Then he heard the sound of laughter through the wall, accompanied by more heavy thuds. Whatever was taking place next door, it was obviously something that was great fun and done in good humor. He found himself smiling, and wondering if a pair of newly-weds had checked into the next room. If so, they were certainly giving their King-sized bed a quality test for indestructibility. Then it got quiet.

John yielded to his voyeuristic urges and carefully put his ear against the wall, listening. What he heard was a lot of heavy breathing and mummers, moans and soft groans. Yep, it appeared that he'd been correct. With a knowing smile, he went back to his own King-sized bed, propped the pillows behind him, and began watching TV again.

John put the remote on the bed stand and scootched down into the pillows, settling down to watch the Big Show Spectacular that TV wrestling had become.

He liked Chyna. Those sexy muscles of hers turned him on. He found his cock, nudging it to attention. Didn't take much encouragement, and in a second or two John was rock hard.

As he watched, the match began with the man and woman coming together with a meaty thud of firm flesh. They harnessed each other's necks with their arms, twisting and lurching, each trying to off-balance the other. John fully expected to see an early foul, with one wrestler suddenly kicking or punching the other. But it didn't happen. The Black Amazon and the wrestler called "The King" were actually testing one another's strength there in the center of the ring. And it was VERY exciting to watch.

John had always been aroused by muscular women, ever since he was a young teenager. And he absolutely LOVED to wrestle strong, athletic females. It was a relatively difficult predilection to have . . . as predilections go. He would have had an easier time of it if he just got off on whips and chains, straight S & M, or even a bit of kinky Dominance and Submission. But no, his erotic need was focused upon well-buffed females who could wrestle with him to a submission.

Now according to estimates by the Kinsey Institute and other Social/Sexual research groups, from 5 percent and 10 percent of the adult American population regularly engages in some form of D & S. Thus, dominance and submission is being practiced (and enjoyed) by between five and ten people out of every hundred. Hey, that's a whole lot of people who are domination fetishists. And John's sexual "thing" was probably shared by no more than one out of ten thousand of these people. But right now, as John watched the two half naked wrestlers - one male, the other female - grapple themselves into an entwined and enwrapped ball of sweat-slippery muscular flesh, his mind wasn't on statistics or who shared his sexual predilection . . . it was focused on the incredibly erotic action taking place up on the hotel room TV screen between the statuesque Chyna and the "King of the Mat".

Surprisingly, they were a pretty good match-up. Chyna was a big woman, at least five-ten and one-eighty. And it was a hundred eighty pounds of hard-packed muscularity. "The King" stood nose-to-nose with the Chyna in terms of height, but he was a little heavier, his muscles quite a bit thicker. But as they grappled, it was nearly impossible to tell which was the stronger of the two. Neither was giving an inch as they strove together chest to breast.

THUMP! BUMP! . . . there it was again, the mysterious sounds coming from the next room. The strange noise filtering through the hotel room wall came in juxtaposition with the action on the TV screen, which made it seems as if it was serving as a soundtrack to the wrestling match John was watching. His imagination kicked in, and his cock grew harder.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, the TV match was over. Somehow, the two combatants had rolled out of the ring and onto the floor. Chyna had grabbed a metal chair and bashed "The King" over his blonde head. Where upon she'd picked him up across her broad shoulders, dumped him back into the ring, climbed back in, and fallen across his shoulders to pin "The King" for a count of three. Chyna had won! The crowd and the announcer went wild.

Only John seemed deflated by the sudden ending.

The problem was that between the distraction of the noises next door and the fact that the match had ended so quickly, John had not had a chance to relieve his sexual tension . . . which was a polite way of saying that he hadn't gotten his rocks off yet.

It was just about then that he heard the sound of the hotel door next door being opened, and John heard the quick lilt of laughter. Without thinking, he jumped up from the bed and trotted over to the door. For some perverse reason, he wanted to see what his next door "newly-wed" neighbors looked like. He leaned down a bit and peeked through the little security hole. It had the usual fish-eye lens that let you see up and down the hallway. In this case, he was able to see two figures standing there, a man and a woman. He strained to get a better image of the woman, and his eyes almost fell out of his head!

The woman who stood there in the hallway was almost an exact image of Chyna, the female wrestler he had been watching. Tall, dark and possessed of a dramatic beauty, the woman also seemed to be every bit as muscular as Chyna.

"Thanks for coming, and no pun intended," he heard the woman say with a low, musical laugh. "I enjoyed the match very much, and you were really quite good. I'll be in town for another two days, so if you'd like to have another sesson just give me a jingle, OK?"

The man gave her a quick peck on the cheek, turned, and strolled down the hall toward the elevators.

Wait a minute here, thought John with a puzzled frown. What was going on? This was obviously not a couple of newly-weds after all. So what in the world had the two of them been doing to cause so much of a rumpus in there?

