MACHO MAN

     I had known Don for several months before the subject of the
Amazon, Julie, came up.  A slightly built man of about my age, a
good four inches shorter than my own 5'8" and at least 40 pounds
lighter than my 180 lbs., he had transferred into the department
in which I worked, and we had struck up an immediate friendship,
having lunch together almost daily.  I knew he was married with
no children, but had never been to his home or met his wife until
one day he came into the office limping and wincing with almost
every move.
     "What happened to you?" I asked.
     "Tell you at lunch," he muttered and walked down the aisle
to his work station.
     We had lunch, as we did every day, in the Company cafeteria,
and, since our department's lunch hour started a half hour
earlier than most others, had a table to ourselves.  I renewed my
question.  "You're walking around like you got hit by a truck," I
told him.
     "Oh, it's nothing," he replied.  "Sharon and I were horsing
around downstairs in her basement gym last night, having a little
fun, and I landed wrong, that's all.  Twisted my right leg and
shoulder.  It'll be all right in a couple of days."
     I did a double take.  "Sharon?  Your wife?  Wait a minute! 
Are you telling me your WIFE did this to you?"
     He gave me a strange look, and then smiled ruefully. 
"That's right.  You've never met Sharon, have you?  It was an
accident, and she felt terrible about it.  But, when you like to
horse around like we do, those things happen sometimes."
     "What the hell were you doing?"
     "Just a friendly, little wrestling match.  She had me up
over her head and was giving me an airplane spin when she lost
control and I fell."  He shook his head.  "I guess I landed
pretty hard on my shoulder with my leg twisted under me.  It hurt
like the devil!  Still does, but it's better today."
     I gaped at him.  "She LIFTED you?!?  OVER HER HEAD?!?" I
exclaimed.
     He flushed and nodded.  "Yeah.  I only weigh about 140
lbs.," he replied.
     I started to laugh, and then immediately apologized.  "I
don't mean to make fun of you, Don," I said.  "It's just that
I've never known a guy who'd let his wife beat up on him."
     He grimaced.  "I don't LET her do anything, Mike," he told
me.  His voice was starting to sound a little defensive.  "She's
bigger and a lot stronger than I am.  That's nothing to be
ashamed of.  She's been working out with weights since she was in
her teens, and she's stronger than most men."
     I was tempted to ask the obvious question, but, realizing I
was in sensitive territory, thought better of it.  "Okay," I
said.  "Sorry.  I didn't mean to pry."
     "That's okay."  He hesitated.  "I know what you're think-
ing," he added finally.  "What's a guy like me doing married to a
girl who's bigger and stronger than he is; who wears the pants in
our family; all that kind of stuff.  I've heard it all before. 
The fact is, we love each other very much and have just about a
perfect relationship.  She's never deliberately hurt me, and we
both love to horse around together, even though she always winds
up on top."  He spread his hands, wincing a little at the effort. 
"Let's face it, it's a great form of foreplay.  Although, I have
to admit, it didn't work out too well last night..."
     "Hey, Don," I said, putting up both hands in a defensive
gesture, "I didn't say a word.  Whatever turns you on is okay by
me--none of my business, anyway."  After a moment of silence, I
couldn't resist adding, "I have to tell you, though, I can't see
any woman doing anything like that to me."
     "She could.  And several of her friends could, too."
     I started to laugh.  "Now, wait a minute.  I outweigh you by
at least forty pounds, and I was state wrestling champion in high
school, wrestled and did a little semi-pro boxing in college to
help pay the bills.  Admittedly, I'm not in the same shape I was
back then, and, with all the emphasis today on women's sports,
I'm not saying that there isn't some female behemoth out there
who might be able to take me.  But any woman even close to my
size?  Not a chance.  Women just can't develop the upper body
strength necessary to compete pound for pound with a reasonably
athletic man.  They don't have the genetics for it."
     Don shrugged.  "I know that's the conventional wisdom," he
replied, "but we think it's being disproved, little by little. 
We think the fact that most women have smaller upper bodies and
weaker upper body musculature is as much a result of heredity and
environment as genetics, and that as more and more women develop
themselves physically, the genetics will change, although proba-
bly not in our lifetime."
     "Thank God for that.  The last thing I want to see is a
world of big, hairy, musclebound, female Arnolds!  I like my
women feminine."
     He pursed his lips, looking at me evenly.  "Sharon's as
feminine as you can get," he said, and, as I started to protest
that I hadn't been suggesting otherwise, cut me off.  "So are
most of her friends," he continued.  "Even her friend, Julie,
who's 6'3" and goes around 210 lbs. of solid muscle, is as lovely
and feminine a girl as you'd ever want to meet.  Yet she's
probably 2-3 times as strong as most men, and I suspect could do
just about anything she wanted to with you physically.  She
certainly can with me!
     "Look, huge muscles don't necessarily mean strength.  Most
of these bodybuilders are not anywhere near as strong as they
look.  It's not just the size of the muscle, but the number and
density of the muscle fibers that determine strength, and that's
determined more by heredity and environment than genetics.  After
all, it's generally recognized that women's lower body strength
can be equal or superior to men's.  Why not their upper bodies,
too?"
     I laughed.  "Well, I'm not in a position to dispute your
logic--I'll leave that to the scientific community!  But when you
tell me your wife's girl friend is strong enough to do anything
she wants with me...well, you'd have to prove that!"
     He grinned.  "Want to meet Julie?"
     I laughed again.  "Thanks, but I'll pass.  Nothing against
your wife or her girl friend, you understand.  I'm just old
fashioned enough to think that men should be the stronger sex...
you know, protect 'em and open doors for them, that kind of
stuff, and I think that any man who'd get into a fight with a
woman or hit a woman is beneath contempt.  No offense intended. 
It's just the way I think."
     "You don't know what you're missing," he told me.  "Julie is
absolutely gorgeous and a marvelous person, and, like you, she's
single and not seeing anyone seriously right now.  Moreover,
you've said you sort of prefer tall women, and she definitely
prefers shorter men.  Who knows?  You two might hit it off--no
pun intended!"
     "I'll bet she prefers shorter men!" I grinned.  "The kind
she can toss around!  And 6'3" is just a bit out of my league. 
Thanks, but no thanks!"
     "Pity.  Sharon's only 5'10" and only weighs 160, but we have
an understanding.  I don't fool around with other women, and she
doesn't wrestle other men, even good friends like you.  Wrestling
men is too much of a turn on for her, so we confine it to each
other where we can both get turned on."
     That ended the discussion, and we finished our lunch and
went back to the office.  The next day, however, the subject came
up again at the lunch table.  He handed me a photograph, a
closeup of two of the most beautiful women I had ever seen, a
young blonde with long hair covering her shoulders and, behind
her and slightly to one side, an equally youthful brunette with a
short, but beautifully coiffured, hairdo who was several inches
taller.
     "The taller one is Julie," he said.  "That's Sharon on the
left.  I told her last night about our conversation, and she
suggested I show you this, just so you could see what you're
missing."
     I whistled.  "Wow!  You're right!  I've never seen two
lovelier women, and your friend, Julie, is a knockout--again, no
pun intended!"
     "Sharon called her last night to tell her about you, and
after I described you--I was very complementary, by the way--she
said she'd really love to meet you, but she could understand why
you might be afraid to meet her.  A lot of guys are, when they
find out how big and  strong she is."
     "Now, wait a minute," I protested, "I never said I was
afraid!  Quite the contrary.  I just don't believe in fighting
with women."
     "Well, you wouldn't really be fighting with her, just sort
of horsing around, like Sharon and I do.  Julie said she'd be
careful not to hurt you, and she didn't think you'd be capable of
hurting her."
