It all began in my senior year in high school, this bizarre erotic predilection of mine. The funny thing is that it started so innocently ... at least at first!

There was a girl in my history class that I'd had my eye on for some time, but I was just too shy to approach her for an actual date. She was tall, looked really fit and was darkly beautiful in a stern no-nonsense sort of way. So I simply admired her from a distance. Then one day I happened to be passing by the open door of the girl's gym. Inside there was a lot of girlish shouting and cheering. I couldn't resist taking a quick peek, although boys were not allowed, and so I ducked into the big room and hid behind the bleachers that ringed the cavernous room. Then I spotted Gabriela, the girl I had been silently lusting over all semester long.

Since I had never seen her out of the baggy sweatshirt, sweatpants and sneakers that were her everyday costume, my eyes almost bugged out of my head at what I saw. There was Gabby, stripped down to exercise briefs and a bikini bra, and sporting one of the most athletic female physiques that I'd ever seen. By "athletic", I mean muscular. A well-defined, sculpted kind of muscularity that you would expect to find on an Olympic-level gymnast. But Gabby and the girl facing her were not practicing gymnastic moves, they were sprawled out on a gym mat twined together in hard-locked wrestling holds.

As I watched the two girls straining together in sensuous combat, my cock began a slow uncoiling from its slumber in the pouch of my Jockey shorts. Gabriela's opponent was a big blonde German exchange student who was also the school's Track and Field star. Unlike Gabby's sharply honed muscularity, the rangy blonde had the more densely solid physique of a bodybuilder without looking 'bulky'. And both of them were using every single ounce of their formidable strength in this furiously fought struggle. The longer I watched those female muscles flex and ripple beneath their smooth satiny skin, the harder my Big Guy got. It was, for me, a totally unexpected reaction to an even more unexpected stimuli.

Believe me, my bedroom masturbation fantasies were usually directed to leggy, busty centerfold Playgirl beauties rather than sleek-muscled female wrasslers. But like most post-adolescent, testosterone fueled boys, my cock seemed to have a mind of its own in these kinds of things. And so from my hidden vantage point I watched the action taking place on the large wrestling mat as my aroused Pocket Snake kept growing bigger and bigger and harder and harder.

Gabby, her magnificently muscled body gleaming with sweat, had locked her opponent in a front bear hug. She had inserted a sinewy leg between Freida's muscular thighs, twisted, and flipped her opponent beneath her in a smothering body press. Gabby locked herself around the blonde Valkyrie like a wet eel. Freida began heaving and humping up and down, trying to off-balance Gabby and throw her off. But the beautiful gladiator rode her like a cowgirl atop a rodeo bucking bronco, with her long legs locked around the blonde's waist in a squeezing scissor hold. I had no idea of how long they had been at it before I had sneaked into the gym, but it was long enough for both their half-nude bodies to become slick with a glistening sheen of wetness that accentuated their overtaxed, writhing and rippling muscularity as they strained there on the mat.

Until that very moment, like most guys my age, I had never considered muscles on a woman to be anything but gross. I liked curves and soft, yielding flesh. But then as I watched the action taking place on the mat, I suddenly realized that both of these girls had plenty of curves and the kind of ripe rounded flesh that most young high school girls possess in such great abundance. But amazingly enough, I was suddenly aching to run my hands over those flexeing bands of strength playing just beneath all that ripe flesh, aching to feel the sinuous movement of female musculature beneath my fingers. And, most of all, to be locked into place against all that sexy muscularity in a wrestling match of my own with the splendid young Amazon named Gabriela.

My breathing grew heavy, my eyes seemed to glaze over as they wandered across the splendid bare bodies entwined as tightly as a pair of midnight lovers in a tangled-sheeted bed. Gabby was panting and softly groaning from the exertion of maintaining her holds on Freida, while her more heavily muscled opponent was now whimpering with frustration there beneath the strong, curvacious body that pinned her to the mat. Their limbs were so entangled that it was difficult to see where one began and the other one ended. They were simply a single hot ball of entwined woman-flesh welded together in their ultimate test of female strength.

