Better With Age
by brooksie brooksie@pacificcoast.net
An older women develops a passion for wrestling


I have to admit, I love showing off my body. My name is Nancy Bishop. I'm
46-years-old and in the best shape of my life. I've always been good at
sports. In school, I was a top athlete in track, gymnastics and swimming. But
that was before it was cool for girls to have muscles and I was always seen as
somewhat unfeminine, and therefore, undesirable due to my muscular build. When
I competed, it wasn't always pretty. I grunted, and sweated. My hair was a
mess. In the early fifties, this was not the image women cultivated if they
wanted to be popular. Not too long after graduation though, I did get married.
After that, I left most of my athletic activities behind. Although I kept in
shape, I lived a fairly normal, suburban married life. I swam, played some
tennis and golf, took long walks, but that was about it. I had a happy and
comfortable existence with a man who loved me, vice-versa.

My husband Jack was an engineer, and a bit of a tinkerer. In addition to
making a good salary, he patented a couple of inventions that proved to be
quite useful and wound up making us a small fortune. Unfortunately, my
wonderful husband was killed in a plane crash five years ago. I went into a
deep depression for nearly a year and gained a lot of weight. For the first
time in my life, I was fat and out of shape. That's what snapped me out of it.
I began to focus myself entirely on getting back into the kind of condition I
had been in as a teenager, or even better. I was inspired by Olympic athletes
like Florence Griffith-Joyner and some of the professional female bodybuilders
I'd seen on TV. I came across the show "American Gladiators" by accident one
night and was fascinated with the way the women on the program looked: sinewy,
strong with big, flexing muscles. Since I was of "independent means" as they
say, I was able to devote myself entirely to my pursuit of physical
excellence.

Now, four years later, I have a body that turns heads everywhere I go. At
5'8", I carry 150-155 lbs of solid muscle. My broad shoulders are deeply cut,
with rounded caps of deltoid muscle. My trapesius and upper back are thick and
V-shaped. I have 15-inch biceps that are nicely peaked. My waist is a fat-free
26 nches and my abs are a study in hard-etched muscular development. I'm
fortunate in that I've always had strong and powerful legs. My calves are 17
inches of bulging muscle and I do very few exercises for them. I spend much
more time on chest exercises. I don't have huge pecs, but my chest developent
is strong enough to keep my 34C-size breasts from sagging. To me, one of the
sexiest attributes a woman can have are well-supported breasts. Even at my
age, I can go without a bra if I want to. I feel youthful, energetic, strong
and full of vitality. Still, the signs of advancing years can be seen. I don't
dye my hair, even though I have some grey and I'm not the type to go for a
face-lift, although I could easily afford it. I'm not trying to pretend I'm
not 46, I just want to be in the best shape I can and stay young at heart. One
thing that contributes to that feelng is the reaction I get when I go to a
beach or hotel pool. I wear sexy bikinis with pride and get a kick out of
seeing women half my age flush with anger and jealousy when they catch their
husbands or boyfriends continually sneaking glances at me. I'm sure I've
caused more than a few arguments back at the car or the hotel room.

A typical day for me is running in the morning and weight-training in the
afternoon. In the evenings I'll take a swim or engage in my latest passion -
wrestling! I started to get interested in it while surfing the net one day. I
was following the links of one of my favourite female bodybuilders when I
discovered the burgeoning world of submission-style wrestling. There were
pictures of her from several videos she'd made for different companies showing
her wrestling against both males an females. I had never seen anything that
turned me on so much in my life. I followed some of the links from that page
and typed in words such as "women wrestling", "mixed wrestling" and so on into
my computer's search engines. Within a week, spending a couple of hours a
night, I amassed a large data base on the subject, bookmarking sites
containing photos and stories of females wrestling. I loved the idea of using
my muscles in a contest of skill and physical strength against another person,
overpowering them and forcing them to admit they are at my mercy. For some
reason, I found it extremely arousing.

