Ladychamp
by supreme
The cocky young muscle-stud of a health resort for wealthy older women meets his match.

Jaime Davo was doing what he loved to do, pumping iron in the Fitness Cabana.  At 5'10",  210 pounds of sculpted, rock hard muscle, he was the ultimate bronzed Latin muscleman.  The handsome 28 yr old was a former Argentine bodybuilding and wrestling champion who had wowed women all over the world with his winning smile, dark wavy hair, and incredibly buffed body.  His performance as a sexual athlete was the subject of excited gossip and whisperings between hundreds, even thousands, of wealthy, horny women all over the world.

These assets came in handy - indeed they were requirements, along with his excellent English - in his present job, chief  bodybuilding and wrestling instructor at M'lady's Hideaway,  an ultra-exclusive, ultra-private Caribbean resort and spa.  M'lady's did not cater to just anyone.  In fact, the resort didn't advertise - it didn't have to - for it catered only to wealthy, beautiful, and physically fit women who demanded total pampering and VIP treatment for the $2,000 a day they paid to stay there. These "power women" had their own grapevine, which spread the word about the "special services" available, and for which these discriminating ladies cheerfully, even eagerly, paid top dollar. This was one reason the name, M'lady's Hideaway,  never appeared in a travel magazine, be it article or advertisement.  But the main reason the resort "flew under the radar"(even most travel agents were unaware of the spa's existence) was this:  the female clientele expected the very best in all departments, especially in the resort's staff, which consisted,  except for maids, of handsome, hunky young men, who were
eager, and physically able, to meet every need of the sophisticated modern woman, especially her physical ones.

Most of these women were married to powerful, rich husbands whose power, unfortunately, did not extend to the bedroom, leaving their wives affluent, but unsatisfied.  Others were high-powered businesswomen who found their male counterparts to be wimps.  Not a few were female athletes, including bodybuilders.  Generally, they were between 30 and 60 years of age.  Virtually all spent thousands each year to pamper themselves and to maintain a youthful appearance, with  skin treatments,  facelifts, and memberships in elite fitness clubs. The results of their efforts were impressive:  even the 60 yr. olds looked, at the most, fortyish.  All were toned, tanned, and some were quite muscular.

To please these demanding women, M'lady's Hideaway had assembled a male staff of charming, and very handsome, gigolos, ladies men, and muscle studs.   In all colors.  Black Jamaicans were extremely popular, especially with German frauen and white women from the American South. The ultra-macho South American hunks were also highly regarded by the resort's female clients.

It was arrival day for the next contingent of  guests.  Jaime was doing dumbell curls in the roofed, but otherwise open air Fitness Cabana.  It  featured a full suite of the latest weight machines, free weights, and various treadmills, stairmasters and other exotic equipment of the modern health spa.  Wearing a tiny golden bikini of thin lycra-spandex that flaunted his massive legs, Jaime was getting a good pump; he always did this just before the stretch limos arrived with the 15 new arrivals M'lady's received each week.  His cabana was one of the stops on the orientation tour, and he wanted to be at his best. He even had one of his assistants oil him up. His visitors would see a true muscle god, gleaming, bulging, exuding a sensual animal presence, when they came to inspect the fitness facility.

When the newly arrived women reached the cabana the resort director introduced him, "Ladies, this is Jaime Davos, our head fitness instructor. He's a four time heavyweight bodybuilding and wrestling champion of Argentina, so he is well qualified to work on your muscle tone! The women were impressed. Many  gave little gasps and grunts of approval as Jaime did a short posing routine, especially when he turned around and gave them a close-up of his muscled rump.  A few couldn't resist flirting or complimenting the handsome young stud. "Hi there cutie!!"  "Are you taken, big boy?" "He's got legs to die for!!" Some were openly staring at his bikini, which barely restrained his big, clearly outlined snake-like cock. Jaime gave a brief talk about the equipment and classes and then asked for questions.  "Can I feel your muscles?" giggled one of the women, a shapely blonde from Canada.  "Sure, go ahead."  Several others took the opportunity to get up close and joined her in giving  parts of the muscleman's body a playful squeeze, including his buns.

