Here is the complete list of all the RL “fights” my wife had while we were married. The only things true about these vignettes is the settings and the final winning hold. Everything else has been greatly embellished by me based on the numerous times “Becky” would recount a particular encounter to arouse me.
1. BACKYARD TUSSLE
Becky and I attended a 4th of July picnic at a friend’s house. My buddy noticed a certain tension between his wife, Diane, and Becky and goaded them into a "friendly" contest. Both women were in their early twenties, in bikinis (nice, but not as revealing as they are today), and absolutely gorgeous. Becky and I were in the early stages of our relationship, but you can imagine the effect it had on me watching them wrestle.
They started out on their knees, locked hands for some back and forth pushing, Becky was knocked over backward, but snaked her legs around Diane’s waist and applied a pretty good scissors on her. Diane finally escaped and tackled Becky and they rolled around a little with Becky trying to apply a headlock, but Diane grabbed her arm, got her down on her stomach, and applied a hammerlock. She loosely held “Becky’s arm in place and asked her if she was ready to quit. When Becky refused, she viciously rammed Becky’s arm even further up between her shoulder blades. Becky couldn’t resist any more and hollered, “Stop, I give!”
When Becky stood up, she rubbed her shoulder before she adjusted her bikini top which was displaying a generous amount of alabaster flesh and erect nipples. Very sexy and I had a raging hard-on. Hell, my buddy took his wife to the bedroom immediately following her victory.
2. THE DARE
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 re-establishes 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 whispered 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 decided 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 we’re 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 is 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 realized 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 drove 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, but everyone treated me with certain 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 real wrestling match was a failure on one level, but not on so many others.
3. WRESTLING FOR CHARITY
When my Brigade was ordered to deploy to the Middle East, the Post’s Morale Welfare and Recreation (MWR) group organized a going way event on the parade grounds that included various bands, equipment displays, parachutists, and some carnival rides for the children. To me the highlight of the festivities involved mudwrestling women to close out day’s events.
The participants were paid “professionals” similar to the local wrestling matches that occasionally performed at the city’s civic center, but the MWR had recruited some of the soldiers’ wives/girlfriends to wrestle also to give it some “local” flavor. The “pro” wrestlers held their matches first and put on quite a display and helped set the tone for the amateur matches to come.
It was about 2100 hours, the beer had been flowing liberally, and the MWR Mistress of Ceremonies had one last trick up her sleeve to bring in more money. As she introduced the four “local” women (one of whom was my wife), she announced that two of them would be wrestling for the Army Emergency Fund (AEF) and the other two would be wrestling for the Wounded Warrior Project (WWP). As each woman and her charity was announced, MWR ushers took “donations” for that wrestler with the proceeds from each match going to the winner’s charity.
The first match was fairly uninspiring in both the outfits worn by the wrestlers and the energy they put into their match. Both women wore jeans and a tee shirt and after just a little rolling around the skinny one was pinned by her opponent laying across her chest. The AEF profited from that match. Finally! Becky and her opponent stepped into the arena, a 12x12 rectangular pit with about 8 inches of gooey, black mud on the bottom.
My wife had her hair pulled back into a ponytail, a white sports bra that showed a little cleavage, and a pair of red denim short-shorts. Her opponent, Sandra, had short blond hair and wore a blue one-piece Speedo swimsuit. Both women looked fit and appeared to be fairly evenly matched in height and weight; Becky being a few pounds heavier and Sandra being slightly taller.
The match began with both of them on their knees pushing and pulling on each other’s arms as they slid around in the mud. Sandra went down face-first into the mud when Becky stopped pushing against her and slipped to the side. Becky mounted her back before she could get up and bounced on her butt a couple of times as Sandra struggled to get back up on her knees. She finally succeeded, but Becky was still behind her and she grabbed Sandra around the waist in a sort of bearhug. The women were displaying a lot of intensity and were being cheered on by an increasingly vocal crowd of spectators. The match took a turn for the worse for my wife when Sandra was able to lock onto Becky’s neck and flip her over her shoulder to splash full length into the mud.
