Stories | Discussions | Images | Videos | Producers        Share our interests? JOIN us today!

Author Topic: Four Opponents, Four Fights For My Wife  (Read 524 times)

0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.

Offline headlock111

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 14
  • Karma received: 15
Four Opponents, Four Fights For My Wife
« on: 05-Nov-21, 11:25 PM »

The shit between my wife Melissa and my coworker Paula started at my company’s Christmas party. Melissa was late getting there, and Paula, a drink in her hand, sidled up to me and “accidentally” rubbed her tits against me. She giggled and threw me a sultry look. She was a lithe 24-year-old heavily into flirting (and more).
“You know, I should have told you before that I like your muscles,” she purred. “I like a man that’s good and hard.”
I eyed her mouth — god, those young lips were so kissable. I imagined holding her tight, those tits of hers pressed hard against me, and I’m sticking my tongue deep in her sexy mouth …
 “Hey!” a voice called out.
I turned. It was Melissa. My full-bodied, sexy, blonde 33-year-old wife. I blushed; I saw her looking down at the erection poking at my pants.
“What the fuck!” she said. She glared at Paula. “Get the fuck away from him, you tramp!”
Paula sneered. “So you’re his wife. Wow, you look fuckin’ old.”
“Fuck off. Take your skanky ass somewhere else.”
Paula scoffed. “You should talk! He doesn’t deserve you, bitch! I’d be willing to fight you over that, you cow.”
“Let’s do it,” Melissa said. “Fight. Your place or ours. And he can watch.”
And so it was set: a Melissa-vs-Paula wrestling match at our apartment.


This was a curious matchup: Melissa, topless, was aiming to grapple hard and dole out some pain. Paula, her clothes already disheveled, didn’t know shit about wrestling and flailed about angrily with catfight-style slapping and clawing.
“Hold still, you bitch!” Melissa called out, trying to get a good hold of her. Paula, resisting, reared back and delivered an impressive, full-force slap to Melissa’s face: The blow sounded a sharp, ugly crack! that set my teeth on edge. 
Melissa, momentarily stunned, cried out, “Goddammit!”
Paula laughed. “You stupid cow. That’ll teach you …”
Melissa, really pissed now, flung her body full-force at the young brunette and sent her flying onto our bed. Now it was Melissa’s turn to kick ass. In catfight mode, she grabbed a thick set of Paula’s hair, then delivered a furious slap to her face. Paula’s face tightened in agony.
“How about another!” Melissa called out.
She delivered a second blow to Paula’s other cheek. Paula shuddered at the pain. Her eyes watered.
“Oh,” Melissa mocked, “is the baby gonna cry now?”
Melissa moved into wrestling mode next, pushing hard with her right leg on the small of Paula’s back while hold onto one of her arms and legs. Melissa bent the brunette’s back at a sharp angle — Paula, writhing pitifully, wailed in pain.
And so it was for the next 20 minutes, with Melissa fully in charge and Paula at her mercy.
When it was over, Paula, limping, hurriedly straightened her clothes and fixed her hair, then stumbled out the door.
Melissa smiled. “I have to say, that was damn fun. I’d like to do that again sometime.”
She turned to me —and delivered a powerful slap to my face.
She glared: “And don’t you ever think about fucking that little bitch!”


“Was everything OK in your apartment the other night? I thought I heard strange noises,” Ms. Sartori asked. Melissa and I were walking down the hall to our apartment, and Ms. Sartori, our next-door neighbor, a sweet-natured middle-aged woman with a slight, delightful Italian accent, saw us in the hallway to chat.
Ms. Sartori, a shapely brunette in her mid-fifties, was asking about the night that Melissa had fought Paula and beat her ass.
I wasn’t sure how to answer. But Melissa did.
She lowered her voice: “Ms. Sartori, I’ll tell you the truth: I was wrestling another woman. And it was fun!”
Ms. Sartori put a hand to her mouth. “Oh my!”
“It really was fun! I beat a little nasty tramp! Woman against woman!”
Ms. Sartori swallowed nervously, clearly intrigued. She clutched at her blouse. She whispered, “Woman against woman …”
“Yes! Hey, would you like to try it?”
Ms. Sartori’s eyes showed her excitement. “Oh! Oh my … I … I …” She clutched at her blouse some more. I could see that under her bra, her nipples had hardened and were deliciously erect.
“Come on,” Melissa said, clutching Ms. Sartori by her arm and squeezing. “Let’s you and me do it and” — she lowered her voice to a whisper — “let’s do. it. naked.
Ms. Sartori blushed. She licked her lips. She spoke nervously now.
“Really? Wrestle you naked?! Oh my god!”
Melissa gave her arm another squeeze. “Come on! Let’s do it!”
Ms. Sartori’s eyes glowed with excitement.
She shook her head “yes.”


