Apartment Match
By Weenie-Arm dbhood@aol.com
Weenie-Arm finds out how strong Carol really is!  Part II of a series.


I rang the doorbell a fourth time and waited. Maybe she wasn't home. Perhaps
she was the one who had chickened out! No, not Carol!

Just a week ago Carol had easily beaten me at arm wrestling in the Laboratory
where we worked as technicians. Today was to be our rematch, my chance to
regain some dignity in the eyes of my younger associate. This time we were
going to the mat! I was getting horny just thinking about tussling on the
carpet with this attractive young lady. If I lost to her again, so what? I
would still get my jollies!

Her doorbell chimed again. No answer. Did I have the right address? This was
103 Continental, for sure! As I turned facing the street to leave, I saw Carol
jogging up the sidewalk, her breath smoking in the raw March air. She hadn't
forgotten our appointment after all. We exchanged greetings and she let us
inside.

Carol's short dark brown hair was damp and her bangs clung to her forehead.
"Thought I would get in a little workout before you got here", she explained.
"I hit the weight machines at the apartment complex Fitness Center and ran a
few miles."

"So you work out regularly with weights?" That explained why she was so
strong!

"Yeah, I try to keep myself toned and strong, but I know when to stop. I want
Girl Muscles, not Guy Muscles! A few of the women at the gym look like they
are on steroids. That's not for me!"

"It's hot in here!" she exclaimed and adjusted the thermostat. Dark valleys of
perspiration wetness covered the front and underarms of Carol's light gray
sweat suit. To my surprise, she grasped her sweatshirt by the bottom and
pulled it up over her head. Her flat tummy was exposed. No six-pack abs on
her, but no fat or flab, either. Just a deep, sexy belly button and rosy pink
skin glistening with sweat from her workout.

Her sweatshirt rose higher and I was treated to the sight of her boobs clad in
a black sports bra. They were not large, but bigger than I had imagined. She
had two nice firm handfuls, no more, no less. As Carol freed herself from the
garment, I saw that her armpits were filled with thick, wide patches of dark
hairs. Her whiskers had grown out quite long and they were tangled and matted
with sweat. This well-groomed girl had obviously given her razor a rest during
the winter months! I wondered how long it had been since her last shave. Hairy
underarms made her look wild, untamed, and dangerous.

Carol untied the string on her pants and let them fall to the floor. She
stepped out of the soggy gray pile of clothing and kicked it aside, standing
before me in black running shorts. "This is my wrestling outfit", she said.
Her attire showed off her body to great effect. She looked well exercised and
muscular, though not quite the ripped "hard body" physique you would see on
the cover of muscle magazines. Her sleek torso still had all of the feminine
contours and looked soft in the right places. But those thick arms, which had
gotten the better of me last week, looked even more formidable with her shirt
off. I was amazed at what broad shoulders and well-rounded deltoids she
displayed. They seemed almost out of place on such a slender body. And Carol's
legs were long, muscular and shapely. It was obvious she did quite a bit of
running.

There was only one thing wrong with this picture. That loathsome hickey on her
throat was still visible, but lighter than the angry, purple blotch I had
noticed a week ago. The "Mark of the Beast", I thought darkly. How I envied
the lucky "Beast" who had placed it there, branding her as if she was his
livestock!

"What are you going to wear?" my hostess inquired. "Surely you're not going to
grapple in your street clothes." I removed my shirt and pants to reveal a
T-shirt and running shorts. She noticed the protective cup I had on beneath my
shorts and snickered. "Is that thing supposed to protect you from me, or me
from you?"

"Both!" I admitted. I fully expected to pop a woody when I came to grips with
this babe and wanted someplace safe and unobtrusive for it to go.

"Well, I just might have to take it off after I kick your ass and see what
you're hiding in there!" In that case, losing didn't seem like such a bad
alternative, I thought.

Carol quenched her thirst with a bottle of water from the fridge and we moved
her living room furniture back against the wall, clearing a place for our
match. She handled her end of the heavy sofa with ease. It was a family
heirloom according to Carol, built long ago when things were made to last. It
seemed to weigh a ton. When we finished the task, I was huffing and puffing.
She smiled at me with pity and said, " You poor Weenie-Arm! Is Grandma's big
old sofa too heavy for you? Come over here. I want to show you something."