     "Sounds pretty overconfident to me."
     "Maybe, but I've seen her handle a number of guys, some of
'em a lot bigger than you.  I don't think there's a guy anywhere
close to her size that she couldn't handle with one hand tied
behind her back."
     I had to admit I was intrigued at the prospect of a little,
friendly, physical contact with the gorgeous creature in the
photograph.  "So what do you mean by 'just horsing around'?  Just
what does this Amazon friend of yours have in mind?"
     "Well, what she told Sharon was that she'd bet you a dinner
for all of us that you wouldn't be able to do anything against
her, and that she could do anything she wanted with you."
     I frowned.  "Sounds pretty vague to me."
     He grinned.  "That's because, at least in the beginning,
she'd let you pick the kind of contest and your objective, and
then she'd pick her objective.  For example, if you chose arm
wrestling, you wouldn't have to beat her, just keep her from
beating you for any reasonable period of time, say, five sec-
onds."
     "FIVE SECONDS?!?"  I pushed back my chair and stared at him. 
"Where'd you say this gal was from?  Krypton?"
     He laughed.  "Well, I've never seen her leap tall buildings
with a single bound!  But I have seen her make this kind of bet
with other guys, and several of 'em were bodybuilder types who
were taller and heavier than she was, and all muscle.  And I've
never seen her lose."
     That statement really got my attention.  "You know," I said,
"I find this whole thing just a little hard to believe.  You're
telling me that this girl can take on any guy, no matter how big
or strong, let him pick any kind of contest he wants and set any
halfway reasonable rules he wants and then beat him at it?  And
all without hurting him?  You have to admit, that's off the wall! 
I can't believe that any woman--or, for that matter, any guy her
size--can be that good."
     "Julie is.  As I said, I've seen her in action.  She is, to
say the least, unbelievable!"
     I thought a moment.  "Ok," I said finally, "I'll agree that
you've got me interested.  But I thought I heard you say those
rules only apply in the beginning.  What happens after that?"
     He chuckled.  "Good question.  You're the first guy who's
picked up on that.  That's the second half of the bet.  The first
part is that you won't be able to do anything against her, and
the second is that she can do anything she wants with you.  After
you've tried everything you can think of and failed, then it'll
be her turn.  She'll tell you what she's going to do to you, and
then she'll do it."
     My stomach started to get queasy.  "Like what, for in-
stance?"
     "Nothing that will hurt you--well, at least not physically. 
For example, this one bodybuilder type--he was 6'3" and had to go
225 at least--she picked him up and carried him around several
different ways: up over her head, over her shoulder, tucked under
one arm, and cradled in her arms.  He was absolutely helpless to
stop her.  Then she laid him on his back and pinned his shoulders
to the ground with just her legs, no hands, and started teasing
him and playing with him.  She'd bet him she could get him all
hot for her, and she did, had him eating out of her hand in just
a few minutes.  Problem was, she wasn't interested in him--big,
muscular guys don't turn her on--and once she'd turned him on,
she couldn't turn him off.  She really felt badly for the guy, so
she sent him on his way and released him from his bet."  Don
chuckled, adding, "We found out later the guy couldn't have
delivered anyway; he didn't have any money.  Julie told us if
she'd known that she'd have turned him over her knee and spanked
him!  She doesn't like welshers!"
     I was looking at him in disbelief.  "You know, Don," I told
him, "you've gotta be making this up!  Nobody, man or woman, her
size could do that to a 225 lb. man who was in halfway decent
shape!"
     He shrugged.  "Believe what you want.  All I can say is, I
saw her do it.  Of course," he added with a wink, "in your case,
she might be tempted to go all the way.  I think you could really
turn her on!"
     "Are you saying she could RAPE me?" I asked incredulously.
     "No, it wouldn't really be rape.  But I do think she could
turn you on to the point where you couldn't stop her from going
all the way with you, even if you wanted to.  And somehow,
despite all these macho posturings of yours, I don't think you'd
want to!"
     That did it, except for one more question.  "What happens if
at any point in this process I'm successful--that I'm able to
achieve my objective or keep her from achieving hers?"
     "Contest ends right there and Julie treats all of us to
dinner that night, at the restaurant of your choice.  And, in
case you're wondering, she can afford it.  She's a computer
programmer and designer for one of the top software companies
here in the valley.  Designs and programs games, primarily.  She
makes a bundle!"
     "In that case," I said, "tell your Amazon friend she's on! 
And tell her to bring her credit cards.  She'll need 'em!"
     Don chuckled.  "Just be sure you bring yours," he said.
     The next day he told me the contest was set for 1:00 p.m.
the following Saturday at his home, which was secluded in a
wooded area at the end of a long, private road.  "Sharon and I
like our privacy," he told me, "particularly when Sharon's
tossing me around in the back yard.  Just park in front and come
around to the back.  Bring swimming trunks, in case we decide to
swim later, before dinner.  We'll be by the pool."
     The address he'd given me was a good hour's drive from my
apartment building, and I therefore arrived a few minutes early,
wearing a light, loose fitting sport shirt outside a pair of
shorts and tennis shoes, with my swim and dress clothes hanging
in the back of the car.  The house, a small, stone ranch that
looked expensive, even for California, was set on a large,
beautifully manicured lot surrounded by thick growths of large
trees.  I parked in the circular drive next to a Mercedes 300SL
and walked around the side of the house to find Don and his
blonde wife, whom I recognized from the photo he had showed me
and who seemed even lovelier than she had appeared in that photo,
lounging by a large, oval swimming pool.
     As I approached, I greeted both of them, apologized for
being early, and complemented them on their home.  They both
stood up, and for the first time I got a disconcertingly good
look at Sharon.  As Don had told me, she was a couple of inches
taller than I in her bare feet, dwarfing her husband, with broad
shoulders, clearly defined and powerfully muscled arms and legs,
and a figure that was solidly muscular, yet shapely and enticing-
ly feminine.  She took my hand in a firm, but gentle, grip that
somehow gave me the impression she could have crushed it if she
had chosen to do so.
     "It's nice to finally meet you, Mike," she said in a soft,
subtly seductive voice.  "Don's told me so much about you,
although I must confess I expected someone a lot more macho than
you appear to be."
     I laughed.  "I certainly hope I don't come across that way,"
I replied.  "I've never thought of myself as the macho type,
although I've always been pretty athletic."
     "Yes.  Wrestling and boxing, according to Don.  Just the
kind of man Julie likes."
     I looked around.  "Speaking of your friend, has she arrived
yet?"
     "She's in the house changing." Sharon relaxed onto the
lounge.  "She'll be out in a moment.  Incidentally, I do hope you
brought changes of clothes, for dinner tonight and in case we
want to swim later."
     "Yes.  I wasn't sure what to do with them, so I left them in
the car."
     She motioned to her husband.  "Don, be a dear and go get
Mike's clothes.  You can hang them in the hall closet."  Her tone
made it clear she was giving him an order, and, after I assured
him my car was unlocked, he hastened to comply, disappearing
around the side of the house.  Sharon watched him go with a hint
of amusement in her eyes and then turned her attention back to
me.  "You know, Mike," she murmured,  "for a man who claims not
to be the macho type, according to Don you still seem to harbor
that outdated notion that women are the weaker sex, from a
physical standpoint at least."
     I smiled at her and decided to choose my words carefully to
avoid offending her.  "Well, I think today on average they are. 
On the other hand, there's no question that as a general rule
women have made tremendous strides physically and athletically,
and that the gap is significantly smaller today than it was, say,
twenty years ago.  And it's certainly not inconceivable that some
women who have chosen to develop themselves to their full poten-
tial could be physically superior to many men of comparable
size."
