The Web Cam
By Jayne
Part Two.
The Weekdays seemed to grind by since work was busy. Working for the NHS as a Receptionist can been both engaging and stressful, but the drifting thoughts of Samantha gave me something to look forward to. It was as if having something daring yet slightly taboo to enjoy had lessened the demanding role of my work. Not one of my colleagues knew of my underground activities, and I certainly never engaged them about my private life. But then, why should I?
Eventually, Saturday eventually came and I had started exercising on Thursday night. I needed to feel fit and supple and I indulged in my old Yoga regime. I loved feeling flexible and toned and I exercised nude in private. In my own home. In private. I spent Saturday shopping and then rang Samantha for a pre-match chat.
Listening to her voice was a joy. Her pure enthusiasm to meet made me feel warm inside, happy, contented. We talked for an hour about just things in general and also the thrill of being Wrestlers seemed to turn her on immensely. I was so happy that she hadn’t got butterflies and had backed out. I loved to wrestle women and since my nervous, fledgling debut a few years ago, I had been hooked and was sorry I never wrestled more frequently. But finding women to participate was hard. I wasn’t a Cat-fighter nor did brawling appeal to me. I was a Female Wrestler who appreciated a challenge and the skill of my opponents. I was gracious in victory as I was in losing. And that’s what made Female Wrestling special. To feel empowered and liberated without feeling restricted by gender or caring what others thought. To contend intimately on a mat in private with your opponent and indulge in a struggle of human chess just as the women of ancient Sparta had done for pleasure all those centuries ago. It all felt overwhelmingly amazing. And I lay back that night in bed thinking of Samantha stretching and working out in the thong, her thighs taut and her toned arms and body all supple on her exercise mat. Desires and passion and longing to meet settled snugly into my mind. To contend with her made me feel sensual, and I drifted off to sleep with a smile on my face.
The next morning I awoke at eight and eased myself out of bed. I showered and brushed my teeth and had a light breakfast. I avoided lunch as I didn’t want to wrestle feeling bloated. I had all ready pack my sports bag with the usual kit: Fruit Juice, Water, Towels, Three Thongs. All my usual equipment was present. I smiled. My sports bag. The times this had been used the miles we had travelled. It held good memories for me and I had wrestled some really skilled women. And today, I was going to wrestle again.
I set off for the journey. I would be there in forty-five minutes and being Sunday, the roads were clear. I followed her route to the letter, and using my Sat-Nav, I found her home without bother.
Samantha lived in a quiet Cul-de-Sac just outside Whitchurch. She lived in a very pretty Bungalow with a small drive way. Her car, a small Ford Fiesta, was parked in the drive and I parked my Fiat neatly behind it. She must have heard my car as before I got out of the car, she stood at the door.
She looked amazing. She wore a hooded sweatshirt and jeans. She stood at the door in her bare-feet displaying her beautifully polished toenails in Red. Her long Brunette hair hung down. She looked really attractive. Her mouth broke into a smile as I advanced. Like me, she was tall. Around 5’9” and wonderfully toned.
We hugged and held each other. I felt her bond immediately, and her hand brushed against mine. I responded without restraint and felt my fingers entwine tentatively with hers. She beckoned me inside, and I blushed, forgetting where we were which was in the drive. Obviously, not wanting to fuel the neighbourhood gossips, we went inside and she closed the door.
She had drawn the curtains of the living room. Her home was neat and tidy and the lounge was reasonably sizeable. You could say it was very adequate for our combative intentions. And I could see that she had somehow made a makeshift mat from a series of heavy, faux fur rugs. Normally, I preferred mats. To wrestle on rugs can be a painful and uncomfortable experience but the matted faux fur felt soft and relaxing and as I undressed before her. I felt that whatever we had chosen to wrestle upon didn’t matter. I took off my training shoes and jeans as she undressed with me. We smiled in silence. Talking didn’t matter, just the feelings of feminine closeness and our mutual desire to test each other’s bodies. She stood before me topless. She wore the most economical of thongs and it was as if we had chosen a similar choice. We both wore Black thongs; fine latex wet-look thongs that were so comfortable and natural that we may have well decided to compete in the nude. Her long hair drifted across her shoulders as I eyed my opponent. She smiled and flicked it back as she stepped onto the inviting rug. Her motion beckoned me, and I felt the immediate enticement to contend with her. Her Amazonian incentive felt so strong.