What began as an unexpected curiosity was turning into a full-blown obsession.
I discovered there was a women's wrestling club in a large city, about a
two-hour drive from where I live. I contacted the club through it's website
expressing my interest in getting involved, and was pleasantly surprised to
receive friendly reply. I was invited to provide my phone number so someone
could call me back with more information. I did so, and received a call
several days later from a woman named Cathy who was the club's founder and
organizer. Although she was quite a bit younger than me, our stories were
fairly similar. The difference was that she was a wealthy divorcee, and had
been wrestling since she was a teenager, throughout high-school and college.
After school, she missed it, but went to work, got married, had children and
forgot about it. Like me, she had discovered there were women participating in
amateur wrestling by accident while surfing the net. She told me about how she
had received information from other women who were involved in private amateur
wrestling clubs and had eventually managed to connect a small group of
interested females from around her own area. Word began to spread and before
long she had a thriving little organzation. Cathy had contacted one of her old
college wrestling coaches and had arranged for a instructional sessions in
basic wrestling techniques. She had also found some martial arts studios where
grappling techniques were taught and many of the women were taking those
classes as well. Some of the club members were involved in judo and jujuitsu
and were able to use techniques from those disciplines in their wrestling
matches. Most of the women were also using the internet to do their own
research into various wrestling holds. Besides the training and practice
sessions, the club had "match nights" twice a month. Cathy had worked out a
ranking system and the women vied for position in order to get a shot at
wrestling for the club championship. Cathy herself had held it for several
months in the beginning but now, she said, it was pretty evenly balanced and
the title changed hands regularly, as the women improved their strength and
skills. In addition, some of the women expressed an interest in wrestling
against men. Since there were many men on-line who wanted to wrestle with
women and were eager to find females who could give them a competitive match
or even defeat them, getting opponents was not difficult. Although Cathy went
through an extensive screening process with them, she was able to find several
who were genuine and trustworthy, and a couple of mixed matches were featured
at every competition. She said it's an amazing bonding experience, and
tremendously empowering, for 15 or 20 women to watch one of their sister club
members defeat a man in a fair competition and force him to submit to her.

Cathy and I got along wery well on the phone, and when she invited me to come
to one of the match nights and observe, I leapt at the opportunity. It was
great! I joined the club right away, and have been making the four-hour round
trip at least twice a month for the past two-and-a-half years. At first, I
went on the nights they had training sessions. After a while, I'd go for at
least one match night a month and now I go mainly for the competitions.
Through Cathy, I discovered that a college in the city where lived had a
women's wrestling program and I was able to arrange for some instruction. From
there, I discovered there was a class in overall, mixed discipline grappling
and I registered for that. Eventually I met a few other women who were also
interested in wrestling and we formed a small club. It's nowhere near the size
and sophistication of Cathy's organization, which is fine with me, since I am
still an active participant in her club. We are mostly interested in
practicing on each other. The other women are all substantially younger than
me, all very athletic and skilled. There are two, in particular, who I really
admire. Tammy is a bodybuilder, a gorgeous 5'10, 170lb. muscle goddess. She is
a good wrestler and very tough to beat. The other is a lean and, in street
clothes, an almost delicate-looking Asian girl named Kim. In her workout
attire, her body takes on a different character entirely. She is not a big
person, but tight, sinewy and extremely flexible, almost contortionist-like.
She is trained in several martial arts and moves so fast, it boggles the mind.
I don't care to count the number of times I thought I was about to get her in
a submission hold, only to find myself suddenly helpless in some inescapable
jont lock while she patiently waited for me to submit. Despite my strength,
large muscles and 40lb. weight advantage, it's very difficult to defeat her.
As Tammy says, "you have to wrestle smart. One wrong move and she'll have
you!"

We have all gotten to be good friends - in my case, very good as far as Tammy
and Kim are concerned. Because of my involvement in wrestling (at least I'm
pretty sure that's the reason), I've developed an deeper appreciation for the
female form, and a desire to experiment sexually. My first experience was with
Tammy. We shared a enthralling night together, exploring each other's muscular
bodies. It was truly a mutual admiration society as we took turns lavishing
attention and compliments on each other. Since it was the first time for both
of us, we discovered what worked and what we liked together. It was more
tender than passionate that night. On later occasions we had more fiery
encounters where both of us were driven to screaming fits of frenzy. Neither
of us were interested in turning our backs on men, but, to quote Tammy again,
"I ain't planning on giving this up either."

