Chapter Three
Amelia remembered it as clearly as if it had been only yesterday. She had been walking along the beach in front of her uncle's big old house, looking for shells. Aside from the three boys playing further down the sandy strip, Amelia recalled that she had the beach all to herself. But she wasn't called Amelia then, just Ami. And her last name had been Swensen.
Ami looked Scandanavian, too. Tall for her age, she had a raw-boned sinewy body that already showed promise of fleshing out into a magnificently sculpted female figure. Even at this age, her shoulders were wide and her V'd back was firmly muscled. Ami's chest was broad and set with smallish but perfectly molded young breasts. Her bronzed arms were rounded and strong. Her supple belly was perfectly flat, except for the etched bands of musculature that rippled and played just beneath the drum-tight skin. Her hips were still youthfully lithe, and led down to long, strong, supple legs. But at this point there was still a teenaged gawkiness to her form, despite the splendidly developed muscle tone already evident. It was hard to believe that Ami Swensen was not quite fifteen years old!
Ami's parents had been killed in an automobile accident two years earlier, so she lived with her uncle and guardian, Hugh Stone, a brilliant but reclusive 34 year-old scientist and inventor who was destined to become a multi-millionaire in the coming years.
Ami and her Uncle Hugh got on well enough, although he seemed to be mostly preoccupied with his research projects. The girl proved to be good company for the moody bachelor; not demanding too much of his attention, maintaining a certain formal sense of congenial distance, and keeping clear of his laboratory. For his part, uncle Hugh did his best to raise her in the manner he supposed a young lady should be. But his idea of "social education" would have better served a young boy than a teenage girl.
Other than his laboratory research, Hugh found his pleasure in a number of typically masculine pursuits; such as hunting, fishing, hiking, weight-lifting, and most surprising of all . . . the "manly art of self-defense". Not realizing how gender-inappropriate it was, uncle Hugh encouraged Ami to share all these interests. He was somewhat hesitant about teaching her boxing, and yet he felt certain that knowing how to defend herself would be one of her most valuable lessons in life. And since Hugh was a former bantam-weight college wrestler, and still young enough at thirty-three to participate in the sport, he taught his tomboy niece to wrestle.
The two of them would spend several hours a week working out in the garage gym that her uncle had put together. Uncle Hugh encouraged his niece to build up her strength with a regimen of strenuous free-weight exercise. Ami's Scandinavian genetic component served her well, and she quickly began to take on a look of chistled definition to go with her newly gained tigerish strength.
By her fourteenth birthday, Ami was as tall as her uncle's own five-foot-eight. They were a good match for each other and, before long, Ami was able to pin her uncle as often as he pinned her. But one day, after a particularly long session on the mat, something very strange happened. After wrestling together for nearly twenty minutes, Uncle Hugh abruptly stopped the match, and thereafter refused to wrestle with his niece any more.
Ami had a good idea what had gone wrong, why her uncle would no longer work out with her in their garage gym. But for his part, her uncle wouldn't discuss the subject other than to tell Ami that she was now "much too old to be rolling around on the wrestling mat with him." He seemed too embarrased to discuss the subject further.
The girl knew without question that it had something to do with what had taken place during that last wrestling session. Ami was aware that something had been very different about that workout, something that she had never experienced in previous sessions in the garage gymnasium. Well-lllllll, that wasn't exactly true, the youngster realized. She had been aware of a change in the intensity of their wrestling for some time now, and aware of a . . . hm-mmmm, well something that she often felt within her body while locked against her uncle in certain kinds of hard-straining holds. And Ami knew that her uncle was also aware of this new, wild, hot rhythm to their wrestling.
Ami was also quite aware of some rather disturbing physical changes taking place in her post-pubescent body. Almost overnight, Ami's budding breasts began growing larger. They were already the size of a pair of half-grapefruits; wide spaced, well rounded, soft but firmly contoured. And when they rubbed against uncle Hugh's sweaty chest, her tender nipples would get all tingly and begin growing hard. And there was another kind of tingling taking place . . . . deep in the secret place that lay hidden between Ami's sinewy thighs. This sexually explicit experience was occuring more and more often during their long, muscle-straining matches. For Ami, there was now a new component to the hot, sweaty wrestles with her uncle . . . an erotic one! Ami Swensen began looking forward to these sessions, with great anticipation and delight . . . for much more than just the exercise.