“Best of three pins,” I said softly as if communing with a lover. “Are you ready?”
She nodded, “I’ve waited so long for this.”
“So have I,” I agreed. “I can’t wait to pin you.”
“Oh yes?” she said challengingly. “Come and get it.”
“I think I will,” I said as I rose to her challenge.
I felt the softness of the rug beneath my bare-feet as we circled, each in a half-crouch with our arms slightly splayed. Our Fingers spread in readiness as we each sought an opening move. I looked for an area to attack
We spent a few seconds circling and feigning and then I gripped her shoulders. In response, she did the same and we pushed and struggled evenly. She was strong and traded even pressure to mine. On the balls of our feet, we tussled for ground. Giggles and gasps cut the silence as we fought. Our arm muscles tensed and bulged in effort, but this would get us nowhere. I broke free, released my grips and snapped a head-lock onto Samantha. She made a short, “Ooooh,” sound in surprise as my arm pulled her head down into the lock, her jaw-line grating against my right hip. I held her fast but not too harshly as this was her first bout and I wasn’t going to hurt her. I stood and turned as she struggled against the firm hold. Her derriere was nice and well-muscled and the huge mirror on the lounge wall gave me a delicious view of her bisected cheeks; the sharp ‘V’ of her thong string just about visible between her buttocks.
“Ah, now then,” I taunted jokingly. “Didn’t expect that, did you?”
“No-no,” she groaned. Her legs spread for balance as I held her tight. Her thighs were full and toned. I made a mental note as we wrestled to avoid those legs as I sensed her scissors would be painful.
Samantha grappled and slipped her arms around my waist, knotting her fingers tightly to maintain her hold on me. I had the advantage of experience. She was wrestling from instinct, as if hard wired for it.
Naturally competitive, she gasped as she squeezed my midriff but her strength wasn’t enough to hurt me. I slowly twisted and tripped her to the rug and she was brought to her knees, with me beside her, still holding her in the headlock. I held her fast, on my knees with my legs parted slightly. She groaned against the pressure, letting out short gasps as she struggled to escape. Samantha’s hands reached upwards and crept along my back and neck. Using my hair as an evident guide, she felt her left hand reach my jaw and started to push upwards. Without my hands free, I couldn’t stop my jaw and head being forced back. My neck muscles started to hurt as she pushed. Her forcible wrist, then arm was like having a bar held against your jaw. Pain and discomfort took the edge from my hold on her and I felt I was going to have to give up the hold, or allow my neck to endure the torture. I didn’t need persuading and swiftly relinquished the headlock, then gripped her punishing arm. The displacement of my body in relation to hers made her pitch forward face-first onto the rug. I swung myself behind her and gripped both her arms.
She was laid face downwards like a cross on the rug, with my body resting the full length of hers. My opponent prone, my full breasts flattened against her back and my upper-weight kept her down. I spread my legs and ankle-to-ankle I locked my feet with hers and closed my legs to contain her. The smooth flesh of our legs hissed sensuously between our groans as we battled. My upper-weight was adequate to contain her arms. But then, her pelvis began to grind against the rug causing her toned buttocks to massage my groin and upper thighs. I held her tight and rode her motions the best I could, fighting hard to maintain my safe equilibrium. But she was intent on displacing me and started to pound her lower body against the faux-fur like a man during intercourse, hard and brutal. She was doing all naturally possible to shake me off.
I held her legs tightly with mine, but I was losing ground. I felt her leg-wrestle me and try to force her own legs apart. Strong legs contended and I felt my legs begin to ache - but then I was certain hers would be, too. But I clenched my teeth and raised myself higher to force my weight down, but I was suddenly rolled to the side.
“Ah!” I cried as my right leg flew up. My body rolled to the left and she turned to face my displaced body. I flipped onto my back roughly and lay supine on the faux fur just as Samantha bore down on me. I tried to roll to the right to avoid her, but I was held and now the roles had been reversed.
Sensing victory, Samantha smiled and her beautiful lips parted to show me who was in control. Like a lover, she slid perfectly between my thighs and slammed her groin harshly against mine, locking her hips consummately with my own bucking hips. She lay with me, belly-to-belly as we grappled hand in hand. Her swift move had shocked me and I felt her strength power me down.