Now it was Becky’s turn to be mounted as Sandra straddled my wife’s stomach. As they say, payback is the dickens, as Sandra bounced up and down on Becky’s stomach just as she had on Sandra’s butt. The clincher came when Becky’s right leg came up at the end of a bounce and Sandra caught it. Sandra held onto it just below the knee and leaned so far forward that their breasts were touching, and Becky’s foot was just above her head. Becky bridged with her left foot trying to relieve some of the pressure which raised her pelvis completely out of the mud, but the effort was useless. Sandra had locked her left hand behind Becky’s neck to steady herself and began bouncing ever more forcefully against Becky’s torso and chest. Finally, Becky tapped frantically on Sandra’s shoulder to signal her surrender.
The place went wild with this turn of events as even the “pros” hadn’t put on such a convincing display. I noticed that as both wrestlers rose and shook hands that both sets of nipples were prominently on display (I guess it was just a cold night in June.). The AEF wrestler prevailed again which pissed Becky off as she really wanted to win for the WWP as its one of the charities she really believes in.
After the women got cleaned up, I met Sandra as she was leaving with her boyfriend and found out that she was with the MP battalion that was deploying with us. When I told Becky about Sandra’s background, she used that as an excuse for her defeat and later explained to me how things would have been different if the match had been “fair”.
4. PARTY FUN
An old Army buddy invited us to come over and celebrate his recent promotion. He had a nice place in the country situated on 15 acres of pastureland “at the end of the gravel road”. The house was a big two-storied affair with a very large patio and pool. When we pulled up, there were cars and trucks parked everywhere, country music blaring from the patio speakers, and smoke billowing up from the BBQ grill. All told, I guess there were about 20 couples on hand (with a smattering of children) who seemed to split their time between playing in the pool, eating, and drinking. We were still a pretty young crowd, mid-to-late twenties, and it was inevitable that between the beer and the bikinis one thing would lead to another.
These things always seem to start the same way when there’s water and women. A few husbands cajoled their wives into getting on their shoulders and jousting with another couple in the pool. We weren’t in the first few rounds as Becky complained that she had never done it before, but after seeing that it looked easy and that everyone was enjoying the fun, she agreed to give it a go.
As we got into the pool, she dipped backwards into the water which resulted in two interesting effects as she rose out of the water; she smoothed her hair straight back from her forehead and temples which seemed to highlight her cheekbones and beautiful green eyes and it caused her white bikini top to become somewhat translucent, expose a little more cleavage, and otherwise cling provocatively to her boobs. Some of the men at pool side murmured approval and a few brave souls even clapped oblivious of the looks that their own wives shot at them. If Becky wasn’t the prettiest girl there, she was exceedingly close. I was in heaven as Becky climbed onto my shoulders and clamped those tanned, toned thighs around my neck.
Our first encounter against a rather mousy woman and her husband didn’t go as I expected. We had barely locked up when Minnie Mouse easily dislodged Becky sending her ass over backwards into the pool. Becky came up sputtering amidst scattered laughter from the spectators (mostly the women) and gave me an evil look daring me to explain what happened. It was simple I told her; she hadn’t established her “seat” properly. Being a horsewoman from a very tender age, she immediately understood what I was saying and when she climbed up on my shoulders again she clamped her thighs so tightly around my neck that I had to tap her leg to tell her to loosen up enough so the blood could get to my brain. We beat Minnie the next two times and they climbed out as another couple challenged us.
When Kathy and Dave entered the pool, I could sense that things were about to get more interesting. Kathy was almost as striking a beauty as Becky, but her blue string bikini was much more revealing in both bow and stern and she seemed to have an intensity about her that demanded everyone’s attention. She mounted her husband’s shoulders, but just as we were about to lock up she hollered, “Wait, wait there’s something wrong here!” I stopped within reach as she looked down at her husband’s upturned face and loudly asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be facing the other direction?”