One woman in particular impressed Jaime; she shook hands, very firmly, introducing herself as Marge Wainwright, then checked over his shoulders and biceps with an authoritative air.  "Not bad, big guy; how are you at wrestling these days?"  Jaime just laughed, but couldn't help being aroused by the woman as she examined him. She was the oldest of the group, probably around 60, but had a killer body.  About 5' 6" tall,  she was extremely muscular, at least as muscular as most male bodybuilders.  Wow, Jaime thought, she's probably heavier than I am!!  Disdaining a blouse for a tiger stripe sports bra that exposed the tops of her generous breasts as well as her bulky arms and bodacious shoulders,  she wore a very short,
pink,  tennis-style skirt that flaunted her truly massive, curving thighs. In fact it just barely covered her big rounded buttocks. Jaime thought for a second that Marge's thighs might actually surpass his, but quickly dismissed the idea as impossible.  With a head of thick, short,  platinum frosted hair and one of the darkest tans Jaime had ever seen on a norteamericana, Marge had a physical presence which belied her age. Wearing well-shaped, costly looking white pumps made even brighter by the beefy woman's mahogany tan, even her lower legs exuded strength and sensuality, with thickly muscled, curving calves.  As the women moved on to the next stop in their tour, Jaime couldn't take his eyes off the powerful older woman in the short-short skirt. Her muscles bunched and knotted sensuously as she walked and she turned her head briefly and smiled back at him.   Muscle-lady wants me, he thought, too bad for her I never do grannies!

"Hey, Marge, that hottie was really ogling you!" Marge's young friend Cassie had observed the electricity between Jaime and the older musclewoman.  "Yeah, I think we'll have some interesting workouts...unless your interested in him; I wouldn't want to get in the way..."  Cassie laughed, "Nah, he's a hunk,  but  I'm going after one of those gorgeous Jamaican guys!"  "OK, dear, but you will be in my weight-training class?"  "Sure, Marge; I love to pump iron almost as much as you; and I want to see if you can outlift Jaime!!"  The two women were already impressed with M'lady's. There was a senusal erotic atmosphere to the place. Clothing was optional, and, though most women wore something, Cassie & Marge had seen several who went topless.  Nude sunbathing by the pool or on the beach was standard.  The husky older woman was glad she came.

Margerie Wainwright was a wealthy divorcee from Southern California who had benifited from a very generous settlement with her ex, the president of one of the West's largest banks.  A 61 year old grandmother, Marge had finally, with her divorce 10 years ago, found she had time for herself. Always a bit hefty, and interested in sports, but never having time for them before, she threw herself first into aerobics, then crosstraining, and finally,  full bore & hard core, bodybuilding. She was fascinated with and inspired by, such mature musclewomen as Laurie Fierstein, Christa Bauch, and women's heavyweight champion Betty Pariso, who, when she bulked up to 230 pounds,   rivaled even the best male bodybuilders in raw muscularity.  Marge, too, had bulked up tremendously, from a rather flabby 165 to 220 pounds of beautifully ripped, rocky, and mahogany tanned muscle.  She had entered and won several California bodybuilding contests, winning both the open and masters heavyweight
divisions. Bodybuilding was not her only sports interest.  She was passionately devoted to the martial arts, mostly those from which women had traditionally been excluded.  Boxing, and especially wrestling, were her favorites. But she had become so strong through bodybuilding that she could no longer find opponents. She had beaten all the women at her California health spa who were into wrestling, and then had defeated several males, including spa fitness trainers.  Thereafter  the men refused to face her, claiming they, "...just didn't want to see you get hurt."  Marge knew the real reason was their fear of being humiliated by a woman. So, although her bodybuilding had progressed nicely, she hadn't had a wrestling match in a couple of years. She knew she was rusty, but planned on correcting that problem at M'lady's Resort.  It was one of the reasons she had agreed to accompany Cassie there.  It also provided Cassie with a cover story to tell her husband and children: she was off on a girl's only getaway with a grandmother; they couldn't get in any trouble!! They had no idea the pretty, curvacious 35 year-old had a thing for handsome black men. At home, Cassie was president of the P.T.A., a den mother for cubscouts, and an active member of her Methodist church. True, she dressed rather provocatively,  even wearing mini-skirts and fishnet stockings to Sunday school, but no one would suspect that on her Caribbean vacations she turned into a hedonistic wildwoman and proudly proclaimed she was a "slut for black cock!"  Marge, however, preferred Latin men, especially Chileans and Argentines, with their dark flashing eyes, olive skin, and classic, Greco-Roman features.

The orientation ended about 11:00 a.m.. Cassie was eager to sample the pleasures of  M'lady's, "C'mon, Margie, let's get a massage before we eat;  I've been dreaming about one ever since I first heard of this place."  The older woman agreed and the two strolled into the spa's massage facility. It was operated by Jamaican twins, Jules and James.  They were 29, x-competitors on the professional men's bodybuilding circuit, and had earned a reputation as the two best masseurs in the Western  hemisphere.  Handsome, muscular,  and completely shaven, including their heads, they wore contrasting turquoise and red posing bikinis, and nothing else, when working. Cassie gaped at the erotic bulges made in the skimpy suits by their buns and cocks.  "Ooooooooh,   Marge, these dudes are loaded for bear!!" she whispered.