I had several other encounters with women outside the wrestling group before I
connected with Kim who, I discovered, was not new to this. Kim taught me many
wonderful things, but strictly under her rules. Kim's thing was domination and
she was definitely the one in charge. The first time we were together, we
undressed each other down to our bras and panties. She then surprised me by
taking me in a wristlock which she used to force me to my knees. She made me
press my forehead to the floor and remain in that position while she used her
feet on my ears, lips, neck and nipples in an incredibly erotic manner. Her
toes were so dexterous they were almost like fingers and the things she could
do with them were amazing. I was then made to worship her feet. She takes on a
silent, almost aloof personna, that of the strict Asian mistress. She allowed
me to ask no questions, to have no control over the agenda and enforces her
dominance, if necessary, with any one of a number of painful locks that render
me instantly compliant. Naturally, she introduced me to bondage techniques. I
learned quickly to accept that ours was to be a master/slave relationship and
it was I who would obey her. I soon discovered she was so talented in the
erotic art of mixing pain with pleasure, that I willingly surrendered to her
control. She was the teacher and I the student. It was definitely a new world
for me and an opposite situation than the one I normally find myself in during
my sexual encounters with other women where I am usually the dominant one.

I don't use the word "lesbian" because I don't think I am one. I believe there
is more to being a lesbian than just choice of sexual partner. It's a mindset,
and one I don't really share. I make no attempt to exclude men from my life.
I'm just into a new era of sexual exploration and have found there is a role
for women to play in that. As I said, I have little doubt that the close
physical contact of wrestling and the erotic potential of one person
submitting to the other provided the spark that ignited this particular fire
in me. It stirred up sensations that were clearly sexual. In fact, it was no
big secret among the women who did this and most of them were quite open about
it. Not all were inclined to sexual encounters with other women, but many
talked about the change in their relationships with husbands or boyfriends.
They described becoming wilder and more aggressive in the bedroom and most
reported their partners were thrilled with the change. They suspected that was
why they rarely had any arguments about the time they devoted to their
particiation in the sport. Many of the women who were part of Cathy's club
were young, strong and often quite beautiful.

Having one of these extremely fit twenty-something's tied up and helpless on
the mat, feeling their bodies flex and struggle, then relax as they gave up
their attempt to get free and were forced to submit, was extremely
stimulating, both physically and to the imagination. Sometimes a submission
will come quickly, but more often it's a matter of getting your opponent into
a hold, adjusting your position until you've got it locked in securely and
then waiting until your victim begins to, depending on the hold, cramp up, run
out of air or just can't take the pain any longer. My favourite combination to
use is a chickenwing hammerlock with a half-nelson and a single leg grapevine
or scissors. That allows me to keep my weight centred over my opponent's back
and really lean into the hammerlock and half-nelson while keeping them from
getting to their knees with the leg hold. I usually don't apply too much
pressure at first. I like to put my head down close to my opponent's and
whisper into their ear things like "Give it up baby", "I've got you at my
mercy" and so on. The first few times I made someone say "I give", were almost
like taking a drug. At first, I didn't know what was happening to me. I didn't
take long to figure it out though, especially after talking about with some of
the others. After my experience with Tammy, I realized I wanted to experience
dominating a woman, first at wrestling and then in a sexual situation. It
wouldn't work with Tammy because we were both too competitive, and too evenly
matched.

