(Editor's note: This story is liberally plagiarized from a story of the same name by OctoPussy at Freecatfights.com)
I struggled to remember how it was that I found myself in this exact position. Laying on my back, Stacey straddling my midsection, hands wrapped around my wrists pinning them above my head while I stared up at her swimsuit covered D-cup breasts while she mocked me.
“You can give up any time,” Stacey said with a giggle as she bounced her ass on my stomach a couple times to punctuate every word. I thought back, it was just two months ago we were meeting the Roses and now I’ve got one right on top of me…
**Two Months Prior**
Like most of the newly married lieutenants at Ft Knox, we had rented an apartment at a nice complex just north of the post. It had everything a young couple could ask for, a large pool with plenty of lounging and gathering space, a well-equipped exercise room and aerobic studio, and a gorgeous club house. The pool area was crammed every weekend with swimmers, sunbathers, and grilling out and sooner or later everyone in the complex passed through that area. It was a great opportunity to get to know everyone and I knew you guys didn’t mind looking at all the pretty women. Out of the thirty-odd couples that we frequently saw only a handful of the wives came close to being as attractive as I was, and I always attracted a lot of attention when I was at the pool. Most of the women accepted their place in this informal beauty contest, some upped their game by wearing more attractive and flattering swimwear or bikinis, and a few treated the whole thing as a competition that they were determined to win. One of those was Lieutenant Rose’s wife, Stacey.
There was no doubt in anybody’s mind that Stacey was close to the top of the list with her gorgeous face, killer body, and flirtatious ways. I didn’t know it at the time, but she considered me to be her closest competitor. Things took an interesting turn when all the husbands went on a week-long field exercise leaving us wives to create our own entertainment.
I was down at the pool sunbathing and talking with small group of women when one of them suggested that we go to the clubhouse for snacks. When we got there, we joined a group already seated around the main table who were well into their food and drinks. Introductions were made and everyone settled into another round of drinks and small talk. At one point the conversation started to lag and one of the women suggested that we play a game called “Truth or Dare” that she learned in her sorority.
Simply put, one girl asks another Truth or Dare? If she answers “Truth”, she must truthfully answer any question the first girl asks. If she answers “Dare”, she must perform a physical challenge. Once a girl completes her “Truth or Dare” challenge, she picks another girl and the game continues until everyone gets a turn. The first “Truth” challenge was the fairly standard “what’s your most embarrassing moment” and the first “Dare” became a contest between two women to see who could do the latest dance step the best. Things became a little more interesting when Stacey chose “Truth” and Brenda asked her how she snared “Lieutenant Stud”. “I won him in a fight”, Stacey sweetly answered and the crowd at the table roared with laughter and demanded details.
“It really wasn’t that big a deal”, Stacy explained, “I bumped into a girl at a bar and spilled her drink. I apologized, but she slapped me. One thing led to another and next thing I know, I’m being carried out by the bouncer, my right fist alight with pain, and my left fist full of a chunk of her hair. I found out later that I had knocked her out. Dave followed me out, took me home, and the rest, as they say, is history.” The table erupted in more hoots and hollering, but suddenly got quiet when Brenda, who’d had more to drink than the others, blurted out, “I bet Becky could beat Stacey in a wrestling match!”
“You think so, Brenda?”, Stacey asked as she shot an appraising glance my way, “She looks strong, no doubt those mornings at the gym are paying off, but I don’t think she’s got what it takes to pin me down.” I knew what was coming and sure enough, “Well, what about it, Becky, I dare you to wrestle me!”, came Stacey’s sing-song voice, “Do you accept?”. All the eyes at the table were riveted on me and a slow chant of “Becky….Becky….Becky” started. I was totally embarrassed, but I knew that this rivalry between us had to be resolved so I looked her straight in the eye and told her, “I accept your dare and the sooner we get this over, the better.”