The two American women stripped completely in a changing room, donning big soft terrycloth robes.  As they each stood before a large, padded massage table,  the twins removed their robes and helped them up on the tables, where they lay face down, their faces resting on the open "doughnut" hole at one end.  Then the masseurs began work.  Chatting with
with their clients,  they slowly applied warm, almost hot, baby oil, starting with the neck, at the same time using their skilled, probing fingers to massage deeply.  "You have a lovely neck, lady, and one of the most muscular I have seen in such a fine female," James observed as he worked on Marge's thick neck and shoulder muscles.  Both women were soon purring  like two big,  lazy cats from the deep oil rub-down.  James was also impressed with the mature lady's  "all-over" tan.  Tanning was an obsession of Marge's.  As she had pumped herself into magnificent physical condition, she loved to flaunt her curvy, muscled body on the beach, in itsy-bitsy bikinis that made 20 year olds jealous. To help her achieve the effect she wanted she used large amounts of the most effective, and expensive, skin creams, oils, and lotions, to protect her from sun wrinkles and cancer.  She also sunbathed au naturale whenever she could get away with it. The results were worth the effort.  A sensual mahogany brown from head to toe and all points in between,  Marge was actually darker than some of the Jamaicans at the resort.

James & Jules gradually worked their way down, lower and lower on the women's naked, oiled bodies.  They paused for a long time at their tushes, oiling, rubbing, and kneading with skilled fingers. Moving down all the way to their feet, they had both women totally relaxed.  Marge and Cassie had never felt so...ummm...it was hard to put a name on it.  They could feel their feet and toes being expertly stretched, squeezed, stroked and tickled.  The muscle- masseurs worked their way back up to
their round feminine butts.  Gently, slowly, they worked their fingers down,  under the bottoms of the American ladies, exploring...probing nearer and nearer their pubic mounds and clits.  Both Cassie and Marge began grunting, moaning, rotating their hips up and down a little as the practiced fingertips of Jules and James began playing them like master pianists, touching, brushing, rubbing their most sensitive areas.  This was only a preliminary, a kind of teaser.  The two experts gradually stopped stimulating the aroused Americans and mounted their backs, straddling them with their naked, powerful legs.  For 15 minutes they applied a vigorous back and shoulder massage. It was an erotic sight, the hunky young black men,  riding the backs of the two naked American women,  like ebony stallions on white mares. Cassie laughed, "I wonder what my family would think if I sent them a post card with this scene on it?"  James marvelled at the oily, muscle-packed back of the older woman.  "You are a bodybuilder, yes?" he queried.  Cassie answered for her, "She's the California Women's Heavyweight Champion!  She wrestles, too!"  "Well, maybe," added Marge.  James was now in awe of Marge as he sat on top of the big woman in his red bikini.  His strong fingers could barely make an impression on her hard, but silky smooth skin. "You could outwrestle the men's heavyweight champ I think!!"  He was aroused as well and his massive phallus strained urgently against the thin lycra of his skimpy suit, rubbing lightly against the slippery, shining back of the big American woman.

Finishing the back massage, the brothers flipped the women over and began working the front of their legs, moving slowly up to their thighs, abdomens, and finally, their boobs.  "Ummmm, that's sooooooo nice handsome," Cassie cooed as Jules oiled and fingermassaged her shapely, softball sized breasts, kneading her erect nipples.  He bent over,  kissing and tonguing her
aureoles, delicately catching her nipples between his teeth. She slipped her hand off the table and began stroking his massive python, whose bulging outline could be seen in full detail against the taut fabric of his turquoise bikini.  James gave Marge the same erotic treatment, but she avoided responding like Cassie. "Not too far, Marge?"  "Right James, just a little, down there maybe, but not much...this time."  Marge wasn't  ready to go all the way on her first massage; she had other ideas in that department.  James continued worshipping her breasts with fingers and tongue, and skillfully moved one hand down to the
big woman's labia, gently rubbing them.

Cassie was so hot and bothered she urgently needed more.  She directed Jules to mount her, oil her up again, and begin stimulating  her labia with his tongue. The small room was soaked with the smell and sound of raw sex.  Soon both women were groaning, grunting, arching their backs more and more rapidly as the masseurs worked their erotic magic on their willing, naked bodies.  James brought Marge to some small though delightful climaxes.  But Cassie wanted the works.  After bringing her to orgasm with his long, vibrating tongue, Jules slipped off his bikini.  "I want it from the rear!" the young woman commanded.  The stud-masseur complied, turning her over on her belly, sidling up on the table under her legs, and taking the gasping American doggie style.  His 10 inch cock electrified her labia, her clit and then the remotest parts of her vagina as he penetrated deeper and deeper.  Cassie was in a lust-storm, screaming, sweating, gyrating wildly.  Jules kept her under control with his powerful arms, his jackhammer cock jamming, pumping, pistoning in and out,  in and out, finally exploding in an eruption of high-pressure semen that was like nothing Cassie had ever experienced before, bringing her to an earth-quake orgasm that left her full of Jamaican man-juice, drenched in sweat and moaning  happily.