“You really are strong,” she said with effort.
“So are you,” I winced in my strength battle with her.
We contended and groaned together as we grappled on, the room filled with our sounds of ragged breathing and effort. Her long hair shrouded my head as we battled. My arms swam against the rug as she tried to pin me solid. She did make a ‘two-count’ but I rolled her away and lay on top of her.
Samantha cursed herself as I lay above her supine loveliness. I enjoyed feeling her heaving breasts against mine as our orbs gave against the other. With virtually flattened tits, we again tested our bodies as I ground her pelvis into the faux-fur. She licked her lips in concentration as she tried to arch, spreading her legs. But she soon realised that she had left herself wide open and using a skilfully placed grapevine, I slipped my long legs round and locked my instep with hers. In panic, she let out a cry of consternation. I saw a flash of anxiety in her eyes as she twisted her head from side to side in frustration.
I was settled. I began to count slowly and purposefully:
“1...............2..............and 3!”
“Argh. Damn!” she cried.
I held her for a few seconds and drank in the sight of my pinned opponent. Her breasts bellowed, her pale flesh reddened by the pressure of my own, firm breasts. Her belly firm and taut, I rolled away and lay beside her as I got my breath back.
“God, you can really wrestle,” Samantha said as she ran her fingers through her long hair as she got to her feet. “Phew, that fall was amazing.”
“You did well,” I said as I got to my feet. “It’s a hard sport and you contended well.”
“Thanks,” she smiled and stood with her hands on her hips. “I really enjoyed that.”
“Not over yet,” I said, as I went over to my bag and pulled out a fruit juice. I passed her a bottle. “Still two falls to fight.”
“That was brilliant,” she said. “Hell, a girl could get addicted to this.”
“Well, I’ll always be happy to spar with you if you want to take it further.”
“That would be great,” said Samantha enthusiastically. “Thanks.”
We drank and sat down. She looked fit and firm, but then, so was I. I watched her lean back on the sofa and stretch her long legs. Her breasts were full and firm and rose as she breathed evenly, feeling more rested.
“Ready for the next fall?” I said as I placed my drink down near the grate of her fireplace.
“Sure, can’t wait,” said Samantha as she put her drink down. I swept my long blond hair away from my eyes and settled them intently upon her. She paced casually over to the rug and I joined her. Our smiles faded and we settled down to wrestle again. Our hands and thigh-flesh slapped and hissed as we tried to trip the other and then I felt her fingers entwine with mine. In our struggle, we set out positions to test the other. Our breasts kissed and then flattened as we grappled in a test of strength, toe to toe, legs parted.
We strained and tried to bend each other’s wrists back but it was really hard. She was so even in strength and we both mutually settled our heads on each other’s shoulders. The room was filled with cries and groans as we pushed on the balls of our feet. We parted slightly for a moment, and our bodies came back together, in intimate proximity. I felt her breath against my own lips as we wrestled face-to-face, her soft breasts buffering against mine. Our grips tightened as I let out a last ditch effort to force her down but I felt my hands move.
“No...no,” I said unable to prevent my supplication, as she gained ground. “Noooo.” I knew that wrestling was also about psychology as well as fighting skills and to allow your agony to show can be seized upon by an opponent. I clenched my teeth to hold back any further betrayals of my loss.
I felt the victory of the last fall fade as my opponent was winning the strength test. I heard Samantha groan her own agonised pleasure as she forced me back. My torso ached and I had to fall to my knees to prevent falling back. My arms twisted up and around my back, Samantha forced me down. I felt the back of my head touch the rug as Samantha released my hands and throw herself roughly into a cross-press. Gripping my arm and scissoring my free arm, she held me fast, and I struggled and arched in defence. I bridged and forced my lower torso up. The ‘V’ of my Black thong came into view as Samantha grunted to keep me in place. I pounded my feet hard onto the rug and tried to bounce the other Wrestler away from me, but she was set hard above me. Her thighs were tight and taut, her bottom muscles pulsed as she clamped her scissor on my arm tightly.
I felt my hopes die and I knew I was not going to force Samantha from her pin. My experience was good and I had been locked in similar positions in the past, and I had escaped from some. But she had positioned well more through luck then the actuality of skill. Granted, it may have been beginner’s luck, but even so, I was pinned - and I knew it!