Brenda, the instigator of all this, chimed in and said we could put down some mats in the aerobics area, so we headed over there. When everything was set up, Stacey tapped Brenda to be the referee, walked to the center of the mats, and began the proceedings. “Here’s what I was thinking, and you can wave me off whenever you want. Friendly wrestling, no punching, no kicking, no biting, no being overly MEAN to each other, just two women testing the other’s strength and ability. I don’t want to claw your eyes out and I don’t want you to punch my lights out!” Stacey started and I nodded my head in agreement while all the other women hung on every word. She continued, “Fortunately, this swimsuit I have on will prevent any wardrobe malfunctions, these D’s of mine don’t need to be bouncing around making everyone jealous. If that bikini top of yours becomes dislodged Becky, I doubt anyone will notice.” I instinctively looked down at my smaller C cup boobs and frowned/blushed at Stacey’s words as she laughed “We’ve seen enough of each other at the pool Becky, yours are incredible and you have nothing to be ashamed of. I was just teasing you!”
The discussion continued and we settled on the rules. Thirty minutes of wrestling with a 5-minute break (the clock wouldn’t run during breaks) after each 5-second pin or submission. At any point one of us could call the match off completely by saying the other woman was the better woman. If the match goes the full 30 minutes, the woman with the most submissions and/or pinfalls wins. We both agreed to the rules.
I was amped up and anxious to get this over with, but only 10 minutes into the match I find myself in the predicament that I described at the beginning of this story with Stacey mounted on my stomach, her D’s in my face, and already having a 2-0 advantage after making me submit to a body scissors and then holding me down in a grapevine pin for Brenda’s five count.
Stacey only has a slight advantage in both height and weight over me and I feel I’ve given her a good fight, but somehow, she’s just getting the better of me in small quick exchanges. My mind is racing trying to come up with a way to get her off me.
**Back To Reality**
“You can give up any time,” Stacey said with a giggle as she bounced her ass on my stomach a couple times to punctuate every word. I growled up at her “Shuddup!” I hissed and then bucked hard, flinging my hips up into the air in a desperate attempt to send her sprawling off me, but she just rode me like a cowgirl and then slammed her ass down into my stomach again, dropping me back to the floor with a huff. “Dave and I have wrestled a few times and when I’m on top, he tries to unseat me. It’s one of our favorite games and I haven’t lost yet!” She smiles as she reestablishes the Schoolgirl Pin and Brenda starts counting. Soon enough Brenda shouts “FIVE” and that’s it. I groan out loud when Stacey releases me partly from exertion and partly from knowing I’m down 3-0. Stacey is loving every second of this.
We both go to the corners of the mat to rest and one of my friends hands me some water and offers some advice. “You’re not doing terribly, just try to react quicker to her moves. It’s nothing special that she’s doing, she’s just out-thinking you a bit.” “Yea thanks, I hadn’t noticed,” I said with an eye roll before taking another drink of water and catching my breath. I grabbed a towel and dabbed the sweat off my boobs and rearranged my bikini top.
The timer rang and we both took to our feet and moved back toward the center of the mats. I look at my statuesque opponent over and brush my hair back over my shoulders. “This is my round” I say with a bit of false bravado as we close together, and Brenda re-starts the timer. There’s still 20 minutes left and already I feel like this is the hardest workout I’ve ever had. Stacey lunges toward me, reaching for my left wrist and I yank it back as I push forward, twisting my hips and throwing my right arm around Stacey’s head, tucking her into a headlock as I press her face in against my boob. I can hear Stacey grunting as she pushes against my hips with both hands trying to escape, but I have the hold locked on nice and tight wrenching her head side to side. I decide to take her to the ground, so I thrust my hip into her midsection, plant both feet, twist my body, and flip her over my hip. We came crashing down onto the mat with me landing firmly on top of Stacey’s bountiful D’s and knocking the breath out of her.
The move stuns Stacey and I’m working my headlock with everything I’ve got torquing her neck and going for a submission. Unfortunately for me, Stacey’s crafty and she kicks her long legs up and wraps them around my head, snapping those tight legs shut in a head scissors and yanking me down to the ground making me lose my hold on her. Before she can completely lock in her scissors, I slip my head out from between her legs and quickly straddle and pin them underneath me before she can move.
Stacey sits up with me holding her legs straight out in front of her and for a moment we just sit there looking at each other. I’m trying to think what to do next when Stacey reaches forward to grab me. Instinctively, I grab both of her hands and yank them forward while I slide up her legs, pulling our bodies together. When I get her in position, I fling my arms around her and pull her in tight against me. I’ve succeeded in trapping her in a seated bear hug, our breasts mashed together, our heads resting on the others shoulder. I squeeze with everything I’ve got, crushing the wind right out of her, my face next to her ear. “Give it up Stacey, I’ve got you trapped and I’m going to squeeze the life out of you!” I whisper softly into her ear.