Everyone busted up laughing and that’s when Kathy sprung her trap. While Becky was distracted, Kathy grabbed her left wrist with one hand and buried her other hand in Becky’s hair trying to pull her forward off of me. Her ploy probably would have worked if she’d tried to push Becky backwards or to the side as we were both totally unprepared for this attack.
As it was, I stepped forward to try to regain our balance just as Becky was bringing up her right hand to come to grips with Kathy. My added momentum caused Becky’s hand to slide off the inside of Kathy’s arm and the heel of hand caught Kathy right under her chin. Kathy was catapulted from her husband’s shoulders and turned a complete half flip before belly-busting into the water. She came up sputtering, but unhurt (physically) as we apologized for what had happened. Dave good-naturedly accepted our apology as he led Kathy from the pool, and we left too as other couples took our place.
The crowd thinned perceptibly as afternoon turned into evening and the couples with children went home. This was very good as the party turned a little more macho. Troopers being troopers, it wasn’t long until basketball gave way to more competitive pursuits. It wasn’t long before an arm wrestling contest was in full swing among the men. I was eliminated in the third round and Dave, my old buddy from the pool, won the championship.
Naturally, someone suggested that the women have a go too. Four wives including Becky accepted and names were drawn to select the first combatants. As fate would have it, the first pair was Becky versus Minnie that I knew was going to be a slaughter. Becky has impressive arms and shoulders for a woman, and she’s often asked if she plays tennis or works out by many people when they first meet her.
As I expected, Becky defeated Minnie and her next opponent easily. Becky’s last challenger was Kathy who gave Becky a very determined look as they locked up. I don’t know whether it was because Becky was getting tired from the previous matches or that Kathy was stronger than she looked, but Becky had to struggle quite a bit before overcoming Kathy and smashing her wrist hard onto the table. Becky was the champion, but Kathy was so pissed at losing to Becky twice that she couldn’t let it go. She challenged Becky to a real wrestling match settle who was the better woman.
While Becky was reluctant to accept Kathy’s challenge, all of us slightly inebriated and slightly aroused men encouraged her to accept. Giving me a “What have I gotten myself into?” look, Becky finally accepted. Some blankets and towels were spread out on the grass to provide some padding and covered with an 8x8 plastic tarp to form the wrestling mat. It was to be one-fall, a 10-count pin, or submission with no slapping, punching or kicking allowed. The women would start out and stay on their knees throughout the match. Dave announced the rules, and I somehow got the feeling that he’d done this before.
Becky and Kathy knelt in the center of the mat waited for the signal to start. I’ll have to say that looking at both of them kneeling there with their hands on their hips made me glad I had a towel wrapped around my waist. Dave made a chopping motion with his hand and shouted, “Fight!” Kathy immediately launched herself directly at Becky, grabbed two handfuls of hair, and began shaking my wife’s head from side to side. (Now I know why nothing had been said about hair-pulling!)
Becky gamely stayed upright on her knees and pried Kathy’s hands from her hair. Becky wrenched Kathy’s arms above their heads and forced Kathy back onto the mat leaving her in a very awkward position as her legs were still folded under her. Seizing the opportunity, Becky dropped across Kathy’s chest and pinned her to the mat. I wasn’t totally dismayed that Dave didn’t start counting immediately and was certainly giving a slow count to ten because I have to admit that I was in no hurry to see the match end so soon even if my wife was winning.
As Dave approached six on the count, Kathy finally worked her legs from beneath her and with a mighty heave of her pelvis rolled Becky off the top of her. I have to admit that Kathy was surprisingly quick as she jumped to her feet and dove on Becky’s back driving her chest-first onto the mat. The force of the impact seemed to have momentarily knocked the breath out of both wrestlers as Kathy just lay atop an unmoving Becky. Kathy recovered first and she sat up astride Becky’s lower back. This turn of events worried me because I knew that whenever I got Becky into such a position, she would stop struggling and we’d move on to other pursuits.