I bucked my last as she began her three-count. My thronged-groin shot up in futility and pulsed and strained its last and as Samantha hit “3” I sighed my defeat and dropped my arse back against the rug. She lay above me, panting, for a few seconds. No doubt, she was savouring her win, her victory over the experienced wrestler below her. I understood her psyche. I had been right there where she was now. And it felt like no other feeling on earth. She had taken the equalising fall and I felt the pain of it.
She rose up and got to her knees and assisted me up. Her smile was broad and proud. It was the sporting smile of a good wrestler.
“Well, wrestled, Samantha,” I said with genuine admiration. “You deserved to take that fall. You really grappled me to the floor and deserved it.”
“Thanks, it was a great round,” Samantha said as the patches of sweat began to shine between her breasts and her upper body. “I love wrestling you.”
I smiled as I sat up. “And you, also. You are a good opponent.”
“We can extend the wrestling time if you want,” I said, “if you’re up to it?”
“Sure, I’d like that. We can have a really great match,” said Samantha agreeably. “I’m really enjoying this bout.”
I know we had been wrestling for just ten minutes, but I desired to match her for longer. I wanted to feel the endurance, but then, I feel so did she.
She ran her fingers once again through her hair and let her long hair drift over her shoulders. My own mane of blonde was tousled and I swept it out of my reddened face. I looked at myself in the mirror and straightened my thong.
In the mirror, Samantha stood behind me and I felt the softness of her hands on my hips. She looked over my shoulder, directly into the mirror and tested my boundaries, my sexuality. Her hands drifted past the cords of my thong and I let them drift up towards my breasts. She cupped them gently and I arched my back and lay the rear of my head against her waiting shoulder blade. Her gently, womanly touch made me sigh and I felt her left hand seek out the intimate ‘V’ of my thong. Her index finger explored my sex and sensually massaged my clit. I winced and groaned as I felt her hot breath against my ear. I let my right hand cup the rear of her head as she continued her loving exploration of my clitoris. She eased my thong down and I helped her remove it. I slipped it off completely and dropped it onto the sofa. I turned to face my opponent, my lover, and watched her remove her own Black thong. She threw it onto the sofa next to mine and let her hair cascade across her shoulders. I drank in the sight of her beauty and breathed in deeply. She had tested the waters of what was permissible, allowed. And I was hers and she was mine. And as she beckoned me to contend our next fall, I felt my heart quicken in accordance.
Like two naked Amazons we settled again to contend, to wrestle. And with a short cry, I clamped her into a bear-hug. My move was lightening fast and I knotted my fingers behind her back, my thumbs resting upon the incline of her derriere. She reciprocated my hold and in a double hold, he strained for all we were worth. I felt her thumbs dig into my coccyx as we struggled in our naked intimacy. Belly and breasts collided and chaffed enjoyably and although each were aware of their g-spots and senses, our combative needs overshadowed the potential for further sex. It was as if each had agreed mutually to wrestle and finish their match and they did.
We bear-hugged hard and we grew breathless and felt our ribcages grate and give. Sensing I was expending too much energy, I knew I had to make another move. My mind tried to think about what I could do, what move from my arsenal of wrestling skills could I employ? I relied on instinct then spending too much time thinking. I thrust a long leg between hers, then I twisted savagely, throwing us into a trip.
I successfully tripped the wrestler and we landed hard on the rug. My body cushioned, she landed on her back and I held her hard. I thrust my bare groin down hard upon hers and felt my pubic hair mingle with hers. The pressure of our compressed privates took my breath away. Our joint, sweaty moistness felt beautiful and I settled above the supine wrestler.
Although my intent wasn’t to bring her to a Lesbian orgasm, I gripped her solid, pubes to pubes. Her legs widened and tried to force me away. But I held her arms against the rug. We twisted and wrestled as I sought to pin her but I was finding it so difficult. She was so determined not to lose this fall and I was so determined to win. It was as if our desires were singling themselves out, as if we’d reached a hard impasse within our match that made any advance virtually impossible. But I was going to take this fall and enjoy it.
