Eve Knowles Investigates, Part One.
Brighton
As a journalist and writer working for an adult publication, I’ve been called on to investigate everything – and I mean everything. From wild weekends at swingers clubs to hurling custard pies at submissive men who got a turn on from getting messy and humiliated; and that was what I did. I indulged the fetish scene then wrote about the experience. I was given my jobs by my editor to investigate the whacky and the bizarre side of human sexuality, right down to what-goes-on behind the suburban curtains of commuter towns. That was what I did. I cruised through the adult world looking for stories, and I won’t deny it, I got well-paid for the privilege.
My editor and boss was called Kimberley Rhodes. She was middle aged and attractive and always dressed expensively. She was the trophy wife of the publisher who had firmly placed his partner in charge of the magazine. (Mainly to keep an eye on what went on amongst the staff and report back.) But she was fine with me, and I got on with her, even though many didn’t. It was true, she could be two-faced and vindictive, but I was never under any other illusions. I knew where I stood and knew the score. So I avoided conflict where possible. To me, a job was a job, and I liked keeping mine.
Her office was on the sixth floor of a large, modern block that over-looked the Brighton seafront. We all had allocated parking spaces so that was never a problem when I was called in for a meeting.
I had an appointment to see Kim at ten o’clock on the dot. It was another investigative story and I wondered what it was this time? I thought I’d covered most things, but she seemed very guarded about my next assignment on the phone. Not as if I was duly worried. I was game for most things – well – almost.
I parked my TVR sports car and took the lift. I said hello to the usual stream of staff that drifted from side rooms and waited at the desk of Kim’s dutiful receptionist, Diane. Well, Diane must have known something because she gave me a slight smirk as I approached. She was failing to hide it, too. I sighed, sensing the ill-omen of that grin. Oh lordy, what has Kim got in store for me now? I thought.
“Please go through, Eve,” said Diane as she buzzed our boss. “Eve Knowles is here, Kim,” she said.
“Send her right in,” said the slightly amplified voice through the speaker.
I went through the door and sat down in front of Kim’s tasteful desk. In fact, the whole office was tasteful and the interior must have cost half the value of a Ferrari. Everything in the place was designer. And image to Kim was everything. Her hubby certainly decked out her office well.
Kim wore one of her habitual suits. Her sartorial taste was very stylish, the absolute opposite to my high street off-the-peg attire. But then, I wasn’t in her financial league. Instead, I wore figure-hugging jeans, a scoop-neck tee-shirt and a raincoat. That was my style for the day – cheap and practical.
“So, Eve – are you feeling fit?” my boss asked as she beamed a smile that hinted at a little bit more than it wanted to really say. “I hope so as I’ve got an exciting assignment for you.”
I smiled thinly, trying to dissimulate what was going on inside my head. “Well, I jog regularly, don’t smoke and eat healthily, why? What's this next story? What am I investigating now?”
Kim leaned back in her executive chair, studied me for a few seconds, and then reached down for something. She suddenly produced a pair of black size six wrestling boots, calf-height, and placed them on the desk directly in front of me. I eyed them for a moment as a sudden feeling of portent descended upon me. What the hell was I going to do with them? I thought. Was she expecting me to fight someone?
“Female wrestling,” said Kim enthusiastically. “That is your next story. There is an underground scene in this town and I want you to train and have a go, and then write about it.”
I let out a nervous laugh. Was she serous? I was a writer, a trained journalist. I wasn’t a grappler, but I sensed she’s covered all the angles even before the protest passed my lips. “I ....er!”
“And before you speak, I have pre-empted your next query,” she interposed swiftly, hardly giving me time to speak. “I have arranged for you to train with this woman. I have every faith in your ability, Eve. And I’m sure you’ll find a great deal of fun doing this.”
She slipped a glossy business card across the table. “I want you to go over to this address, she is expecting you.”
I took the small card and read the address. It didn’t give too much away apart from a name, address and phone number. And that was it. The name said: Tina Farrell – Trainer. But the name didn’t ring any bells.