Carol placed her hands underneath the armrest at one end of the sofa and took
a deep breath. I watched dumbfounded as she lifted her end off the floor and
brought the armrest even with her chest. She lowered it and raised it again as
if she were doing curls with a set of weights! "Two . . . three . . . four..."
she grunted, counting the reps. I was mesmerized by the rhythmic flexing of
her arms as she worked like a well-oiled machine. Her biceps looked
considerably bigger now than they did when we arm wrestled, telling me just
how little of her total strength she had needed to put me down. Her arms
bulged out in the middle like twin boa constrictors, each in the process of
digesting fresh prey. I didn't know how many pounds she was lifting, but it
was a lot more weight than I could handle. I felt humiliated.

"Thirty!" Carol announced triumphantly as she returned her end of the sofa to
the floor for the last time. Still breathing hard, she struck a double- biceps
pose. Her body shone with a fresh coating of perspiration and her muscles
twitched from the vigorous exercise. "Sure you want to take on these babies?"
she taunted, smiling down at her powerful arms. "Just imagine what they could
do to your body!"

Her biceps now showed their peaks, looking meaner and more defined than the
pair I had seen only a week ago. "Keep up that routine and you can kiss those
"Girl Muscles" goodbye!" I cautioned. "You're already as big as a lot of
guys!"

"I don't intend to make a habit of this", she laughed. "I just couldn't resist
showing off. But I do like being strong. It comes in handy sometimes, like
moving furniture - and wrestling! Will you get the measuring tape out of my
desk drawer? I'm really pumped and I want to see just how big these guns get
when they're fully-loaded!"

I found her yellow tape and wrapped it around the summit of her right arm.
"Almost fourteen inches!" I exclaimed.

"Let's see if I can do better than that." Carol rotated her fist away from her
body and pointed it downward, causing her muscle to knot up and rise still
higher. The tape stretched and slipped through my fingers. I re- measured, and
marveled at how hard she felt.

"Holy Shit! Now it's closer to fifteen inches!"

"That's more like it!" Carol beamed with satisfaction. Standing so close to
her raised arm, my nose detected a strong smell. I sniffed the air and picked
up the scent of Carol's "industrial strength" body odor! I must have recoiled
because Carol saw me and laughed. "I know I must be pretty rank by now. Since
I was headed to the gym today I didn't bother to shower or use deodorant. I
haven't bathed since yesterday morning and I've been sweating like a
racehorse. Sorry!"

Carol lifted her arm higher and moved her nose close to her armpit. She
inhaled and made a face. "Phew!" she muttered in disgust. "It's worse than I
thought!" Then she smiled. "Now it's YOUR turn. Go ahead, smell me!" she
commanded. "Take a whiff! I know you want to!" I drew closer and stared at her
sweaty, hairy armpit. It had a feral look that repelled me and yet invited me
to dive in. The wet hairs tickled my nose as I sampled her pungent aroma. My
God, she stunk worse than the Pittsburgh Steelers locker room during halftime!
Her funk was stronger than mine had ever been, but her body was stronger too.
This was a smell of raw power.

The irony of the situation was amusing. Carol always reported to work looking
and smelling like she had just stepped out of the bathtub. This morning I had
gone to extra effort to ensure that I would be clean enough for a close
encounter with this meticulous lady. And here she was; sweaty, unkempt and
downright offensive!

"Let me go over the House Rules for apartment wrestling." Carol assumed the
tone of a stern elementary school principal. "This match will consist of five
falls with a five-minute rest period between each round. The first contestant
to win three falls wins the match. Falls are to be decided by submission. No
hitting, gouging, biting, kicking, or hair pulling. And no choke holds.
Cutting off oxygen and blood flow to the brain is very dangerous, and I don't
want to kill you!" she added with a twinkle in her eye. "But I do intend to
cause you such discomfort that you'll know who's boss from now on!"

"Oh, yeah?" I sneered with more bravado than I felt. "Let's get down to
business and we'll see about that!"