And then, abruptly, it was over. Caught at long last in an obviously unbreakable hold, Gabby's opponent slapped the mat in surrender, and the two nearly exhausted wrestlers unwrapped themselves from one another and got slowly to their feet surrounded by the excited spectators. As for myself, I was in no condition to do anything else other than hunch down in my hiding spot and try to clean the growing wet stain from the front of my pants with a balled-up handkerchief.

The strange thing was that without even having touched myself, I'd had an explosive ejaculation there behind the bleachers. I had never experienced a spontaneous, 'unassisted' orgasm before ... other than nighttime wet dreams. This was far different and I reacted to it like the dizzying aftermath of a powerful psychedelic drug. At that moment in time, I was higher than I'd ever been ... and I didn't want to come down.

Female muscles? Wrestling? Entangled, sweat-soaked female bodies? OK, not the typical menu material for my erotic fantasies. But one thing was for sure - a brand new sexual 'hot button' had been implanted into the ancient reptile brain that governed such things in we human beings. While the excited and still cheering girls gathered around Gabriela extending their congratulations, I quietly sneaked back out of the gym before anyone saw me and my ... um-mm, condition.

Now I was absolutely determined to meet Gabby, but I wasn't sure how to pull it off. We simply didn't travel in the same circles. But one day at school I noticed her sitting by herself at lunch in the cafeteria and decided this was my chance. I ambled over, ask her if the seat across from her was taken, and after she raised a hand toward the seat without even looking up from her bowl of soup, I sat down. It seemed that she had then instantly disregarded my even being there. This was not starting out well.

I noticed that the book she was reading with single-minded attention was a textbook on physiology, which gave me my opening. I asked if she was going for a medical degree in college after she graduated from high school, to which she replied distractedly that she was indeed going to do pre-med at State University. Purely as a conversation ploy, I said that it was also my intention to follow a medical career, although in truth I'd never even considered such a thing until that very instant. But it was definitely the right line to use, for from that moment her conversation became spirited and her eyes sparkled with interest.

We sat there and talked about everything, discovered that we had similar tastes and got along wonderfully well. For some reason I didn't mention that I had seen her wrestling with the girl in the gym and she didn't bring up the subject either. Something told me to play it cool, proceed cautiously and carefully; certainly not mention how aroused I'd become watching her that day wrestling with another girl, and definitely not bring up her well-developed muscularity, just in case she was sensitive about that.

In the following days and weeks, we discovered that Gabby and I had more and more in common and became a "pair". One evening, while studying together at her house, she happened to turn on the TV. Purely by luck, what was playing on the channel that came on was a college middle-weight wrestling match. It was a regional championship bout. Now collegiate wrestling is as different from professional wrassling as night is to day. For one thing there is far more ground grappling with the two wrestlers moving in quick flurries of action one moment and settling into straining body locks the next. It was, I saw, almost identical to what I had witnessed in the girl's gym on that fateful afternoon.

Gabby stopped everything to watch the action, leaping up to cheer on the wrestler from the school she was gong to be attending. The two singlet-suited wrestlers were so evenly matched that they remained in dead-lock for long minutes at a time, neither being able to prevail until the referee broke them up to restart their fall.

"You know, I just LOVE wrestling," she cried out excitedly as she watched the action on the screen. "I REALLY get off on it."

"You mean that you love to watch it?" I asked innocently in reply.

"No, I mean that I absolutely love wrestling with someone who is strong enough to give me some competition. I'm really, really strong if you haven't noticed." And with that she pulled up the sleeve of her sweatshirt lifted her arm and made a fist. From out of hiding beneath the smooth flesh of her extended arm rose a sculpted bicep that quivered into hard-curved solidity. That certainly answered my unspoken question about any possible sensitivity on Gabby's part about her muscularity. It also whetted my appetite for more disclosures from her about what she "really, really" liked.

"So who exactly do you wrestle with," I asked - hoping that she didn't hear the nervous quaver in my voice.

"Mostly the girls in my gym class these days," she replied in wistful tone of voice. "I had a boyfriend who I used to wrestle with .... a lot! But he wasn't enough competition and so I dumped him. He didn't like the fact that I could pin his scrawny little ass."

