smile playing on her lips. "Looks like you guys came to see the show," she said, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.

Bridget couldn't help but feel a spark of envy. Rachel looked incredible, her body glistening with sweat, her muscles defined and powerful. "You were amazing," she said, her voice shakier than intended.

Rachel's smile grew wider. "Thanks, Bridget. Maybe it's time for you to return to the game?" She winked, and the challenge in her eyes was unmistakable.

Bridget saw Mark smiling, and then she caught it. It was Mark's erection. Quickly, she tugs Mark’s hand. “We better get going. It's getting late." Rachel laughs. “Night, Bridget, maybe we can spar soon."

On the way back home, Bridget lite into Mark. “How could you have an erection like that in front of me? I suppose it was  for Rachel, wasn't it?"

Mark looked at Bridget with a bit of surprise. "What? No, babe, I was just excited about the match." But Bridget knew better; she had seen that look before.

After she checked on the twins, she came out to the living room, where Mark was helping the babysitter out the door. Turning around and returning to the room, he closed the door behind him. Bridget was glaring at him.

"What was that about?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I suppose she is giving you an erection, huh? Why don't you admit it? You won’t find me thrilling anymore. You had better sleep on the couch tonight, mister. We'll talk in the morning,” as she storms into the bedroom, slamming the door.

Mark stood there for a moment, stunned by Bridget's accusation. He knew Rachel was attractive, but he had never thought his attraction to her would be so apparent, especially to his wife. He sighed, knowing he had some explaining to do. But for now, he needed some space to clear his head. He grabbed a pillow and a blanket from the closet and headed to the couch.

That night, Bridget tossed and turned. She wept for a while, looking in the mirror and seeing her body as something to be ashamed of. Then  Bridget would again look, thinking, “No, I’m not ashamed. This is still a dam good-looking piece of ass, and I'll prove it. I'll show everyone what Bridget is and make Mark pay for what he did." She falls asleep naked on the bed.

The following day, Bridget woke up early, her mind made up. She marched into the gym, the same one Rachel had dominated the night before, with a newfound determination in her eyes. Rachel was already there, stretching out her long, powerful legs. She looked up as Bridget approached, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

"What's up, Bridget?" Rachel asked, her voice still a little raspy from the exertion of the match.

Bridget took a deep breath, her chest heaving. "I want to train," she said firmly. "I want to get back into wrestling."

Rachel's surprise morphed into a grin. "Really?" she said, her eyes lighting up. "That's fantastic! I can help you with that."

Bridget looks at her. “You think you’re going to help me? I don’t think so. I want to put you on notice.” Rachel stands up with a smirk. "What are you talking about?"

Bridget steps closer to Rachel, her eyes flashing. “I saw how you looked at Mark last night, flexed in that singlet, and whispered to him. I’m not blind, Rachel. And I want to know if you think you’ll get away with it. "

Rachel's smile faded, her expression turning serious. "Bridget, I didn't mean to cause any trouble. I was trying to be friendly. I respect you and Mark. I would never do anything to disrespect your marriage."

Bridget's eyes searched Rachel's face, looking for any hint of deceit. But all she saw was sincerity. "I believe you," she said finally, her voice softer. "But I still want to train. I need to prove to myself, and maybe to Mark, that I still have it."

Bridget looked at Rachel. "This is something internal that most don't understand. I need to find myself again, which is why an old friend will train me." Rachel nodded understandingly; her eyes searched Bridget's face for any sign of doubt or anger.

"Okay, I get it," Rachel said, her voice filled with genuine empathy. "But if you ever need a sparring partner or some tips, I'm here."

Bridget smiles, “Okay, I will keep that in mind and appreciate it. So, just so we’re clear, I intend to fight you next time.” Rachel laughs, “We’ll see about that. I might take you up on that offer."

Days turned into weeks, and Bridget threw herself into training with a hunger she hadn't felt in years. Her old college wrestling coach, Mike, a burly man, took her under his wing. He pushed her harder than she had ever been tried, but she took it all in stride, driven by a newfound desire to regain her former glory.

Bridget was still frosty to Mark as it was hard to forget that night watching Rachel fight after getting the twins in bed. Mark comes out to the living room. “Hey Bridget, we got to talk. This shit  has been going on too long."