     She pursed her lips, regarding me with that same look of
amusement that had followed her husband as he had hurried to obey
her.  "But you don't think Julie is physically superior to you?"
she asked.
     I shrugged.  "I really don't know.  Under normal circum-
stances I would tend to doubt it, but from what Don has told
me...  Anyway, as I recall, the bet was that she could do any-
thing she wanted to with me, and that I would not be able to do
anything against her.  I don't have to defeat her.  All I have to
do is stop her from doing just one thing she tries to do against
me, and I win."
     "You really think you have a chance of winning?"
     The voice, coming from above and behind me, was rich,
feminine, with an almost bell-like quality.  I turned to stare up
at the beautiful brunette of the photograph, now towering larger
than life over half a head above me.  She was standing so close
we were almost touching, and, involuntarily, I fell back a step
to get a better look.  Her presence was overwhelming! Without
thinking, my mind raced through a catalogue of visual impressions
of this magnificent woman: broad, powerful shoulders, seemingly
almost wide enough for me to sit on; massively, yet smoothly,
muscled arms ending in large, shapely, perfectly manicured hands;
a wide "V" of a chest, with small, firm breasts barely covered by
a white halter, tapering sharply to a slim waist that was a wash-
board of rippling muscularity; narrow, slightly flared hips under
brief shorts that revealed long, unbelievably massive and muscular 
thighs and calves.  All in all, a miraculous combination of
physical power and sensuous femininity that left my mouth dry and
my mind fumbling for the right words like a trembling schoolboy.
     Fortunately, Sharon came to my rescue.  "Julie, this is
Mike.  I don't think he's going to be much competition for you,
but, from the look of him, he might make it interesting."
     Julie flashed me a dazzling smile, took my hand in a firm,
gentle grip and then nodded to Don, who had just emerged from the
back of the house to join us.  "Hello, Mike," she said.  "I
agree, Sharon.  And Don, you didn't exaggerate.  He's adorable!" 
Then, to me, "But you haven't answered my question, Mike.  Do you
really think you have a chance of winning the bet?"
     The interval had given me a chance to recover my composure. 
"I think," I replied slowly, "that any form of physical contact
with you would be fun, win or lose."
     Her eyebrows raised, and then she gave a low laugh.  "Per-
haps for both of us," she murmured.  "But before we begin, I
think I should give you a little better idea of what you're up
against, and me some notion of how we should proceed.  Want to
start by comparing measurements?"
     "By all means!" I replied, grinning back at her, and deftly
removed my shirt.  Sharon produced a tape measure and came up
behind me to slide it around my chest.
     "Flex for me, Mike," she said, and, as I took a deep breath
and tensed my chest to spread my lats, tightened the tape. 
"Forty-three and a half," she chuckled.  "Not bad for a man your
size!"  She went around behind Julie and did the same, and as
Julie flexed, I had to gape in amazement as her lats swelled out
several inches on either side of her already massive chest.  "Got
you beat by a mile, Mike," Sharon chuckled.  "Forty nine and
three quarters!"
     "Biceps next," Julie suggested.  She raised and cocked her
right arm, and a bicep almost the size of a softball erupted
under her smooth skin.  Sharon wrapped the tape tightly around
the massive muscle, which was not dented at all by the pressure
of the tape.  "Eighteen and one quarter inches," Sharon sang out,
"and hard as a rock!  Hey, girl, you've added a good quarter inch
since the last time we did this!"
     "Been working out," Julie replied.  "Now for Mike."
     I made a helpless gesture, knowing I was hopelessly out-
classed in that department.  "No contest," I admitted.
     Sharon nevertheless wound the tape loosely around my upper
right arm.  "The question is not whether you're beaten, Mike,"
she told me, "but by how much.  Now, be a good boy and flex for
me!"  I sighed and obeyed, and Sharon tightened the tape lightly
around my arm.  "Fourteen and one half, but pretty soft," she
said, and tightened the tape further, making a significant dent
in my muscle.  "Only fourteen, solid," she added.  "Mike, I think
you're going to have a problem here!  Let's try the waistline
next."
     She wound the tape tightly around my waist, compressing the
small roll of softness over my kidneys.  "Thirty two even," she
pronounced.  "You know, Mike, you could have a great build for a
guy if you worked out."  She went over to the taller girl and
wrapped the tape around her waistline, and then started to laugh. 
"Looks like Mike has you beat here, Julie!  Twenty six and a
half."
     That was the only time I exceeded her measurements.  Her
thighs were a massive, solid 25" to my 20" and her calves 18" to
my 15".  By the time the comparison was finished, I was feeling
less and less sure of myself.
     Julie put a hand on my shoulder, smiling down at me.  "Tell
you what, Mike," she said gently.  "I don't think I'd better
wrestle with you, 'cause I might accidentally hurt you.  Why
don't we start with a test of arm strength?  We'll lock hands and
use both arms, and, since I'm a lot taller than you, I'll keep my
hands low, just below your shoulders, to give you the advantage
of leverage.  And I won't hold your hands too tightly."
     Her expressed concern for a guy who had been a state wres-
tling champion was a little hard to take.  Nevertheless, from the
size of this girl, I figured it would be prudent to accept any
advantage offered.  I thought a minute.  "I get to set my own
objective, right?"
     "Right, if they're halfway reasonable.  And then I'll set
mine."
     "Okay," I grinned.  "All I have to do is move your hands
back...say, four inches!  And Sharon can be the judge of whether
I've succeeded."
     I didn't really expect her to agree, but, to my surprise,
she nodded, and we locked hands.  She was as good as her word,
keeping her hands just below my shoulder level and her grip
gentle.  I set myself, looked up at her and said, "Oh, by the
way..." and then suddenly heaved forward with all the strength
and leverage I could muster, hoping to catch her off guard.  I
did.  I forced her hands back perhaps half an inch or so before I
saw her arms flex slightly, and then she became like a stone
statue.  Even with the leverage advantage I had, no matter how
hard I strained or whatever maneuver I tried, I simply could not
budge her hands.  Gasping, my face contorted from my exertions, I
gaped up at her in amazement and was stunned to see her smiling
placidly down at me, with no sign of strain on her lovely fea-
tures.
     "My turn yet?" she asked sweetly.
     That did it.  I gave up, panting, my mind spinning in the
humiliating realization that I, a grown man and former wrestling
champion, had been so easily and completely overpowered by, of
all people, a girl!  Never mind her size advantage and unbelievable 
muscularity, she was still a female, and my masculine ego
simply could not accept the fact that a girl could be so much
stronger than I.
     I tried to release her hands, but she continued to gently
hold me in place.  "Let me know when you're ready, Mike," she
said.  "You seem pretty winded, and I want you at full strength
when I do my thing."
     "Which is?" I choked.
     She wrinkled her nose at me.  "I'm going to force your hands
behind your back and give you a little hug--not too hard, I
promise!--and a great big french kiss.  I hope you won't think
that's too forward of me, since we've only just met, but you're
so little and cute and helpless I just can't resist the tempta-
tion!"
     I felt my blood start to rise at the taunt.  This girl was
just too much!  "And all I have to do is stop you from french
kissing me, right?"
     She bit her lip, grinning.  "Uh huh.  But would you want
to?"
     I set myself.  "Whenever you're ready," I grated.
     Julie winked at Sharon.  "I think I'm making him mad," she
chuckled, and then, with a surge of irresistible power, forced my
wrists back so that I had to release my hold on her hands. 