Marge had already left. After a long, affectionate kiss with James, she showered, then dressed and went to lunch, for it was now past noon.  After eating,  she left the spacious, open air dining area and, wondering where her friend was, began walking back to the massage room. "Hey Marge! Over here!"  Cassie was calling to her from the main pool's hot tub, which was located next to the dining pavilion.  She was sandwiched between Jules in front and James in the rear, as they took her two different ways at once.  " Guess I'll skip lunch!! I'm having too much fun!! Join us?"  Cassie was glassy eyed,  her thick blonde mane tangled and wet, but she was still totally aroused.  "No, not right now. Think I'll go to my room for awhile."  As she walked off she could hear Cassie's moans and grunts as the Jamaicans used their big snakes to bring her to multiple orgasms.  What if her family  saw THIS scene? she laughed to herself.   In truth, Marge tired from the long trip, wanted to get some rest before starting the afternoon activity she had selected: scubadiving.

That evening, the resort held a formal dance.  The male staff was attired in handsome black and white tuxedos, while the female guests wore fashionable cocktail dresses, or in some cases, formal gowns.  Marge chose a classic black cocktail number, with  an eye-brow raising short skirt, that made many of the mem present drool.  Sleeveless and backless, it showed off her arms, shoulders, back and legs to mesmerizing effect.  Completing the ensemble were black heels, clunky gold bracelets,  and a string of shimmering pearls around Marge's handsome, muscular neck.  She kept an eye out for Jaime, but he was nowhere to be seen. After dancing with several other staff members, she asked James, her current partner, about him.  "Oh, him!!  We call him El Macho Toro.  Forget Jaime, Marge, he only plays with the youngest ladies!! I think he skipped coming tonight to visit one!!"  James was clearly enamored with the big American woman, but Marge had her mind on the big Latin.

And she was pissed.  All male staff members were supposed to attend these social events. She was a very determined woman, used to having her way.  But she had not had much luck with men lately. Most were intimidated by an older woman who could physically overpower them.  She knew she wanted Jaime. And she knew there was only one way to have him.  She smiled evilly as she continued dancing with James.

The next day began the resort's normal schedule for the new guests.  Marge did jazzercise in the morning, scuba and other watersports after lunch, and, in the late afternoon, weightlifting, bodybuilding, and wrestling.  All of her instructors were male, all were handsome, and several flirted with her, but she had decided to focus her energies on taming the Macho Bull. At her first class with Jaime, she was dressed in a pair of red short-shorts, what used to be called "hot pants," and a black sports bra, along with Nikes for footwear. She had a red bandana tied around her forehead as a sweat rag. The big Argentine, sporting a tiny purple bikini,  was condescending to the women in his class, starting them out on ridiculously light weights.  Marge ignored
his instructions to take 5 pound dumbells, grabbing 80 pounders instead.  As Jaime looked on in disbelief, she proceeded to do 20 reps of curls with no visible effort.  Then she handed the weights to the surprised instructor and said, "OK, stud, let's see how many you can do."  All the women were watching.  The Latin bodybuilder's muscles bulged and rippled as he began.  After 11 reps he started grunting; after 13 he was clearly straining; after 17 he could barely get the dumbell up, twisting and turning desperately to finish the curl.  At 19 he finally gave up, pouring sweat.  He was furious.  "What do you think you are doing?" he demanded.  "Proving I'm stronger than you," Marge laughed back.  "You are crazy...lady!" Jaime was flustered and
embarrassed, but Marge was just getting started.  "OK, Mr. Macho, let's have a real contest to see who's stronger.  How about a friendly little wrestling match?"  Jaime knew he'd been backed into a corner. He had to accept or lose face.  He agreed, and Marge went back to her room to change, saying, "No way I'm going to muss my pretty shorts!"  The news of the unusual wrestling match spread quickly throughout the resort, and a small crowd, mostly of the female guests, gathered to watch.