Bridget turned to Mark, her expression unreadable. "What do you want to talk about?" she asked, her voice calm.

Mark sighed, taking a seat on the couch. "Look, I'm sorry if I made you feel inadequate; that was never my intention. For old times ‘ sake, I just thought it would be fun to watch Rachel wrestle."

Bridget's eyes narrowed, but she didn't respond immediately. She had been wrestling with her feelings, torn between anger and the thrill of the challenge Rachel had unwittingly thrown down. "I know you didn't mean it that way," she said. "But it's hard not to feel like I've lost something... like I'm not as desirable as I used to be."

Mark took a deep breath, reaching out to take her hand. "You're more than desirable, Bridget. You're a mother, a wife, and still one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. The twins took a toll on us both, but that doesn't mean I don't find you attractive."

Bridget looked at him, wanting to believe his words, “ If that was the case, then why did you get that erection? Then, when we got home, you didn’t come in and talk to me? Instead, you went to the couch, and who knows what you did. All I know is it hurts me, Mark. I mean, I started to doubt  myself, I mean my whole body image and myself."

Mark's eyes widened with realization. "Bridget, I swear, it wasn't about Rachel; it was about the excitement of the match. You know how much I've always loved wrestling. I never meant to make you feel that way."

Bridget looks through him: “We will see Mark. I have been training with my old college coach, Mike, and he believes that I could beat Rachel in the ring. So I  have challenged Rachel to a match in two weeks."

Mark's eyes went wide. "What? You've been training? And you're going to fight Rachel?"

Bridget nodded firmly. “Yes, I have, and yes, I am. And you will be there supporting me. No matter what happens, I want you to know that."

Mark's hand tightened around hers, a mix of pride and concern etched on his face. "Of course, I'll be there," he said. "But you know Rachel's tough. Are you sure you're ready for this?"

Bridget pulled her hand away, standing tall. "I'm more than ready," she said with a steely resolve. "I've been training harder than ever, and I've got a score to settle."

After getting the twins to school and Mark off to work the following day, Bridget headed to the gym, where her coach was waiting. Mike gave a quick smile. “Well, how did it go with Mark?” Bridget offered a startled look. "How did you know?"

Mike looked like the coach she knew in college just before a big meet. "Hey, give me a little credit for my years. I could tell when you called me for help. Your voice, well, it sounded a bit defeated, and then I saw you. You were not that fireball wrestler I knew at college."

Despite the tension in the room, Mike’s words brought a small smile to Bridget’s face. "Okay, coach," she said, "Let's get to work."

Mike smiles, “Yeah, that’s the spirit. Bonnie will be here in five. See what you’ve been learning.” He hands Bridget a pair of spandex shorts and a T-back sports bra. "Go change and meet us on the mat."

Bridget nods and heads to the locker room. She changes quickly, feeling the material hug her body, showing off her curves and powerful legs. Mike is already there when she steps onto the mat; Bonnie is stretching on the opposite side. Bonnie's eyes widened slightly when she saw Bridget’s outfit, but she said nothing and nodded in greeting.

"Alright, Bridget," Mike says, his voice gruff but encouraging. "Today, we're going to work on some takedowns and holds. Bonnie here is going to be your sparring partner."

Bonnie is a young black woman with short curly hair about the same size and weight as Bridget.
She starts to circle, watching Bridget like a hawk. “Come on now, Bridget, I don't bite. Let's get going.” She lunges forward, and Bridget reacts quickly, using her powerful thighs to sidestep and grab Bonnie's arm, attempting to bring her down to the mat.

But Bonnie was fast. She twists and turns, and her agility surprises Bridget. They both end up on the ground, legs entangled. Bridget can feel the heat of their bodies, the sweat forming on their skin. She grits her teeth, pushing herself to be better and stronger.

Their bodies roll and twist, each trying to gain the upper hand. Bridget's firm 34D breasts press against Bonnie's more petite but equally toned chest. She can feel the younger woman's muscles straining under her grip, the power in her arms as she tries to break free. They're both panting now, their breaths mingling in the close space between them.