I didn’t know a single thing about the grunt and groan game. To me it was all Kent Walton on Saturday TV, watching wrestling as a child and laughing at the risible theatricals and comical moves executed by fat men with beards and hairy chests. I didn’t know much about women wrestlers, apart from night club mud or oil wrestling that catered for horny young blokes after a few drinks. And I hadn’t tried that yet – but knowing Kim, give it time.
“Will I be grappling in mud?” I asked as I placed the card in my pocket. “Is that the assignment?”
Kim shook her head and tapped the wrestling boots. “No, none of that stuff for you. And besides, that’s all been done and dusted by other magazines. This is different, this is proper wrestling: the real competitive stuff.”
I felt my heart race, and she noticed my unease. But Kim was always good at reading my thoughts. And she appeased my concerns in the only way she knew how. “I’ll pay you twice your normal fee for this since you’ll be training hard, and you’ll certainly earn the extra.”
She took hold of the boots and gave them to me, gesturing for me to take them. She was still smiling and bent down again, producing a small bag.
“I want you to wear this for your wrestling match,” said Kim as she proffered the bag. “It’s in the magazine’s colours. “
I reached inside and took out a sexy-looking thong. It was in orange and it contrasted nicely with my slight tan. Black wrestling boots and a thong. And that was it? My mind was astute and it didn’t take a genius to work out that this was going to involve a topless angle.
“Yes, the female wrestlers grapple topless and in boots and thongs only. That is what the attire is, and the rules are pin-falls and submission.”
Kim was enjoying seeing me squirm, so I thought I’d tease her back. I didn’t think it was fair that only I should be placed on the spot. So I thought, what the hell.
“I’ll do this if you wrestle, too,” I joked, waiting for her to show some distaste at the very thought of working up a sweat on the mat. But to my surprise she gave me a sexy look and gave a slightly malicious smile.
“Sweety, I’d happily grapple you in a sexy oil wrestle in private,” she whispered sensuously. “Just say the word. I’ll match you anytime – and win.”
I knew of Kim’s bisexuality and she was aware of mine, so it didn’t come as a great surprise but I never thought she was into a bit of rough-and-tumble, so I smiled and agreed. “You’re on. Challenge accepted.”
Kim blew a kiss at me and winked. “Deal. We’ll wait until Douglas is away on business then have some fun behind closed doors. Now go to the appointment. Tina will be waiting to tie you into knots.” And with that I got up and smiled, leaving the office feeling very nervous and slightly unsettled. But a job was a job, and if it gave me twice my usual fee and some sexy fun with the boss, then what the hell, I thought.
And so in the immortal words of Gary Gilmore, I said to myself, “Let’s do it.”
Tina
Tina Farrell lived in a large detached house near Worthing. It was in a quiet hamlet settled nicely in the Sussex countryside. It was all very picturesque and peaceful, in fact, quintessentially English would describe it well. It sat alone, well back from the country lane, and to look at the place you would never acquainted it with wrestling, let alone the sensual aspect of female wrestling. But I could understand why Tina had settled out here. It was quiet and well away from prying eyes.
I drove up the drive and parked my car. As I switched off the engine, I took hold of my bag and opened the door. I didn’t know what to expect. I series of images depicting hefty women and beefed-up body-builders drifted though my mind. But I wasn’t sure what a competitive female wrestler looked like. It was not an area I’d really explored. I was 5’8, slim and toned, but not very muscular. I had a swimmer’s figure and build. There was no flabbiness and my hair was brown and shoulder length in a long bob-style that was now growing out. I looked feminine and wanted to remain that way. And as I walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell, I stood back in apprehension. I really didn’t know what was about to confront me.
A moment later, the door opened and a woman in her mid-forties stood before me. She was the same height as me and had long blond and she wore a flowery kimono, and as I instinctively looked down, she wore the same sort of black wrestling boots that was in my bag. She was either another wrestler in training or Tina. And I still wasn’t sure. She looked very attractive and didn’t match the ominous imagery that I’d anticipated.
“You must be Eve,” she said as she extended her hand. “I’m Tina. Your boss sent you for some wrestling training, right?”