Marge returned, wearing a short white silk robe, and white high heels. She stepped out onto the aerobics mat, which took up about half the floor space of the cabana.  Jaime was waiting restlessly, strutting around the mat, flexing,  his superb body followed by the eyes of every woman present. He was truly an imposing sight, the ultimate muscle-stud.   His skimpy purple posing brief bulged with the pride of his manhood;  his muscles were oiled,  pumped and well-defined. Marge waited for him to stop showing off.  Then the 61 year old musclewoman quietly undid the sash around her waist and let the robe drop to the floor, placing her hands on her hips, legs spread apart. Jaime gasped. Marge was wearing a white lycra micro-bikini that barely covered her pubic mound, and muscled, rounded buns. Her labia were clearly indicated by the thin tight fabric of the tiny white triangle. It contrasted sensually with her mahogany tanned, smooth and oiled skin. Both cheeks of her big, muscled, but also round and feminine tush were erotically outlined by her white bikini.  She wore no bra.  Her large, teardrop breasts were
dominated by wine dark aureoles over two inches in diameter and big, thick nipples, hard erect, a solid inch in length.  Her darkly bronzed body bulged with power.  Thick trapezious muscles framed her neck and cannon-ball delts.  18" biceps exploded from her arms as she flexed them for the stunned audience.  Her thighs could barely be described at all, they were so dark, so curved, and so massive. Her white heels enhanced them even further. As she rolled her massive shoulders and hips to loosen up, Marge exuded an aura of strength and sex  that could only be felt, not described.  Jaime's sneer was gone.  He was determined to finish off the "muscle granny" quickly and assert his macho pride by making her surrender to him in front of the entire class.  They had already agreed on the rules: no holds barred, submissions only, no time limit, two out of three falls.  Marge had insisted on the falls as insurance.  She guessed she might need some "warm-up" time after a two year lay off from wrestling.

James had heard about the match from Cassie, who had practically never left the sexual ministrations of the JJ twins since her first massage the day before(thereby missing almost all the classes she had signed up for). He was still fascinated by the big older woman, and wanted to see her wrestle.  Eager at the chance to do something different, he insisted on serving as announcer and referee.  Sporting his trademark red bikini, he introduced the contestants.  "Ladies and gentlemen, this afternoon we have a 2 out of 3 falls submissions only, no time limit wrestling match for the heavyweight championship of M'lady's Resort!  The defending champion,  in the purple bikini, at 5' 10", 210 pounds, and 28 years of age,  the wild bull of the pampas,  Jaime Davos!"  The small but enthusiastic crowd cheered loudly for the cocky muscleman as he hit a biceps shot in
the middle of the mat.  "And now our challenger, in the white bikini, at 5' 6" , 220 pounds, and 61 years old, from Sacramento, California, Ms. Margerie Wainwright!" The crowd applauded politely, but almost everyone thought she was nuts to go up against a stud like Jaime.  Some male spectators shook their heads knowingly.  The two wrestlers were in the center of the mat, standing only inches apart, staring each other down.  Marge had a wise, knowing smile, but Jaime's sneer had returned.  They shook hands briefly, then returned to their corners where Marge slipped off her white pumps.  No old gringa is going to make a monkey out of ME, fumed the Argentine.  James rang a toy gong he had brought, and the match began.

Jaime exploded into action.  Headbutting the slow-moving American in the solar-plexus, he knocked her flat to the canvas, flipped her on her belly, mounted her broad back, and applied a tremendously powerful hammerlock on her right arm.  Marge croaked and gasped, but couldn't scream - Jaime had knocked the wind out of her. She sputtered like a beached whale on the mat, gradually getting her breath back in wheezes, screeches, and choking noises.  It was painful to watch.  She was helpless; the powerful, handsome gigolo was trying his best to rip her arm off, pulling, twisting, bending, screaming, "SUBMIT! SUBMIT!"  The crowd was uncomfortable; it was really a horrible thing, an older woman being brutalized by a big, young male.  James was ready to stop the match; otherwise Marge might be crippled.

But in his frenzy to dislocate the strong lady's shoulder, Jaime forgot Marge's left arm. Still choking,  she managed to rotate under Jaime's heavy weight, bring up her elbow, and smash him in the eye. "Arrrgghhhh!" The muscleman was stunned, and his grip loosened.  Marge clubbed him again with her elbow and forced him to roll off her, holding onto his eye, which was swelling and purpling. "Damn you bitch puta!" he screamed, "You gave me a black eye!"  Both fighters were on their hands and knees, inches apart. Jaime recovered first. Putting a hand on Marge's massive back for leverage, he brought his right elbow
crashing down on her neck and upper shoulders.  Then using both arms, he pummeled the Californian with blow after blow, refusing to let up.  Marge was in serious trouble, almost unconscious from the savage beating she was taking.  The crowd murmured with excitement and concern, impressed with Marge's endurance yet worried that Jaime would seriously injure her. Eventually Jaime paused; he had run out of gas, and leaned on Marge's back, catching his breath.  Another mistake! Marge was just conscious enough to realize she had to buy time to recover.  She swung up and back, elbow chopping the big male in the neck, giving him some of his own punishment. "I'm not dead yet, you jerk," she shouted in defiance. The spectators cheered her show of bravado. Marge got in several more shots before the big man rolled away to escape and she was too hurt to follow.