For a while, I would go out and deliberately try to pick up women. I tried a
few gay bars but discovered that really wasn't my scene and I rarely found the
kind of women I was interested in physically. The traditional types of pick-up
bars, the "meet-markets" were loud, vulgar and unappealing places to me. I
found the best places are the lounges attached to gyms or raquet courts,
frequentd by an athletic, healthy, sports-minded clientele. I would usually
wear a sleeveless, short-skirted dress that showed off my muscular
development. Since I am by nature a friendly, relaxed person who converses
easily with strangers, it was not difficult to meet people. If I saw an
attractive, athletic-looking woman and was able to strike up a conversation
with her, she would invariably comment on my physique. From there, it was a
simple matter to steer the conversation towards workouts, sports etc. where I
would mention my involvement in wrestling and what a great overall workout it
was. That was usually a good hook for most women. If there was any sort of
curiosity on her part, I would talk about how much of it was going on, based
on the number of internet sites devoted to it and talk about the two clubs I
belonged to, training methods, competitions and so on. If she was still
engaged in the conversation, I would carefully explore her possible interest
in trying it out. I never really knew which way it might go. Sometimes I could
sense a willingness to have a one-on-one experience other times it was clear
that the woman was interested in the wrestling club, but nothing beyond that.
On rare occasions, I was able to meet tough girls who wanted to show me up.
They were the most fun. I loved to wrestle them until their spirit was clearly
broken and they no longer put up much resistance. Then I would take them past
the point of submission, easing up slightly hold I had them in and forcing to
beg for my mercy, to acknowledge my superiority, worship my muscles and so on,
reminding them that I could make this hold hurt a lot more if they didn't
comply. Sometimes that would lead directly into sexual activity, with a
greater or lesser amount of convincing required, depending on the woman's
resistence to it. Other times they would break down in tears because of their
helplessness and frustration. Then I would comfort them and hold them in my
arms. Often they would experience overwhelming feelings of safety and comfort
and I would gently guide them into erotic areas. The interesting thing about
meeting women this was that it was always an adventure, something that needed
to be improvised. There was no way to tell how it was going to go or how it
would turn out.

I don't have as great a need to go out and meet women that way anymore. I have
a number of "sexual friends" now who I enjoy being with regularly. I have also
wrestled with men who I have defeated and forced to submit to me. Some of
those experiences have been good but, generally-speaking, I find they are not
as nuanced as those I've had with women. Men tend to fall into two categories.
Either they're unable to deal with a women who can render them helpless and
make them submit to her will, and consequently, not much fun to be with, even
after they've been broken physically, or they're naturally submissive and not
willing to risk the possibility of victory. These are the kind whose heads, no
matter what you do, somehow wind up between your legs or, when you're on top
of them and pull one arm above their heads, the other one magically follows. I
find the wrestling part is far interesting and competitive with women. Anyway,
I have the occasional mixed match at the wrestling club, which are usually
quite competitive and that seems, for the most part, to satisfy my desire to
wrestle against men. Still, I never rule anything out. Where's the fun in
that?

Every once in a while, even without necessarily looking for it, I meet someone
who I would love to wrestle with, and maybe more. That's the way I felt about
the girl I saw on the beach. It was a beautiful sunny day so I hurried through
my workout and rushed down to a normally quiet, fairly un-used area of beach
not far from where I lived, for a relaxing afternoon soaking up the rays. I
was lying face-down on my towel and had been there for about a half-hour, when
a couple of teenagers, a guy and a girl, showed up and spread out a blanket. I
lifted my head slightly and watched them. They appeared to be about 17 or 18
years old. He looked like a punk - skinny, bleached hair, lots of tattoos and
piercings, but his girlfriend was gorgeous. She was tall and willowy, nice
calves but otherwise, not much muscle. She had great bone structure however,
wide shoulders and narrow hips. A lot of potential, I thought to myself,
before putting my head back down on the towel. My restful afternoon wasn't to
last much longer, though. After the blanket, came the boom box and then the
beer. I did my best to ignore the loud, aggressive music for about 15 or 20
minutes before deciding to move on further on down the beach. I was just about
to pick up my stuff when I saw the boy take a final slug from his bottle and
then, to my disgust, hurl the bottle at a nearby rock, shattering it. Without
even thinking about it, I yelled "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He
had his back towards me, reaching in the cooler for another beer. He turned
around and yelled back "What's your problem, lady?" I strode over and gestered
at the broken shards of glass.

"My problem is I use this beach a lot and I don't appreciate having to step
around broken glass."

"So what?"

"So how about picking it up?"

"Yeah, right. Fuck you."