Shifting her grip to my wrists, she twisted my hands inward so
that she could bend my arms around my back without dislocating my
shoulders or elbows, and then pressed me tightly against her.  I
writhed and struggled with all my strength, but I was completely
helpless.  All I could do was keep my head down, my eyes just
below her chin, where she could not reach my mouth with hers. 
Then I felt her cross my wrists behind me and secure them in the
grip of a single hand.  Immediately I strained to separate them,
but to my amazement, her grip held and continued to press me
against her.  Her free hand came up to grasp the top of my head
and force it back, so I clenched my jaw shut and my lips togeth-
er.  Smiling down at me, she quickly moved her hand from the top
of my head to the back of my neck, her long fingers almost
completely encircling my throat, and then suddenly squeezed,
almost choking me and forcing me to open my mouth.
     Grinning down at me, she murmured, "We can do this the easy
way or the hard way, Mike.  If you promise not to try to bite me,
we'll do it the easy way, and we both might enjoy it.  If not,
I'll have to do it the hard way, and it won't be too comfortable
for you."
     It was all I could do to even speak.  "No promises!" I
finally managed to croak.
     "Have it your way," she sighed.  Her open mouth crushed down
on mine, and her hand, still holding the back of my head, forced
my mouth up into hers with a force that literally took my breath
away.  I couldn't close my mouth, even to bite her, and could
only hang helplessly in her grasp, barely able to breathe, while
her tongue probed the inside of my mouth at will.  Only when she
at last released me and I collapsed against her, gasping for
breath, did I become aware of the vague stirrings in my loins and
the telltale pulsations of a budding erection.  And with those
sensations, continuing chagrin and embarrassment--no, abject
humiliation!--at the ease with which I had been controlled and
conquered by this tall, beautiful Amazon.
     But that was not the end of my humiliation.  She slid her
hands under my armpits and then, incredibly, lifted me and held
my 180 lbs. out at arm's length, my feet dangling limply several
inches off the ground, as easily as if I had been a sack of
laundry.  "You okay?" she asked me, genuine concern showing on
her face and in her voice.  Then, to Sharon and Don, "Poor little
guy!  I guess I came down a little too hard on him, maybe harder
than I intended to keep him from biting me."  She brought me
against her, slipped one arm around my chest and, without putting
me down, stooped to wrap her other arm behind and around my
thighs, and then straightened to hold me cradled in her powerful
arms like a small child.  I was too shamed and exhausted to offer
any resistance as she carried me to one of the chaise lounges
next to Sharon and Don, laid me down on it, and seated herself
next to me, her hand resting lightly on my chest.
     "Better take a little rest before we go on, Mike," she
murmured softly.  "I promise to take it easy on you from now on. 
I tried my best not to hurt you, and I hope I didn't, but you
really didn't give me any choice."
     Still barely able to talk, I managed to choke, "What makes
you think we're gonna go on?"
     She looked hurt.  "Aw, come on, Mike," she said, "you're not
giving up already!  We've just barely started!  Whatever happened
to the fun of physical contact with me, win or lose?"
     "Lady," I replied hoarsely, "I don't know where you come
from, but you're damn near superhuman!  My idea of fun does not
include nearly getting killed!  There's no way I'm gonna let this
go on."
     She smiled and patted my cheek.  "Sorry, Mike," she told me
gently, "but there's no way you can stop it.  The bet was that I
could do anything I wanted with you, and no concessions are
accepted.  If you want to make like a limp rag while I fold you
up every which way from Sunday, that's up to you, but it won't be
much fun for either of us."
     I glanced over at Sharon and Don, and Don grinned and spread
his hands in a helpless gesture.  "Don't look at us," he said. 
"The last time Sharon and I tried to help a guy, all three of us
wound up flat on our backs!"
     "Jesus!" I muttered.  "What in the hell have you gotten me
into?"
     Julie laughed softly, then leaned down and kissed me lightly
on my cheek.  "Relax, Mike.  I really do promise not to hurt you. 
Tell you what.  I'll increase the stakes.  We'll do another test
of strength, only this time I'll only use one arm.  If you win--
and you can still set the rules--I'll not only buy everyone
dinner tonight, but I'll be yours for the rest of this weekend
and all of next.  You can do whatever you want with me, use me
any way you want, and I'll do whatever you want me to, no excep-
tions."
     I stared at her.  "You're not serious!"
     "That's the bet," she replied.  "Can you think of a better
way to restore your macho self image than to have a girl like me
as your personal slave?"
     "And if you win?"
     "Your bet stays the same.  You buy us all dinner tonight,
and that'll be it.  And, if that's what you want, you'll never
see me again.  Of course," she added slyly, "I don't think that's
what you're going to want."
     I shook my head.  "You're unbelievable!"
     She laughed and patted my cheek again.  "You're learning,"
she replied, "but you still have a long way to go!  Are we on?"
     "I guess I don't have any choice."  In fact, the only chance
I had to end this carnage was to win at something, anything. 
With an effort I pulled myself to my feet, taking a deep breath
and moving my arms and legs to ensure that I and they were still
functional.
     "Take all the time you need, Mike," she told me.  "Like I
said before, I want you at full strength, so there'll be no
excuses."
     "Thanks a lot," I replied laconically.  "How do you suggest
we do this?"
     She thought a moment.  "Well, let's see.  I'm only going to
use one arm against both yours.  Why don't I let you get an
armlock on me?  That way you can use the combined strength of
both your arms and the leverage of the hold.  If you can back me
up a step or maintain the hold for ten seconds, you win."
     "Five seconds," I corrected her.  "And Don does the count-
ing."
     She frowned.  "Okay," she said finally.  "But if I break
your hold too quickly I might accidentally injure you.  So let's
agree that if I can straighten my arm to ninety degrees in the
first five seconds and then break your hold in the next five, I
win.  Don can be the judge."
     I shrugged and said, "Have it your way."  I had an idea, and
if it worked the struggle would never get that far.
     She obligingly cocked her right arm, palm to the rear, and
bent her knees slightly so I could reach up to secure a solid
hold.  I gripped the back of her wrist with my left hand, slipped
my right arm between her fore and upper arms with my forearm
pressing against her bicep, and grasped my left wrist to complete
the armlock, with her elbow almost resting on my cheek.  "Start
the count, Don," I said.
     "Ready?  Go on the count of three," I heard him say. 
"One...two..."
     A fraction of a second before the end of the count, I
suddenly applied all the pressure I could to the hold and swiv-
eled my right hip behind hers, intending to flip her.  I caught
her by surprise all right and actually bent her back an inch
before she could react, but, with lightning reflexes, she hooked
her right foot behind my leg and stiffened her body, and that was
as far as I got.  I strained with all my strength against the
power of her massive frame, but, as before, it was like trying to
move a stone statue.
     "One thousand two...one thousand three..."
     "Tricky little one, aren't you?" I heard her murmur as Don
continued the count.  Then I felt her bicep swell to incredible
size against the pressure of my forearm, and slowly, inexorably,
she straightened her arm against the combined strength of both my
arms and the leverage of the armlock, forcing my arms up and back
until, by the count of five, with her arm well past the ninety
degree mark and her foot still hooked behind my leg, I was bent
over backwards, literally hanging from her forearm.  Somehow I
maintained the hold, straining against the power of her single
arm with all the strength I could muster.  My face twisted from
my exertions, I stole a glance up at her face, and, as before,
was astounded to see her smiling down at me, with no sign of
strain on her features.  At the count of seven she broke my hold
on her wrist by simply twisting it out of my grasp.  Then she
placed her hand on my forehead and, with a little shove, sent me
sprawling on my back on the grass.