The wrestlers were glistening with perspiration and oil, their muscles bulging, their tiny bikinis darkening with sweat.  Both women and men were getting aroused by the sensual contest, including James, who's excitement was clear through the massive bulge in his bikini.  More and more people were crowding under the roof of the cabana to get a view of the match.

On their feet now, the rivals circled each other warily, looking for an opening. Jaime raised his muscled pythons to Marge, challenging her to a test of brute power, and the big Amazon accepted. Each grabbed the other by the upper arms below the shoulders and squeezed.  The two massive gladiators stood toe to toe testing each other's strength. Gradually, Jaime's eyes widened in surprise; the lady heavyweight was just as strong as he was, perhaps stronger! The fronts of their bikinis lightly brushed and rubbed,  and Marge, feeling her power returning, joked, "Hmm, I'll give you an hour to stop that!!"  Jaime couldn't believe it!! How could this old broad hang on after the beating I gave her? For ten minutes the gladiators poured
all their energy into their powerful grips.  Jaime began to feel his arms go numb; Marge was outmuscling him!! Desperate now, he swung his beefy leg out in a Russian Leg Sweep and brought the brawny woman crashing to the mat.  Again, his violence and brutality took Marge by surprise.  She found herself on her stomach with the big Argentine on top, his massive arms wrapped tightly around her head, trying to twist it off. "Give it up bitch, give it up!!" Jaime screamed.  Marge slapped her hands on the mat in frustration; she'd been outmaneuvered again.  Slowly,  she got them under her and pushed up. Even with Jaime riding her back, she was able to rise off the mat.  She was making progress; the crowd was cheering encouragement.  Then Jaime slipped off her back and, keeping his headlock, forced her into a camel-clutch, draping her arms over his big, squatting
thighs as he straddled her from the rear and pulling back ferociously until the older woman's body resemembled a giant, tortured, bow.  Marge was helpless, in terrible pain.  Jaime taunted her, "What you going to do now, granny?"  Marge was weakening every second and knew she was beaten..  She tapped her hand three times against the Argentine's thigh,  signalling submission but Jaime kept twisting her head angrily; James yelled at Jaime to release, still he refused.  Marge was out now, and her body went limp, her arms hanging lifelessly downward.  Finally James forcibly pried the muscleman off  her, and held her in a sitting position while Cassie brought smelling salts from the First Aid kit.  Marge quickly revived, but was woozy.  "I won! I won!" Jaime was shouting, raising his hands in victory. James raised his arm and announced, "The winner of the first fall,
in 23 minutes, by submission, Jaime!" The arrogant fitness instructor pranced around the mat, flexing and shouting, "No way that old hag is comin' back out, ha ha!!!!" There were only 3 minute rest periods between falls;  if Marge could not recover in time, Jaime would win the match.  Slowly, with Cassie's help, the big Amazon got to her feet. "How 'ya feelin' girlfriend, " she asked anxiously.  "I'm OK. I'm gonna kick his ass!" Marge replied.  "You sure?  I'm worried about you!"  "After the next fall, Jaime's the one who'll be worried," the big woman vowed.

Jaime was stunned when, at the end of the rest period, Marge calmly walked out to the middle of the mat. The lady wrestler pointed her finger at him, curled it back and demanded, "C'mon big boy, let's go; I haven't got all day!!"  The crowd laughed but Jaime was furious.  He hadn't counted on this.  In fact, he was tired; the first fall had lasted far too long and the old lady had proved a tough opponent.  His eye had swollen almost shut, ruining his depth perception. He knew he didn't have much energy left and needed to put her away quickly.