He was standing in front of me with an insolent sneer on his face. I glanced
down at the girl whose eyes were wide with amazement as she looked me up and
down. I was pretty sure I could detect a look of appreciation in her eyes. Her
boyfriend was another story. He continued to stare at me with an expression of
defiance. "Go on, get your freak ass out of here."

"Who are you calling a freak?" I challenged.

"You, lady. If you even are female, that is." That was about all I was going
to take from this punk.

"I'll give you one more chance to start picking up that glass."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll make you do it. Your choice."

"Dream on, freakoid." This kid was really starting to piss me off.

"Fine by me" I replied, "Whatever way you want it." I quickly took him by the
elbow and applied a wristlock which I immediately turned into a chicken wing.
With my right arm, I reached around his neck, using my forearm to force his
head back, digging my fingers into his left shoulder. Then I snaked my left
hand up under his armpit and clasped it around my right wrist. I knew, from
having this same lock applied to me by Kim, how painful it was. It put
tremendous pressure on his left shoulder. If I had him down on the ground, I
could have easily dislocated it. Instead, I just gave it a good, hard wrench
and hip-tossed him to the ground. I still had hold of his arm which I put into
an armbar. I was controlling him easily. He had no idea of how to counter the
hold and was starting to panic. I could have broken his arm but I held back,
not wanting to cause any permanent damage. Besides, I planned on making this
last. I was going to enjoy putting this punk through my full repertoire. By
the time I get through with him, he'll be begging me to let him pick up that
broken glass. I released his arm and went to work on the other one. Taking
their arms out early is a great strategy to use on guys. They're generally not
that good with their legs and rely heavily on their arms to control things.
It's quite demoralizing to take their arms out early. After weakening both
arms, I moved onto a full nelson. I kept him down, his arms locked tight and
slammed his face into the sand several times. Then I twined my legs around his
in a reverse grapevine and worked tightened up on the nelson until his elbows
were practically touching one another. He started to moan in pain at this
point, so I let up a bit.

"Having fun so far, tough guy?" I taunted.

"Let me go you bitch."

"That's not a very wise move. Calling me names only gets you more pain."

I clamped the hold on as hard as I could and drove his face into the sand a
few more times. I decided to really unleash some hurt on this moron. Switching
to a half-nelson, I grabbed one of his thighs and flipped him over on his back
and dropped my full weight onto his stomach. I felt the air rush out of him as
he let out a big "ooof". I lashed my legs around his in a grapevine. I trapped
his arms by cradling my arms around his head. I pulled him in tight to my
chest and and stretched his legs out wide. I could feel him groaning by his
voice was muffled and barely audible. He was helpless as I continued
stretching his legs, causing his knees to bend in a way they weren't meant to.

"How do you like this, jerk-face? It's called a grapevine. Hurts, doesn't it?
What's that, I can't understand you? Anyway, I'm pretty sure you want to give
up but I'm afraid that surrender is not an option at this point. I've got lots
more pain in store for you. Wait to you feel my scissors."

I gave his legs one more hard squeeze then pulled up on his head so he was in
a sitting position. I got my legs around his waist and put him in another
armbar. I used this to control him while I adjusted my legs so they were
wrapped around his ribcage. Then I laid back and turned on the power. He began
screaming as his ribs started bending. I switched to a series of rapidfire
snaps.

"You like this? Want more? Here's some more, fuckhead."

After torturing his ribs a while longer, I unlashed my legs and slid them up
until I had them around his head. I squeezed with all my might and was
rewarded by hearing him start begging.

"Please, stop. I'll do what you say, I'll pick it up. Please, no more."

"You're damn right you'll pick it up...when I decide to let you, little boy.
Now shut your mouth and take your punishment."

I switched to a figure-four. Now my rock-hard calf was pressed right against
his throat, cutting off his breathing. I tortured him for a while longer until
he began convulsing from lack of air. I let him go and stood over him, poking
him in the ribs with my toe.

"So, you had enough, you little punk or should I show you some more holds?" He
didn't answer. "I asked you a question, answer me! You want some more?"

"No more, please. I've had enough," he sniffled.

