College Vs. Session Wrestler, Part One
By brooksie       brooksie@pacificcoast.net
A pair of college wrestlers are invited to an underground fetish club on
"fight night".

**Author's note: Thanks to those folks that have emailed me about my
stories...sorry for the long break. A special thanks to site member,
chatroom pal, international woman of mystery and intrigue, and all-round
cool chick Shanice for allowing me to appropriate her beautiful name for
the main character. I know she doesn't own the rights to it or anything
but she's the only Shanice I've ever known, so I always think of it as
"her" name. And, just to no one gets the wrong idea, her name was all
that I borrowed. This tale is entirely fictional.**

Final exams were over and life was good!  My girlfriend Karen and I both
had summer work lined up and we had a little extra money saved for a
vacation before our jobs began. Not a lot, but enough for a few days in
San Francisco, a city neither of us had been to. I'd known Karen since
high school, although we didn't get together romantically until
university. She was taking kinesiology and I was a business major. We
were also both wrestlers who had been on our high school team. We chose
the university we did partly because it has one of the best wrestling
programs in the country. The women's team is especially dominant and
always contends for the national championship.

Of the two of us, Karen was the more accomplished athlete, a champion in
many individual and team sports all through school. I hadn't really done
much competing in individual sports and the wrestling team was the only
one I belonged to in high school. I was a good enough wrestler, but
undistinguished, in terms of winning championships. That I won more
bouts than I lost was really all I could say on my own behalf. I was a
journeyman, plain and simple. Such was not the case with Karen. She was
one of the top-ranked wrestlers in the country and was thought to be a
contender to win the national title in her weight class next season. I
was about 40 lbs heavier and a few inches taller but those advantages
were more than offset by Karen's superior speed, technique and
competitive attitude. Most of our practice matches with each other ended
with her pinning me, then patiently showing me how she'd managed to trap
me and explain what I might have done to counter her pinning move.

I had been watching Karen wrestle for so long, that I had no longer any
qualms about losing to her. She was a great wrestler and, although she
was on the women's team in university, she'd had many matches against
boys in high school and had won most of those. I loved watching her on
the mat and knew she could probably earn a spot on the men's team, if
there hadn't been a woman's program.

San Francisco had been a great adventure. We were from a small farming
town in the Canadian prairies, and had spent very little time in any
large cities other than Vancouver, where we attended university. We'd
been there for a few days and had two left in our holiday. On our
second-last day, we were out walking, picked up some food at a deli and
were enjoying a sunny afternoon, eating lunch in Golden Gate Park. Karen
looked incredible! Her legs were all muscle, not particularly cut but
thick and powerful with bulging calves. She wore a pair of tight
athletic spandex shorts that accentuated her powerful glutes and a
halter top. She had nice, round breasts but they were not the kind that
dominated her upper body, which was fine with me. I loved her big, broad
shoulders and the way her thick pecs made her breasts sit so high on her
chest.

After we'd eaten, we started fooling around a bit. One thing led to
another and soon we were rolling around the grass in another of our
impromptu wrestling matches. I initially had the advantage, due to a
surprise attack, but I couldn't get her pinned. She flipped over onto
her stomach and, as I tired to turn her again, performed a sit-out move.
She got behind me and positioned her self solidly on my back. Getting
one arm around my thigh and the other under my chest and over the top of
my shoulder, she let out a grunt and rolled me right over top of her.
For a brief second, she was on her back with me on top, but she was the
one with the hold on me. She continued rolling until I landed on my
side. Scrambling to her knees, her hold still locked tight, Karen
cinched me into a tight cradle lock. My shoulders were pinned to the
grass, one leg kicking helplessly in the air. With no referee to slap a
hand on the mat and blow his whistle to end the fall, Karen took the
opportunity to relish her victory, smiling down at me from her superior
position, and ducking her head down to plant quick little kisses all
over my face, playfully bite my nose and neck, lick my eyelids and
finally make me say out loud that I was pinned and helpless. As she let
my leg loose and rolled on top of me, she felt the bulge in my shorts.

"Mmmmmm, that feels nice," she murmured contentedly, gently undulating
her hips and lightly pressing her crotch against mine.

