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Engagement under the moon

Photo from the website Model Fight
Bout under the moon



Русская версия


This story is completely an author fantasy


Debra and I are very close but our relations are quite unusual. Perhaps, someone would be surprised but Debra is a wrestler. Of course, it’s not her main occupation; she is a professional masseuse in a physiotherapist clinics. Wrestling is her hobby and her passion. That was her enthusiasm that drew me into this activity. Debra created a big WEB site dedicated to combative women. Anyone can go there to be sure that he or she is not the only one having such a hobby. I fell in love with wrestling as soon as I saw her enthusiasm. Since then we are inseparable friends and at the same time irreconcilable opponents. But our rivalry applies to wrestling only; in real life we haven’t had any reasons for rivalry. We have wrestled probably a hundred times and know every tubercle on each other’s bodies. But some mysterious strength incites us to engage in wrestling again and again...



It’s the Labor Day weekend now, weather is good – the disgusting muggy heat wave seems to be gone. Debra and I have brought ourselves to Long Island for a couple of days. We settled on nice hotel suites just close to the ocean. This time we took our men, my husband and her boy friend.

Around 8pm when it is getting dark Debra and I head for the beach for swimming. But it’s the “official” version. Actually, this is another occasion to “discuss the situation“. We don’t need referees and spectators, we always wrestle face to face; we settle our “personal scores”. The men definitely figure this out but they don’t care (big deal: girls romp), they love struggling in backgammon and look forward for leaving them alone. We get a small clearing rake, towels and reserve swimming suits and make for the car. Each of us feels the internal thirst for pouncing on the opponent. It’s very hard to explain to a stranger. We get into the car; she drives. We start moving, it’s just a few minutes ride. We are silent. We seem to look like young lovers who are desperately desire to rush at each other. Then they are satisfied and happy but just for a while; they experience the same passion over and over again, relieve it and it comes to them soon. Although we are not lovers, the passion to face each other leaves us just after a good bout. Possibly, it’s some kind of abnormality but we are who we are!

Well, we walk from the parking lot to the beach. I catch a glimpse of the full moon but I try not to digress from my thoughts about her body and dealing with it. We got the spot. We don’t rush to come closer together yet, even though we both are impatient. First, we deep into water. It’s dark, the beach is empty. We undress to the skin and swim in the cool water for a while. We dry ourselves. We clear the spot. We don’t say any words; all the terms were determined long ago. And it’s nothing to discuss verbally, out heat bodies will talk soon. We put on closely woven bikinis, take a couple of exercises… At some moment we both simultaneously feel it’s time to go. Without farther ado we jump into the battle straight away…

Debra is a fighter to the bone. She feels free and easy in wrestling; she is in her element in it. You shouldn't run at her just straight ahead, she is a great tactician and an excellent psychologist. When it comes to ground struggle she is usually bottom, but some her opponents don’t realize that she does than on purpose; she has the upper hand in any position. While you spend energy trying to turn her over, she is just waiting for a moment to get hold of some your part. Then you are in a tight spot! She doesn’t hurry, especially against heavier and stronger opponents. She exhausts an opponent and then seizes the opportunity to catch her. For instance, locks a neck and squeezes it with all her might. Debra is very sturdy; probably her job contributes to that. So, her opponents get tired long before her. She wrestles cold-bloodily, forcing an opponent to blow a gasket. She never makes any noise, you can hear just her breath, whereas her opponents sometimes start talking, screaming, and yelping. But it’s wasting time, Debra doesn’t pay attention to that and drives her way… Yet the above mentioned has nothing to do with our bouts. We conceive each other by the spinal cord, that’s like you grapple against yourself.

And so, we come to grips with her. We are silent, just sand crunches under feet and the surf makes noise. Two mature women have a “heart-to-heart talk”. Just few would understand why we do this. In fact, many people are puzzled what the strange hobby for a woman. But Debra and I are who we are… We experience irresistible desire to grapple each other; it’s very powerful desire, probably comparable with the sexual drive but it has nothing to do with it in this case. Frankly speaking, in some matches (with other women) we allow ourselves to relax and to get petting, affording sexual pleasure. But not with Debra, we are friends-opponents; we are itching to grapple with each other. It’s similar to the story about two famous in the past boxers who were friends by families. In a decisive bout for a champion title though one of them attempted to strike his opponent’s eyebrow although he knew it had been broken. They fought on the ring like animals being lost in thoughts. We also seemed to look like two enraged wild females. By the way, once I offered her to box but she didn’t accept this sport at all. I tried to box a couple of times and I didn’t find it that terrible, as it seems to be. At the same time, Debra is easy with catfighting, which I don’t stomach; I think such an activity is good just for cats.