     Before I could react, she had straddled me with her legs and
was seating herself on my chest, her knees pinning my shoulders
to the ground and her calves crushing my upper arms against my
sides.  "Gonna pin your shoulders to the mat for the count of
ten, Mike," she grinned, "with no hands.  See?"  And she called
over to Don to start the count.
     I started to buck and heave, but could not unseat the
combined weight of her body and the pressure of her knees on my
shoulders.  In desperation, I swung both my legs up to scissor
her neck, but to my dismay she reached back and, using only her
fore and upper arms, guided both my ankles under her armpits,
trapping them between her flexed biceps and lats.  After trying
unsuccessfully to pull them free, I heaved with all the combined
strength of my back and legs, trying to force her backward, but
her body stiffened, and I couldn't budge her.  Instead, she
started to lean forward, bending me almost double, until, with
both her upper arms locked tightly against her sides to hold my
legs in place, she was able to tickle me under my chin with her
forefinger.
     "Let me know when it starts to hurt, Mike," she suggested
softly.
     That was the last straw.  Overwhelmed by the humiliating
realization that Don had been right, that this magnificent Amazon
was capable of doing just about anything she chose with me--that
I was little more than a toy in the hands of, of all things, a
beautiful woman!--my resistance crumbled.  But before I could
respond, I heard Don reach the count of ten, and, with a smile,
she released my legs, rose quickly from my prostrate body and,
reaching down to grasp both my wrists, pulled me to my feet.
     "You okay?" she asked.  That question seemed to be a habit
with her.
     My face was hot, and I know it must have been beet red from
the humiliation I felt.  I tried to pull away from her, but her
firm, gentle grip on my wrists held me fast.  "Please let me go,"
I heard myself ask, but I couldn't bring myself to look up at
her.
     "Gee, Mike," she murmured, "aren't there any other holds you
want to try out on me?"
     "No."
     "Hmmmm.  Nothing else you want to try to do against me? 
Shucks.  You were just beginning to make it interesting.  Oh,
well, then I guess it's my turn--to show you I can do anything
with you I want to, that is.  Hope you'll at least try to wiggle
a little.  Not much fun playing with a rag doll!"
     Now she was deliberately and obviously taunting me, and if
she was also trying to provoke me she was succeeding.  But, as it
turned out, it didn't make any difference.  She informed me she
was going to demonstrate some wrestling holds on me and that she
would hold me helpless with each hold without hurting me.  Before
I could object, she proceeded to do just that, holding me in each
hold just long enough to show me that escape was impossible.  She
started out with a headlock, with one hand locked under my chin
so that she could prevent my escape without squeezing my neck,
and then quickly wrapped her arms around my lower chest in a
firm, but gentle, bear hug lift off the ground with both my arms
pinned to my sides.
     After holding me there firmly enough that I could not free
my arms, but not so tightly that I couldn't breathe, she lowered
me to the ground and switched to a full nelson, again being
careful not to apply too much pressure to my neck.  From there
she swung me up to lay me face up across her shoulders for an
airplane spin that left me dizzy and weak.  Then, grasping me
firmly by the back of my neck and my buttocks, she effortlessly
lifted me to hold me, her arms fully extended, high over her head
before lowering me to my feet.
     Still a little woozy from the spin, I was turning toward her
when she become a blur of motion as she launched herself at me
feet first to take me face down on the ground in a leg lock, one
leg locking both my thighs together and her other leg pressed
against my lower calves bending my legs almost double.  The hold
was not painful until I tried to break it by pushing myself up
with my hands and rolling to one side.  It didn't work, and I
could only gape helplessly at her as, resting on her side on one
elbow, she grinned back at me.  When it was clear to both of us
that I could not escape on my own, she suddenly reached over me
to firmly grip my right wrist and released the hold.
     Before I could react, she had pulled me over on my back and
planted her feet against my neck and armpit in a solid arm
stretch.  "Let me know if I'm hurting you, Mike," she suggested
with a smile.  "I wouldn't want to pull your arm out of your
shoulder socket.  You're going to need it to sign the dinner
check tonight!"  She wasn't hurting me, but she had my arm pulled
taut enough to preclude any hope of breaking the hold.  Then,
without warning, she slid her feet from my neck and side and
pulled me toward her, and I found my waist imprisoned by her
massive thighs in a powerful body scissors from which I knew
there could be no escape.
     "Have to be extra careful with this hold, Mike," I heard her
say.  "My legs are so strong I could crush your soft, little body
by accident!" 
     She held me there for only a few seconds, and then, after a
little squeeze that left me momentarily breathless, shifted her
legs to cover my neck and head, maneuvering me so that my face
was buried in the warmth of her crotch.  I thought for a moment I
might be able to slip out of the hold, but she was applying just
enough pressure to my neck that escape was impossible.  Then,
with my ears completely covered by her thighs,  I heard--or,
perhaps, felt--her breathe a long sigh.
     "This is one of my favorite holds, Mike," she murmured, "one
of several ways I can make a guy pleasure me against his will. 
But, don't worry, I've got other plans for you."
     With that, she released me and rose quickly to her feet.  As
I was getting off the ground, I heard Sharon say, "Hey, Julie! 
You forgot to pin him!"
     Julie laughed.  "I thought I did that before," she replied,
"but, just in case there's any doubt left in Mike's mind..."
     She reached down and gripped both my arms at my elbows,
pinning them to my sides, and effortlessly lifted me off the
ground to hold me at arm's length high in the air in front of
her.  As I struggled vainly against the power of her hands, she
gently lowered me to lay me on my back on the ground and straddle
me as she had before, her knees pressing my shoulders against the
ground.  Then, grinning down at me, she reached down and gently
tweaked my nose.
     "Not going to try to scissor me with your legs again, are
you, Mike?" she chuckled.
     I didn't answer her.  I couldn't.  While she had been
putting me through the various holds, my mind had been almost a
blank, focused solely on what she had been doing to me and how I
might escape.  But now, looking helplessly up at her taunting
smile and her casual air of confident superiority, I felt rage
boiling up within me.  This beautiful Amazon had gone way beyond
what was necessary to just win a bet.  She had taken a normal,
athletic man, a former wrestling champion, and played with him as
though he were nothing but a helpless toy, and in front of a
friend and co-worker!  She had totally humiliated me, stripped me
of whatever masculine pride I'd had left after those first two
tests of strength.  And now she was taunting me again, deliberately 
trying to provoke me, and it was working!  My face was hot
with fury, and I knew it had to be red as a beet.
     Julie looked over a Sharon and winked.  "Now I think I'm
REALLY making him mad," she laughed.  Then, to me, "You know
something, Mike?  You're really cute when you're mad and your
face gets all red like it is now.  After you buy us dinner
tonight, I just might be tempted to take you home with me and
keep you for the rest of the weekend!"  With that final taunt,
she rose from my prostrate body and reached down to grip both my
hands and pull me to my feet.
     My whole body was trembling with helpless rage.  "Damn you!"
I heard myself whisper.  "If you weren't a woman I'd..."
     Her eyebrows raised, and she put her hands on her hips and
looked down at me with amusement.  "You'd what?  Hit me?"  She
threw back her head and laughed.  "Oh, that's right!  You used to
be a boxer, too!  Well, go ahead!  If you're no better a boxer
than you are a wrestler, you couldn't hit me unless I let you,
and I doubt that you could hurt me if you did!"