My over-active imagination went into high gear at hearing that, trying to picture Gabby and her boyfriend locked together in their erotic combat. I was also wondering silently what Gaby had meant by 'getting off' on wrestling. Hm-mmm, did that mean what I thought she meant, or was it only that she "really, really" enjoyed it.

"So, you only wrestle girls now, huh?" I asked.

For just a moment Gabby's eyes looked at me appraisingly, seeming to be mentally sizing me up. It was more like the look a powerful lioness gives to her intended prey while deciding whether to leap and attack or not. There was a strange questioning gleam in her eye, as if she wanted to say more. But then with a frown and a quick shake of her head she must have decided to not follow her line of thought any further, and switched her full attention back to the TV screen without answering my question. I hid my disappointment the best I could.

While Gabby was excitedly watching two young college men straining together in hard-locked holds, I on the other hand was seeing in my mind's-eye Gabby and the sleek sinewed young German wrestler entwined tightly together in the girl's gym a few weeks earlier. The longer the TV wrestling match lasted, the more excited and aroused Gabby and I became - each of us obviously for different reasons and each of us caught up in different yet quite similar fantasies. When the men's match was concluded, Gabby was so excited and turned-on that she crawled up into my lap, wrapped her long legs around my waist, threw her strong arms around my neck and dragged me down full-length on the couch in the most serious "make out" session I had ever had. We ended up having at it in the World Championship Tongue-Wrestling bout of all times, and she won! And (wait for the bad pun) there was more to cum.

Half an hour later we lay there on the couch straining together face-to-face, thighs and crotches V'eed together, hips grinding in delicious slow motion as we kissed passionately. It was impossible for us not to become erotically turned-on. But I had an added worry. There was simply no way that Gabby could not be aware of the tremendous erection that tented the front of my pants, especially since it was pressed firmly against the soft crinkliness of her pubic muff through her panties as we rolled and wrestled on the couch. But Gabby didn't let on that anything was 'out of place'.

However, just then her parents returned. When we heard the car driving up, both of us leaped up and began rearranging our now disheveled clothing. By the time her mother and father had come into the living room, we were sitting primly on the couch doing our homework and eating popcorn. They didn't seem to notice that we were both out of breath or how hot, red and sweaty our faces were from our frenetic couch 'wrassling'. In any case, I quickly took my leave a few minutes later when they were out of the room and couldn't see yet another mysterious wet spot on the front of my pants. But Gabby did, and shot me a slow mischievous grin. "Got'cha, didn't I?" she chortled as she gave my butt a quick slap. "I'll give you a rematch, if you're a good boy. I really enjoyed wringing you out," she giggled as she lifted a sleeve and flexed a glorious biceps at me. And 'wring me out' was exactly what the beautiful muscle-maiden had done. The big wet pant stain was proof of that.

That night it took me a long time to get to sleep. My mind was feverishly fantasizing being locked in a naked wrestle with Gabby; first on an exercise mat in a dark and deserted gym, then in my bedroom on my King-sized bed and finally within a quiet hidden grove of trees that shielded us from any unwanted spectators. Each fantasy segment was longer and more dramatic. It started as a silent Black & White movie but ended with the final scene in blazing technicolor with stereophonic sound. It was a long night!

The next day, right after school, I spotted Gabby in her usual baggy sweatsuit attire walking toward the girl's gym dressing room. I ran to catch up with her and we began talking about the previous evening's aborted sexually charged heavy necking session. Oddly enough, both of us had reached the very same conclusion, which was that the combination of watching the TV wrestling match at the same time that our straining, body-locked 'making out' was taking place on the couch was the most turned-on either of us had ever been. And like a pair of hungry children out of a Charles Dickens novel, both of us were silently pleading, "please, may I have another BIG helping of that?"

(Please note, for those of you too young to remember the terms, 'making out' according to Wikipedia is a term used beginning in the 1940s meaning prolonged erotic foreplay without intercourse. Also known as 'heavy petting'.)