Then John suddenly remembered what the woman had said . . . "I enjoyed the match very much". Ah-hhhhh, now he knew what was going on. And that knowledge strangely excited him, suddenly re-aroused him. The strange noises that he had been hearing was the sound of . . . . wrestling!

John had quickly realized that the woman still standing out there in the hallway was a wrestle-for-hire "athlete", a bodybuilder who toured the country setting up appointments to wrestle with the "schmoes" that could afford the three to five hundred dollars per session. John knew that a lot of these "Wrestle Queens" didn't mind going all the way. And THAT really excited him.

Still peeking through the security hole, John pulled the hotel's terry-cloth bathrobe around his body and quietly unlocked his door. Then he eased open the door and looked outside. And there she was, standing in her own doorway, looking directly at him with a big grin on her lushly curved lips.

"Sorry about all the racket," she murmured in a husky contralto. "We were, well you know, we were sort of roughhousing."

John hardly heard a word she said. He was too busy taking in the vision of athletic beauty standing there in nothing more than a skimpy silk robe that barely concealed her melon-solid breasts. The material was tight across her wide shoulders, and clung to her arms in a way that evidenced the sculpted deltoids and biceps that lay there in hiding.

"My God", John said in a startled voice. "You look just like Chyna!"

The woman's eyebrows arched upward. "Oh, you follow wrestling, do you?" she asked.

"Yeah, I was just watching Chyna take apart a male wrestler on TV. It's the first time I've ever seen a woman beat a male."

Again, one of the woman's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Do you mean that you've never been outwrestled by a woman?" she asked.

"No, not really," John stammered.

The woman let her green eyes slowly wander up and down John's robe-clad body, a quick smile attesting to her approval of what she was seeing. He appeared to be around 5'9", 175 lbs, fairly decent muscle-tone . . . she realized that they were close to the same size. And there was no doubt at all in the woman's mind but that he was a female-muscle-lover. It was hard not to notice that his eyes kept flicking to her arms, when they weren't staring at her thrusting breasts.

"So-oooo, would you like to be?" she asked in a low, sultry voice.

"Like to be what?" John stammered, knowing full-well what she was talking about.

"Like to be out-wrestled by a woman", she replied with an inviting smile.

John was so flustered that he momentarily forgot to hold the front of his terry-cloth robe closed. As it suddenly gapped open, the woman's green eyes slid down to his exposed crotch.

"Hm-mmmm, I guess THAT answers my question", she laughed as she stared at John's rock-hard and erect member. For some reason, completely beside the fact that he was well-hung and good-looking, the woman was attracted to him.

"Look", she continued, "I've got an open couple of hours before my next appointment, so would you like to go a couple of falls with me? I'll even give you a special rate. How's $150.00 sound?"

It took less than a fraction of a second for John to make up his mind. It was something he'd been daydreaming about for years . . . having a private bout with a professional "Wrestle Queen".

"Sure, why not," he replied". "Your place or mine," he inquired with a smile as he gathered the robe more tightly around him.

"Mine," the dark-haired beauty laughed. "I've already got a mat down and all the furniture pulled back out of the way." She liked his sense of humor, and his apparent lack of uptightness. This was going to be fun, she thought to herself.

A few minutes later the two were facing one another, standing barefooted on a portable wrestling mat. She was wearing nothing but a black thong which only barely covered her crotch, bare to the waist. He had shrugged out of his robe and stood there in nothing but his white briefs. Each appraised the other's physique, trying to determine where the opponent's strength might be concentrated. It was obvious that despite the woman's sculptured and rippling muscularity, John probably had the edge in upper-body strength. It was equally apparent that the woman's powerful thighs and strongly rounded calves were her most formidable weapons.

There was no talk now, since they had already agreed upon the rules of their match . . . just straight submission wrestling. A fall would be over the instant one or the other tapped out. This was not about hurting one another, it was all about tight-locked grappling that would maximize body contact.

They decided to start on their knees. John looked across the thick mat at her. She looked back . . . with flashing, challenging eyes.

And so they began to wrestle!

They moved toward one another on hands and knees, circling like a pair of cats, their hands flicking out tentatively for a hold only to be batted away before a grip could be applied. Then, with a speed that took John by surprise, she caught him in a crushing head-lock, his neck locked tightly between a hard bicep and a thickly muscled forearm. She bull-dogged him down to the mat and they fell with a resounding THUMP onto the mat. Despite the fact that John was captured in instant agony, he couldn't help but smile at the sound of the loud noise of their bodies crashing down to the thick mat. That, after all, was what had started this whole erotic adventure.