Tina was confident and friendly, and her smile was inviting. She knew I was a total novice. Kim would have told her that. At least that’s what I liked about Kim, she would never have placed me in a dangerous situation without getting the right help.
“Yes, Kim sent me to see you,” I ventured uneasily, my voice a little shaky. “I’m supposed to be training to be a wrestler.”
Tina nodded and did everything to put me at ease. “I know it sounds daunting and I won’t kid you, it is hard work, but you will find it fun if you like being competitive. Many women I train are usually bi or lesbian, and a few are heterosexual that do this to please their boyfriends or husband. You’re doing this to write a story about the wrestling scene, isn’t that right?”
“It is,” I said as she led me inside her home. “I’m being paid to be tied up into a pretzel and body-slam an opponent if I can.” I thought humour would be the best opening gambit, and Tina appreciated my approach.
“Well, you’ll experience the agony and the ecstasy and that is guaranteed. “But if you work hard and train well, with experience, you’ll avoid the pretzel.”
I laughed and she invited me into the main room.
Tina had a huge blue mat in the room. At the side of the room was a pair of benches, for the wrestlers to wait or watch. A table of cold drinks had towels had been assembled. And upstairs there were two bathrooms complete with showers.
I was invited to change and Tina slipped off her kimono in readiness to teach me the first fundamental moves. She was toned and athletic, not much different from me, but she had the skills that I had yet to gain. Her bare breasts were full and firm and she wore a black thong. She smiled and adjusted the cords, turning to place the kimono on the vacant bench. Her derriere was nicely muscled and the fine cords of the thong had slipped snugly between her sensual cleft. She turned to face me and smiled, beckoning me to get undressed.
“If you’re nervous, you can change upstairs,” she said understandingly. “I do understand how first timers feel.
But I shrugged my butterflies off and went over to the bench, placing the bag down. The dark blue curtains had been drawn and a pair of spotlights illuminated the mat, the soft sheen of the surface like satin, and I wondered how many losers had been ground down against its rubbery softness.
I was naked and Tina was stretching as she waited. I put on the orange thong and slipped on the boots. At first, I felt ridiculous. I was a topless wrestler without any fighting skills and felt completely nude before a more experienced woman. I adjusted my thong and made sure that my bush wasn’t showing, but I needn’t have worried. The skimpy micro-fabric covered what it needed to, forming a sexy ‘V’ over my mons pubis. Just like Tina’s black thong, it covered our privates, which was sufficient. And as I fastened my calf-length boots, I peered up at my trainer. I smiled, my bare breasts hanging down as I made sure the knots were tight. Then I stood up and joined Tina on the mat.
Tina stood with her hands on her hips, looking me over. I could see that she was gauging my build. And what she saw met with her approval.
“I few workouts and a bit of weight training will work miracles for you, Eve,” Tina said expertly. “I think I’ve got a great girl to work with.”
“I hope so,” I said. “Or else I’m going to get creamed on the mat come the big day.”
“No you won’t,” Tina said. “First of all, have faith in yourself. If you think like a loser then you’ll be one. Feel like a winner, and keep that firmly fixed in your mind.”
And then she gestured me to come at her, which I foolishly did, and before I knew it I was flat on the mat with a sexy Amazon lying across my straining body. Sensing my mistake, Tina rolled away and let me up.
“Keep an eye on my movements,” said Tina, as we circled each other slowly, our bodies set in a half crouch, fingers splayed. Watch my moves.”
Again, I went for Tina, targeting her waistline. I went in fast and gripped her, knotting my fingers to pull off a reverse bear-hug, wrestling purely by callow instinct than skill. But Tina cupped my head with her hand and threw me, judo-style, over her shoulder. I cried out and flipped over onto the waiting mat. The slam didn’t hurt, but the fear of the impact was much scarier than the actual contact. And there I lay again, on my back, with Tina on one knee beside me. She helped me to my feet and said they would practice some moves next.