It was only then that I admitted to Gabby my erotic reaction to watching her wrestle in the girl's gym that day. She, on the other hand, told me how sexually excited she had become while watching the two men straining together during the TV college match. To tell the truth, I was greatly relieved to hear that, since if we have both been turned-on in the opposite way, girls for her, men for me, it could have posed a HUGE problem. But we were apparently quite 'normal' after all. If, that is, getting erotically aroused while wrestling with a sweat-slippery muscular opponent, male or female as the case might be, was normal. We also talked about her disclosure that her ex-boyfriend was not enough competition for her and exactly what that meant.

"I need someone who can match my strength, but at the same time be able to lose gracefully and win as many matches as he lost." Gabby said.

"Oh, so it could be a guy after all?" I said quietly. "Maybe even someone like me?" There, I'd said it.

Once again I found her 'lioness' appraising me, and she wanted to know if I had ever wrestled all-out with a woman before. I admitted that I had not, but that I would really, really love to take her on. As we continued sharing our fantasies about erotic combat, we indulged in a bit of good-natured trash talk, similar to what we'd heard the pro-wrestlers do on TV. We both went into crouches, circling one another warily in the deserted school hallway, daring one another to lock holds in hushed tones. It was the wrong place at the wrong time, but that only added a thrill to it.

"I'd twist you up tighter than a pretzel," Gabby growled at me. "You would yield to my strength even as you cried out your submission to me," she said in the dramatic voice of some movie Amazon Queen. Sheena Of The Jungle came instantly to mind.

"No, I wouldn't. You'd be begging ME for mercy after I'd clamped my famous full-nelson on you," I replied in an ominous, theatrical whisper. "I'd have you yelling 'Uncle' before you could say 'Jumping Jehosophat,'" I continued. That last, I realized, was a bit over the top, but I was running out of descriptive words so 'Jehosophat' was the best I could do. Gabby blinked at that one, but came right back at me like the tigress she was.

"Oh yeah, I'll pin your ass and crush you into submission with my powerful thighs in a scissor-lock that would have you screaming your surrender," she glowered at me in fake fury.

"Says who," I countered. My bear hug will do the crushing, little girl. I'll make you cry 'I Give' in the first two minutes of our match."

She gave me that cocky grin filled with wicked promise. "Two minutes, huh? That's all you're good for, whimp? Me, I don't like fast falls. I'd rather we wrestled for long enough so that I could slap a whole series of submission holds on you. You are going to wish it was over in only two minutes!" she challenged.

It went on from there, each of us threatening the other with newly invented holds and grips that became increasingly erotic. She was much better at it than I was, mainly because she admitted that she had played on an online computer mixed-wrestling forum where the action was always textual and sexual at the same time. Something I had never heard of before, but decided then and there to follow up on that very day. But the longer we exchanged threats and described what we would do to one another if we wrestled, the more aroused we became.

For the next half hour, huddled together in the school hallway, we explored verbal play wrestling scenes. With every sentence the two of us were more and more getting 'off on it' as Gabby had once said. I'm convinced that had we been in a more secluded and private place, we would have ripped off our clothes and gone at each other right there and then.

Our conversation ended up with Gabby challenging me to a real wrestling match this time, to which I quickly agreed. Before we parted that day, having talked for hours about how we could both safely and conveniently satisfy our mutual fantasy desires, there was no longer a question of WOULD we wrestle, but WHEN, WHERE, exactly HOW it would take place and WHAT were the rules we would follow. As far as place was concerned, her living room and my upstairs bedroom with its huge King-sized bed were both quickly eliminated for obvious reasons. While my father would be at work, my mother was usually home and we had already almost been caught in the act by Gabby's parents. No, we agreed that we needed complete privacy. This time we wanted no interruptions, no spectators. Just the two of us stripped down for action in our very own private 'grove of trees'. But such places were in short supply in our little town.