"I don't think so. Not yet. Let's try this one."

I snatched his legs and tucked them under my arms and turned him over into a
Boston Crab. I bent them up high and sat down. I leaned back and really let
him have it. He screamed in agony. Suddenly his girlfriend came running over.

"Please, you're hurting him. He gave up. He'll pick up the glass. Please, let
him go," she pleaded.

I'd been having so much fun I'd almost forgotten about her. I jumped to my
feet and pulled him up by his hair. Then I hooked his arm over my neck, stuck
a hand between his legs, squatted down and lifted him onto my shoulders in a
backbreaker.

"Is that true? You had enough?"

"Yes, yes, I'll do it. Whatever you say, just let me go."

"Aright, beg me to let you pick up the glass."

"Let me pick up the glass. Please."

"Beg!" I yanked down hard on his neck and leg, bending his spine wickedly.

"Owwww, stop, please, I'm begging you. I beg for mercy."

I carried him over to the blanket, bouncing him on my shoulders a few times
before sumping him onto it.

"Alright, get to work and make sure you get it all."

He slowly crawled over and started picking the pieces of shattered glass. I
could see that even the smallest movements were causing him great pain. I
watched him for a second and turned around to see his girlfriend staring at
me. I raised my arms and flexed them, studying her face carefully for her
reaction. She looked awestruck.

"Like what you see?" I asked.

"I've never seen a woman with muscles like that before. You're amazing. And
you beat him up so easily. I was afraid you were going to kill him."

I sat down beside her on the blanket.

"No, I was in control the whole time. I have a lot of experience and know how
far I can go without injuring someone. He is going to be sore for a few days
though, I can tell you that. What's your name?"

"Lindsey."

"Hi. I'm Nancy. I hope you're not too upset about what I did to your
boyfriend. He was really asking for it."

"I know. He acts like a real jerk sometimes."

Ignoring the temptation to question why she was with him then, I asked, "So do
you work out Lindsey?"

"Yeah, I do but I don't think I could ever get muscles like yours."

"I don't know. You've got some pretty good bone structure. Great shoulders.
You could really pack on a lot of muscle on those. Do you know much about
training?"

"Not really."

"I could show you some stuff if you're interested."

"Really?"

"Sure."

I paused a bit, thinking about what to say next. I wondered what she thought
about the wrestling exhibition.

"Have you ever done any wrestling Lindsey?"

"Come on, I wouldn't have a hope against you."

"Maybe not, but I know some women who are pretty new at it too. Have you ever
wrestled with another woman?"

"Actually, yes. I have a girlfriend who I go to the gym with. We kind of fool
around sometimes, but I'm don't think I've very good."

"What do you mean?"

"She always beats me. She gets me down every time and sits on me until I say I
give. And she's smaller than me too."

"Well, I think I could help you out there. How would you like me to show you
some moves. You'd like to turn the tables on her, wouldn't you."

She giggled. "Yeah, I'd love to pay her back for all those times she's whipped
my ass."

"Great. Let's do it."

She looked surprised. "You mean now?"

"Sure, why not? I've got nothing to do for the rest of the afternoon. I've got
a private gym and a pool at my place. Come on over and we can have dinner
together. Unless you'd rather stay here with what's his name over there."

She looked over at her boyfriend who was still on his hands and knees, picking
up glass. "He'll be mad, that's for sure."

"I wouldn't worry about it. What's he going to do? You'll be leaving with me,
after all."

"I guess you're right," she giggled again, "What's he going to do?"

"You know, you could do a lot better."

"You think so?"

"Are you kidding? Look at you, you're gorgeous."

Lindsey blushed.

I put my arm around her and lifted her to her feet. "Come on with me. By the
time I'm through with you, you'll be able to make him beg for mercy just like
I did, if you still want anything to do with him, that is."

We walked over to her boyfriend.

"Make sure you get it all, every last piece. Lindsey and I are leaving now.
I'm going to teach her how to wrestle."

We started to walk away.

"What? No way. Lindsey, get back here."

Lindsey didn't even bother answering him. She just put her arm around my waist
and kept walking.