The two of them, buck naked, were having a blast. Their curvy feminine bodies had grappled for only five minutes and they were laughing with delight.
Their hands were locked in a test of strength, the shoulders of each fighter trembling with sexy exertion.
“Uh-uhhh!” Melissa grunted. She looked over at me. “Shit, she’s fucking strong!
Ms. Sartori rubbed her tits (her nipples were rock-hard with arousal) against Melissa’s and giggled. She looked over at me and grinned.
“I’m wrestling!” she called out. “I’m wrestling your wife! Naked! Do you like it?”
I laughed. “Yes, I like it a lot!”
Ms. Sartori tensed her arm muscles (that was so fucking sexy) and pressed hard against Melissa. Melissa grunted, her arms trembling.
“I’m 56,” Ms. Sartori said, “but look — I’m strong! I’M STRONG! …” She pressed harder against Melissa, who tumbled back onto the wrestling mat.
“I’ve watched wrestling on TV,” Ms. Sartori said, looking at me. “I think I can do this!”
Grabbing Melissa by the hair, she flipped my blonde wife onto her stomach. Then she cupped her hands under Melissa’s chin and pulled back hard, fiercely: a powerful camel clutch.
Melissa cried out in pain.
Ms. Sartori looked over at me again. She called out excitedly: “See — I’m wrestling! I’m wrestling!” She leaned back even farther, bending Melissa’s back at an ugly angle.
Melissa’s body trembled. “I GIVE, I FUCKING GIVE!”
Ms. Sartori, caught up in the moment, wasn’t paying attention.
“STOP!” Melissa cried. “FUCKING STOP!”    
“I think you need to stop,” I said to Ms. Sartori.
She broke out of her trance and released the hold. She flipped Melissa onto her back and spoke to her.
“You were right,” Ms. Sartori said, grinning. “This is fun!”
I looked at Ms. Sartori’s chest: Her pink nipples were hard, aching with arousal. A vision came to me: I imagined her back in her apartment after the match. She was masturbating wildly and moaning deliciously, one hand plunging frantically inside her while the other stimulated her clit.
And twenty minutes later, when she was back in her apartment, that is exactly what I and (a sweaty, exhausted) Melissa heard. 


Melissa and I were enjoying drinks at the bar down the corner. It was a slow evening, and Kelly the bartender was chatting with us.
“Yes, I do!” Melissa said. “I wrestle other women — I kick ass! If you and me wrestled, I’d show you what I’ve got.”
A strange look came over Kelly’s face. Kelly was a short, thick-bodied woman in her mid-twenties. Her light brown hair was cut short. The skin was clear and appealing on her round strong shoulders. 
“What?” Melissa said, looking at her. “You’re thinking something — what?”
Kelly sighed. “You, wrestling? Come on. I mean, you’re …”
She paused, hesitant.
“I’m what?” Melissa said.
“You’re …” Another pause.
“Yeah? I’m what?”
Kelly sighed. “You’re … old. You wouldn’t stand a chance against me.”
Melissa’s face tightened with frustration. She was a mere 33 and full of sexiness and energy.
“OK,” she said. “Then how about if you and me wrestle? I’ll show what I can do.”
Kelly gave a smug smile. She put her right hand behind her head, showing off the impressive thickness of her powerful arm. “Well, if you wanna go through the pain, that’s your choice. Would tomorrow night be OK?”
“You’re on,” Melissa said. She put her right hand behind her head and showed off her own bicep.


The naked battlers had been at it for more than twenty fierce minutes, the fight seesawing back and forth. Sweat glistened off their bodies — Melissa’s deliciously curvy one, Kelly’s stocky, powerful one.
At this point, Kelly had the upper hand. She was standing on the mat, with Melissa’s head trapped between the young fighter’s thick, powerful thighs.
Kelly’s leg muscles tensed furiously: A standing head scissors.
Melissa whimpered. Her eyes watered.
Kelly, grinning, released the pressure. “I thought you said you were tough. I don’t think so.”
Her leg muscles tensed again, with even more pressure.
Melissa cried out in pain. “Please … please …” she whimpered.
Kelly reached down and grabbed a thick handful of Melissa’s hair. The young fighter was having a grand time.
“Do you give? Say it!”
Melissa paused.
“Say it!” Kelly bellowed.
Melissa swallowed, humiliated. “I GIVE! I GIVE!”
Kelly released her. Melissa’s body dropped to the mat.
Kelly looked at me. She put her hands behind her head, showing off her delicious muscles.
“Well,” she said, “that’s what happens when you try something and you’re too old for it.”