Then, suddenly, I had it. The perfect private place where we could explore our mutual fantasies without fear of being discovered. Fortunately, my grandfather had a small farm right at the edge of town with an unused hay barn with a loft filled with a deep carpet of straw to serve as our wrestling mat. Since my grandmother had died the year before, Grandpaw seldom if ever visited the place, so it would be as totally private as we could hope for or needed. It would serve as our secret, hidden-away sexual sanctuary where we could indulge in our unusual wrestling fantasies to our heart's content.

The next afternoon, right after school, the two of us met at our secret spot which we had checked out earlier that day. What had not been discussed, however, was what we would or would not wear for our hayloft grappling. I had somehow assumed she would want to workout in her usual frumpy sweatsuit or at the very most in a two-piece swim suit. I'd brought along a pair of trunks for myself, just in vase. But she would have none of that. Gabriela had a MUCH better idea.

"Look, I need to feel flesh-on-flesh, muscle against muscle when I wrestle with someone. It's what makes it so sensuous and sexy," she said with a girlish giggle. "So let's strip down and really go at it," she said with a wicked grin.

"Do you mean wrestle NAKED?" I blurted out in amazement.

"No, idiot. We haven't known each other that long. I mean let's wrestle in our underwear. I assume you wear shorts, don't you?"

"Umm-mmm, I'm not sure that would be a good idea," I stammered, well aware of the slowly awakening lump of flesh down there in the already straining cotton pouch of my Jockey shorts.

"Oh that," she laughed, glancing down at the front of my blue jeans. "Don't worry about it, I'd better warn you that I, too, get really turned on in a hot and heavy wrestle. It's just that girls don't show their arousal like boys do," she murmured while pointing at my crotch. "So come on and strip!"

Without any further words being be exchanged, we quickly slipped out of our clothing and down to our skivvies. Me in my white Jockey shorts, she in a pair of brief black silk panties and an even briefer black bikini bra that tried its best to contain her melon-solid B-cup breasts. Mostly without success. Once again I was fascinated by the etched bands of muscularity across her flat abdomen and the solid bulge of biceps in her arms that I had spotted that first day in the gym. For several moments Gabby stretched ands flexed her amazing body, working the kinks out of those splendidly sculpted muscles of hers. All the while, her eyes were appraising my physique like an auctioneer judging a prized bull - although I must admit that I was far from being bull-like in body, unless one was referring to my over-sized cock. If anything, I was only a bit over average height. In fact, both Gabby and I were within an inch of the same height and I had no more than ten or fifteen pounds on her, if that. Her extreme muscle-to-fat ratio made her actual body weight more than a little deceptive.

Genetically, I was blessed with a pretty good physique; a deep chest with carved pecs, a flat belly that showed more than a hint of a six pack and a pair of sinewy runner's legs. My shoulders were not as broad as I would have liked, and my back not as powerfully muscled as I wished. But standing there in my Jockey shorts, I at least looked to be a good match for the young Amazon who faced me. Although in terms of well-defined muscularity, I definitely took second place to this beautiful girl who was to be my opponent. And there was no doubt in my mind that Gabby was the more dominant personality of the two of us. The question was, would she prove to be physically and sexually dominating as well? We would soon see.

Perversely, Gabby decided that we should first do a little warm-up tongue wrestling, a little 'before play'. And so I spread out a thick blanket that I'd brought along and we plopped down into the soft strewn hay and began some VERY heavy 'making out'. My slumbering cock came to life almost immediately as we rolled and tossed and kissed there on the straw. As I said, it had a mind of its own and it decided it liked the stimulation it was receiving that was close enough to copulation to get its attention.

Suprisingly, the close-hugging and smooching became SERIOUS wrestling in a blink of the eye. It began as a contest to see which of us would assume the top position as we rolled slowly back and forth in the hayloft. Gabby seemed determined to be the "Top", while I resisted being the "Bottom". which led to a spirited tussle that in turn morphed into a panting, growling, groaning wrestling match with few if any holds barred. It was a good thing that I'd thought to bring the blanket to serve as our 'mat', because a couple of times our struggles took us off the soft padding and on to the scratchy hay. Believe me, it felt very uncomfortable against our bare, over-heated bodies. But we didn't let up for even a moment.