For the next hour Tina showed me how to do a waist-hold move, a full-frontal bear-hug (which I found immensely sexy as it allowed out tits to flatten against the others), an even sexier grapevine hold, and a head-lock. We also tried out some scissor holds on our body and heads, and I was beginning to enjoy wrestling Tina. It was fun and I learned fast, although I still had a long way to go. Tina was a veteran of the topless wrestling scene and had been wrestling since she was twenty. I had a long way to go before matching Tina.
Tina, her body lightly sheened by sweat, then showed me how to execute a full-nelson. I stood behind her and slipped my arms under her arm-pits, then cupped them behind her head. I felt her well-muscled buttocks judder against my groin and I felt the first waves of something more carnal than painful, rise from my privates. I strained to contain my teacher, but she soon broke my hold and then slipped me into a headlock. She released me and then showed me how to do a back-hammer. This was extremely painful and she was careful not to hurt me. She released me then gave me a friendly hug. We had trained hard on our first session and the glistening sweat was indicative enough to prove our efforts.
Tina ran her hand through her tousled hair, which now hung limp through perspiration. Her firm tits jigged as she shook my hand, like oiled spheres beneath the spotlights. But the session had taught me enough to execute the fundamentals, but I still wasn’t ready for my first trial match. That was to come later.
“I’m training another girl called Amy,” said Tina. “She’s a local girl and she’ll be your first proper match before a live audience, but you’ll be grappling your trial bout against a girl called Laura. She’s a newbie like you. But very enthusiastic.”
I thanked Tina and we both went upstairs to shower. My thong was damp with the exertions of our hard wrestling training and my muscles ached like hell. But I hadn’t been built for wrestling, well, not yet, and it would take a few more sessions to prepare them for to take and give punishment. But for now, the shower was waiting and I stood naked and let the cool water wash away both mine and Tina’s sweat. What a day it had been and it was far from over yet. I still had my first draft to write up, and I had a funny idea that this was going to be one hell of a story indeed.
Tina arranged for a few more training sessions later in the week and gave me a small card with the times that I had agreed upon. We hugged and kissed cheeks, then I left. And as I drove home I felt tingling with renewed excitement. I was going to be a topless wrestler, and the thought gave me a sudden lift of confidence that I’d never had before.
Kim
As predictable as ever, Kim rang me late one afternoon. I had just finished a light meal when the phone went. I answered, and Kim’s voice purred down it.
“Hey, Douglas is away, honey, and I’m waiting to beat your arse on my large aerobics mat,” she said.
I sighed inwardly. I had forgotten the wrestling challenge that she’d surprised me with back at the office a few days back. So I reluctantly agreed. I was tired and not really in the mood for a friendly grapple. But Kim was pushing it so I played along with the act.
“I’ll pin you within minutes,” I joked. “Woman-to-woman.”
“I’m ready and waiting, and the door will be open for you, say about eight?” she said. “How is Tina’s training? Are you learning much?”
“You’ll find out tonight,” I said with a combative edge to my voice. “But I’ll go easy on you.”
“Ha!” said Kim defiantly. “We’ll see about that.”
“You just have the champagne chilled and waiting,” I said as I leaned back on the sofa. “We’ll need that to cool down afterwards.”
“See you at eight, Sweety,” said Kim and put the phone down.
I placed the phone down and laughed humourlessly. Even Kim wanted to wrestle me know, my own boss, and I wondered what she had planned for me. Of course I was still a novice concerning all of this, but if this was all in the name of fun, then why not. A fun grapple before the fire would be nice, I mused, and settled back to read a book, knowing that it wouldn’t take long before I’d have to leave for Kim’s place.
Oiled Fun
The door was just how Kim had said it would be, on the latch. It was just open. I parked my car in her drive and went inside. It was a cold autumn night and the wind was cutting. I wore jeans and a heavy sweater. I had brought a spare thong in case I needed to use for our wrestle. But when I walked inside, and saw Kim on her knees before the fireplace, I knew that garments would be surplus to requirements.
Kim was kneeling down before the bright electric fire, naked, her pert breasts glistening with baby oil. Her dark hair was long and cascaded over her shoulders. She looked up at me mischievously and smiled, gently massaging the oil into her midriff. She was going to do her battle in the nude. And that meant I was going to have to match my opponent flesh for flesh.
