Jim Andrews is the first patient of the day. He sits in a chair opposite the desk of Dr. Natasha Richardson. Natasha is a PhD counseling men with sexual problems. She's a strong, beautiful Afro-American woman with large, sensual muscles. Lifts weights two hours, five days a week. Her strong, brown body is very attractive. Very beautiful. She shows it off with short skirts and sleeveless blouses.

Natasha doesn't know it, yet, but Jim Andrews does not have a sexual problem. However, he does know about Dr. Richardson's sexual problems. Her insatiable sex drive and her love of fighting. He thinks he can make money off both. He believes he knows Dr. Richardson better than she knows herself.

Dr. Jim Andrews is an MD, a psychiatrist. He was on the way home one night and stopped at a bar for a quick beer. He started to open the door when he was met by two women, one white, one black leaving the building. Then he was almost trampled as the bar emptied, following the women to the parking lot. Naturally he forgot about the beer and joined the crowd to see what the hell was going on.

He found himself sexually aroused by the Afro-American's beautiful, brown muscles. Smooth, graceful, like a big jungle cat. And being a fight fan, he was impressed when she used the old Ali "rope-a-dope" tactic. Smart, yes, very smart. Otherwise your face was on the way to a bloody mess.

Dr. Jim Andrews worked his way through medical school as a private investigator. He enjoyed the work. Still does as a hobby. He watched Natasha go with Bill to his apartment. And like a good private investigator he waited patiently for hours until she came out. She looked the way she did when she went in. Eyes bright. Clothes unwrinkled. Ready for another brutal fight and more hours of love making.

Bill staggered out the door, looking like he'd been ten rounds with a wildcat, and called out in a loud voice. "You'll see me where? Dr. Richardson." "In your dreams, Bill", she called back. "And for the last time, call me Natasha."

Jim Andrews smiles. Well I'll be a son of a bitch, the great Dr. Natasha Richardson. Shit. Why didn't I bring a camera. Must be because this is just a hobby now. Shit!

Dr. Natasha Richardson is a prominent sexual therapist. She charges large fees. Using her sensual, brown body she  gets quick results with slightly unorthodox methods. But no one is complaining. And no one knows about her own sexual problems. Until now.

Dr. Jim Andrews is a prominent psychiatrist. No particular specialty. But he also charges large fees and gets quick results. But like Natasha, he has a weakness. Hers is sex and fighting. His is gambling. Most of the time he loses. He's very much in debt.

Natasha sits on her desk with her skirt midway between her knees and her butt. Her brown legs and  muscles are beautiful. Jim admires them and her large breasts for a few minutes. But he's not here to look at tits and ass. It's a lot cheaper at a strip joint. And Jim's problem is not sex. It's gambling. And that's  not her specialty.

"So you like to fight," says Jim. "Do you like to watch other women fight? Do you like to watch men fight?"

Natasha slides off her desk. Sits in the chair behind it. Puts on her glasses.

"Who's interviewing who?" Mr. Andrews.

"That's Dr. Andrews, Dr. Richardson. Dr. Jim Andrews, MD, psychiatrist."

"You call me Natasha and I'll call you Jim, OK?"

"OK, Natasha."

They sit for a moment, Jim staring at the wall. Natasha staring at the ceiling. Finally their eyes lock.

"What makes you think I like to fight?", ask Natasha.

Jim smiles. "That was a great imitation of Ali's famous "rope-a-dope" you did behind the bar a few nights ago. Good thing you thought of that. Otherwise you  might have had to cancel appointments for a week or so."

She doesn't say a word, just glares at him.

Jim leans forward. "Natasha, I'm not here to expose you or blackmail you or threaten you in any way. I don't particularly like to fight. But I like to watch a good fight. I'm inviting you to accompany me to a private arena this Friday. They fight in the nude. Women against women. Then men against men."