In another display dominance, she seized my wrists and stretched my arms
out over my head, and resuming her lip-and-tongue attack. Suddenly she
remembered where we were and slid off me, looking around guiltily. There
weren't really too many people in our immediate vicinity, but I did
notice a tall, attractive black woman sitting on a bench not far from
the little patch of grass we had chosen to occupy. She saw us looking at
her and rather than glancing immediately away, as most people would have
done back in Canada, she smiled at us, not concerned in the slightest
she'd been caught watching us. Now it was our turn to feel embarrassed,
especially Karen. While she was no prude, she wasn't given to public
displays of affection. Even a lingering kiss in view of others made her
squirm and here she'd been observed wrestling me onto my back and
holding me down while she teased me with her lips and tongue and ground
her pelvis against me. If that wasn't bad enough, the woman's smile now
grew even broader. She eliminated whatever doubt there may have been
about what she'd seen by giving Karen a congratulatory "thumbs up" sign.
Karen's face flushed and she looked so mortified that I forgot my own
embarrassment and began to laugh. Karen slapped at my arm.

"Stop it, what are you laughing at?"

"You should see your face," I chuckled.

Almost against her will, Karen started to giggle as well. I looked up
and saw the woman was approaching us. Wow, I thought! She is really
something. She wore a matching red shorts and top outfit, sandals and
had her long, curly black hair tied back with a brightly-coloured
ribbon. She had nice muscle tone and looked very fit, but hers was more
of a model-type body and, unlike my more heavily built girlfriend, her
breasts very definitely dominated her upper body. They were so large,
round and firm, I had to wonder if they were real. Tearing my eyes away
from her breasts, I noticed a few interesting-looking tattoos as well.
We quickly got to our feet as she walked right up and introduced
herself.

"Hi, my name is Shanice."

I introduced myself and said, "This is my girlfriend Karen."

"Karen," she repeated, "Karen, the wrestler, right?"

Karen looked startled.

"Yeah. How did you know that?"

"I was watching the little match you two were having. It just looked
like you'd had some training. Those were some pretty good moves you were
showing...I liked your cradle pin."

Shanice smiled slyly and Karen's face grew red again. This time it was
Shanice who laughed first.

"You're blushing, that's so cute. Are you embarrassed because I saw you
wrestling?"

Karen turned an even deeper shade, but didn't answer.

"Ah, I think it might have more to do with what went on after she pinned
me," I spoke up.

Karen was trying to hide her eyes and Shanice, noticing this, gave me a
big wink. In an instant, we became co-conspirators as she gently teased
Karen.

"Look at you blushing girlfriend. Keep it up and you're going to be
darker than me."

We all started to laugh and both us started warming to Shanice, although
we weren't used to people being this forward. We still had half a bottle
of wine left, some bread, cold cuts and cheese, so we invited Shanice to
join us. The three of us sat down on the grass, I poured wine while
Karen cut up some more cheese. Shanice kicked off her sandals and
stretched her long, lean body out on the grass.

"Where are you all from?" she wanted to know. Our Canadian accents had
given us away.

"Saskatchewan," we both said simultaneously.

"Saska-what?" and we all began to laugh again. Realizing we should start
with the big picture, I said told Shanice we were from Canada, from one
of the prairie provinces, above North Dakota. Like a lot of Americans,
she found the name amusing and asked me to say it again, more slowly.

"Sa-kat-chew-waan," she said, sounding it out and giggling, like a child
amused by a new toy. Apparently, she wasn't the least bit concerned
about offending us by finding the name of our home province funny. To be
honest, I found that refreshing. All the pressure to be politically
correct at university was a burden sometimes and I found myself charmed
by Shanice's unabashed candidness and natural familiarity.

"We live in Vancouver now. We go to university there," Karen told her.

"And you're on the wrestling team?"

"Yeah, so is Scott."

"You're a wrestler too?" Shanice asked, looking at me.

I nodded.

"Wow. That's even more impressive," she said, looking at Karen.
Addressing me, she asked, "Does she usually beat you?"

"I'm afraid she does. Karen is one of the top female wrestlers in the
country. She could probably do me out of my spot on the men's team. I'm
lucky there's a women's wrestling program at our school."

Shanice smiled at me.

"I love that."

"What?" I asked.

"The way you're so proud of her, and not all defensive about her beating
you."

"Why should I be? She's a better wrestler."

"Hey," Shanice said suddenly, looking at Karen, "can I see your arm
muscle?"

Karen looked embarrassed again but, with a little friendly coaxing from
both Shanice and myself, she shyly flexed her arm. Karen had thick,
well-muscled forearms and a very hard, 14-inch biceps. Shanice felt it
and whistled.