During our vacation at the resort, Melissa and I met a most interesting woman at the bar.
Olivia was in her early sixties, but her body was extraordinarily fit. Not overly thick with muscle, but exquisitely toned and powerful.
Her strong personality matched her confident physique.
“Do I work out? I should say I do,” Olivia said, holding a whisky. “Part of that is by wrestling men — and sometimes women.”
“Women?” Melissa said. “Really?”
“Oh yeah. None of them has ever come anything near to beating me, of course.” She had an incredibly husky voice. As she talked, I could imagine her on top of me during lovemaking, whispering huskily, “Fuck me .. fuck me .. yeah …”
The women’s conversation brought me back to the present. Melissa was talking.
“I wrestle,” she said. “You wanna try me? How about it? I’ll give a real challenge.”
Olivia gave a tight smile. “I’m sure you’d give it your all. But, really, you don’t want to be in a such one-sided contest. Not with your dear husband here looking on, right?”
Melissa was insistent. “No. I really want to wrestle you. Let’s go upstairs now and get it on.”
Olivia sighed. “Well, all right. What do you wear?” She looked at me. “Or should I say, what do you prefer that we wear?”
I cleared my throat. “I, um, prefer wrestlers to be … naked.”
Olivia shook her head. “OK, then. Naked, it is.”
“Good,” Melissa said.
Olivia finished her whisky, then spoke. “I need to tell you about how I like my wrestling. Something important.”
“Yes?” Melissa said.
“I like pushing the envelope,” Olivia said. “Really pushing it.”


I was having difficulty catching my breath.
Under Melissa’s rules, all three of us had to be naked.
And Melissa instructed that anytime that she placed a submission hold on Melissa, I was, well, I was to take my hand and … grip my cock and … well, really get serious about … jacking off.
Which is what I was doing now. Because Olivia, standing, was delivering a brutal arm twist to my wife Melissa.
Melissa’s body spasmed at the pain.
Olivia paused and looked over at me, studying my stimulation technique.
“OK — stop!” Olivia said. She released Melissa’s arm. Melissa, visibly in pain, rubbed her arm.
I kept working my cock.
“I SAID STOP!” Olivia said.
I stopped, though my cock was very unhappy about it.
“I told you,” Olivia said, “I like stretching the envelope.”
She spun her right arm up and back. Her fist made a swift circular motion downward and around — and delivered a full-on punch to Melissa’s cunt.
Melissa doubled over in agony.
“Now,” Olivia said, “for the final action …”
She grabbed Melissa by the hair and raised her up. Then she pulled Melissa’s left arm behind her back and yanked it upward, hard.
Melissa whimpered.
Olivia addressed me. “You. Get to work on that cock.”
I did.
Olivia instructed Melissa: “Girly, stand on your tiptoes now or I’ll break your arm. And I mean that.” She gave Melissa’s arm a new yank. 
Melissa, whimpering, did as she was told. She raised herself high on her tiptoes.
My heart was pounding now. My cock ached for release.
Olivia spoke. “And now …”
She reached around with one hand and reached between Melissa’s thighs. Then her hand moved upward … and began stroking Melissa’s clit.
Melissa gave a small smile. She thrust her hips forward, wetness glistening between her thighs.
Olivia continued her work. So did I.
Soon, Melissa grew frantic at the stimulation. She bucked her hips and moaned.
Olivia watched me now — watched my face, watched my cock. I could feel the orgasm approaching. So close …
Melissa threw back her head and released a cry: Her body shook in ecstasy. The orgasm had seized her.
I gasped as my cock found its release. The room went dark as my body spasmed at the pleasure-wave.
A few minutes later, Melissa and I, still breathing heavily, sat on the bed. We were smiling.
Olivia, standing, faced us.
She began her news instructions for us: She stood while Melissa got on her knees, her head in front of Olivia’s crotch. I placed my lips, as instructed, on Olivia’s right nipple.
“Now,” Olivia said, “my turn. Get to work on me.”
We got to work.
Olivia moaned in that husky voice of hers. It quite possibly was the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.
« Last Edit: 07-Nov-21, 09:14 PM by headlock111 »