Natasha leans back and thinks. He's up to something. If you believe that all he wants out of this is for me to go with him to a fight, then you believe pigs can fly. But, might as well go with him. See what he really wants. And then deal with it. Right now she has very little choice. At least she has until Friday to think. If she says no, god knows what he will do, who he will tell.

Natasha fakes a smile. "OK, Jim. What time will you pick me up?"

"At 7:00pm," he says as Natasha writes her address and home phone number on a piece of paper.

Jim leaves the office. Natasha thinks.

There has got to be something more to this. But what? 

Suddenly her mind flashes back to a psychology class in undergraduate school. As part of the final exam, each student wrote a term paper on child psychology and read the paper. Class members were to praise or criticize. Jim's paper blamed poor black kid's problems on themselves, not their environment.  Natasha didn't just criticize Jim's paper. She humiliated him. He sat down, his face red, as other students snickered. He has never forgiven her.

So it's revenge? But how? By attending a fight? Natasha thinks for a moment. Gives up. OK, Jim. The ball is in your court. Maybe I'll know more after Friday night. 

7:30pm Friday. Jim and Natasha arrive at The Arena, a private club in a surprisingly upscale area of San Francisco. Jim shows his membership card at the door and an usher leads them to plush seats about midway up the gallery. 

The fighting area itself resembles an ice hockey rink, but it's about a fifth the size. The floor and seven foot high walls are thickly padded. The arena is perfectly round with one door to admit the combatants. The gallery is also round.

The first fighters are women. They fight nude, no holds barred except for three exceptions. No scratching, no biting and no hair pulling. They're evenly matched and bloody each other's faces with their fists. It looks like it's going to be a draw until one woman gets her opponent in an unbreakable choke hold from the rear.

The action excites Natasha. She's dressed as usual in a tight, sleeveless blouse and a very short skirt. Jim watches her breathing get deeper and the muscles in her arms and legs start to flex. A slow smile creeps across Jim's face. She's starting to lose control and she's about to lose more than that.

The next two fights are brutal. The women kick each other savagely in the groin. They each send their fists into their opponent's nose and lips. They knee and kick each other in the face. Blood splatters everywhere. After each fight an attendant comes out to wipe the blood off the arena floor. The women are paid a thousand dollars. The real money action is going on up in the gallery.

Sums up to one hundred thousand dollars or more on bet on the fights. The Arena holds the bets. Takes five per cent off the top. This is where Jim got in trouble. His debts are large. He glances at Natasha. Her muscles are completely flexed. They strain at her brown skin. Her breathing is so deep her large tits challenge the buttons on her blouse. She wants to fight. Oh god, does she want to fight.

Jim can't believe his good luck. He's about to get revenge to the humiliation she caused him in that psychology class so long ago and also rid himself of his gambling debts. Because next up is the champ, Gorilla. She's Hispanic, dark skin, dark eyes and hair. A full six feet tall. Gorilla is paid ten thousand dollars a fight because of the huge bets she draws from the gallery.

She's covered with a fine layer of fat, but it's easy to see the huge muscles underneath them. She is undefeated. Crushes her opponents. Gorilla has trouble finding women to fight her at the price The Arena is willing to pay. So each Friday night, Gorilla stands and shouts.

"I see you women in the gallery." She turns, looks around the gallery. "You like to see women fight don't you? Have you weak females ever thought about fighting?" Silence. "I didn't think so. I challenge one of you to come down and fight me.  I'm paid ten thousand dollars a fight. If you defeat me, and you won't, you get ten thousand thousand dollars a fight until you're defeated."

Word has gotten around about this challenge and many  women have shown up on their own to fight Gorilla, only to lay crushed and bleeding in the arena. The betting is incredible. Many of the members of The Arena find strong, women fighters to challenge Gorilla, promising them a share of the bet if they win. The men put up huge bets on their women. They lose.

Jim eyes Natasha. He knows what she's going to do. She likes to fight and she can't resist a challenge.

"I'll fight you," shouts Natasha as she heads for the arena.