"Oooh, that is some arm you got, girl," she said admiringly.

While Shanice reached out to touch it, I couldn't help noticing her own
rather impressive biceps. In terms of overall girth, it wasn't as large
as Karen's but Shanice's had a very hard look to it and an extremely
"peaked" appearance, rising straight up as her arm bent and forming
almost a point at the top. I didn't say anything but I began discreetly
checking out Shanice's body and discovered her biceps were typical of
all her muscles. They weren't huge in size, but well defined with a
sharp, razor-cut look. Most impressive of all was her stomach. Shanice
had abs that were etched and visible even without being flexed. Karen
had noticed it and seemed transfixed as she stared at the black woman's
stomach.

"That's some set of abs you've got," Karen said, returning the
compliment. "What happens when you flex them?"

Without a word, Shanice sat up on her knee, raised her rear end off her
heels and tensed her abdomen. The muscle structure came to life before
our eyes. What had been merely obvious before now looked as if it had
been cut by lasers. Every single muscle stood in relief...the rectus
abdominus, the plate of muscle down the front that forms the so-called
"six-pack", external obliques, even the serratus muscles of her lower
chest, all separated into two nearly identical halves by a deep trench
extending from her sternum. It looked like a jigsaw puzzle.

"Wow!" I said, almost involuntarily. Karen said nothing. She seemed
speechless.

Unlike my girlfriend, who accepted Shanice's compliments in a rather
self-consciousness manner, our new acquaintance was not at all shy about
showing off. Tracing, poking and prodding at the various muscular
components of her abs, she talked easily and freely about how long it
had taken her to develop them and her trial-and-error experiments with
different exercises in the gym. Responding to a comment and a question
from Karen about how many different abdominal exercises there were and
how she decided on which ones to do, Shanice rolled her eyes and
replied,

"Oh, tell me about it honey. I've probably done them all at one time or
another."

She went on to list some of the ones she feels helped contribute to her
amazing musculature and then sat back down. "I guess I'm lucky that way.
I'm pretty lean naturally and don't put on fat too easily."

She picked up another piece of cheese and popped it in her mouth.

"If I did, I wouldn't have these," she said, patting her stomach,
"because I hate dieting. There's too much good food out there."

I poured the last of the wine into our glasses, while Shanice and I
polished off the food. We drank up and started putting things back in
our pack. Shanice stood up, helped me fold up the blanket we'd been
sitting on.

"Thanks for the lunch. Can I buy you two a coffee? I know a great place
not far from here. Have you been to Ghirardelli Square yet?"

"No, we went to Fisherman's Wharf and Pier 39, but that's about it,"
Karen answered.

"Well, come on, I'll show you around a bit, if you like."

We accepted Shanice's offer, hailed a cab and headed off to Ghirardelli
Square. Shanice turned out to be a wonderful tour guide. Poking around
on our own had been fun but we'd stuck pretty much to the straight,
tourist-style activities...a little shopping downtown at Union Square,
riding the cable cars, a bay cruise, Lombard St....typical stuff. Our
big expedition involved renting a car and driving out to Muir Woods
National Monument. It had all been fun, but cruising around with Shanice
made things seem somehow a little more exciting. She led us around to
places I'm positive we never would have found on our own, all the while
keeping us talking about our vacation, school, athletic interests,
differences between Canada and the States and so on. Shanice was bright
and funny and so completely engaging that as we sat at an outdoor table
at a little cafe, munching some great chocolate we'd bought at a place
she'd shown us, it occurred to me that we hadn't found out very much
about her. I guess it was because we didn't ask. Shanice had kept us so
engrossed in talking about our lives that hers hadn't really come up.

"Shanice," I said, "we haven't asked you asked you much about yourself.
I hope you don't think we're not interested."

"Oh that's all right honey, don't even give it a second thought. I like
you two, you've been real good company."

"Thanks," I replied and decided to continue the tack I'd begun. "So, now
that I've brought it up, why don't you tell us a bit about yourself."

"What do you want to know, sweetness?" she smiled slyly. I chuckled to
myself at how she threw these little "terms of endearment"...honey,
baby, sweetcheeks etc. around indiscriminately, male of female. It was
so much a part of her conversation, I had stopped noticing it, until a
new one came along.

"I don't know...uh, what do you do for a living?" Having been put on the
spot I fumbled, unable to think of anything more original

"Oh my, let's see. I do a lot of different things. Some modeling, video
work and a bit of live event promotion. In fact, that reminds me, I was
going to ask what you guys are doing tonight?"