Mike yells at  Bridget to focus as he walks around the two. "Come on, Briget, show me  you want this pin here.” Bridget refocuses and, with a burst of strength she had forgotten she had, flips Bonnie onto her back and straddles her, her powerful thighs trapping the younger woman's arms. She is locked in a headlock, feeling the satisfaction of being in control.

Their eyes lock, the air charged with competition and something else, making Bridget's heart race faster. Bonnie struggles beneath her, their bodies moving in a dance of power and submission. Bridget tightens her grip, feeling the heat of Bonnie's body against hers, the smooth skin of her stomach against Bridget's thighs.

Bonnie, seeing if she can escape, tries to work a hand, hoping to gain a breast. But Bridget is too quick; she moves her thighs, pinning Bonnie's arms down even tighter. Mike starts to count. “One…two…three… four…five.” Finally, releasing the hold. Bridget stands up and extends a hand to help Bonnie up.

"Good job, Bridget," Mike says, slapping her back. "You've still got it."

Bonnie nods, a bead of sweat rolling down her cheek. "You're stronger than you look," she says, a hint of admiration in her voice.

Bridget laughs, feeling a blush creep up her neck. "Thanks, I guess," she says, her hand lingering on Bonnie's arm a moment longer than necessary.

Mike claps his hands together, breaking the tension. "Alright, let's not get too friendly here; we've got work to do. Bridget, you must stay focused to take down Rachel."

Bridget nods, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. She knows he's right; Rachel is no pushover. She's seen her in action, and the thought of facing her in the octagon sends a thrill of excitement and fear. But she's determined to prove herself to Mark, Rachel, and everyone else who doubted her.

"Ok, let’s do it again, Bonnie. You know her strength; use it to your advantage. Bridget, don’t get  distracted; work faster to get Bonnie  down." Mike gets both back on the mat.

Bonnie nods eagerly to try again, her eyes on Bridget. She can see the determination in Bridget’s eyes and knows this will be a good match. They lock up, and Bridget is quickly on the defensive. Bonnie’s more petite frame is surprisingly agile, and she uses it to her advantage, slipping out of Bridget's grasp and sending her tumbling to the mat.

Bridget hits the ground with a thud, feeling the sting of embarrassment. But she doesn't let it show, instead using it as fuel to push herself harder. She gets back up, her legs shaking slightly from the impact. Mike's words echo as she locks eyes with Bonnie again.

The next few minutes are a blur of grappling and grunts, each woman fighting for dominance. They're both equally matched, their muscles straining and flexing as they attempt to outwit each other. The gym is silent except for their breathing and the slap of skin against the mat.

Mike, yelling at Bridget to take her down, lunges at Bonnie with renewed energy. They lock up, their bodies tangling together in a display of raw power. Bridget can feel the firmness of Bonnie's abs as she tries to push her back, her legs trembling with the effort. Bonnie's thighs are like steel, and Bridget knows she must use all her strength to overpower her.

With a grunt, Bridget manages to trip Bonnie, sending her crashing to the mat. She quickly jumps on top, straddling her again. This time, she's ready for the countermove, and she slams her thighs down hard, trapping Bonnie's arms beneath her. She feels the younger woman's body tense up and knows she's got her.

Mike yells to use her thighs, and watching closely, Bridget leans in, pressing her thighs even tighter around Bonnie's neck. She feels the tension in the other woman's body, the struggle for air, and knows she's close to victory. "Give up?" she asks, her voice filled with confidence and challenge.

Bonnie's eyes flash defiantly, but she knows when she's beaten. She taps out, gasping for breath as Bridget releases the hold. They both sit up, panting heavily, their bodies glistening with sweat. Bonnie looks up at Bridget with newfound respect. "You're good," she says, a hint of a smile on her lips.

Bridget grins back, feeling the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. "Thanks," she says, her voice a little breathless. "But I've got a long way to go before I'm ready for Rachel."

Mike nods, his expression serious. "You're on the right track but need to work on your speed and agility. Rachel's got a few tricks up her sleeve that could catch you off guard."

Bridget looks at Bonnie: “Hey, let’s go again, and this time, let’s see if we can fight dirty. I know Rachel does it, and I’ve got to see how to handle that.” Mike smiles: “Remember that match in Uath where your opponent pulled your top off, and you almost lost? Remember what you did? You fought on and didn’t give up, remember? You went for it and took your opponent down."