It takes a couple more pumps of my biceps, jolting her upper body before I feel her head slump against my shoulder and with what little breath she has left she croaks, “I give up.” I instantly let go and ease her down to her back. I stand up and look down on her for a moment before walking back over to my corner. It only took me 4 minutes to make her submit and now the score is 3-1 with 16 minutes left on the clock. I decide to keep wearing her down to get quick submissions to end this thing and be done with her.
The 5-minute timer is done in a flash and Stacey and I are back up facing each other once again. I’m still thinking about my opening move when Stacey raises both hands above her head and wiggles her fingers offering a test of strength. She’s 2-inches taller and maybe 10 pounds heavier, but I’ve never lost at this, and I smile slightly as I raise my hands to interlock my fingers with hers. The women at the edges of the mat are shouting encouragement as we lock up and our bodies flair with definition struggling against one another. She can’t budge me, so she gets up on her tip toes trying to gain extra leverage, but before she bares down on me, I take a step back and yank her hands forward, pulling her off balance and watching as she ends up on her knees in front of me with both our hands still laced together. I take a step forward, pressing my crotch against her face, and start to bend her hands backwards. She folds back under the pressure grunting and groaning in pain.
I continue to push forward, bending her back until I can place a leg on either side of her midsection, and then I yank her up, forcing her torso between my thighs. “Let’s go for a little squeeze” I say, full of confidence as I enclose my muscled thighs, easily my best asset, around her torso and begin to squeeze. Before I can bring my full power to bear, Stacey almost escapes by sliding down, but ends up in a worse predicament when I trap her head in a perfect head scissors. She starts thrashing side to side trying to break my hold and I see an opportunity to bridge up and apply even more pressure to her head. My scissors are wearing her down, but I really seal her fate when I’m able to spread her legs apart too. She instantly starts tapping my legs and crying out her submission. “I GIVE I GIVE!” she shrieks, and once again I quickly release her. I’m pumped and a quick glance at the clock showed me it only took 2 minutes to make her scream her submission and the count is now 3-2. My new strategy seems to be working and with 14 minutes still left in the fight, I feel like there’s plenty of time to beat this woman.
I watch in amusement as Brenda and Stacey are having a spirited discussion about the techniques that I used both times to make her give up. She’s complaining that I targeted and abused her boobs and humiliated her by spreading her legs apart to make her quit, but Brenda says that she didn’t see anything wrong. Brenda says that it was inevitable that Stacey’s boobs would be a factor in the fight for better or worse and there was no vulgar intent in my actions. The break ends and Stacey scowls and stalks to the middle of the mat.
Stacey gives me a hateful look and raises her hands up again “you got lucky last time, we both know I’m stronger, and I’m going to prove it,” she says as she wiggles her fingers in my face. As I raise my hands to meet her challenge, I simply tell her the truth, “No, I didn’t get lucky last time and if you want to try again, I’ll really show you who’s the boss.” Just as our hands start to touch, she suddenly drops her hands, slips forward under my right arm, and ends up behind me. She reaches around my chest and my first thought is that she going to grab my boobs for some payback, but instead she snakes her arms up hooking her biceps under my armpits and lacing her fingers together behind my head. Too late I realize that she’s got me locked in a full nelson and instantly I know this is bad. I twist my torso, stomp my feet, protest with my words, but she’s got me locked in tight, her height advantage allows her to really pour on the pressure pushing my head down until I’m staring straight down at my own cotton-covered cleavage.
She’s quite pleased with her little trick and she parades me around so that all the women can get a good look at my plight. I fight back as best I can, but Stacey is in control and anytime I start to resist, she doubles the pressure on my neck and now I feel my shoulders starting to go numb. She taunts me a little telling me that I cannot break free, and she has more in store for me. The pain in my neck and shoulders is causing me to lose focus and I stumble slightly as she moves us back to the center of the room. She drives a knee into the back of my left thigh dropping me, and her, down to our knees, which was exactly what she wanted.