It was no longer about a playful giggling romp in the hayloft, our mutual passion had taken us far beyond that stage. Instead, an ancient primal sexuality now coursed through our hot blood, arousing us to a fever pitch of eroticism as we both strained together on the thick comforter-mat. At the moment it was she who was on top, holding me pinned with hands locked around my wrists and her powerful thighs scissored around my uplifted hips. She leaned forward until the barely covered globes of her solid perfect breasts slid back and forth across my upturned face, not trying to smother me into submission as much as showing me who was the boss. Her sweat-filmed body pressed down upon mine as she wriggled on me like a big lizard, keeping me pinned with her sinuous weight. I managed to break one hand free from her clamping grip on a wrist and ran it up across her back, my fingers feeling the deep valleys of sinewy separation and the rolling writhing flexation of her magnificent muscularity as we struggled together. With her gasp of pleasure harmonizing with my soft groan of pain, we pulled our hot, wet bodies even more tightly together as we strove against one another. We found ourselves in deadlock. What to do now?

I believe that both Gabby and I felt it at the same time, that throbbing shaft of hard flesh that awoke and uncoiled itself against her flat belly. Without much conscious thought, Gabby scooted forward an inch or so until she was able to grab my swollen cock between her sleek-muscled thighs and clamp down. She crossed her ankles and squeezed her thighs shut around my now throbbing member in a kind of scissor lock, the soft but firm contractions acting just like a self-pleasuring hand firmly but gently 'milking' my delighted cock. The sensation was like nothing I had ever experienced before.

She held me locked within a soft-hard sweaty prison of muscular female flesh. squeezing me in a slow rhythmic beat as though she was pacing her movements to an unheard sensual melody. This bizarre 'hold' literally masturbating me into an explosive gasm of hot, gushing cum flooding my shorts. And THAT brought to an end our first fall. Fortunately, I'd brought along some paper towels to wipe away excess sweat, but now I put them to good use in cleaning myself off.

"Better just shed the shorts," Gabby chuckled, as she began slipping out of her own perspiration soaked panties and bra. "I think that I know you well enough now, so let's go all the way for the next fall. Let's wrestle naked!"

I grinned back at her. Somehow, it seemed the most natural suggestion in the world and I loved the 'gotten to know you well enough' flippant remark. So without the slightest bit of hesitation, I agreed.

A moment later we were both as nude-bodied as a pair of ancient Spartan athletes, back when girls and boys wrestled one another for exercise and sport naked and oiled. It was recorded by some long forgotten Greek historian that these mixed-matches usually ended in copulation there in the dust of the Spartan gymnasia. It was only then that I remembered that while I had enjoyed an explosive climax, Gabby had not. As I was already spent and semi-flacid, there was only one thing to do - and that was to treat my beautiful wrestling partner to her own orgasm. Hey, return about is fair play, or all's fair in love and war ... Something like that.

I took her by the hand and gently pulled her down onto the comforter on that thick mat of hay and rolled us over until Gabby was smothered beneath me, then I snuggled in between her thighs, my inert package pressed hard against her venus mound, both of my legs wrapped around one of her muscular thighs. Now well-anchored, I slowly began pumping my hips as I felt her wetness open up to me. The extreme gentleness contrasted sharply with our previous vigorous wrestling, and I could tell that Gabby was both surprised and delighted with the sensual change of pace. Our movements became languid, everything in slow motion. Our tongues explored softly and our lips nibbled. It was unbelievably dreamy and erotic.

It was at that very moment that I felt the first stirring of something against my cock. It was her clitoris. It emerged ever so slowly from its hiding place, a thick, stubby protuberance that felt for all the world like a very short, thick male penis. It came out to grapple with my cock as her shuddering orgasm built up within her. I had certainly heard of 'cock fights', but this was WAY WAY beyond that. It was, as the food ads proclaim, an "unbelievably delicious" feeling. Gabby's breath was gusting hot against my face as her superbly muscled arms gathered me to her in a rib-bending hug of passion. She suddenly spun around atop me, gathering my head within the clasp of her muscular thighs, It was a 69 position, one that had her hot sex pressed tightly against my nose and mouth. I mean what was a guy to do. My tongue slithered out to explore the moist cavern guarded by her thick labia lips and turgid clitoris. At the same moment I made my own move, lifting my own legs up to imprison her lowered head within their scissoring clasp of gentle pressure. Well, what was a girl to do in that kind of a situation, but reach down and gather my throbbing cock in her mouth. We were locked together in a bizarre series of holds, she had me, I had her.