They started to circle each other again. This time, Bridget’s eyes were sharp and focused like a hawk ready to strike. Bonnie lunged forward, and Bridget quickly responded, her hands going for a leg trip, but Bonnie anticipated it. Bonnie’s hand slides between Bridget’s thighs, trying to slip into her shorts to grab anything. But Bridget was quicker. She grabbed Bonnie’s hand and pulled it away.

"I see you've been paying attention," Mike says with a chuckle. But let’s keep it in the schoolyard; there’s no need to go there yet."

Bridget nods, feeling slightly disappointed but understanding the need for boundaries. They continue to spar, pushing each other's limits, their bodies moving in a symphony of power and strategy. Bonnie's touch had been unexpected, and it left Bridget feeling both violated and oddly aroused. She shakes off the thought, focusing on the task at hand.

As the days pass, Bridget's training intensifies. She learns to anticipate moves, to use her weight to her advantage, and never to underestimate her opponent. Each night, she returns home to her family, her muscles aching and her spirit soaring. Mark notices the change in her, the fire in her eyes, and the newfound confidence in her step. He tries to be supportive, but the tension between them is palpable.

A week before Rachel's match, Mike finds a new sparring partner for Bridget. Bridget was expecting to see  Bonnie that morning at the gym, but there was  Mary.

Bridget looks at Mike, “How did you find her? I told you  back then I would never fight her again.” Bridget starts turning red with anger.

Mike smiles. “See, this is what I want you to feel, and  this morning, I want you and Mary to settle this here and  now on the  mat." Looking at  Mary, “Don’t hold back. I want you to go all out and kick her ass."

Mary, a tall, muscular blonde with a nasty smirk, steps into the octagon with Bridget. They have a history from college when they had a brutal rivalry that was more personal than just the sport.

Mary winks at Bridget. "Long time no see," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Bridget's jaw clenches, but she doesn't rise to the bait. She nods curtly, her eyes on the prize. "Let's get this over with."

The match begins with a tense standoff, both women sizing each other up. Then, with a sudden burst of speed, Mary charges, trying to use her height and reach to her advantage. But Bridget is ready. She sidesteps and sweeps Mary's legs from under her, sending her crashing to the mat. The impact echoes through the gym, and time has stopped momentarily.

Mary's eyes flash with anger, and she quickly recovers, scrambling back to her feet. She lunges at Bridget again, but Bridget is ready. She catches Mary in a headlock, her biceps bulging with the effort. The two women struggle, their bodies pressed together, each trying to gain the upper hand. Bridget can feel the warmth of Mary's breath on her neck, the heat of her skin, sending a strange shiver down her spine.

They grapple back and forth, their legs intertwined, grunts and gasps filling the air. Bridget's mind is racing, thinking of all the times Mary had bested her in college, all the humiliation she had suffered at her hands. But she's not that girl anymore. She's a mother and wife, fighting for more than a win on the mat.

Mary's hand reaches down, trying to find a way to break the hold. Her fingers brush against Bridget's firm breasts, and for a split second, Bridget's grip loosens. But she recovers quickly, using the momentary distraction to her advantage. She swings her hips, flipping Mary onto her back and straddling her, pinning her arms to the mat.

Their bodies are slick with sweat, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Mike's voice is in the background, egging them on, but Bridget's focus is solely on Mary. She can feel the other woman's strength, the years of pent-up anger and rivalry between them. It's a heady mix, and it fuels her determination.

Mary bucks her hips, trying to dislodge Bridget, but she's too strong. "Tap out," Bridget says, her voice low and intense. "Tap out, and I'll let you go."

Mary glares up at her, refusing to submit. "Never," she spits, her teeth gritted.

Bridget then remembers that move Mary pulled on her, won the match, and humiliated her in front of everyone. She smirks down at her. “Oh, I know you remember that night you did that to me. Let's say this time things will be different."

With that, she leaned down and whispered in Mary’s ear, "I'm going to break you, and you will tap out."

