MY REMATCH WITH REMI




I don't know if it was the frustration or the repeated head scissors, 
but my face was beet red. Remi had dominated me, forcing out submission 
after submission after submission and all the time acting nonchalant, as 
if this was easy for her. And looking back I guess it was. She had just 
forced me to tap out by using a standing head scissors where she pulled 
me off the floor by the hair and yanked my neck between her calves. I 
signaled my submission immediately but she gave me a quick dose of her 
power before letting me free, my face bouncing off the carpet. 

Remi wasn't keeping score but I was. It was now 6-0. Couple this with 
the 12-0 demolition she laid on me four months prior and I had lost 18 
straight falls to her. And damn it I was trying! The first time I saw 
that body close up in a wrestling suit, I knew I had no chance. Those 
powerful, teardrop quads, those hamstrings, those shoulders and arms 
signaled she was way too strong. And since she does this fairly often, 
she had the technique advantage on me as well. I fully expected to lose. 
But I wanted to be competitive. No BS, Remi is one of the most 
attractive women I've ever seen -- she's not just a hot bod, she's got a 
beautiful face and soft features. I was really attracted to her. So I 
didn't want her to think I was a total pussy. 

And I was doing a fairly good job. I had lost every fall, but had had 
her in trouble a few times. But as we sat there resting, she said 
something that really hurt my pride. 

"How long have you been weightlifting," I asked. 

"About 7 years but before that, years ago in high school I lifted some 
as a part of highschool athletcs," Remi said. 

"So before you started weightlifting  and wrestling, I probably could 
have beaten you, right?" 

She smiled that gorgeous smile and tried to let me down easily. "No, 
actually I would have been able to beat you back then too." 

Now Remi's pretty young, so when you start going back much more than 10 
years, you're talking teens. I might not be the best wrestler out there, 
but I certainly could have beaten a high school girl for crying out 
loud. 

"I doubt it," she said. "I ran track in high school. I used to race the 
boys in the 440. If I was 16, maybe 15 right now I could outwrestle you. 
I wouldn't have the technique, but I hate to lose and I would wear you 
down, and once I had you down I would let up. I'd get you in a scissors 
and make you submit." 

Ouch. A direct hit right to my ego. That got me fired up -- I wanted to 
prove to Remi that I wasn't a pushover. We resumed our match and with 
the little burst of adrenaline I had going, I was able to wrap my thighs 
around Remi's midsection. I squeezed with everything I had and I could 
tell she was hurting. I crossed my ankles and squeezed harder, squeezing 
with the boiled over frustration of 18 consecutive losses, squeezing 
with the determination to impress this goddess with my leg strength, 
squeezing away any doubt (in my mind) that a 15 year old Remi could have 
whipped me. 

But Remi wouldn't submit. She stayed calm, reserving her energy. That 
was pretty intelligent. When she would trap me in a scissors, I would 
thrash about, flailing my arms and legs in the hopes of breaking free. 
Remi waited for me to tire -- which I did -- and she pulled herself to 
her knees. I knew if she got to her feet she would break the hold. So I 
squeezed harder still. But she got up anyway. It must have looked funny: 
Me on my back, my legs still around her midsection. Remi standing erect, 
that body flaunted in a thong one-piece. Her beauty was mesmerizing. If 
you've never seen Remi in person, you can't appreciate how stunning she 
is. That dark brown hair, that sweet smile, that golden skin, those 
feminine curves and granite-like muscles. If this were a truly civilized 
society, she'd be Queen. 

Remi's eyes caught mine. She could tell my grip was weakening. So, in a 
move completely unexpected, she used her arms to secure my scissors and 
started walking towards me. I could see her biceps and deltoids flexing. 
With each step she took, my body rolled up and all of a sudden, the only 
thing touching the ground was my shoulders. I was screwed. I tried to 
release my scissors and escape, but she was too smart for me. Remi had 
taken my weapon and pointed it back at me. 

"Give up," she said, "or I'll break your neck." She was kidding, of 
course, but her point was well taken. I tapped out. "Not good enough," 
she said, smiling from ear to ear. "Say Remi rules." She took another 
step and I could feel the pressure mount on the back of my neck. 

"OK, OK, Remi rules, Remi rules," I said. "Please let me go.""Say Remi's 
the best, Remi's the strongest." She was giggling now. 

"YES YES!! Remi's the best, Remi the strongest. Remi kicked my ass. 
Anything you want. Just let me go." 

She did and my body flopped on the floor. I was exhausted. No more 
wrestling for me. Remi finished our session with some posing and muscle 
worship. This may be the best way to appreciate her body. She changed 
outfits several times. The best was a black leather get-up that she 
accentuated with stiletto heels and a matching hat black hat. Wow. It 
was the type of image you wanted to freeze forever. 

After that, Remi and I talked. Either she's a great actress or she's a 
sweet, engaging lady. I know it's hard to look beyond her beauty, but if 
you ever get there, you'll find she's just as fascinating on the inside 
as on the outside.