     I was seething.  There was nothing I wanted more than to
smash my fist into that smug, beautiful face, but years of
conditioning held me back; I'd never hit a woman in my life, and
I just could not bring myself to do it now.  But then, without
warning and with startling swiftness, she reached out and grabbed
my face with her right hand, covering my mouth with her palm and
pinching my nose between her fore and middle fingers.  Instinctively, 
I brought my right arm up to slam my open palm against
her forearm to knock her hand away, but it wasn't there!  With
incredible reflexes, she had jerked her hand away just long
enough to cause me to miss, and then, like lightning, reached out
again to reestablish her hold on my face.  I swung at her forearm
again, this time with my left hand, but the result was the same,
only this time, before I could react, she gave my face a shove
that sent me staggering back several steps, and then, hands on
hips, clucked her tongue as she grinned down at me.
     "Frustrating, isn't it?" she said, and then threw back her
head and laughed.
     That did it.  I lost it.  Years of conditioning were forgotten, 
and instincts that had won many a match for me in the ring
took over.  As a boxer I'd been known for my fast hands and my
ability to deliver a knockout punch with either hand from almost
any position.  Without warning, I launched a straight left right
at her grinning jaw.
     She slipped the punch by moving her head a couple of inches
to her right, but I had expected that; the distance between us
had been too great, and the left had been merely a setup for a
right hook that followed in the blink of an eye and then a series
of punches that should have ended it right there.  But none of my
blows landed!  She seemed to anticipate every move I made. Her
bobbing, weaving head was an impossible target, and when I tried
a body punch, she parried me with a forearm as she deftly moved
to one side.  I must have swung at her a dozen times before I
stopped, gaping up at her in frustration and disbelief, my hands
at my sides and my chest heaving from my exertions.  
     She grinned down at me.  "Having a problem, Mike?" she asked
with a little chuckle.  "Guess I'm going to have to let you hit
me, after all."  She bent down slightly, stuck her chin out at me
and pointed to the side of her jaw with a forefinger, still
grinning.  "Try one right here, Mike, as hard as you can."  Then
she winked at Sharon and Don, who were watching this scene with
equal amusement, and added, "Hope the poor, little guy doesn't
hurt his hand!"
     My frustration had only served to renew my blind rage, which
now translated into one of the hardest punches I had ever thrown. 
But not at her jaw.  Instead, as I lunged at her I brought my
left fist into her washboard-like midsection, just below the belt
line, hard enough to have felled a man twice her size.  It was
like hitting hard rubber; my fist barely dented that solid wall
of muscle.  But I heard her give a little grunt, and immediately
followed up with a smashing right uppercut under that jutting
jaw.  Her chin moved perhaps half an inch, and my hand felt like
I'd hit cement.  I yelped as a sharp pain coursed from my knuckles 
halfway up my forearm and fell back to again gape up at her
in disbelief.  She was rubbing he stomach with one hand and her
chin with the other and grinning down at me as before.
     "You know, Mike," she murmured, "I have to admit, that
actually hurt a little!  Was that really the best you can do?"
     My stomach seemed to turn to jelly.  My rage had evaporated
with her grinning comment, and was replaced by a sinking feeling
of sheer hopelessness as I finally realized how utterly impotent
I was against this towering, beautiful Amazon.  How right Don had
been!  I was completely incapable of hurting her, and there was
little question that she could do whatever she wished with me! 
And with that knowledge, I felt the last vestiges of my manhood
crumble.
     She had obviously read my feelings in my face, for she said
to Sharon and Don, "I think our little, macho man has finally
gotten the message!  Now for the coup de grace!"  Then, to me,
"It's my turn, now, Mike.  I'm going to knock you down without
even hitting you!  And then I'm REALLY going to have some fun
with you!"
     In my befuddled state, the only words that registered were
that she was going to knock me down.  Alarmed, I backed away and
put up my hands defensively, but she suddenly became a blur of
motion, and the next thing I knew she had charged into me, and
punches were raining all over my body.  Confused by her onslaught, 
I stumbled backward, trying to block the blows, but she
was far too fast.  Then I realized that none of her blows were
landing!  She was pulling her punches, stopping them just before
impact!  Yet the fury of her attack was so great I couldn't stop
my retreat, and within a few seconds she had backed me up at
least a dozen steps with twenty or thirty pulled punches before
she brought her right fist up in what would have been a crushing
uppercut, stopping just short of my jaw.  I was off balance as it
was, and as I instinctively jerked my head back, I lost my
footing and fell sprawling on my back on the grass.
     My mind was spinning.  Dimly I was aware of her massive legs
straddling my prostrate form, and then I heard Sharon laugh,
"You're lucky she didn't hit you, Mike!  Julie's a fourth degree
black belt in karate!  She breaks cement blocks with her bare
hands!"  Somehow, that didn't surprise me--nothing about this
invincible Amazon could have surprised me at that point!  I saw
her reach down, felt her grip my right wrist and pull me to my
feet, and then there was a twisting sensation in my shoulder, and
the world flip flopped, and I was on my back on the grass again,
looking up at her helplessly as she walked around me, slid her
hands under my armpits and gently lifted me off the ground to
again hold me at arm's length in front of her, my feet dangling
several inches off the ground.
     "I'm also a third degree black belt in judo, Mike," she
chuckled, "but I've rarely had to use either to handle a man. 
Brute strength is usually more than enough, and a lot more fun!"
     "For whom?" I heard myself croak.
     "Starting pretty soon, for both of us, I think," she murmured.
     Setting me on my feet, she gripped my right wrist and then
pulled me against her, spinning me around so that my other arm
was trapped against her side and the arm and hand with which she
continued to imprison my wrist was now wrapped tightly around my
chest.  Stooping, she wrapped her other arm over and around my
thighs, tucking them firmly under her armpit, and then straight-
ened to hold me securely in her powerful arms.  Instinctively I
tried to struggle against her, but both my arms and legs were
pinned, and I could only writhe helplessly as, ignoring my
struggles, she grinned down at me and began to saunter casually
across the lawn to where Sharon and Don were sitting.
     "Now, isn't this nice?" she cooed.  "This is my favorite way
to carry a guy, cuddled in my arms just like a little baby!  Of
course, sometimes I need to have one arm free..."
     I felt her release my right wrist and slide her hand down my
back to cup my buttocks.  Before I could react, she had dropped
my legs to recapture my right wrist with her other hand. Almost
immediately I was heaved up and over her shoulder and my legs
were pinned together by her right arm as she guided my right hand
over her head and around her back to where she could grip my
wrist again and pull my body taut with her right hand.  I was
completely helpless.  My left arm was free, but I could only
reach the middle of her back and her buttocks with it.  I considered 
trying to give her a swat on her backside, but a sharp slap
with her free hand across my own buttocks eliminated that idea in
a hurry.
     "Then there's my victory lift...under the circumstances,
that would be appropriate here, don't you think?"
     Taking my right wrist with her other hand, she released my
legs and, with a little shrug, slid her right hand under my
stomach.  Then, with no more effort than if I'd been a rag doll,
she lifted me off her shoulder to hold me, with her right arm
fully extended, high over her head, her left hand continuing to
hold my wrist for balance.
     "Ta da!" she proclaimed to her audience.  "To the victor
belongs the spoils!  And you, my little one, are the spoils!"
     I was facing away from Sharon and Don, but I heard them both
clap and urge her on, "Atta girl, Julie!  Go for it!"  Even if I
could have seen them, I was conscious only of the dizzying height
at which I was being held, over nine feet off the ground staring
down at her lovely face grinning up at me, and it felt more like
twenty!  And she had lifted me and was holding me there with the
strength of only one arm, all 180 lbs. of me!  I found myself
wondering if there was anything this incredible Amazon couldn't
do to me!