The crowd grew louder as the tension in the octagon was palpable. Bridget's heart raced as she felt the pressure of the impending match with Rachel, but she knew she had to focus on the task. She tightened her grip on Mary's arms, feeling the muscles in her shoulders burn.

Mary's eyes narrowed, and she bucked her hips again, trying to throw Bridget off balance. But Bridget was ready. She dug her knees into the mat, her thighs squeezing tighter around Mary's head. The blonde's face turned red as she struggled for air, her eyes bulging slightly.

"Tap out," Bridget repeated, her voice a mix of challenge and triumph. "You know you can't beat me."

Mary's eyes flashed with anger, but she also knew when she was beaten. With a frustrated grunt, she tapped the mat twice. Bridget released her, standing up and extending a hand to help her opponent to her feet. The tension between them was thick, but there was also a begrudging respect.

"Good match," Bridget said, her voice still breathless.

Mary took Bridget's hand, pulling herself up with a grunt. "You've gotten better," she admitted, her tone begrudging.

"Thanks to you," Bridget said, her smile genuine. "You always did know how to bring out the best in me."

Mike clapped his hands together, signaling the end of their session. "Alright, ladies, that's enough for today. Bridget, you've come a long way but still have work to do."

Bridget looked at Mike. “I ready, coach. I am going to take Rachel down, and I will make sure she knows it." Mike looked at her. “Don’t get too cocky there, Bridget. Rachel is a good wrestler ." Mike looked at Mary. "What do you think? Think she can take Rachel down?"

Mary, wiping the sweat from her brow, “If she can keep her cool and use that power she’s got in those legs, she might have a chance. Rachel is fast but not used to someone with Bridget's power."

Mike smiles. "Ok, Bridget, he pulls a cantaloupe from a brown paper bag. "If you can crush this, I will set up the match with Rachel." He throws it to Bridget, "Prove to me you are ready for Rachel."

Bridget catches the fruit, feeling its weight in her hand. She squeezes it with all her might, feeling the juice spurt between her thighs. Her eyes never leave Mike's as she continues to apply pressure, her ankles locked and turning white. With a final grunt, the cantaloupe explodes, sending chunks flying across the mat.

Mike nods, impressed. "Alright, you've got the power. Now, let's work on your speed and agility."

The days leading up to the match with Rachel are a blur of intense training sessions, each pushing Bridget to her limits. Mike pairs her with different sparring partners, each with their style and strengths, forcing her to adapt and improve. She learns to anticipate moves, to use her body to its fullest potential, and never to underestimate an opponent.

As Bridget leaves the gym one evening, Rachel approaches her, looking concerned. "Hey Bridget, are you okay?" Rachel asks, noticing the bruises peeking out from under her sleeves.

Bridget nods a little wearily. "Just training," she says, trying to play it off.

Rachel's eyes soften. "I know how much this means to you," she says. "But don't push yourself too hard. It's just a match."

Bridget looks at Rachel, seeing the sincerity in her eyes. "It's more than that," she admits. "But thanks for checking on me."

Getting home, Mark had dinner already. "You late tonight. The boy. I tuck them into bed. Everything is OK. I mean, are you alright? We can talk if you want." Mark watches as Bridget devours her steak. Bridget smiles. “Thanks for fixing dinner. That steak was great."

Bridget takes a deep breath, setting down her fork. "I'm okay, Mark," she says, her voice steady. "I'm just...focused on the match."

Mark nods, his gaze lingering on her bruised arms. "I know it's important to you," he says gently. "But you're important to me too. I don't want you to get hurt."

Bridget looks up at him, her eyes filled with frustration and determination. "I won't," she promises. "I'm doing this for us. To prove that I'm still got it."

Mark reaches across the table, taking her hand in his. "You don't have to prove anything to me," he says softly. "I know you're amazing."

Bridget squeezes his hand, trying to ignore the doubt that lingers in the back of her mind. "I know," she says, forcing a smile. "But I need to do this for myself."

The night of the match finally arrives, and Bridget steps into the octagon with a newfound sense of purpose. Rachel is already there, stretching out her long legs, looking every bit the part of the confident, powerful athlete. The crowd roars as Bridget enters, and she can feel their eyes on her, sizing her up and wondering if she still has what it takes.