Jim puts up a one hundred thousand dollar bet on Gorilla as Natasha takes her clothes off in the arena. This is where I get out of debt and get revenge for the humiliation in that psychology class many years ago. Gorilla will crush you, Natasha. She never loses.

As Natasha takes off her clothes, there is a mummer of admiration from the gallery. They are impressed by her large, brown muscles, her large breasts, her rock hard stomach. And it's the way she moves, so smooth and graceful. They are particularly impressed by the muscles in her powerful arms, back and shoulders. They start a chant.

"The bear hug! The bear hug! The bear hug! The bear hug! The bear hug! The bear hug!

Natasha is somewhat bewildered. But Gorilla grins. It's her strongest hold. The "mutual bear hug." 

The referee steps into the arena. He glides Natasha's right arm under Gorilla's left. He glides Gorilla's right arm under Natasha's left. They lock their  fists in the rear.  It's a "mutual" bear hug. Each woman has her right arm against her opponent's ribs and her left around her opponent's right arm. They tighten their grips.

Gorilla, a full six inches taller than Natasha, lifts her off the arena floor, leans back and squeezes Natasha's ribs and spine. The huge muscles in Gorilla's  back, shoulders and arms swell beneath the thin lawyer of fat. The gallery roars, sensing a quick kill.  Jim  can already see the one hundred thousand dollars in his bank account.

Natasha can feel the pain in her ribs and spine. But she doesn't give up. The large, brown muscles in her back, shoulders and arms bulge as she pulls at Gorilla's spine, squeeze at her ribs. Gorilla can feel the pain, but this drives her to tighten her grip even more.

The men in the gallery, virtually all of whom have bet against Natasha, are sexually aroused by her display of brown muscle. They are beautiful, very large and sensual. She tightens them. The sweat rolls off them. It makes them even more admiring as the lights from the arena shine on them. Even the men who have bet against her begin to hope she wins.

As Gorilla tightens her grip, Natasha can feel her ribs begin to crack. This makes her more determined. Her brown muscles ripple. The men in the gallery with binoculars can see this. It's not a statue like scene. It's a smooth flow of power from Natasha's arms, then to her brown shoulders and back. The large muscle groups strain beneath a layer of sweat, relax for a split second and then strain again.

And it's starting to have an effect on Gorilla. She starts to feel her ribs crack as Natasha's sensual, jungle like muscle's crush her. She drops Natasha back to her feet. Both women are now wobbly and sink to their knees. They both throw their heads back, close their eyes and grit their teeth. The pressure on their ribs is so great, they fight for each breath.

Gorilla has never lost and she now swears a solemn vow to herself that she never will. She draws strength from every part of her body in a final effort to crush Natasha. The muscles in her arms, shoulders and back, already enormous, swell even more.

Natasha can feel this added pressure. She almost blacks out. But Natasha, also, has never lost a fight. She shakes her head and looks up. The blackness that had been closing in goes away. She can clearly see the arena lights above her. She has learned to take punishment as well as she deals it out.

Natasha's butt and thighs tremble. She almost falls to her side as everything within her goes to her arms, back and shoulders. The people in the gallery behind her can see the brown muscles in her back and shoulders strain as she pulls with every ounce of strength left in her. She relaxes for a split second and then pulls again. Her muscles bulge and ripple. The men find them beautiful, sexy, imagine themselves running their hands ever her muscles as they make love to her.

Both women's grip is like a boa constrictor, a large snake that coils around it's victims, squeezing them to death. Natasha and Gorilla are fighting for each breath, the squeezing on their ribs making it almost impossible to breathe. 

Natasha and Gorilla's heads had been tossed back, but now they come forward and they stare into each others' eyes. They both know it's almost over. They know it's a matter of will power now more than muscle. 

Gorilla's eyes bulge and her muscles do the same. The pressure on Natasha's ribs is so great, she tries to take a breath, but can't. She's starting to black out again. With the last effort in her, she glares at Gorilla and her muscles also swell. They are as large as Gorilla's, even with the layer of fat on the big woman. 