     I didn't have long to wonder.  With startling suddenness my
wrist was released and the support under my stomach removed, and
I was dropping like a rock to the ground.  Before I could even
cry out in alarm, I saw her pivot and, as I fell past her shoulders, 
felt her powerful right arm come over and around my back
and waist, swing me around in a circle to dissipate the momentum
of my fall, and then tuck my helpless body securely under her
armpit.  I started to twist around in a desperate attempt to free
myself, but she was already transferring me to her other arm so
that I was now facing to her rear.  Then, to my consternation, I
felt her free hand undo my shorts and slide them and my undershorts 
down over my knees.
     "Now, wait a minute!" I gasped.  "What the hell do you think
you're doing?"
     "Whatever I want to, with you," she laughed, and, tilting me
backward until my body was almost vertical, slid my shorts and
undershorts over my feet and dropped them to the ground, followed
by my tennis shoes and socks, leaving me completely naked.
     Still holding me tucked under her left arm, she carried me
to a bench next to the lounge chairs in which Sharon and Don were
sitting, sat down on it and laid me face down over her lap with
my legs locked between her massive thighs just below my buttocks. 
Seizing both my wrists, she forced them together and, securing
them in the grip of a single hand, pulled both my hands back
behind my neck.  Again, I was helpless, barely able to squirm as
she gently kneaded and squeezed my upturned buttocks with her
free hand.
     "How long has it been since you've been spanked, baby?" she
asked me, laughing.  "Not since you were a naughty, little boy,
I'll bet.  Well, don't worry.  I'm not going to spank you, now. 
I have other plans for you.  Just wanted to show you that I
could, any time I feel like it or whenever you get out of line. 
Have any doubts about that?"
     By this time I was completely cowed, humiliated beyond
belief.  "No," I whispered.
     "Good!  That means we can start getting to know each other
better!"
     She wrapped one arm around my chest, pulled me up off her
lap, slid her other arm under my thighs and stood up, lifting me
with her, to carry me to an empty lounge chair next to Don's.  I
made no attempt to struggle, knowing resistance was useless
against her overwhelming strength, as she lowered herself onto
the chair, crossed her legs loosely on the extension, and set me
down in the space between her crossed legs with my legs hanging
over her thighs and my back to Don.  Wrapping one arm around my
neck and tucking my shoulder under her armpit, she pressed my
head against her shoulder and, with her thumb under my chin,
tilted my head back to smile down at me as I felt her other hand
force my thighs apart to gently encompass my crotch.
     "Now, my little one," she murmured, "I'm going to kiss you
again, but I don't want to have to do it as hard as I did before,
so you'll enjoy it as much as I will.  You're not going to try to
bite me, are you?  After all, I can do a lot more damage to you
than you can to me..."  If I needed any convincing, a slight
increase in the pressure of her hand on my crotch brought the
point home.
     "No," I said.
     I felt her hand begin to massage me intimately, sending
little sensations of desire coursing through my lower body and
bringing my limp penis to life.  As I opened my mouth in a gasp,
her parted lips descended to firmly capture mine.  I started to
squirm, but the hand holding my head moved around my chest,
pinning my free arm to my side.  Our tongues intertwined, and
time seemed to stop.  Vaguely I was aware of someone--I think it
was Sharon--tucking a beach towel around my shoulders and smoothing 
it down to cover my naked body, and suddenly I felt like a
small child, completely enveloped in this magnificent Amazon's
embrace.  And then I realized something I never would have
thought possible: I LIKED that feeling!  And with that realization, 
mingled desire and ecstasy coursed through my entire body,
and my penis snapped erect, hard and throbbing against the
pressure of her hand.
     I heard Sharon whisper hoarsely, "You know where the guest
room is, Julie.  We'll be in our room.  Watching you handle Mike
really turned us both on!"  And then, out of the corner of my
eye, I saw her carrying Don cradled in her arms toward the house.
     Only then did Julie release my lips, lifting her head to
look fondly down at me.  "You know, Mike," she said softly,
"believe it or not, I really like you.  You're an adorable
looking little guy, and you seemed so nice and sweet before I
started womanhandling you.  I know you feel angry and humiliated
and shamed at the things I did to you, but you really shouldn't. 
Don probably told you that I've done this to bigger, stronger men
than you, and I simply wanted to demonstrate that a woman, if
she's big enough and willing to put in the time and effort, can
be physically superior to most men.  I've been working out to
develop myself since my early teens, and there's no shame in
being beaten by a woman like me."
     "I'm beginning to realize that," I admitted.
     She smiled and kissed my forehead.  "In that case," she
said, "you may as well know that I want you, and I'm going to
take you.  And I'll tell you right now that you won't be able to
stop me, even if you want to, although I hope you'll try.  But
please understand that there's no shame in that, either.  The
body is loaded with little buttons--judo and karate teach you
that.  If a girl knows the right buttons to push and is big and
strong enough, she can make a man react just about any way she
wants.  I think you'll agree that I'm big and strong enough, and
I can assure you I know all the right buttons to push!"
     All this talk was having its effect; the desire was ebbing,
and my penis had gone limp again.  I had little doubt that she
could do everything she claimed.  Still, something she'd said
bothered me.  As she released my crotch and gathered me up in her
arms to rise off the lounge chair, I asked, "What do you mean,
you hope I'll try?  What do you want to do?  Rape me or something?"
     She laughed and started carrying me slowly toward the house. 
"That's the one thing I can't do to you," she replied, "at least
not in the strict sense.  No woman can rape a man if she can't
make him hard, at least not in the normal way, and if she can
make him hard, make him want her, it's not really rape, is it?  I
prefer to call it seduction by force.  I'm going to make you want
me, but, until then, I hope you'll do everything you can to stop
me."
     "Why?  I think we both know by now I can't stop you from
doing anything to me!"
     She laughed again.  "Forgotten our bet already?  If you can
keep me from making you hard, or even prevent yourself from
climaxing, I buy dinner tonight!  Besides, it'll be more fun for
me if you try to resist.  I guess I'm just kinky that way--I get
a real kick out of conquering a man, forcing him to want me and
then making him love it!  And just to give you a little more
incentive, I'll change the terms of our bet.  If you can stop me
from taking you, OR, if after I've taken you, you tell me you
didn't love it and that you never want to see me again, I'll buy
dinner tonight.  Of course," she added, with a mischievous grin,
"if you do tell me that, you never WILL see me again!"
     I sighed.  Somehow, as she carried me into the house and up
the stairs to the hall on the second floor, I knew I was going to
lose that bet as well!
     She carried me through the only open door to what was
obviously a guest bedroom, deposited me on a king size bed in one
corner and removed her halter and shorts, revealing small, firm
breasts and a bush that confirmed that her hair color was natural.  
Grinning down at my limp penis, she chuckled, "Well, you
can't say I didn't give you an even start with all that talk,
Mike.  Although I sort of thought that the sight of me naked
might turn you on just a little bit!"
     It had, but I had also decided to play her game.  I came up
off the bed and lunged for the door, but, as expected, she caught
me with one arm around my waist, swung me up off the floor, and
dropped me on my back on the bed, pinning me deep into the
mattress with her massive, powerfully muscled, shapely body. 