Mike gives her a final pep talk before the match starts. "Remember, speed and strategy," he says, his voice low and intense. "Don't let her get into your head."

Bridget nods, her heart pounding in her chest. She steps into the center of the octagon, her eyes locked on Rachel's. The bell rings, and they both spring into action. Rachel is fast, her legs a blur as she darts around the mat. Bridget charges, her powerful thighs propelling her forward. The crowd goes wild as the two women collide, their bodies a tangle of limbs and determination.

Rachel goes for a leg takedown, but Bridget anticipates it, jumping over Rachel's outstretched arms and landing behind her. She quickly wraps her arms around Rachel's waist, her thick thighs squeezing tightly. Rachel gasps as Bridget lifts her off the ground, her legs flailing for purchase. But Bridget is too strong. She slams Rachel onto the mat, her body weight pressing down on the taller woman's back.

The crowd's roar becomes a collective gasp as Rachel struggles to break free. Bridget's grip is like a vice, and Rachel can feel the air squeezed out her lungs. She tries to twist out of the hold, her muscles straining, but Bridget adjusts her grip, pressing her chest against Rachel's back, her breasts smothering Rachel's face. Rachel feels a strange mix of panic and arousal, her heart racing as she fights to escape.

Bridget senses Rachel's discomfort and tightens her hold even more, her legs like steel bands around Rachel's waist. Rachel's breathing becomes more labored, and Bridget knows she has the advantage. But she's not here to win; she wants Rachel to know she's the better wrestler, to feel Bridget’s power.

With a sudden burst of strength, Rachel manages to twist her upper body, her arms reaching up to grab the ropes of the octagon. She pulls herself up, using her core to arch her back and push Bridget away. For a moment, Bridget is off-balance, and Rachel takes the opportunity to flip her over, reversing the hold.

Now Rachel's thighs are around Bridget's neck, her powerful legs squeezing tight. Bridget feels the pressure building, her vision blurring around the edges. She tries to push Rachel away, but Rachel's grip is relentless. The crowd is on their feet, and the tension in the air is electric as the two women fight for dominance.

Mike's voice rings in Bridget's ears. "Use your strength, Bridget! You've got this!" she hears him yell. She gathers her focus, planting her hands firmly on the mat. With a grunt, she pushes herself up, forcing Rachel's legs to loosen their grip. Rachel tries to hold on, but Bridget's determination is too much. She rolls Rachel over, reversing the hold again.

This time, Rachel is the one on the defensive. Bridget's thighs are like a vice around Rachel's neck, her body weight pressing down. Rachel's hands claw at Bridget's legs, trying to find a way to escape, but Bridget is merciless. She leans back, increasing the pressure, watching Rachel's face turn a darker shade of red.

Bridget heard her inner voice coming back like in college. “You got this. Use your thighs to make her submit,” was pounding through her mind. Rachel's struggles grew weaker, her breathing more ragged. The crowd's cheers grew louder, and Bridget could feel the vindication building within her.

But Rachel wasn't one to give up easily. With a final burst of strength, she hooked one of her legs around Bridget's arm, breaking the hold. They both rolled away, gasping for breath, their bodies slick with sweat. Rachel got to her feet first, and Bridget could see the fire in her eyes.

The match continues a back-and-forth battle of wills and strength. They grapple, each trying to gain the upper hand. Bridget’s brute power matches Rachel’s speed and agility. The crowd is on the edge of their seats, cheering and shouting as the women tumble across the mat, their bodies entwined in a competition dance.

Rachel catches Bridget with a quick leg sweep, sending her to the ground. She leaps on top of her, pinning her shoulders down. Bridget feels Rachel's weight on her chest, the heat of her body, and the fabric of their swimsuits sticking to their skin. Rachel's breasts press down on her, and Bridget can't help but feel a spark of desire amidst the struggle.

Bridget is trying to keep her feelings of desire under warps. Having some muscle memories from her college wrestling days, she does a dangerous stunt of doing a backward summersault with Rachel on top of her, landing on Rachel's back with Rachel’s face first on the mat. Rachel's breasts bounce from the impact, and Bridget takes a quick moment to take in the sight. Rachel's face is planted on the mat, and Bridget's thighs are firmly locked around her neck. Rachel's body wiggles beneath her, and Bridget can feel Rachel's powerful legs trying to shake her off.

