The Yacht
By devida@aol.com
Mixed wrestling


Please let me know what you think. devida@aol.com

  I probably shouldn't be writing this story. Mixed wrestling, 
after all, is not a hobby that's gained public acceptance, 
especially when famous names are involved, and believe me, I 
know more than a few. I'm not one of the famous ones, not yet 
anyhow, but maybe with the money they give me for taking on 
the women I will be famous one day. It pays for my acting 
classes, at least, and for the gym, and it beats waiting 
tables.
  I'm a pretty good wrestler at that, and at six feet and 180 
pounds, pretty well built, but it doesn't save my ass, which 
gets handed to me every month at the big event. If you're part 
of this world you probably know what I'm talking about. It 
takes place on a pleasure yacht owned by a very well-known 
billionaire, whose name adorns quite a few buildings in New 
York. I call it a yacht, but it's a step up from that, big 
enough to hold a full-size padded wrestling ring, along with 
plenty of cushy seats for the men and women who get off on 
watching, along with plenty of rooms for them to retire to 
when they're ready to actually get off. And you should see the 
kind of people who attend the matches: models, media stars, 
musicians, actors, executives.
  I'm an opponent. The audience pays to see me and maybe a 
half dozen other guys get dismantled by the women. I'd like to 
think it's a little more competitive than that, but 
essentially we get our butts kicked. These aren't body 
builders or muscle-bound types, either. They're dancers, 
actresses and athletes themselves who want to make a little, 
or a lot, of extra money, and some of them are pretty well 
known, although I'm not gonna name names.
  What they are is tough, and some are pretty cruel, too. I'll 
never forget the time this gorgeous Puerto Rican dancer, a 
taller version of Jennifer Lopez with honey-colored skin and 
voluptuous curves, trapped me in a reverse head scissors, and 
started pouring on the pressure while prying open my legs like 
a wishbone. I was screaming, although they told me afterwards 
that the audience could only hear a few muffled yelps from 
between her thighs. 
  I was laid up for a week afterwards like a whiplash victim, 
but I've seen far worse, like the time Mark, who was just out 
of the Army and in pretty good shape, took on Aiko, a Japanese 
girl who stands out for her cruelty. She was working him over 
pretty good, when she got him face down and straddled the back 
of his head facing forward. Rapidly, she placed Mark's left 
arm between her left thigh and calf, and then the right arm. 
Then, leaning almost all the way back she reached her arms 
back underneath his legs and sat up again, holding his shins 
over her shoulder in an incredible Boston crab. Mark was 
shrieking, begging her to stop, but she was in her own world, 
her eyes shut as if she was getting off on it.
  The funny thing was Mark was getting off on it, too. His 
dick was so hard it almost burst through his leather thong. It 
took two women to pull Aiko off of him.
  It shouldn't come as any surprise that sex is a major factor 
here. I'm not talking about the spectators, whom you can see 
stroking each other and sighing as they watch. I'm talking 
about the wrestlers, who not only are intimately rubbing their 
hot, sweaty bodies together but are in a heated age-old battle 
for control. Chances are Aiko put Mark to good use in a 
dressing room after torturing him so badly. 
  Sometimes it doesn't wait for the dressing room. I'm not 
being immodest when I tell you that I'm a sought-after 
opponent among the women, and not because I'm a pushover. It's 
because of my cunnilingus skill.
  I first got to display it in one of my early matches, 
against Dominique, a well-known African-American gymnast who 
lives up to her name. She isn't cruel like Aiko, but she is 
dominant in a smiling, almost friendly manner, as if she's so 
used to being superior that she can't imagine any other way.
  Anyhow, Dominique had grown too old, and too womanly, for 
the gymnastics circuit, and was now supporting herself as a 
wrestler while trying to make it as an actress. You can 
imagine how flexible she is; her legs are amazing -- long and 
full, with ridges of powerful muscle as hard as steel 
underneath a layer of satiny soft skin. And her ass astounds 
me, high, round and full, stretching her skimpy bikini to the 
utmost.
  She and I were going it at it pretty evenly, exchanging 
holds and feeling each other out, but somehow I knew she was 
toying with me. And then, with lightning speed she whipped 
behind me and pushed a hammerlock up my back. It was 
excruciating, and she managed to trip me without releasing the 
hold. As soon as I was down she was astride my back. She 
grabbed my other arm and had me in a double hammerlock. Then 
she lay full-length on me and grapevined my legs. I felt her 
warm breath as she began whispering in my ear: ''How do you 
like it, baby? Are you comfortable?''
  I could only groan, and she began whispering again. ''Not 
enough pressure? Let me see what I can do to help you.''
  I was in agony as she really let me have it. Then she let go 
and quickly pulled me up into a surfboard hold. Lying on her 
back hand holding both my wrists, she extended her long legs, 
pushing me out and upwards. Yes, I have to admit, my bulge was 
on display for all to see, and she let me know it. ''Oh, you 
really like this, don't you, baby?'' Her effortless control, 
her know-all whisper and of course her dynamite body had me in 
a frenzy of pain and pleasure, and then she decided to put me 
away.
  Dropping me, she shoved me to the side, rolled over and 
grabbed my head. Then, after taking a moment to hold me like a 
trophy and drink in the cheers, she slowly moved my head into 
position between her shapely, powerful thighs. ''Get ready for 
paradise, baby. These people would give anything to be where 
you are now.'' Then, the world closed on me. I could hear the 
roar of the ocean, like when you hold seashells to your ear, 
and I inhaled the wonderful sea-salty musk of her pussy as she 
pulled my nose into her crotch, and it was lights out.
  The next thing I knew I was lying face up, and Dominique was 
cartwheeling around the ring, giving a tumbling display before 
she made a perfect landing, her feet on either side of my 
face. ''Hold still, baby, here I come,'' and slowly she 
settled into a full split, the center of her crotch on my 
face.
  Well, what would you have done? I couldn't help it, I 
started licking her, and she stared down at me in 
astonishment.
  ''Baby, you may be good for something after all! Only not 
just yet.''
  She stood up and yanked me up, too. As I stood there 
unsteadily, she acknowledge the applause, then dragged me off 
to one of the richly appointed dressing rooms. 
  ''O.K., baby, let's try that again,'' she said as she placed 
me in the center of the queen-size bed. She untied the little 
bows on either side of her bikini bottom, and the skimpy 
material fluttered to the side. Slowly, she settled her pussy 
over my face and shut her eyes, whispering to me the whole 
time until the moans took over. 
  Dominique and I do our wrestling in private now, though she 
doesn't begrudge her colleagues from availing themselves of my 
services at the monthly events. In fact, most of them expect 
it. She's even given me a few wrestling tips, though the truth 
is I haven't really posed a threat to any of the women yet. 
The best I can do is prolong the balance before the 
inevitable.