"First, let me do this." She now took on the role of Mistress of Ceremonies
and addressed an imaginary audience. "Ladies and Gentlemen! Today, for your
wrestling entertainment, we feature a grudge match between two worthy
opponents. In this corner we have the Challenger. Weighing in at 180 lbs., he
is attempting a comeback, having gone down to a crushing defeat in his last
match. I present to you: Weenie-Arm! And in this corner we have the Champion.
Weighing in at 140 lbs., she is undefeated and prepared to defend her title. I
present to you: The Kentucky Wildcat! Contestants, you may now shake hands and
come out fighting!"

We shook and began circling each other. I had no strategy other than to fight
defensively and look for opportunities to use my size advantage. We locked
hands in a pushing match, each trying to throw the other off balance. She was
unable to move me because of my weight, but she had a lower center of gravity
and stronger legs. I crouched down to her level in hopes of giving myself
better stability. Big mistake. Suddenly Carol let go of my hands and reached
out with her right arm, snaring my head. She quickly pulled me to her side and
clasped her hands, holding me in a headlock with the both of us still on our
feet. I tried to pry her arms apart as we moved about the room, but it was no
use. She was just too strong.

I had been in headlocks before, but never one as punishing as this! Carol
would ease up on the pressure momentarily and then jerk her arm tight,
hammering my skull like a pecan in a nutcracker! Her flexing action drove her
swollen biceps into my upper jaw again and again. It felt like a wrecking ball
hitting the side of my head. Using the strength of her left arm to maintain
tension, she rolled her right arm forward and chuckled sadistically as she
watched her big, hard muscle grind into my aching temple. This girl was
kneading my brain to a pulp! She yanked my head in every conceivable angle,
causing my neck to stretch and spasm as I staggered around helplessly.

Dizziness overcame me and I stumbled to the carpet with Carol landing on top
of me. Her weight knocked the breath out of me as she maintained her hold from
which there was no escape. My predicament was hopeless. Carol pulled my head
up from the carpet and whispered in my ear. "If this wasn't such a friendly
little match, I would put you in my sleeper hold and send you to beddy-bye!
No, I promised I wouldn't do that. But I NEVER said I wouldn't rip your head
off! Give up, while you're still in one piece!" With that, she tightened her
arm around my head again and twisted. I was trapped beneath her body and
honestly afraid she was going to wring my neck like a chicken!

"OK, that's enough! I give!" I yelped.

"Smart boy!" She released my throbbing head and got up, helping me to my feet.
I tottered a bit at first but she held me steady until I regained my
equilibrium. "First fall goes to the Champion!" she crowed.

Carol went to the kitchen and returned with two bottles of water. "Here's
something for your head!" she laughed wickedly, handing me two Tylenol
tablets. We sat on the floor and leaned back against the big sofa that had
earlier served as Carol's exercise machine.

"Did you learn how to wrestle from your brother?" I asked.

"He taught me a few moves, but we didn't actually wrestle. Our parents would
not allow it. But my sister and I fought all the time! She studied dance and
had better flexibility than me, and her legs were stronger than mine. But I
always had more upper body strength. We were a good match for each other." I
bet those two would have made a great tag- team!

Carol got up and went to the center of the room. "Time's up! Are you ready to
go again?" What a competitor my new friend was turning out to be! I had never
imagined a woman could be so rough and yet so feminine at the same time.

We squared off. I decided I should try something different this time if I
wanted to have a chance against my superior opponent. As she danced before me,
I left my feet and tackled her to the floor as if she were the ball carrier in
a sandlot football game. For the first time today I had done something right!
But alas, I was slow to secure my hold of her waist and the slippery Carol
twisted out of my grasp. She pounced on my back with cat-like quickness and
rode me down to the carpet. Shifting her weight and lying on top of me, she
locked her legs inside of mine. "Now we're going to try a move I learned from
my sister. It's called the Grapevine Press. I hope I can do it as well as she
did!"