Bridget heard Mike yelling to use her thighs. Bridget locks her ankles and squeezes Rachel’s neck with all her might. Rachel's muffled protests fade into the background as Bridget's mind is focused solely on the prize. Rachel's body goes still, and the referee slams his hand down on the mat, signaling Bridget's victory.

The crowd erupts in cheers as Bridget releases Rachel's neck, her chest heaving with exertion. Rachel coughs and gasps for air, her face red and sweaty. Bridget stands up, offering Rachel a hand to help her up, which Rachel takes with a slight nod of respect. The two women hug briefly, their bodies pressed together, feeling the heat and the tremble of exhaustion from their intense battle.

Bridget looks to the side and catches Mark standing and clapping his hands, a proud smile on his face. Rachel pulls away, a hint of defeat in her eyes, but she quickly composes herself. "Good match," Rachel says, her voice a little husky.

"Thank you," Bridget replies, her voice breathless. She steps back, allowing Rachel to stand on her own. Rachel does so unsteadily, and the two bow to each other, a sign of respect in the wrestling world. The tension between them lingers, but there's a newfound understanding.

Mike comes running up just as he did in college with a cool, wet towel for Bridget. "Good match, you've still got it!" he says, beaming with pride. Bridget takes the towel, wiping the sweat from her face, her eyes never leaving Rachel's. Rachel nods at her, a begrudging respect forming between them.

The tension between Rachel and Bridget is palpable as they exit the octagon. Rachel heads to the locker room, her steps a little unsteady, while Bridget walks over to Mark, her legs feeling like jelly. He wraps his arms around her, lifting her off the ground in a bear hug. "You were amazing!" he exclaims, his eyes shining excitedly.

Bridget can't help but blush at the attention, her eyes darting over to Rachel, who's now talking to a group of her fans. Rachel notices the glance and gives her a wink, a hint of mischief in her gaze. Bridget's stomach flips, but she quickly turns back to Mark. "Thanks, babe," she says, her voice still shaky. "Couldn't have done it without your support."

The rest of the night is a whirlwind of congratulations and questions from the crowd. Bridget feels like she's floating on air, and her victory over Rachel is a testament to her strength and determination. They head home, the excitement of the night still buzzing between them.

Bridget looks out the window of the car as the city lights flash. Mark glances at her and then focuses back on the road."You were excellent tonight, babe. I’ve never seen those looks you were giving before.” Mark said with a cheeky smile.

Bridget chuckles a bit nervously. "It's just part of the game, you know, to psyche out your opponent."

Mark nods, his eyes never leaving the road. "I do know," he says. "But it was more than that. It was like you had something to prove."

Bridget sighs, leaning her head back against the headrest. "Maybe I did," she admits. "But I'm not sure what it was anymore."

Mark keeps his eyes on the road, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "You don't have to explain," he says. "But I need to know that you're okay."

Bridget looks at him, her eyes reflecting the streetlights. "I am," she says, her voice firm. "More than okay. I just...I needed to do this for me."

Bridget feels the adrenaline rush leaving and reaches over and goes between Mark’s legs, feeling his erection. "You're still hard?" she says with a smirk.

"Couldn't help it, watching you in there, all-powerful and sexy," Mark admits, his voice low and gruff.

Bridget laughs, feeling a thrill run through her. "Well, I guess I should thank Rachel then."

Mark raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Bridget looks at him. “Pull over. We need to talk.” Mark does as she asks. They sit in the quiet car, the tension between them thick. "What's going on, Bridget?" Mark asks, his voice a mix of concern and confusion.

Bridget started to unbuckle his belt. “Listen, I had doubts about myself and well-being as a woman for you after what you did to me in front of Rachel. Having an erection in front of me, well, it had me deeply".

Mark looked at her in shock. "I didn't mean to do that. It just happened."

Bridget is now working to get his pants down while he lifts his butt. "I know I talked to my coach about it and a couple of my friends from the gym,” she says, a mischievous glint in her eye. "They all said the same thing."

Looking at Bridget, Mark pulls her bra straps off her shoulders.” May I?” he says, looking at her.