I shouted encouragement to my wife as I saw her push herself up on her elbows and then her hands. I was puzzled when I saw that Kathy was not trying to stop her, but moved down onto her butt allowing Becky to rise even more. Just as Becky was almost fully erect, Kathy snatched Becky’s left arm, pulled it back, and jammed Becky’s hand up between her shoulder blades. She then grabbed Becky’s hair and pulled her body back where it almost lay on top of Kathy. Kathy finished her maneuver by wrapping her legs around Becky’s middle and looked quite contented when she locked her ankles together and applied the pressure.
Becky let out a soft moan and tried shaking side to side to loosen Kathy’s grip, but it was a futile effort. Everyone watching was mesmerized by the scene before them. Becky was bound up tight; her bikini was slightly askew, her chest was heaving as she gasped for air, and her whole body glistened with sweat. Kathy seemed to savor the moment by squeezing with her legs until Becky moaned and then easing up on the pressure. Kathy finally announced that she was ready to end Becky’s torment and told Becky to surrender.
When Becky refused by shaking her head and hollering, “NO!”, Kathy rammed Becky’s arm so high up her back that her hand was almost touching the nape of her neck and poured every last ounce of strength into her body scissors. Becky’s face contorted with pain, and she withstood this brutal combination only briefly before frantically tapping on Kathy’s thigh and screaming, “I give, I give, I give!” at the top of her voice. Kathy didn’t immediately release the holds, but when she did, Becky collapsed onto her right side and massaged her aching left shoulder.
Kathy couldn’t move until a couple of my buddies and me helped her stand up. When she did stand up next to Becky, Kathy struck a victory pose and was applauded by most of the crowd. However, when Becky stepped forward independent of my support, she received a thunderous round of applause from practically the entire group.
I supposed the crowd’s adoration for Becky was because she had been such a fierce competitor all day, but it might have had something to do with how great she looked even in defeat; her nipples were rock-hard and unmistakably on display. To be honest Kathy’s nipples were much more prominent appearing thicker and more visible in her skimpier top. (She also had a noticeable wet spot on the front of her bikini bottoms). We’ve been invited back numerous times to the Sergeant Major’s house since then, but there was never another evening like that one. Also, we never saw Kathy and Dave again, but there are times that I wonder what would happen if we did.
5. DRAMA AT THE ARMORY
When I came off active duty, I took command of a National Guard unit in a small town in Georgia. Occasionally we would rent out the drill hall for various activities; dances, bingo, civic meetings, etc., but this weekend it was two nights of wrestling by a pro/amateur promotion. The workers had finished settling up the ring and left while I was going over the lease agreement with the business manager, Karlene, when my wife showed up to drive us home.
Becky walked in as Karlene was telling me for the third time that the amount we were charging for renting the space was too high and I was telling her for the third time that the price was set at the State level and I had no control over it. Becky interrupted her rant asking how much longer this was going to take which ended in the two women exchanging sharp looks at each other. Karlene broke the stalemate asking who this woman was and when I responded that she was my wife, she shook her head and murmured something about me marrying just anyone I could get.
Now Becky isn’t normally a vain person, but she rightly interpreted the insult and became heated to think that she was being put down by a complete stranger. Words were exchanged and I stepped between them and said let’s finish the paperwork and be on our way. It was then that Karlene proposed what was to be a most interesting proposition. She challenged Becky to a quick wrestling match in the ring outside and if she won, I would pay for one night’s rent of the armory. If Becky won, Karlene would pay full cost of the rent plus putting us up in a hotel in Savanna for the weekend.
I was suspicious, but the thought of seeing my wife wrestle this woman compelled me to ask what kind of match she was proposing. “Just a friendly match; no punching, no clawing, no kicking, a simple 10-count pin or verbal submission,” she replied, “We want to keep it simple for your debutante here.” Then she turned and addressed Becky directly, “Well sweet cheeks, what do you say? Are you willing to put that pampered butt of yours on the line against me?” Becky’s response was immediate and heated, “Let’s do this!”