Natasha closes her eyes again. She pictures a boa constrictor killing prey as large as a tiger. Her muscles are now huge, massive, as she tightens and squeezes. The men in the gallery are awed by the incredible size of Natasha's muscles, especially those in her shoulders and back. And they continue to be aroused by their beauty and sensuality.  

Gorilla can't take any more. She relaxes her grip completely and falls on her side. Natasha kneels beside her to see if any permanent damage has been done. Arena officials come through the door with a stretcher. And a check for ten thousand dollars. The cheers from the gallery is deafening. 

Gorilla gets to her feet and waves the men with the stretcher away. She grabs Natasha's hand and raises it as a signal that there is a new champion.

"Congratulations, but how about a rematch next Friday, honey?  Just a good, old fashioned, no holds barred cat fight?"

"No thanks," says Natasha as she puts on her clothes and then fights her way through the crowd to Jim.

Jim looks furious, but Natasha doesn't notice. She's very sexually aroused now. She wants a man, a stud, a real hunk in the worst way. Jim doesn't exactly fit the description. But he knows some one who does. He also sees a way to get his one hundred thousand dollars back. He calls Jack to make sure he's available.

"Where do you want to go, Natasha."

"Home."

They ride in silence for a few minutes.

"How much did you bet on Gorilla?" ask Natasha.

"What makes you think I bet on Gorilla?"

"I did some checking on you this past week, Jim. You have a serious gambling problem. You got me to The Arena because you knew I'd accept her challenge and you thought she'd whip my butt. How much money did you lose?"

"One hundred thousand dollars. But I know a way to get it back. It just depends on whether or not you're willing to gamble, Natasha."

"Keep talking, Jim."

"His name is Jack. A real stud. Once he has an erection, no woman can make him lose it."

Natasha laughs. "You compulsive gamblers are weird. Is there anything you don't bet on? And anyway, there's not a man on the planet with an erection I can't make go limp. How much money do you want to lose?"

"One hundred thousand dollars," says Jim. "But you're the one who will be paying up, Natasha. Jack always wins for me. I just wish he were available more. I'd be a rich man."

"There's no such thing as "always"", says Natasha.

Jim smiles. No one says another word during the rest of the trip.

Jack lives in a nice house in a fancy sub division. His business is real estate, but that's just a front. His big money comes from being a male prostitute, one of the highest paid in San Francisco. He deals mainly with rich middle age or older women and an occasional young one that wants to take him up on his erection bet.

Jack answers the door bell. He's wearing nothing but a dripping wet swim suit and drying himself and wiping up the water he's left on the polished hardwood floor. "Sorry. I was in the pool when you arrived."

Natasha looks at Jack's face and body and decides the word "hunk" was invented to describe him. Tall, muscular, perfect white teeth, light brown hair, brown eyes, quick smile. His wet swimsuit clings to his tight butt.

"Hi, I'm Jack."

"I'm Natasha."

"Natasha. Let's go for a swim and talk for a few minutes first. I'll grab two bathrobes so we don't drip water over everything when we come back in. Stupid of me for forgetting to take one with me a few minutes ago. I'll be right back."

"Nice guy," says Natasha as Jack disappears into his bedroom."

"Yes. He is," answers Jim. "Illegal occupation, but a nice guy."

Jack comes back with the robes and leads Natasha just outside to his pool.

"Let's swim in the nude, Natasha. We're going to be that way until at least dawn anyway. I can tell by the way you've developed your muscular body you don't give up easily.

"I never give up, Jack."

"There's no such thing as "never", Natasha."

They slide into the pool at the shallow end with the water up to their waists. And admire each other's bodies for a moment, saying nothing.

"You know what I do for a living, Natasha," says Jack, breaking the silence. "What about you?"

"I'm a psychologist. A specialize in counseling men who have sexual problems."

Jack laughs. "Teacher, heal thyself. I understand you have an insatiable sexual appetite, among other things."

Damn Jim. He talks to much.

"Speaking of sex, let's get on with it," says Natasha with a trace of anger in her voice.