Bridget nods, her heart racing. "You better," she says, her voice playful.

Bridget finally gets his pants down to his ankles."I want to fuck our brains out right now." she says passionately. Mark can't resist her urgency and leans in to kiss her, his hand reaching behind her neck to pull her closer. Their kiss is hungry, fueled by the adrenaline and desire building between them all evening.

Mark slides his hand down to cup Bridget's firm breast, his thumb flicking over her nipple. She gasps into his mouth, her hand reaching down to stroke his hard cock. The car's interior is suddenly too small, too confining for the passion exploding between them. They need more.

"Let's go home," Mark says, his voice strained with need. "We can't do this here."

Bridget looked at him. “No, I need you now, and right here, so you better keep it up, buddy." pulling him to the leather seat. She straddles him and reaches into her bag for the lubricant. Mark nods eagerly, his eyes never leaving hers. She squeezes a generous amount onto her hand and goes behind to rub it into her ass. Mark watches, his cock twitching with anticipation.

Without warning, Bridget lowers herself onto Mark, taking him inch by inch. He groans into her neck as she tightens her grip around him. The car's leather seats stick to their sweaty skin as they move together, the sound of their passion muffled by the closed windows. Bridget's powerful thighs flex as she rides him, her body moving with grace and strength that leaves Mark in awe.

The car's interior is filled with the scent of their desire, mixing with the faint smell of the gym's sweat. Mark's hands grip Bridget's hips, guiding her rhythm as they find a tempo that drives them both wild. Her breasts bounce with every thrust, and he can't help but lean forward to take one into his mouth, teasing the nipple with his tongue.

Bridget starts to yell for Mark, “Bite them. I want you to show me how much you want me." Mark bites down gently on her firm breast, her nipple in his teeth. Bridget's eyes roll back in her head as she feels a mix of pleasure and pain, her pussy throbbing around his cock. She rides him harder, her thighs flexing and releasing, her movements becoming more erratic as she chases her climax. Rachel's face flashes in her mind, the feeling of Rachel's legs around her neck, the power she felt at that moment.

Mark feels Bridget's muscles tighten around him and knows she's close. He reaches up to pinch her other nipple, his teeth still on the first one. The combination sends Bridget over the edge, her body shaking as she cums hard. She collapses onto Mark, her breath coming in ragged gasps. He holds her tightly, feeling her pulse against his chest as she rides out her orgasm.

As the waves of pleasure subside, Bridget sits up, her face flushed and hair sticking to her forehead. She looks down at Mark, her eyes dark with desire. "Your turn," she says, her voice a seductive whisper. Mark nods, his hips bucking up into her.

Bridget reaches down to stroke him, her hand moving in long, firm strokes. She feels his cock throb in her grip, and she knows he's close. "Cum for me," she says her voice a command. Mark's eyes widen, and with a roar, he does just that, filling her up. She moans, the feeling of his hot release sending another shiver of pleasure through her body.

Both staring into each other’s eyes, they smile and deep-throat their tongues as they kiss passionately. Mark can feel Bridget's muscular thighs contracting around his waist as she rides him with a fierce intensity. His own hands are wrapped around her muscular back, feeling the power in her body as she moves. Rachel's presence is a silent third in the car, a reminder of the competition that has fueled their desire.

As they pull away from the kiss, panting and desperate for more, Bridget leans back, her hands on the dashboard for support. Mark takes this as a cue and begins to pump into her harder, his grip on her hips tightening. She gasps, throwing her head back, her eyes closed in ecstasy. The car rocks slightly with their movements, the only sound of their skin slapping and ragged breathing. Rachel's wink plays in Bridget's mind, adding a hint of mischief to their already heated encounter.

Suddenly, a car honking snaps them out of their passionate haze. They both look out the window to see a line of cars backed up behind them, waiting for the light to change. Flustered, Bridget quickly pulls her bra back up and adjusts her pants while Mark tries to compose himself, his cock still standing at attention. They both laugh nervously, the reality of their situation setting in.

"We better get home," Bridget says, her voice still a little shaky from the intense orgasm. Mark nods, his hands reluctantly leaving her body. He pulls his pants up and starts the car, his erection slowly subsiding as they drive away from the side of the road.