Then the worst happened. I had been so smug and egoistic in my surety that I failed to see her legs snap into play. And she did with an ecstatic cry of delight. Her long legs clamped my waist like a lover at the apex of coitus. She thrust her groin back against mine and pilled on the pressure. I let out a shocked cry and then groaned my agony as the body scissors bite mercilessly. Christ, Samantha had used her natural skills to hold me.
I lay above her as she controlled the match from beneath me. I spread my legs in an effort to get to my feet. But I was finding it hard. I released her arms and tried to force her thighs apart, but she was not going to relinquish the hold so easily. The scissors bit further and I felt a trickle of sweat burn my eyes as it trickled down my forehead as I arched upwards.
I looked down and saw her sheen-ed breasts bellow as she strained and clenched her teeth in effort. In pain, I slowly rose to my feet, struggling to pull her up with me. I felt my body suddenly feel sweaty and as I gradually made it to my feet I was absolutely gleaming. My muscled shone as if oiled, with Samantha’s Python-grip still torturing my waist. In experience, I twisted my right leg over and tried to turn her. Although this wasn’t submission wrestling, I knew the moves were designed to weaken and decimate our opponent’s spirit, both mentally and physically. And as the message finally got through to Samantha, she released her scissors before I could snap on a boston crab.
Her legs spread and released me and she sprawled to the rug. Her beautiful nudity rolled awkwardly as I stood tall and proud above her. She rolled off the mat swiftly to safety before I could dive onto her supine body.
“Clever girl,” I said as I grinned at her quick thinking. “It was as if you’d read my mind.”
She rose on her knees as smiled. “Yes, I felt my back start aching so I had to break the hold. I’m starting to get how wrestling works.”
“You’re learning fast,” I said in genuine admiration. “You really are quite an opponent.”
I watched her rise to her feet and towel down her sweaty body. I took my towel and did the same, wiping my face and upper body. We both smiled and I walked towards her, padding across the rug and I let the towel drop. She let hers drop as I held her and kissed her passionately. As lovers and not combatants, I enjoyed her body and savoured her tongue as we French-kissed sensuously. This time, it was our tongues that wrestled their own, sensuous duel. She felt soft and gentle in my arms. Her hands cupped my buttocks as we kissed. I slipped my right hand between her thighs and returned the pleasure she had given me earlier. She broke away and moaned as the incipience of her orgasm welled. And I held back. I pulled away and looked at her. I had never expected this, this sex-play. I had come here to wrestle, to contend with Samantha for the pleasure to see whom was the better women; the better female wrestler. We had each rose to a challenge to test the suppleness of our bodies. And we had fought well. Had wrestled to an even state where one of us now had to win and the other had to lose. As the more experienced, I felt my grappling reputation was at stake. My ego was screaming at me to win. But this woman had held me and had wrestled me to a sweaty gridlock. But I still had all the time in the world since we had cancelled the time limit.
I backed away and asked her to wrestle. I kicked the towel away from the rug and watching me intently, her face settling into one of deep concentration, she dropped into a half crouch. With a cry, she drove herself at me and I went low and twisted her round. Expertly, I slipped my hands beneath her armpits and threw on a very hard double-nelson. I swung her into place and we stood together in the centre of the rug, straining and struggling, my groin pulsing against her bare buttocks as she sought escape. She let out a soft groan as she tried to reverse trip me but she couldn’t and I held her fast.
I tugged her upright and we both caught our wrestling in the lounge mirror. Her face contorted in her angst and anguish, her sweaty breasts nice and oily and sensual. My own orbs swung out and peeped from behind her as she twisted and strained for ground. Our hair damp and tousled, we looked just as the ancient women grapplers of Sparta must have after their hard wrestling: achy and trauma-bodied with red pressure marks and fatigued faces. I felt tired and wrestled to keep her steady. Samantha tried to force my arms down but couldn’t. Sensing she was tiring rapidly, I tripped her and she dropped to her side as I broke my Nelson hold.
Supine again, I dropped upon her and we clung to each other like sweating lovers in a clinch. Again, I tried to slip on the grapevine and repeat my earlier victory, but she had learned fast and did not intend to keep her legs stationary for me. Our legs shifted and twisted like snakes but I couldn’t trap her.