We left the office, and I went to lock the front door while the girls proceeded to the ring. Karlene took off her coat and dress and climbed into the ring in just her bra and panties. Becky had on jeans and it was obvious that she wasn’t as comfortable shedding her outer garments as her opponent, but Karlene chivied her into matching her attire.
When Becky climbed into the ring, I had the opportunity to compare the two women physically. Karlene appeared to be in her early thirties, plain features, short brown hair, about 5’ 6” tall, and somewhat pudgy. Becky was in her late twenties, much prettier in face and form, but shorter and easily 10-15 pounds lighter. It was much cooler in the drill hall than the office and both women’s nipples were noticeable through the fabric of their bras. “Okay, Ace,” Karlene shouted to me, “Get up here kick this thing off so I can win my bet and be on my way. If you’ll be a fair referee, I won’t have to hurt her too much to win and y’all can still enjoy the weekend.”
Becky looked somewhat intimidated, but this wasn’t her first rodeo and she stepped briskly toward her opponent. What followed can only be described charitably as a massacre. Karlene latched onto Becky's right and arm, whipped her into the corner turnbuckles, and then smashed her body into Becky’s. The move drove the breath out of Becky and as she pulled her out of the corner, Karlene slapped on a classic headlock, took a few steps toward the middle of the ring, and executed a text-book hip toss to take both of them crashing to the mat. Karlene stood up, yanked Becky partially upright and repeated the maneuver with even more force.
Becky lay motionless and Karlene moved around to secure a cross-body pin, looked up at me impatiently, and asked, “You still know how to count to 10?” I admit I was as stunned by the action thus far as Becky appeared to be, but dutifully dropped down beside them and began the count. Becky is somewhat naïve, vain about her looks, often rash, but isn’t a quitter. By the time I got to “4” she was squirming frantically and just as I reached “8”, she was able to lift her shoulder and was struggling to turn onto her side. I stopped the count and was somewhat puzzled when I saw that Karlene was not trying to force Becky back onto the mat. “We could’ve done this the easy way, but now you’ve pissed me off. Before I’m done, you’re going to beg me to let you lose!” Karlene declared.
She used Becky’s own momentum to roll her over onto her stomach, plopped her butt down between Becky’s shoulder blades as she slid across her back, and laid on her back. She reached down and pressed Becky’s right arm against her crotch, locking it in place between her thighs. She paused briefly to savor the moment before smashing her elbows down astride Becky’s neck and lacing her fingers together under her chin.
Karlene had Becky trapped in an unbreakable cross-face hold and looked over at me and smiled before pulling her head back. Becky groaned and gritted her teeth, but for whatever reason she made no effort to escape. Karlene cranked up the pressure on Becky’s neck and began humping the captive arm between her legs to add to the agony. “Tap, damn you, TAP! I’ve wasted all the time on you I’m going to”, she hollered.
Becky, who had reached and gone well beyond her breaking point, tapped the mat three times and began to wildly flail her free arm to signify her complete surrender. Karlene released Becky’s chin and allowed her head to fall onto the mat, but before she relinquished the rest of hold, she unsnapped Becky’s bra and began working it off of her body.
“What the hell are you doing?” I protested. Karlene, flushed from victory and breathing hard, stood up and offered me my wife’s bra, “Yours for the low, low price of only $200. A souvenir from a woman who looks a helluva lot better than she fights and a reminder not to make bets with people you know nothing about.” I shelled out the money and went to assist my wife as Karlene gathered her things to leave. She paused at the apron and shot a look at my wife,” You know, Princess, for a moment there you gave me a real thrill. Let me know when you’re up for another little bet.”
6. I’LL TRY ANYTHING ONCE
Becky boxes a coworker of mine, Karen. I didn’t see this one and Becky’s description is kind of vague. From her muddled recollections I’ve determined (or hoped) that Karen’s last punch that sent my wife off to dreamland was an uppercut.
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