Again the two fighters circled.  Marge sensed hesitancy in the big male; he was uncertain how to attack because of his reduced vision.  She kept moving to his right, on the side of his nearly shut eye, then attacked. Jaime expected a body blow but Marge stopped short, seized his right arm and savagely twisted, sending howls of pain from the big man.  The crowd was electrified! They had thought Marge was almost helpless.  Before the tired man could think out an escape the bikini clad  strong lady lept in the air and brought her free elbow down on his arm.  Jaime screamed louder and crumpled to his knees in shock. Bam! Bam! Bam! Marge kept smashing and Jaime kept screaming. The big Amazon was in a frenzy!  Switching to his left arm she kept up the assault until she was sure she had disabled them both.  Jaime was still on his knees.  He looked up in fear at Marge but  couldn't move his arms to defend himself.  She attacked again,  delivering more elbow shots to his head and neck. Several connected to the Argentine's undamaged eye, blackening it. Other blows hit his mouth, cutting it.  Jaime collapsed to the canvas but Marge grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him to his feet, wrapped him in a bearhug and executed a perfect belly to belly suplex that, this time, knocked the wind from him. She repeated the move.  By now Jaime was semi-conscious, but Marge wanted to punish him some more. She rolled him into a Boston Crab, sitting her full weight on his upturned butt as she held his legs under her arms and stomped her feet on his wrists.  Bouncing up and down on the helpless man, she bent him into a < , with her on top and his head on the bottom. The Argentine  squirmed under the crushing weight of the hefty American.  Marge smiled down and laughed, "The woman always belongs on top, little bull!!"  She girlishly wiggled her butt on top of his, as the crowd, still shocked at the turn-around in the match, began laughing at the helpless muscleman.   Marge was a wildwoman, totally unstoppable.  At length,  she released her Boston Crab and wrapped Jaime in a figure-4 leg lock.  Both wrestlers lay entangled sensually on the mat.  Marge's massive thighs coiled around the macho man's legs like swollen, hungry snakes, glistening, rippling and bulging. Jaime was moaning in pain, twisting, thrashing, trying desperately to get free.  But the musclelady was too strong. She had him tied up like a pretzel and gradually crushed all resistance out of his legs.  Now it was Jaime who was weakening by the moment. He still couldn't believe it was happening.  How could a woman be so strong?  After a last feeble thrashing attempt to break free, the bodybuilder slapped the canvas in submission.  Alright! Alright!  Let me GO!" he screamed.  James nodded at Marge, and she gradually unsnaked her legs from around the beaten man's.  James raised her arm.  "The winner of the second fall, by submission, in 11 minutes,  Marge!"

The crowd went berserk!!  Marge had won them over!!  She smiled and went into an impromptu posing routine, totally pumped by her comeback.  Disdaining any rest, she drank a few swallows of bottled water, and, throwing the container over her shoulder,  strode out to the middle of the mat, her shapely boobs bouncing. She stood there, her mahogany tanned skin gleaming with sweat and oil, feet apart, hands on hips, swaying her massive thighs,  looking like a hungry lioness. Everyone in the audience could see that Jaime was now terrified of her.  Marge had beaten him up so fast, so badly, he had not had time to recover.  The once handsome muscleman was a mess, almost unrecognizable.  His hair was a tangled snarl, both his eyes were black and swelling shut, his mouth sagged open in exhaustion and a large trickle of blood flowed from his badly cut upper and lower lips. His legs were on fire; his arms were useless and he could barely stand up. James came over to him, "Hey man,  you look bad, don't you think you should quit?"  "No...I...I'm..OK...really...I can...still wrestle...I can beat her...I know I can."
His voice trembled as he spoke.  "It's your funeral," sneered Marge

James announced, "The fight is now even at one fall apiece.  The winner of the third fall will win the match."  He rang the gong again.  Everyone waited excitedly to see what the big American musclewoman would do next.

She moved towards him,  like a big cat stalking its prey.  The battered man retreated,  totally intimidated by the mature stronglady,  but he couldn't escape.  Marge attacked again, seizing him in a brutal bearhug, lifting his kicking feet off the mat. Jaime pounded on her shoulders but his blows were weak now; she had beaten the strength out of him in the second fall. For 5 full minutes the massive woman held the struggling man, her huge shoulder and back muscles bulging with effort.  Jaime began moaning and babbling, "God, god, oh my god, no, no, no!!" But Marge wasn't finished.  Turning him around, she applied a full nelson, her big pythons looped under his armpits and up around his neck.  "OK, big guy; this is gonna hurt!!" she taunted.  She roughly forced him down to the mat, flatter and flatter, until he was prone and she was on her knees, straddling his back, her round, bikinied bottom sticking up in the air. She began jerking his head and shoulders off the canvas and smashing them back down.  Jaime was screaming now, "Stop!! STOP!! GET HER OFF ME!! PLEASE!!"  His nose was bloody from hitting the mat time after time. "Are we having fun yet, chico?" Marge was relentless.  Again grabbing him by his hair she smashed his
face down one last time, then pulled him to his feet, loaded him onto her massive shoulders,  and pressed him overhead, turning  slowly in a circle, as if they were both acrobats.  The audience applauded the show of brute strength. The mahogany tanned musclewoman was the epitome of raw power, her glistening thighs,  shoulders and arms bulging, as she stood, legs spread apart,  in her tiny white bikini,  displaying her "prize" to the crowd.   When Marge dropped one of her arms and continued pressing the whimpering  Jaime high above her, with one bulging arm gripping his belly,  the crowd gasped in awe. The pitiful man's arms and legs hung down, his butt pointing up at the ceiling. Jaime was emiting low moans, barely moving. Someone in the audience yelled, "Stick a fork in him, girl!"  Everyone laughed as Marge dropped the male bodybuilder like a sack of flour to the canvas.  She grabbed his ankles,  dragged him to the center of the mat, and pulled his legs up around hers into a sharpshooter.  Jaime was crying now.  Marge had pulled him up so high he was upside down, his head and shoulders brushing the mat, his  weakened legs wrapped up around her massive, naked, rock-crusher thighs as she towered above him, pouring on savage pressure.  Jaime could dimly see and hear  the upside down audience cheering the monster woman and jeering him. The pain was like nothing he'd ever felt before. He was broken, utterly defeated.  Marge had destroyed him.  He screamed, "I submit, I SUBMIT; PLEASE SOMEBODY HELP ME!!"