Once down on the mat, she wasted no time in securing a scissors-lock around John's waist to go with her headlock. They lay there, face-to-face, with the smooth-sinewed female on the bottom with her thighs wrapped around John's waist. Her superb breasts were mashed against his muscular chest, her lower body entwined and heaving against his like a midnight lover. His hot cheek was pressed against the heavy curve of one of her broad shoulders, pressed so tightly that he could feel the ripple and roll of sleek deltoid musculature as she tightened her head-lock. She was already beginning to perspire from the effort of holding him captive, and the pungently salty aroma of her soft flesh was turning John on.

He tried to move within her dual embrace, taking advantage of the slickness of that sweat-filmed flesh. His frantic movements were rewarded with her losing that vicious head-lock. John quickly tucked his chin into the cleft of her throat and shoulder, while wrapping both arms around her in a front bear-hug. She still maintained her scissors-lock around his waist, and added her own bear-hug to the mix of holds. Then, with identical soft grunts of effort, they both began to squeeze!

John almost passed out from the excitement of it all. Being held so tightly by this magnificent young Amazon, feeling the full-length of her straining sweat-slippery muscular body against his, experiencing the full force of her female strength as they struggled in tight-locked erotic combat . . . it was almost more than he could endure.

Never in his whole life had he experienced such an electrifying sensation, one that took him to levels of sexual stimulation beyond anything he had ever thought possible in his wildest dreams. There was a pulsing, sexual energy spiraling up and down his spine, but strangely enough John didn't feel the need to cum just yet. For the first time in his life, John wanted nothing more than to put off an orgasm, wanted desperately to prolong the sensations that were rippling up and down his body.

Despite the fact that John had wrestled with a lot of women over the years, he had NEVER experienced what he was feeling at that moment. It was as if all of his fantasies had converged into this one single moment, and it was all he could do to keep from crying out in sheer joy.

And still they wrestled!

John lost all sense of time and place. There was nothing but their two half-nude bodies straining together, their muscles flexed to the utmost, their strength being poured into their erotic combat without thought or reason. They lay locked together on the sweat-soaked mat, eyes wide and staring, completely lost in their own personal fantasies, using one another's bodies for their own individual sexual pleasure . . . each allowing the other to enjoy the moment on their own terms.

The room was filled with the sound of soft grunts, quick hissing, prolonged moans that lay somewhere on the sharp edge between pleasure and pain. The THUMP and BUMP of their rolling, thrashing, straining bodies back and forth across the mat merged with the sound of their harsh breathing to become a soundtrack for the drama of their efforts.

Surprisingly, John found himself wondering if someone on the other side of the wall, in the other adjoining hotel room was listening to that inexplicable noise . . . . just as he had. But then his mind was jerked back to the reality of his situation, as she rolled him over onto his back and gained a dominant position. Still holding him imprisoned between her gripping thighs, she put her hands flat on the mat and raised her upper body aloft

She looked down at his sweat-streaked face, and gave him a long appraising look. Without a word, she balanced her weight on one arm, then reached down and found his still-stiff cock with her other hand.

The half-naked Rent-A-Wrestle Girl smiled as she discovered that John was already wearing a condum. She liked his thoughfulness . . . and his confidence that their wrestling match would come to this kind of closure."

They lay there on the sweat-soaked wrestling mat, slowly pumping their hips back and forth, up and down. It was a rhythm as old as Man and Woman, that erotic dance of copulation. Like lovers from the beginning of recorded time, they lay locked in a sweat-slippery clasp of entwined limbs as each approached the climax of their grappling union. They fought with all their strength to take and be taken at the very same instant.

Suddenly and without warning, the woman rolled across the mat, taking John with her. They ended up with her locked atop him, her long legs still scissored around his hips. She reached down and wrapped both arms around him, clasping her hands behind his back. As her sleekly muscled hips continued to pump up and down, she began to squeeze him within her muscular arms . . . harder and harder, tighter and tighter.

Then, with a sudden cry of exultation, the magnificent young Amazon wrestled from him his seed of life as John shot his load of boiling hot semen into the spasming cavern of her sex, screaming out his own shout of victory. They lay locked together in an explosive mutual orgasm. Both had won. both had submitted to the other at the same instant. Their sweat-slippery erotic wrestle had culminated in a . . . draw.

Afterward, in the soft backwash of their spent passion, they lay together on the wrestling mat, still locked in one another's arms, their legs entwined as their breath returned to normal. Not a word had been spoken . . . none needed to be. And it was at that precise moment that they heard the sound of knocking on the hotel room door.

"Oh crap," exclaimed the nude Amazon, as she rolled over and reached for her robe. "I forgot about my next appointment . . .that must be her."

"HER?" . . . had she really said "her"? Oh my God, thought John, this magnificently muscled young Amazon was going to wrestle another woman. He absolutely had to see that, although he wasn't sure how he'd pull it off.