She reached down with those muscular arm of hers and hugged me to her with easy strength in a bear hug. In retaliation I did the same to her. Head to foot we strained, while pleasuring one another with our lips, tongues and mouths. I nibbled away at her swollen clit, then slid my flattened tongue into the moist slit of her sex. Her own tongue was curled around my cock as she slowly sucked the shaft that was once again becoming rock-hard. While we were definitely locked as tightly together as when we were actually wrestling, there was a strange tenderness to our movements. We rocked ever so slowly back and forth for what seemed an eternity before Gabby reached up and pried apart my scissor-lock around her head, and I hers.

Gone now was all semblance of gentleness as Gabby suddenly climbed astride my upturned body in a body press and pinned my wrists behind my head. For a moment I thought that she was going to impale herself upon my rigid cock, but that was not her intent. There was no need for penetration. The slow, softly grinding friction of bare cock against moistened clit was more than enough to send Gabby over the top. Panting heavily and almost growling with pent up urgency, Gabriel let out a muffled scream of pure raw passion as she finally climaxed with a powerful explosion of female energy and flowing juices.

It took a much longer time than that description makes it sound, and the aftermath backwash of passion lasted far shorter. For each of us could hardly wait until we had locked holds again, wrestling for hours until we were too exhausted to continue our erotic combat another second. Later we got dressed and staggered home after agreeing to meet the next afternoon. It was no longer best two falls out of three. But by then it had become best six out of seven ... and counting.

And THAT was but the first of our sizzling wrestling sessions in the hayloft. Many more were to follow for the rest of the school year and all through the long, hot summer. Interspersed between bouts was our heavy 'making out', and sometimes even during the intensity of a long-lasting body smother hold. Tongue-wrestling was simply another hold at these moments. But there was no intercourse, no copulation as such. In fact, that was strictly forbidden by Gabby's Rules of Engagement #1. No penetration.

Gabriel was afraid that sexual intercourse, with or without 'protection', might result in an unexpected and undesired pregnancy and interrupt her journey towards becoming a physician. Which meant that we had to discover countless ways to bring one another to orgasm within the context of our frenzied grappling bouts. Just when we ran out of ideas, we found a book in the library on Tantric Yoga with photographs of entwined couples. To our eyes, they appeared to be wrestling even as they made love. We explored these "holds", page by page, and then started back at the beginning again adding our own inventive variations. At one point we even thought about writing a book and titling it "Sex Wrestling", but we figured that no one would ever agree to publish it. Besides, these were our secret moves and tricks never to be shared .... at least that was Gabby's promise at the time.

Then in the Fall Gabby left for college and so did I, but to different universities in different parts of the country. Sad to say, a couple of months later I received a short note from Gabriela saying that she had fallen in love with pre-med student at her school. I found myself wondering if it was before or after she had taught him to wrestle. And so that was that. I never saw Gabby again. It took some time, but I got over her ... although my midnight dreams kept rolling reruns of those erotic encounters with Gabby for even a longer time.

EPILOGE

Years later I spotted a book on Amazon.com titled "The Psychological Study Of Male vs Female Erotic Wrestling" written by some psychiatrist. The title blew my mind and after eagerly downloading it as a Kindle ebook discovered that most of the so-called wrestling holds being described were the very ones that Gabby and I clamped upon one another. So maybe she changed her mind or her doctor boyfriend wrassled the information out of her. Or then again, maybe she simply forgot about me and our special agreement all those years ago. Ah-hhhh, but I certainly hadn't forgotten. I still have my memories of those secret wrestles in the hayloft with the magnificently muscled Gabriela, right to this very day as you can tell.