"We didn't have any plans so far," Karen spoke up.

"Perfect!" Shanice exclaimed, clapping her hands together, "I'm doing an
event tonight. Why don't you two come...as my guests?"

"What sort of event is it?" Karen asked.

"It's right up your alley," Shanice smiled, "a live wrestling show. It's
at a fetish club called 'The Shaggy Horse'. I host it, every Monday
night."

At the mention of the word "fetish" Karen's face froze a little. Shanice
was very perceptive, a quality she'd been showing all afternoon and
immediately began addressing Karen in earnest. She'd read me quickly and
assumed (correctly, I might add) that I wasn't the one that needing
convincing this might be an interesting way to spend our last night in
San Francisco. She explained that the club was not normally open on
Mondays until she'd talked the owners into letting her hold occasional
"fight nights" there. The event had caught on and was now a weekly thing
that drew full houses on a night when most clubs are practically dead,
if they even bother to open at all.

"The place is kind of a social club for Doms and lifestyle
submissives...you know, mistresses and their slaves," she added, seeing
Karen's puzzled expression. "It's looks pretty much like you'd expect,
lots of whips and chains, all sorts of bondage equipment hanging on the
walls, but that's not really the scene on "fight night". Some of the
regulars come, but there are lots of other types of people too. A lot of
women who are pretty athletic, martial arts girls and boxers...I think
we've even had a few college wrestlers come down and check it out.
You've got to come...please, say yes."

"Sounds interesting," I said tentatively, keeping a close watch on
Karen's face, "what about it Karen? Up for a little adventure?"

Karen looked doubtful. Shanice, in that automatically familiar way she
had, slid her hand over Karen's. Cupping both her hands around my
girlfriend's one, she spoke with a perfect combination of earnestness
and light-hearted banter.

"Come on you guys, you're on VACATION! This is a time to loosen up, have
fun, seek out new experiences..."

"To boldly go where no wrestler has gone before," I interjected in my
best William Shatner/Star Trek voice, eliciting a giggle from both
women.

"Look," Shanice continued, "you don't want to spend five days in San
Francisco and when you go back home, have to tell everyone the most
exciting thing you did was ride a cable car and look at some redwood
trees! This is a wild town, with some really interesting scenes. It's
like, who's running this holiday? You, or the San Francisco Chamber of
Commerce?"

I had to sit back in pure admiration of Shanice's powers of persuasion.
This woman could sell ice to an Eskimo. Shanice gave me a look and I
knew instantly what it meant...my turn.

"Come on Karen, what do you say? You know she's right. We haven't done
anything so far that isn't in the guide books. Who knows when we'll have
a chance to take another trip like this? Hell, we're students - we've
signed a vow of poverty for at least two more years."

Releasing Karen's hand, Shanice drained the last of her cafe latte.

"Haven't we had a good time this afternoon? Come on," she coaxed,
playfully tickling Karen in the ribs and getting her to squeal as she
pushed Shanice's hands away, "I like you guys and I haven't steered you
wrong yet, have I?"

She smiled at Karen. I couldn't help thinking how pretty Shanice was,
big round eyes, perfect white teeth...she looked for all the world like
a taller, more muscular version of Janet Jackson. I saw Karen smile
back, with genuine warmth. Success! Shanice had done it, she'd broken
past Karen's barriers.

"OK, sure. We'll come." Karen said.

"Great! I know you'll find it interesting."

"What sort of wrestling is it?" asked Karen

"Oh, all different kinds of things. It would take a long time to explain
everything and I should be on my way. I got stuff to take care of.
Here's a card with the address. The place isn't well marked; there's no
number on the door. This address is the hat shop downstairs. There's an
alley beside it, on the right. The club is off the alley. You'll see a
big, black door on the left with a little sign above it that says 'The
Shaggy Horse'. There's a buzzer. When the doorman asks for you
membership card, give him this. It's a guest pass. Come about 9:30 or
so. Nothing much happens before then. I can't wait to see you guys
tonight...it'll be fun!"

With that, Shanice stood up and kissed us both and strolled off through
Ghirardelli Square, her protruding calve muscles flexing with each long
stride and her tight ass swaying sexily. Karen and I looked at each
other in a stunned silence, neither knowing what to say. One thing about
was undeniable - Shanice had definitely made an impression on us!

End Of Part One