Ami had finally become so adept at catching her uncle in hard-locked submisssion holds that their falls were now lasting up to half an hour at a time. The garage that had been made into a gymnasim was hot, sometimes stifling hot. Within minutes of their coming to grips, a gleaming sheen of slick perspiration covered their upper bodies, making it difficult to maintain holds and grips. Ami often wished that she could wrestle in something other than her bikini briefs and old cut-off sweat-shirt. She often found herself day-dreaming about wrestling her uncle nude-muscled, like some mythological Amazon warrior, straining against his male body naked and free. But she didn't dare. Her tall, gangly, teenage body had begun to fill out with a lot more than just muscle . . . and her perfectly proportioned breasts embarrassed her. She didn't want to bare them to her uncle's eyes, and yet, there was also an amazonian impulse to wrestle in bare-breasted, nude-muscled freedom. But with her uncle . . . hm-mmmm?
Uncle Hugh had recently begun discarding his sweatshirt when the perspiration drenched it and then wrestling his niece bare to the waist, clad in nothing more than a pair of old silk pajama bottoms. Many of their holds and grips left them straining face-to-face, and sometimes when her her own sweatshirt had bunched up across her upper chest, Ami felt her breasts sliding back and forth across the silken fabric of his pajama bottoms. This invariably resulted in her nipples hardening, and an electric tingle coursing through her taut young body. And it was this erotic component to their wrestling that was now beginning to excite the muscular young Amazon, excite and worry her at the same time. But despite her apprehension, Ami found herself seeking out holds that locked she and her uncle ever more tightly together! Uncle Hugh, for his part, certainly didn't complain.
Her most effective holds were when she used her powerful legs. Ami liked to snake her thighs around just one of his, like a creeping python; squeezing his leg within the sleek prison of her muscular thighs, riding his bare leg until she could feel that electric tingle start to throb up there in the V of her crotch. But during their last wrestle, while the girl was holding one of her uncle's legs grappled between her own sinewy thighs, Ami suddenly, realized that she was feeling a different kind of throb . . . . the slow-pulsed throbbing of a rock-hard shaft of maleness that seemed to be growing bigger and bigger as it pressed itself against her tingling loins. Uncle Hugh was getting an erection!
And, as chance would have it, at just that moment Uncle Hugh grabbed her by the neck of her sweatshirt, trying to seek purchase to roll her off of him. Ami wrenched her shoulders, and in doing so slipped completely out of the garment. Without missing a beat, and moving so quickly that Uncle Hugh didn't even know what had happened, Ami plastered herself against Hugh's sweat-slick chest. As they strained together in their furious effort, Ami almost swooned at the erotic sensation of her naked breasts sliding back and forth across Uncle Hugh's broad chest. And Uncle Hugh, for his part, suddenly began squirming against his niece's sinewy belly, rocking his hips against hers in a frenzied tempo, straining against her so tightly that Ami could feel the aroused length of his big cock begin to throb and pulse. And then Ami felt a sudden sticky wetness against her bare skin, just as Uncle Hugh gasped out in a strangled cry. Ami and her uncle both seemed to freeze at the same instant. Then her uncle Hugh gave a shuddering sigh and broke free of Ami's clutches. He pulled himself slowly to his feet, turning his body away from her, and quickly left the garage gym, his face a beet-red.
Ami, for her part, remained sprawled out on the mat. Her head was spinning, her heart thumped like a drum in her chest, and her loins aching with desire. She was incredibly turned-on!
The sudden experience of feeling her uncle's throbbing erection against her body, right there at the soft juncture of her loins, had surprised Ami more than frightened her. But now, after Uncle Hugh had fled from the garage gym, Ami found herself wishing that they had continued to wrestle, but without clothing to restrain that great meaty cock that had pressed against her soft labia.
She wondered what it would have been like to wrestle nude with her uncle, their two bodies slick with sweat, their hips pumping and grinding together . . . like lovers. Ami almost gasped aloud at the thought, and found herself seized by a shiver of excitement.
Ami knew that it was wrong to think of her uncle in a sexual way, but still she couldn't keep from day-dreaming about their next "exercise" encounter on the sweat-slippery mat in the garage. Somehow, she just HAD to experience that erotically charged feeling again . . . soon!
But, alas, that was the last time that Ami and her uncle ever wrestled together. But the dye had been cast, and for ever more young Ami Swensen would find herself seeking out males with whom to wrestle. Which is just how she met Allan Clark.