“Should I make you submit, or just hold you like this for the remainder of the time?” She asks playfully in my ear before falling backwards from her knees onto her ass, bringing me with her. My shins are bent under me while the rest of my body is stretched out on top of hers with my ass pressed tightly against her crotch. I’m struggling to free my shins so I can bridge up to relieve the pain on my neck, but each time I do I feel myself scrubbing against her womanhood. After one particularly energetic effort, I hear her gasp,” Oh my” and feel her relax the pressure on me. “Oh Becky”, she whispers, “There’s a part of me that wants you to do that again, but I think it’s better if we end this now.”
I feel her long legs snaking around my midsection, and start to coil tightly around my waist, her thighs beginning to dig in, but she does it slowly, methodically, and I know she’s still savoring that last sensation and milking the clock too. I struggle and wiggle my body, trying to break free but it’s no use, each time I do she pumps her thighs or pushes my head or flexes her biceps and I am forced right back into a docile position. Her legs get tighter and tighter until finally she pumps them hard around me, locks her ankles, and I’m forced to cry out my submission “I GIVEEEEE” I squeal as the pain in my torso becomes overwhelming.
Stacey quickly eases up on both holds and lets me fall back onto the mat. I lay there for a good 3 of the 5 minutes, my arms getting blood back to them and taking forever to recover as I struggle to finally push myself up and go to my corner. My arms feel like noodles and now I’m down 4-2. I don’t want to look at the clock, but when I do, I gasp out loud. FOUR MINUTES LEFT! She had me in that hold for almost 10 minutes, no wonder my arms feel like Jell-O, and I can’t get them to do what I want!
The 5-minute break ends way too quickly and I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to win or even defend myself when my arms won’t work properly. I can barely lift them, and it feels like I’m holding a 10-pound dumbbell in each hand. Stacey is feeling smug and calls across the room, “Don’t worry Becky, this will all be over very soon,” obviously enjoying the beating she’s inflicting on me and savoring my demise in her mind.
I throw caution to the wind and launch myself at her, trying to drive my body into hers, but it just isn’t responding like I want. She anticipated my desperate rush and captures me in a headlock before she executes a picture-perfect hip toss that takes us both down to the mat. She lands full force on top of me collapsing my boobs hard against my ribcage taking what little fight I had left out of me.
Stacey momentarily stands over me before reaching down and grabbing my ankles. She has a self-satisfied smile on her face as she flips me over and works me into a Boston Crab. My body is bent into a sort of a “C” shape, but Stacey hasn’t applied any real pressure to make me submit. “You fought well, Becky, but I’m just the better woman. Now this just lay there like a good girl until the timer runs out.” Almost on cue Brenda calls out, “THREE MINUTES LEFT!”
My mind races evaluating my options. I can lay here docilely admitting defeat for another 3 minutes or fight to the bitter end. I decide to fight and start shaking, twisting, and turning my body with all my remaining strength in a vain attempt to escape. Stacey mocks me, “Always making things hard huh? Oh well.” With that she squats low over my back, and I feel her ass press onto my shoulders. The pain is incredible, and the room echoes with my screams for her to stop. To punctuate my complete defeat the timer goes off with a loud BUZZZZZZ.
Stacey finally eases up on the hold, letting me flop unceremoniously back down on the mat where I remain, a couple of tears pushing free as I lay utterly defeated and embarrassed in front of all these women.
Without saying another word Stacey proudly walks out of the room while Brenda rushes over to help me up and console me. A few women stay behind to make sure I’m alright and help me back to my apartment. The next day I’m still recovering from my ordeal, but I get a warm greeting from almost all the women when I went down to the pool. The wives who weren’t physically present at our tussle have been told all the details and while Stacey is tacitly acknowledged as queen bee (for now), everyone treated me with special respect.
Later that week I got a remarkably interesting reaction from my husband when he returned home from the field. After our first bout of lovemaking (diesel fumes and burnt gunpowder are apparently a very potent aphrodisiac….who knew?), I gave him a blow-by-blow (no pun intended) recount of my battle with Stacey. There were several times I was unsure I’d be able to finish the story before he’d ravish me again. However, he managed to restrain himself until I told him how I had to submit to Stacey’s brutal Boston Crab. He couldn’t contain himself any longer and we had frantic, bed-breaking, Richter Scale-setting, dog-howling, mind-blowing sex. The next day everyone around the pool, male and female, seemed very relaxed and satisfied and I wondered how many of the men had been turned on like my husband when their wives told them what happened between Stacey and me. My first wrestling match was a failure on one level, but not on so many others.
