Outside of the gym with my at-the-time boyfriend (now husband) I remember little in my life that had left me feeling emblazoned like this. Months of repeating my same old cycles of being underappreciated and far overworked from my extended commitments at work had drained me of many joys in life. After finishing college I had long since lost my roommates who had moved on to follow in their own paths of life. While I was successful in applying my degree in exercise physiology to the chance encounter of snagging an absolute stud of a partner. Our lives were quite hectic and lacked much of the flare I craved while in my earlier 20’s. Until some casual conversation arose one night as Connor prepared me dinner. As I flicked through seeking something new to watch on Netflix. I saw he had all of his typical shows up front along his most popular page including a deep swath of WWE’s recently uploaded match history. As a little girl my family loved watching Smackdown and RAW but that passion had long since been quelled after our inevitable falling out. So willing to take a trip down memory lane I peered a little deeper. Trying to recall some of my favorite matches from my own childhood. Only to notice a rather worrying trend. Throughout his play history each and every episode would pick up and end roughly exactly after the conclusion of the female matches.
This prompted me to ask Connor just why he had such a peculiar obsession with these matches. It was with great trepidation he turned to face me and his normally stoic features were blood-shot red with embarrassment. It was only then that he told me about this unique kink and in strikingly attractive detail as well. He wasn’t only transfixed in the beauty of the buxom beauties clad in their sparkly,suggestive gear that made his heart flutter. (Despite my teasing he wisely refused to admit he found them sexy). But it was how he was hopelessly infatuated with the manipulations of their bodies as the two women struggled for control. How their confident sashaying to the ring, suggestive poses and brazen confidence demanded them to subdue their opponent. The clash of curvaceous figures with thigh high ring gear sending knees and kicks flying into an unprotected stomach, or the screams of anguish being brought about by an opponent trapped in a suggestive submission hold. The finesse and power mandated to pick up a girl roughly the same size as their opponent and then to flip or slam them into the mat.
But most encapsulating of it all was how these women just bled confidence when they knew a match had neared its conclusion. After minutes of an intense struggle with an opponent holistically committed to another’s defeat. Only to be set up for a high impact finishing maneuver. One which would shatter the physical and mental defenses of the recipient. As the loser would ultimately be forced to resign to their fate. One which could only end with them being pinned down, counted out by a neutral referee and exposed however the victor deemed necessary to capitalize on the showing of dominance that the victor wanted. It was this struggle that he craved.
Needlessly to say he had enamored me with the portrayal of being the strong and powerful woman absolutely crushing any opponent that dared infringe on my domain. I yearned to be able to express myself in that light. To feel my body pressed firmly against a subdued opponent. Her chest yielding softly to my own. To witness the will to fight exit their eyes as I slam my opponent into the mat and to look at my soon to be coach as his gaze becomes transfixed on the best woman he would ever get to lay his eyes upon. So after taking this all in. I stormed off into our bedroom slamming the door behind me with more than enough force to shake the very foundations of his soul. I let him stew out onto the couch for about 10 minutes until I exited the room slowly. Being a massive metal fan I took back control of the TV with my phone and shifted to Spotify. Beckoning back to the early 2000's attempting in my own way to pay homage to the wrestlers I grew up on, I found an old favorite of mine “My Curse” by Killswitch Engage. As the music began I slammed the door behind me. The closest thing I had to wrestling gear at the time was a very generous red one-piece which I felt could work in place for a singlet for now. I didn’t want to leave him brooding for too long so my makeup was limited to some wings I applied around my eyes and an arm sleeve which matched my red swimsuit. I strutted downstairs swaying my hips sexily before making my stop directly in front of him. Throwing my arms above my head and arching my back to give him a full view of my massive ass. I completed the grand display with a slight turn jutting my hips out to the side. I rested my right arm on my ass and looked back at him. Flipping my wavy brown hair over my shoulder while doing so with my left hand coming to an innocuous rest at my lips. I bit my finger and asked him “Is this what you had in mind?”
Accompanied with the fear he probably had going through his mind and the lack of blood going to his head up top I think the sight of me fulfilling this long-withheld dream of his made him genuinely light-headed. As he began to sink back into the couch I rotated my curvaceous form to face him and sauntered over to him swaying my hips graciously as I walked and sat right on his fully erect member. Feeling him so close to me genuinely made me laugh which I tried to make as seductive as possible by grabbing his face with my now free right hand leaning in nice and close to his ear and telling him the wittiest thing I could at the time. “One…” I moaned into his ear. “Two…” I moved my face to his neck and gave it a little nibble. “Three…” he whimpered into my ear as I felt him begin to throb below the waist. Not to waste this opportunity I gave Connor a deep kiss on the lips and told him to be ready with a new opponent as soon as he could. After all, I was already 1-0 and it had only been 3 minutes into my wrestling career!