Carol's shins began pushing against my calves, forcing my legs to spread wide
apart. The pressure on my knees was intense as the ligaments stretched to
their limit. Her thighs bulged as she flexed her legs, forcing my limbs to
move in ways Mother Nature never intended. I felt like an unfortunate victim
of "the Rack" in some medieval torture chamber. The pain in my crotch became
unbearable as Carol kept cranking up the tension, notch by notch, until it
seemed she was determined to tear me apart.

"I give up! You win!" Carol untangled herself from my legs and stood with one
foot planted firmly on by back.

"Second fall goes to the Champion!" she announced, as if I needed reminding.
"Another win for the Kentucky Wildcat! If you lose again it's all over!"

Carol went to the bathroom and returned to find me spread out on the floor,
checking my legs to make sure they were still attached to my body. "Are you
all right?" she asked, with a look of genuine concern on her face. "You're
really taking a beating. You can always concede the match if you think you've
had enough."

Once again Carol helped me to my feet. I walked around on wobbly legs for a
minute and sat down on the floor next to her. "I think I'll live! How do YOU
feel? Getting tired yet?" I was looking for a face-saving way out.

Carol threw back her head and laughed. "So far today I've been to the gym,
gone jogging, lifted the sofa, and mopped my floor with you twice. And I'm
still as fresh as a daisy, Weenie-Arm!"

"You don't smell as fresh as a daisy, Stinky Pits!"

"Shut up, or I'll hold your nose under my arm until you pass out! Seriously,
do you think you can keep going?"

As bad as I felt, I was in no hurry for our time together to end. I looked
into her dark brown eyes and said, "This is hard on me. I'm not as young or as
strong as you. But I would rather be here getting my ass kicked by you than
anywhere else, with anybody else!"

My sincere declaration of affection caught Carol off guard. She started to say
something, then stopped abruptly. A pissed-off expression settled on her
pretty face.

"If you want to finish what we started, then let's go ahead and get it over
with!" she said coldly. "There are plenty of other things I could be doing. I
have a date tonight and need to start getting ready pretty soon."

Her words cut through my heart like a dagger and hurt me worse than any pain
she had inflected upon my poor body. What a fool I had been to think there
could be anything between us! All she wanted was to kick my ass and humiliate
me, then send me home to lick my wounds while she went out on the town with a
"real man." The same guy, no doubt, who had given her the hickey. I was mad
now and resolved to go down fighting.

"Let's go!" I replied grimly, rising to my feet. We circled each other and
locked arms like a pair of classic Greek wrestlers. When Carol broke the
clench I instinctively moved backward to avoid being captured again. In doing
so, I backed into that damned sofa and "took a seat". As I was getting back on
my feet Carol saw her opportunity and made her move. Seizing my left arm, she
pulled me away from the sofa and moved behind me. I thought she was going to
twist my arm, but instead she turned it loose. Before I could react, she
thrust her arms beneath mine and locked her hands behind my neck. I found
myself trapped in her Full Nelson.

"I've got you now!" she gloated, "and you're about to find out, once and for
all, just how strong I really am!" She secured her hold and my efforts to free
myself were a joke. I quit struggling and decided to conserve my remaining
energy for whatever she had in store for me. Carol held me immobilized for a
minute or two, not moving a muscle, not saying a word. She wanted me to
experience the calm before the storm. The room was quiet except for the sound
of our heavy breathing. The air was filled with the stench of her unwashed
body.

The voice coming from behind me was that of the stern schoolmarm who had
outlined the rules of our match. "Some boys just won't learn, and they have to
be taught a lesson. My demonstration with the sofa should have been sufficient
warning to you. Then I let you measure my loaded guns so you could see exactly
what you were up against. And if you had the sense God granted to most members
of the Animal Kingdom, you would have known from the smell of my body that I
am a dangerous predator!"

Carol's voice rose in volume and filled with anger. "You came here today so
you could feel my firm, young body against yours, didn't you? Well, you're
going to FEEL me now, I promise you! And don't bother trying to submit. Fall
and match will be over when I'm finished with you, and not before! Save your
breath, 'cause you're gonna need it!" She unlocked her hands and slid her arms
down my side. Her right hand grasped her left wrist and she drew me back
against her body in a binding embrace.