They reach the bedroom and take off their robes. Between the legs, Jack is built like a horse. Natasha massages him until his erection is huge. Very good, Jack. The larger the erection, the tighter the fit inside me. The tighter the fit, the more likely you are to have a climax. And the more climaxes you have, the harder it's going to be to hold an erection. And that's a scientific fact. 

"Why don't you be on top," says Jack, stretching across the bed on his back. Why sure, Jack. That way you can let every muscle in your body go limp, making it even less likely you'll have a climax.

"No, let's start with you on top. Then we'll switch and I'll be on top. From there we can explore other things and keep changing positions all night, if it takes me that long to reduce your erection to a wet noodle."

Jack laughs. "All night? That would take days, Natasha. But OK, I'll be on top."

Natasha lies on her back and moans as she feels Jack slide into her. God, he's so big. She wraps her muscular arms and legs around him. And to her surprise his muscular body is tense, flexed, even the crucial muscles in his butt and thighs. If you're a man and you want to drive yourself to another climax, tensing the muscles in your butt and thighs can help tremendously.

Natasha grips his butt, pulls him deeper into her, meets him thrust for thrust and has an orgasm. The muscles inside her massage his erection, try to milk it, but not a drop comes out. 

Jack lowers his head and runs his tongue across her large, brown tits, gently biting her nipples. He runs his right hand over her hard, flat stomach until it reaches the base of her pubic hair. He pushes a finger inside her and massages gently. Natasha tightens her arms and legs around him even more and has another orgasm.

Jack raises his head to her ear, playfully sticks his tongue in it for a second, then whispers, "It's your turn to be on top."

Natasha climbs onto Jack and feels him deep inside as she sits on his midsection. She rocks back and forth, faster and faster trying to make him have a climax. He admires her powerful, brown arms and shoulders, her large breasts, and can feel the muscles in her thighs and calves against his side.

Natasha believes this is the time he will relax. But he doesn't. He's meeting her thrust for thrust. His stomach muscles are on fire. She slips her fingers beneath his butt and thighs. They're as hard as a rock. Jack is trying to have a climax. Natasha tries to help him. The sweat pours off her as she grinds away even faster. The muscles in her milk Jack's erection. But there is not a drop.

She stops. She knows he has a problem. Knows this is futile. They've only been at it for two hours. They could go another two weeks. The results would be the same.

"You win, Jack."

He's surprised, puzzled.

"But Jim has said you're a sex machine. That you would never give up."

Natasha's brown eyes look deeply into Jack's. "You can't have a climax, can you."

Jack is silent for a moment. His eyes still gaze into Natasha's. But it's like he doesn't see her. Is looking right through her. After a long moment his eyes begin to focus on hers again.

"No, I can't. I try for hours, but I can't."

"You need profesional help, Jack. Get it," says Natasha as she rolls off the bed and wraps her bathrobe around her.

She goes back into the living room and wakes Jim up.

"You win Jim, all of it. Jack says you can keep his twenty five per cent. And here's my ten thousand for beating Gorilla. I don't take pay for beating other women. Now, please, take me home."

Jim is surprised it's over so soon. And he's ten thousand dollars richer than he was this afternoon. But as they drive through the darkness in silence, Jim begins to think. Something happened in that bedroom. No woman has ever given up so quickly. And Jack has never before given up his share of the bet.

When they arrive at Natasha's apartment, she jumps out, starts to close the door. Jim calls to her. She turns, looks into his eyes. "Good luck to you, Natasha." The look in his eyes tells her he means it. "Good luck to you also, Jim." 

Monday morning, 8:00am. Natasha has arrived early to go over some paper work. Her secretary will not arrive until 9:00am. She hasn't heard the door open, but senses someone is in the room. Natasha looks up.

"Good morning, Dr. Richardson. My name is Jack. I think I have a sexual problem."

"Please sit down, Jack."

Picture of Th-Resa Bostick used with permission of Bill Dobbins.

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