"I'm not through yet,  asshole!!" Marge bellowed.  She released the sharpshooter, throwing Jaime's legs to the mat. Grabbing his sweat soaked hair, she dragged  him to the edge of the mat,  where most of the female spectators were watching.  He didn't even try to resist as she put him into a camel-clutch. Squatting across the big man's back, the lady wrestler draped his arms over her massive tanned legs and pulled his head back,  forcing him to look up at the women, standing a foot away. "Pretty boy doesn't look so good anymore, does he ladies?" Marge asked, viciously.  Jaime was a  total wreck, now.  His eyes were two purple-black slits. His nose was a broken pulp and his torn mouth drooled blood onto the mat. His entire body seemed covered in bruises or blood. His arms twitched spasmodically as they lay across the Amazon's massive thighs. Even his bikini was ripped and torn in several places. The once proud bodybuilder looked like a rabbit trapped in the coils of a giant killer serpent. One of the German guests was recording the match on her videocam. Marge couldn't resist taunting her victim,
"Smile for the camera, handsome!"  Tightly wrapping her thick, oiled forearms around his head, she began twisting viciously, screaming, "Remember this, BITCH?? YOU did this to ME;  HOW DOES IT FEEL???"  Jaime's  body went limp.  The 61 year old lady wrestler had K.O.'d him.  James tapped Marge on the shoulder, "I think he's had it. How 'bout letting go before you kill him?"  Marge relaxed her grip, looked at the ref and smiled. "One more thing!  Girls!  Let's see what he's got under the hood."  Pulling the beaten man into a sitting position, with her nuzzled up behind him on the mat,  Marge reached down and  pulled his bikini down his buns,  legs and off. She had stripped the arrogant male!  He was semi-conscious now, moaning and vaguely aware he was being humiliated in front of a crowd of women.  "No...please...no..." Marge ignored him.  Jaime's big 8" cock was exposed for all to see.  Marge asked Cassie for some baby oil and poured a generous amount onto Jaime's  thick snake, vigorously stroking and caressing, bringing it to erection, engorgement and finally, surprisingly quickly,  eruption, as the women laughed.  "Ohhhhh, is that all you've got for us? You're definitely not man enough for me!" Marge cackled as Jaime shot his load on the mat. But the macho-man had passed out again, overcome with shame as well as exhaustion. Marge left him there, sprawled pathetically on the mat, as James raised her big bronzed python and announced, "The winner of the 3rd fall, in 7 minutes, and the match, by consecutive submissions, and the new heavyweight wrestling champion of M'lady's Resort, Ms. Margerie Wainwright!!"  It was a provocative sight, the massively muscled, darkly tanned grandmother in her bright white micro-bikini,  her proud breasts hanging free, her body gleaming with sweat and oil,  standing side by side with the handsome young black bodybuilder-masseur. The crowd applauded her impressive victory.

Marge turned to James.  "Doesn't the winner get a reward?" she asked flirtatiously. The Jamaican smiled and the two superb athletes embraced and shared a long, wet kiss.  They began walking back toward the massage room, hand in hand.  "I think I've gotten over my fixation on Latin men," Marge remarked. "What about black men?" replied James, "You know that once you've tried black you'll never go back." "That's what Cassie says, but I'm going to make you prove it to me sweetie." Marge leaned into the young stud and affectionately squeezed his muscled buns as they changed direction and headed down the path to her room.

THE END