I began to undress and placed my clothes on the sofa. I felt sexy and picked up a bottle of baby oil that Kim had pointed at. “That’s yours,” she said. “Now oil up.”
I was naked and joined her on the mat. I was liberal with my application and made sure that my whole body was covered in the sensuous stuff. I wanted to be so well lubricated that she couldn’t hold me down. I had spent so much time in positions of defeat this last week that I was sick of being pinned. Now I fully intended to win and win I would.
We oiled up in silence. Neither of us spoke. We didn’t have to. We both knew that were here for some combative fun and from the look in Kim’s eyes, I sensed a libidinous element to it, too.
Kim said, “Ready, and pushed her hair backwards, her breasts glistening in the firelight like polished orbs. But then, I must have looked the same, too. And we both crawled forward and locked fingers. We hadn’t talked about rules but it didn’t matter as we were wrestling for the same thing – our own pleasure.
Since learning the art of wrestling, I felt I had the edge but Kim was matching me as we struggled. She was strong and I groaned as our bodies connected, breast-to-breast. On our knees, we settled into our test of strength, trying to force the other’s wrists backwards. But we were finding it hard. Our biceps bulged and we both strained and gasped, our bodies warm and lubricated.
Kim advanced, her soft orbs melding against mine. “I’m going to win,” she groaned through her clenched teeth.
“You’ll have to fight me for that,” I said, my words coming out sibilantly as I fought to counter her move.
Our faces were inches apart as we wrestled on our knees, our arms set at a quarter-to-three. We stared intently at each other, the emotions and mixed signals passing between us. It was hard to analyse my thoughts as I wrestled as my mind was on besting the other grappler. I had never wrestled competitively and now I was doing just that, and in the nude, too!
After a couple of minutes, I felt my arms weaken and my left wrist was being forced back. Kim was beating me in this sexy duel of grappling skill, and I was starting to grunt as I attempted to pull back the lost ground. But Kim was pushing me back, stabbing her tits at mine like weapons. And with a final cry, she forced me against the mat.
I let out a groan of dismay. Kim was spreading herself over me, my whole body, and I felt her nudity settle the full length of mine. Groin on groin, she was holding my wrists down, her hair in my face as she clearly enjoyed beating me. I felt her gyrate gently, her tongue rolling across her lower lip. I felt a sudden wave of pleasure shoot across my clit as her bush rubbed against mine. She was wrestling and tribbing me, missionary-style. Christ, I thought, talk about multi-tasking!
But I was still contending her, and with a sudden jolt of my hip, I rolled her away.
Kim let out a shocked cry. She hadn’t expected that. She had tried to sex-fight me, to weaken me that way, but wanted my fun. And we now lay in the same position, only now I was on top.
I slid nice onto her pubes, feeling the ache and pull of our pubic hair. I wished we’d both shaven our pussies. I hissed against the pain, and Kim groaned and laughed. Agony and pleasure made good bedfellows, and I was now besting the other wrestler.
I ground hard, feral-like, as I held her down, her legs trying to scissor one of mine as we fucked and struggled. But I wanted to fight Kim fairly, sportingly, and didn’t want a sex-fight. I wanted a real match with Kim. But I think Kim had a mixture of plans that night.
The oil made the wrestling hard and we couldn’t contain each other long. Kim was gradually skipping away from under me and we were moving like the parts of a well-greased precision machine. Eventually, and with some groaning, Kim turned me over, the strain evident on her face. But I countered this by switching position and burying my tits into Kim’s face, my face on her belly. I pulled off a smother move and Kim was pounding her feet against the mat, her legs swimming against the mat. A muffled cry escaped from between my orbs.
“Submit!”
I smiled and let her up, my first fall. I had taken my first veritable fall, and a submission one at that.
I pulled myself back and waited on my knees, breathing in a little more deeply than when I’d started. Kim’s oiled body rose from the mat, and she sat on her butt, her arms supporting her. She breathed in deeply. The smother move had left her a bit breathless. She smiled and let out a howl of delight.