Instead I wrestled her arms and hands hard and brutally against the rug. Our fingers entwined within its warm, thickness. I rose slightly, and bore down upon her as my breasts hovered above hers. Pubes to pubes, we were locked sensually as if in straining coitus again, and as she cried and groaned, I began to count:
“1..........2........ - “
Damn! She twisted and pulled her shoulder from the rug. It rose and I tried to push her down. But she was rocking from side to side, jolting my groin and hips with hers. I felt the oily sensation of her lower belly pubes slip and hiss against mine. I was sweating again and my grips were gradually becoming ineffective. I strained my last as she rolled me away again. In a clinch, we clung to the other and rolled across the rug in our now damp wrestle. Her sweaty breasts dashed and slipped against mine and we rolled again to the opposite side of the rug. Wanting to escape this sweat-drenched impasse, I broke my grip and pushed her jaw back gradually. She moaned and hissed breath between my splayed fingers. She returned my actions and pushed my face away. I gripped her arms and twisted, and then caught her in a reverse headlock as she tried to rise from the rug.
In a wonderful sexy sight, I watched her body bridge. I couldn’t contain myself and let out a holler of delight. Her breasts bellowed and her body arched like a spring. He legs opened and she tried to rise up, the damp bush of her pussy looking delicious before me as I held her. I leaned forward and brought myself low, forcing her to give up the bridging. She did and flopped back. I held her in the headlock for thirty-seconds more, enjoying her contending nudity in action. I settled down and released the headlock and watched her bridge as I smothered her upper body and face.
Tiring, her bridge was now fading and I was now counting my pinfall with a look of sweaty victory prematurely on my face:
“1........2........”
“Shit!”
She rolled me away and we went over and over across the rug. I let out a cry of consternation as she used my grip-less hands to snake out from beneath my body. She went on all-fours, dazed and disorientated and tried to crawl away. Her breasts wobbled like an animals as she moved. I threw myself over to her and gripped her hips. I held her as best I could and twisted her over, overbalancing her and forcing her back into a supine position. Groaning my frustration, I dropped my body onto hers again. Our wet bodies came together and my wet hair covered our faces. Her damp pubes crushed mine once again, colliding joyously even though our upper bodies ached and felt stressed.
“This time, dammit!” I uttered and brought what felt like my whole body and soul down to take the final, winning fall. The best of three.; the best of three, rocketed through my brain. I trapped her legs with mine and tried to contain her, but the sweat was far too lubricating and again, I was finding it hard to contain her and take the fall. It was as if she had always found some sudden strength from somewhere, like she was always finding a never ending pocket of energy reserves that she could tap into.
Again, to my horror, she let out a cry and rolled me away and we stopped suddenly and awkwardly. I lay prone and she lay above me, in a supine position. I moved my arms and cupped her jawline. With my other hand, I held her pubes, my left hand hooked perfectly in readiness to contain her. I yanked my body up and held her body across my back, like a back-breaker. I got to my knees, the pain and concentration now evident as I held her arched body. She let out a tired cry as her head dropped back, her legs now slack and I let her flop back. I threw my weight backwards and gave her a slight body-slam against the rug and twisted to cross press her. Again, our breasts crushed and I held her hands down and forced a count....
“.........1.........2..........3 - thank, Christ!”
I groaned my victory in an elongated emotional expulsion of air. I rolled off Samantha and dropped onto my back. I lay beside her and we both breathed deeply, raggedly. Two wrestlers that had pushed each to the limit of sheer exhaustion and felt it. I sensed her hand find mine and we held hands. Her grip was clammy and damp but that didn’t matter as mine was equally so. She rose up and balanced on her side, looking down at me. I smiled as she gazed down. Her hair damp and her face perspiring.
“You wrestled well for a newbie,” I said as I looked in her eyes. “We must do this again sometime.”
“Well, I’m up for it. That was amazing; awesome!” she said ardently. “We must do this again.”
I shook her hand in respect. And I’m sure the feeling was mutual, reciprocated.
We lay just talking for ten minutes, secretly drinking in the beauty of the other’s toned, nudity. Our fingers entwined as we soul-searched as lovers do, and then we went to the bathroom and bathed together. Samantha broke open some wine and we drank by candle-light in each other’s arms, the warm scented, water washing away the exertions of our hard wrestling. Relaxed, I kissed her deeply. And as we each broke away, we knew that this would be the start of something very special indeed.
