Lynette 
By The Collector
My first experience with a stronger girl

Copyright 1998 The Collector
Send comments to
ChuckSt35@aol.com

Growing up, I wasn’t much different than most guys.  I played ball, had 
a paper route, got in to more trouble than I can remember, and generally 
tried to have a good time.  I wasn’t a particularly tough kid, just 
average, so I did get into fights much.  I’d wrestle other guys and win 
as often as I lost.  But there was one person I was unable to compete 
with, no matter how hard I tried. 

Lynette and I had lived close to each other, within blocks, and had 
always been friends off and on.  At different points in our lives, you 
might have called us best friends.  That was between the ages of 11 and 
14.  We did a lot of things together, movies, going to the beach, which 
was little more than some sand on a small lake, she even taught me to 
dance.  When we played ball, Lynette would be there to play with the 
guys.  We didn’t play tackle, just touch, but she was as good a blocker 
or runner as any of us. 

I found out a little secret about Lynette an afternoon that we were 
alone.  We were in the back yard at her parent’s house playing catch, 
waiting for her mother to come home.  We had been at it a while, both of 
us getting bored and trying to decide what to do.  I was just starting 
to find girls attractive, not knowing what to do, and suggested 
wrestling.  Not surprisingly, Lynette agreed.  She was always athletic, 
but I guess I was a little surprised. 

We took a stance across from each other.  Mind you, I was probably 5’2” 
or 5’3” at the time, and maybe 120 while Lynette was only slightly 
shorter.  She had a thin build which, in later years, I found out 
bothered her because she didn’t feel her breasts were big enough.  It 
was also the first time I learned that sometimes strength has little to 
do with size or gender. 

We stood across from each other, then reached for each other’s hands.  I 
reached for hers, fully confident of being able to handle her, and 
started to exert pressure on her.  I suddenly felt her pushing back at 
me with such force I couldn’t resist even the slightest if I’d wanted 
to.  She began twisting my arms and walking me backwards, smiling the 
whole time.  Not a cruel smile, but a smile of joy, of accomplishment. 

As she pushed me, I feel to the ground dragging her with me.  Hoping 
again to get the upper hand, we rolled as we fell and I ended up on top 
of her.  Our arms were flailing at each other, each trying to grab the 
others.  I reached for hers and she grabbed my wrists, holding my arms, 
with me sitting on top of her.  I tried to move them, to get away, pull 
them back from her, but no matter how hard I pulled, I realized she was 
much stronger, so much stronger, that just to save face would be an 
accomplishment. 

As I sat on her, she started to push up.  I outweighed her by 15 to 20 
pounds, was sitting on her, and yet her sheer strength was pushing me 
away.  I had all the leverage, yet I was still unable to stop her.  As 
she got closer to me, she let my wrists go, and came after me, wrapping 
her arms around my body, then jumping at me.  I quickly found myself on 
the bottom, flailing my arms as best I could to keep her from getting 
total dominance over me.  But it wasn’t mean to be.  She quickly found 
my arms, again her strength holding me at bay, and pinned them on the 
ground behind my head.  I saw her looking down at me, a smile on her 
face, her short blonde hair draping down, and her blue eyes peering at 
me.  I tried reaching my legs behind her, but she just leaned closer to 
me.  I struggled to free myself, but she kept a smile on her face, not 
cruel or demeaning, just an innocent conqueror’s smile demonstrating her 
superior strength.  But I didn’t want to give up yet.  I told her I 
could still beat her and that we should go again.  My young male ego had 
been bruised and redemption was called for. 

We stood facing each other again.  Apparently she was unwilling to 
chance losing to me, for no sooner than we stood up, she attacked, with 
total confidence.  She came at me and quickly wrapped both arms around 
me, then easily threw me to the ground.  Once again, for sheer strength, 
none of the guys I had ever wrestled, most of them around my size, had 
ever come close to doing what Lynette had done to me.  Once on the 
ground, she jumped on me and, not settling for a simple pin, I felt her 
arm wrapped around my neck.  My head felt as though it were in a vise, 
with her arm around my head, she locked it with her other arm.  Once 
again I was helpless.  My arms were free, yet I just looked up at her, 
our faces close together, held totally helpless by her immense strength. 

She looked down at me and said “Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean 
you’re going to win.” 

We wrestled a few more times, only due to my male vanity.  She toyed 
with me, letting me think I could win, but I ultimately succumbed to her 
each time, with little difficulty on her part. 

I had the good fortune to never hear from any of my friends, or hers, 
that she had beaten me. 

I wish I could say she had biceps that would make you cry but she 
didn’t.  Her arms were no bigger than any other girl’s was.  And I wish 
I could say she was stunningly beautiful.  She wasn’t, but she was 
pretty and you’d look a third time if you saw her. 

Our friendship continued until high school when we went separate ways.  
She didn’t advertise her strength, but one day at school it was 
unavoidable.  The boys and girls gym classes were using the track the 
same day.  When the girls came out, our teacher had left to go inside 
and we were left alone.  The girls came to the shot put pit as part of 
their day’s agenda. The few of us that stayed there watched as the girls 
picked up the lead ball and tossed it as best they could.  As we will 
do, most of us laughed, but quietly, as each girl threw.  The bigger 
girls were able to beat some of us, to which we quietly said nothing.  
Then Lynette came up.  She placed the ball under her chin, as she had 
watched the others do, and let it fly.  I was as though it had been shot 
from a cannon.  There was silence as the ball sailed through the air, 
seemed to sail forever, and landed with a thud, farther than any of us 
could throw.  She took her second throw and it too fired from her arm, 
almost effortlessly, landing near the first.   After the second, there 
was silence amongst the guys.  Lynette left the circle, then casually 
looked at us and smiled. 

Each time I saw Lynette, she looked prettier.  But by this time, we had 
gravitated towards separate crowds.  We remained friends and were 
cordial to each other, remembering some remnant of our earlier 
friendship. 

But each time I saw her, I reverted back to when she had me in a 
headlock, my eyes looking up at her.  I always wondered, as we got 
older, how much stronger she had become. What she was truly capable of.  
When we graduated, I was near 160 pounds and Lynette around 110.  But 
still, I had no illusions.  I remembered just a few years back when she 
handled me like a child and could only dream of the incredible, 
unassuming, strength she must have at her command as a young woman.