“You are one tough woman, Eve,” she said, her tits traced out by the fire behind her. “I never expected that.”
“Fancy wrestling another fall?” I said, beaming smugly.
Kim nodded and got on her knees to wrestle another fall. And I joined her, attuning myself to any sudden moves. And I wouldn’t have put it passed Kim to sneak in a touch of revenge. Although not malicious, I still sensed she was highly competitive.
We moved cautiously closer, and then she leapt and caught me in a headlock. I was wrenched to the right and felt her oily tit stab into my face. I fell back, my legs splayed out, my back firmly against the cool mat. Kim was truly grappling now and this was what I wanted, to fight, to contend - to see who the best woman was. Kim was squeezing and the vice was starting to hurt. I was on my back, flat out, caught between a bicep and a greased orb. Now, that may have sounded like heaven sexually but from where I lay, it was agony. And the pain was starting to set in.
“Now, Eve, how are you enjoying that?” taunted Kim as she controlled me. “Now it’s your turn to say submit.”
I grimaced as I felt her tit crush my nose. This was starting to get tough. And knew it was time to counter this or else I was going to lose. I pounded my feet against the mat as we struggled, my left hand trying to push Kim’s face away. But that was a no go, and I felt myself slipping against the mat. The good aspect of this was that I was now working my way out of Kim’s hold. And with a final effort, I was out and was behind Kim.
Remembering Tina’s training, I twisted Kim’s left arm behind her back and drove her forward, face hard against the mat. I now lay the full length of my opponent’s back and let the hold bite. Kim groaned and struggled, and she quickly slapped the mat and cried her submission when I took the hold up a notch.
“Submit!”
Wow, I’d made her submit twice in less than ten minutes. I was running on a high, and I felt good.
Kim slapped the mat in disgust. She was finding wrestling hard. And although our naked oil match was sensual, it still held the pain and anguish of a true competitive bout.
Kim stood up and rubbed her aching arm. I walked over to her, being careful not to slip. I offered my hand and Kim smiled, and then shook it. She was an attractive woman and her body looked hot as it glistened near the electric fire. She slipped on some flip-flops. She had a spare pair for me, also. I put them on and followed her into the well-designed kitchen. The windows had blacked out glass, the sort where you could look out but no one could look in; which was good considering we were both naked and still oiled up. She asked me if I wanted a drink. She offered me some wine and we leaned against the tabletop and drank.
“You really are good at this wrestling lark,” said Kim. “I think this article you’re going to write will be a knockout. You really can move on the mat.”
“I hope so,” I said as I sipped my red wine. “I’ve a bonus riding on this story.”
“It’s such a turn-on, too,” said Kim, as she eyed my body up, and as I put my wine glass down, she leant across and kissed me gently on the lips. I responded, enjoying the feel of her toned body against mine. I felt her tongue chafe mine, and we let them fight out their own sensual duel. Our breasts oily and our bodies lithe and supple, I traced my fingers down to her buttocks and then enjoyed her soft moans as I gently ground my clit against hers. She parted her legs as I gained closer access, enjoying her body against mine.
We broke apart and I followed her back to the large room, her hand still in mine. I had a feeling that our sensual duel was not yet over, and she bent down and picked up the baby oil and let a trickle of the sexy fluid break into rivulets across her breasts. I did the same, and we smiled knowingly, ready to wrestle another fall that I had a feeling we would both win.
It didn’t take us long to orgasm, and when we both cried out our climax, I rolled away from her. I lay beside her, breathless and spent. We were both sated, and I held her hand. We had both grappled and sex-fought to a shuddering impasse. And now it was done, and we lay on the mat fulfilled.
“We must do this again,” she whispered, the warm glow of the fire tracing her beautiful face. “I’ve enjoyed this.”
I smiled and lay on my side and toyed with her nipples. It had been a pleasurable wrestle between us both, but I knew that the coming weeks were going to be hard on my body. And after I left and got into my car, I knew that the real competition was about to start.