"My big, strong arms are going to squeeze the fart out of you, and there's
nothing you can do about it!" she growled. Carol's hot breath panted as she
began flexing her biceps and closing the steely band of sinew around my trunk.
I felt the blood pulsing through her arteries as adrenaline surged to those
swelling muscles. She worked slowly and deliberately, forcing every bit of air
out of my body. Her chest heaved against my back as she tanked up on precious
oxygen, greedily fueling her inexhaustible strength while denying me that same
vital element.

Between my futile gasps for breath I could hear Carol's guttural grunting as
she unleashed her power. Those "loaded guns" of hers blasted away as she
wrapped her arms ever tighter around me, crushing my guts until I felt them
rising up in my throat. My rib cage quivered and quaked like it was going to
cave in from her brutal pressure. Burning lungs cried out for air but my
diaphragm was collapsed with no room to expand. Carol's boa-like arms made
sure of that! She had effectively shut down my respiratory system.

My vision blurred and everything began to swirl around as consciousness
slipped away. Just when it seemed my internal organs were about to burst,
Carol relaxed her constricting coils and allowed my limp body to slump to the
floor.

* * * * * * * * *

I woke up to sound of rain drumming steadily against the window. The apartment
was almost dark, illuminated only by the late winter twilight and the flames
from the gas logs in Carol's fireplace. My body hurt all over. I groaned.

My hostess got up from the sofa and crossed the room to kneel beside me. She
gently brushed back the hair on my forehead and tenderly stroked my cheek.
"Feeling better after your nap? How's your breathing?"

"Well, at least I'm breathing! That wasn't the case a little while ago" I
responded ruefully. "How long was I out?"

"About forty-five minutes. You had me worried there for a minute. But your
respiration and pulse returned to normal so I let you sleep."

"What were you trying to do, kill me?"

"Oh, Dave! I'm so sorry!' Carol moaned. "I just snapped and lost control for a
minute. I didn't mean to go that far! Why didn't you stop me?"

"STOP YOU? I couldn't! And you said no submission!"

"Yeah, but I didn't mean it! I just said that to scare you. I felt sure you
would cry out in pain or beg me to stop before the pressure got too bad. But
you took it like a man! I finally stopped squeezing because your ribs felt
like they were about to break! Hold still while I roll up your shirt. I want
to check them." Carol pulled my wet T-shirt up to my nipples and began probing
my ribs with her fingers. They felt tender and sore to the touch.

"Nothing seems to be broken, but you may have some bruises in a day or two.
Honestly, I've never squeezed anyone that hard before. You're lucky I stopped
when I did!" Damn, Carol! On one hand she seemed contrite, genuinely sorry for
the pain she had caused me. But I could tell she was also very proud of her
ability to do it!

"OK, here's the plan!" she announced. "I want you to lie down on the sofa and
finish resting while I take a much-needed shower. Then I'm going to draw you a
nice hot bath and let you soak some of the soreness away while I fix us
something light for dinner. Do you feel like eating?"

"I will in a little while, I'm sure. But what about your date tonight?"

"Oh, I called and begged off a little while ago when you were down for the
count. You are my top priority right now. I have a nice bottle of wine
chilling that will make you feel much better!"

I felt much better already. "Thanks. Don't let me keep you from your long
overdue shower!" I held my nose between my thumb and forefinger. "Be sure to
use plenty of soap!"

"All right, you!" she said threateningly. Carol reached down to my shorts and
gave my codpiece a playful pat. "I said I might pull this off after you lost,
didn't I? But you've had a rough day. Maybe some other time! Sweet dreams,
Weenie-Arm!" She got up and headed for the hallway.

"I wish you wouldn't call me 'Weenie-Arm' " I protested. "It makes me feel
like such a loser!"

Carol turned around in the hallway, facing me. "From now on, Weenie-Arm is a
term of endearment." She placed her hands against the doorway, showing me the
dark forests under her arms. Her body looked hot and sexy, bathed in the
flickering firelight. "You're no wrestler, but you're no loser, either. After
all, you're the one who's here with me tonight!"

(To be continued . . .)