I distracted though… We hang about in dry sand clutching by hands. We make barely visible moves to find out about the opponent. It’s important to comprehend her mood - women are moody. Even such an iron lady. In fact, Debra has iron strength of character - it’s her major advantage and not only in wrestling… I jerkily move my body back assuming that Debra will take an opportunity to move toward me; I prepared a trick for that case. But Debra suddenly turns around back to me; she falls ahead carrying me away. She instantly constricts, stoops her head and appears lying on her stomach. I am on top. This is her favorite position, which very difficult to displace her from. Now you must be double careful – she conceal like a lynx and will catch you on any minor blunder. I thrust my right hand into the sand, shove it under her neck and press against her face; the sand gets into her nose, which bothers her – a punishment seems to be inevitable. Suddenly she rises to her feet with me on her back. She can concentrate her strength at the right moment and direction. She moves her body back clamping me down, so I find myself on back. At that, she leans heavily on me by her back. Sand penetrates into all the holes; it becomes very annoying. I know that I mast not pay attention to this, otherwise Debra will feel this and will make it hot for me.

A stranger (if he appears to be here) would see two not young ladies violently grappling on the deserted beach in the New York suburbs. Perhaps, just few people would believe the stranger if he or she tells about this... And we haven’t had any occasions and reasons to have arguments at all. But I hate her body now. Actually, she is not young; she is already in her forties. And I am always forty… We both desperately wish to overcome each other physically and morally, but none of us is capable to do this – we know each other too well. We roll over the sand until exhaustion.

We lie down to catch our breath. The ocean tirelessly rolls waves onto the beach; just two female figures under moonlight… We breathe heavily. The decisive battle is coming, just after it we will be able to wash off perspiration and sand to the ocean. But I must think about the opponent’s body, how it will be moving. This is just the mechanics: two physical bodies interact, the totality of forces permanently changes and at some moment it exceeds the limit, which is enough for a victory. We leap to our feet simultaneously and rush against each other like wild panthers. That’s a pity nobody films us at the moment, it would be something…

Debra have got sweaty, her body is rough with sand, mine does too and we rub against each other as against a sand paper. But this feeling is just fleeting - this bout is decisive. Now Debra didn’t wait for a good opportunity as she usually does; she just grabbed my legs under the knees. I grabbed her torso from behind and clutched my arms under her breasts – this is the repeatedly tested position… Debra attempts to pin me down and if she does I would be able to try scissors, which is inefficient against Debra. I try to press her face against sand, it seems not to be too fair for my part but we are under equal conditions and I take the opportunity. Debra manages to sit me down but I don’t weaken the grip and press the nape of her neck by my chin. Her head locates between my thighs and I persistently shove her face into sand using all the strength of my arms, neck and body. I go for broke. Debra’s situation is unenviable, she is not used to wrestling in sand and tarries for a second. I have caught that moment and jerkily stretch my legs back and appear on stomach. Debra’s head is directly under my chest and it dip into sand in half. I have the upper hand now. She desperately pushes me in snatches by head to my breast. I hate if something hard plants firmly to my bosom. I weaken the grip and Debra jerkily breaks away and leaps to her feet. We silently decide to finish at this moment. We throw the sanded bikinis off and run into the ocean. We enjoy floundering on waves. Sand and sweat are washed away into the water.

I felt in my element today and in fact, I managed to defeat Debra but to tell the truth, the sand helped me to win but it was Debra who took it into her head; she is a master of creativity. But now it absolutely doesn’t matter... We both feel well and we don’t give a damn about who has won. We are no longer opponents; we just experience gratitude to each other like skillful lovers after passion. We will go to our rooms, take a shower, dress up, come out into the courtyard and join our men who most likely are still playing backgammon. We will wait until they finish their game. They will lazily ask, ”Well, have you relaxed, chicken?” They won’t be even curious who will have won. Two bulky guys are playing backgammon while their slender women are furiously grappling under the moon on the beach sand. For some reason or other, they don’t hunger for grappling against each other, although Debra and I egged them on more than once. But anyway…

It was an excellent evening! Debra and I are really happy!



Laura Kun

September 2003

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