Grabbing both my wrists, she forced my hands back over my head
where she secured them in the grip of a single hand and then
rolled to one side, trapping both my legs between her huge thighs
and almost completely immobilizing me.  I writhed and strained
against the power of her grip even as I knew escape was hopeless,
and then her lovely, larger than life features filled my eyes as
she slowly lowered her head to again capture my open mouth with
hers.  Vaguely I was aware of her free hand playing across my
helpless torso, probing, tickling, fondling me intimately and
reawakening my desire until my penis was hard and throbbing and
powerful sensations of ecstasy were coursing through my entire
body.  Still, I continued to struggle, trying desperately to
resist the raging desire for her magnificent body that was now
consuming my consciousness, not sure whether my rebellion was
born of what was left of my manhood or because that was what she
wanted.  But she had said she knew all the right buttons to push,
and she was right.  As her free hand now encompassed and massaged
my erect and throbbing penis and her lips released mine to play
across my chest, sides and stomach with little bites and kisses,
my resistance crumbled.  All the shame and humiliation I had felt
at being so easily overpowered and handled by this beautiful
Amazon evaporated.  It was as though some latent desire, buried
for so long under a macho self image, had suddenly blossomed to
the fore.  All I really knew was that I wanted this woman more
than anything I had wanted in my entire life--no, what I really
wanted was for HER to take ME!
     I felt her release my penis and had a brief glimpse of her
lovely features, now flushed with her own desire, above me, and
then she had settled over me, burying my face between her
breasts, and had taken me inside her.
     "Oh, baby, baby!" I heard her whisper.  "This is gonna be SO
GREAT!"
     I hadn't had a lot of women before, but I was no virgin,
either, and I had never experienced with any other woman the
sensations I felt as her channel engulfed and caressed my organ. 
She was unbelievably tight around me, and her vaginal muscles
seemed to literally ripple across my tip, as though she were
already in her climax.  I thought for a second I was going to
explode right then and there, but something in the way she was
holding me prevented me, the way her legs were locked around mine
holding me in place, her one arm still imprisoning my hands above
my head, her other around my chest, holding me tightly against
her.  She was working me hard, pumping up and down on my shaft,
while I, a prisoner in her embrace, could barely move against the
weight of her body.  I barely heard her gasp and moan or felt her
channel tighten around me and she reached her first plateau of
pleasure, and then a second and a third, so lost was I my own
ecstasy.  Then I heard her gasp, "NOW!  NOW!", and she erupted
around me, engulfing my entire penis with wave after wave of
surging, pulsating muscles.  As if on command, I came, my whole
body carried with her to heights of sheer rapture beyond anything
I had ever known for what seemed an eternity.  When it finally
subsided, I lay limp and exhausted beneath her, feeling and
wanting the sweat from her exertions mingle with my own and make
us one...
     Feebly I tried to free my hands from her grip which still
held them prisoner.  She lifted herself only slightly so that she
could look down at me in surprise.
     "Still trying to get away?" she asked.  "That's not the way
it's supposed to be."
     "Who's trying to get away?" I croaked.  "I'm trying to put
my arms around you, you big ape!"
     She laughed delightedly and moved down on me so that she
could guide my arms around her neck.  Her arms encircled my chest
and waist so tightly I could barely breathe, molding my body to
hers, and her open mouth crashed down on mine with a fervor that
I could hardly match.  Yet as close to her as she was holding me,
it wasn't close enough.  I wanted to literally melt into her, to
become one with her, an insignificant part of that magnificently
beautiful and powerful body.  She seemed to sense this, and, with
a little hug that took my breath away, released my lips and began
to cover my face with light, nibbling kisses.
     "Looks like you're buying dinner tonight," she whispered
between nibbles.
     "Where?" I asked, not really caring where.
     "Top Hat.  Most expensive place we know."  She grinned down
at me.  "Was it worth it?"
     "Only if I can see you again, and be with you, again...and
again...and again..."
     She smiled and kissed me lightly.  "We'll see," she whispered.
     The rest of the day was like a dream.  When we finally
emerged from the house, Sharon and Don were there, cuddling and
looking dreamy eyed.  Both were naked, as were we, and we spent
the rest of the afternoon (between additional trips to the
bedrooms!) playing in the pool--or, rather, the girls played with
Don and me in the pool!  Both, of course, were better swimmers
than we, and we found ourselves being playfully caught, dunked,
hugged, and generally tossed around like we were beach balls! 
Sharon even broke tradition and offered to arm wrestle me as
Julie had, her one arm against my two plus an armlock.  Naturally, 
she beat me, but just barely.  "He's really strong for a
man," she remarked to Julie.  "A lot stronger than Don, and
almost half as strong as me!"
     Julie laughed.  "That's one of the things I like about him,"
she replied, winking at me.  "One of the many things..."
     Finally it was time to dress for dinner, and, as expected,
Don and I had to wait for the girls at the pool.  When they
finally joined us, I did a double take.  Both were ravishing,
dressed to kill, and towered above us in matching, 5" spike
heels!  As I gaped up at Julie's lovely features looming an even
foot above my own, she laughed, bent down to kiss the top of my
head and chuck me playfully under the chin and said, "Better get
used to this, lover, if you want to keep seeing me.  I always
wear high heels when I get dressed up, and sometimes when I
don't!"
     I sighed and murmured,  "Whatever it takes..."
     Dinner was a delight--a very expensive delight!  But it was
worth it.  The girls were marvelous company, lovely and feminine,
and, despite their awesome size, were careful not to embarrass us
physically.  I tried to be at my wittiest until Julie leaned over
and whispered, "Mike, you're trying too hard.  Please relax and
be yourself.  That's the way I like you best!"
     It seemed to work.  It was almost eleven when Sharon pulled
into the long, circular driveway Julie's and my cars were parked. 
I opened the rear door and walked around to open the door for
Julie, and, as she stepped out, was asking, "When can I see you
again?" when she suddenly stooped, swept me up in her powerful
arms, carried me to her Mercedes and deposited me in the passenger seat.
     "We'll talk about that tomorrow night, after I bring you
back here," she laughed, reaching down to give my nose a gentle
tweak.  "I told you earlier I might take you home and keep you
for the rest of the weekend, and I've decided to do just that!"
     "Do I have anything to say about that?"
     "Uh huh.  You can say, 'yes, ma'am' and ride freely in the
passenger seat or 'no, ma'am' and ride tied up and gagged in the
trunk.  And, as you can see, it's a very small trunk!"
     I sighed.  "Yes, Ma'am," I said.  "And I don't suppose it
would do any good to point out that I don't have any toiletries
with me."
     "None whatsoever.  Besides, I have everything you'll need. 
Bought specially for you, in case you're wondering!"  She
laughed.  "Thought I'd better be prepared, just in case you
turned out to be as nice as Don said you were."
     Her condo was not far from my apartment.  It was a townhouse
with a rear entry garage.  She drove down the driveway and
flicked the control for the automatic garage door opener.  As we
were waiting for the door to go up, I looked up at her lovely
face, bathed in the light from the full moon overhead, and
marveled, "You know, it's amazing what moonlight does to a
woman's face."
     She grinned down at me.  "Oh?  What does it do?"
     I shook my head.  "I don't know why," I replied, "but plain
girls become pretty, pretty girls become beautiful, and beautiful
girls become breathtaking."
     She pursed her lips.  "Ok, I'll bite.  Where do I fit?"
     I feigned a frown.  "I'm not sure," I said.  Then, as her
eyebrows went up, "What comes next after breathtaking?"
     She laughed and shook her head.  "You do like to live
dangerously, little man," she told me.  "I can see it's going to
be fun taming you!"
     "You never will."
     "Oh?  You still think I can't?"
     I smiled.  "You can," I admitted, "but you won't.  Because
you don't want to.  And as long as you don't want me tamed, I
never will be, no matter what you do."
     She looked fondly at me for a long moment, then leaned over
and kissed me lightly.  "I think, little man," she murmured,
"that we are going to have a long and beautiful romance."
     "For life, I hope," I whispered.
     And it was.