W-622 "Beware the Big Boobs"
Gallery size: 490 Full HD pictures
Mixed wrestling, 490 pictures 1920x1080 (FullHD), no nudity, no blood.
Cathy Dunkin learned wrestling to help her self-confidence. She was quite shy, but she had very large breasts, and so many men seemed to stare at them. It upset her. She would blush and try to avoid the man who troubled her. Talking to friends about it, one of them suggested the wrestling. So Cathy enrolled, and discovered she had a natural talent for it. Her friend was right too – it really did help her self-confidence. Next time some man ogled her boobs, she wouldn’t try and hide. No, she’d make him look foolish.
What she hadn’t expected was that it would happen in the wrestling club. Men and women’s wrestling were strictly segregated, but they used to mix in the coffee bar attached to the gym. She was sitting by herself at a table when she noticed a man gazing in her direction; and yes, it was at her breasts. Still, it was time to try out her new-found confidence.
"Typical," she scoffed "The first man to seem interested in me here has girly hair, and he wears a school girl’s headband."
"Wo!" The man replied, "That’s quite an unfriendly tone."
"I feel unfriendly towards a man who leers at me. You’re practically salivating into your coffee."
"All right, so you caught my eye. So what?"
"I’ve already told you. You’ve got pansy hair and a sissy headband." Cathy countered, raising her voice a little.
The small coffee bar fell silent, and a club manager went over to them.
"Now, keep it nice and easy please, you two. There’s only one place for disagreements, and that’s the ring, and as we don’t have mixed fights here …"
"Because the men are scared the women will humiliate them…"
"It’s not that," the manager protested, colouring a little, "We just don’t think it’s ethical."
"Not ethical!" Cathy sneered. I’d have him begging for mercy, even if I fought in stiletto heels. Mind you, he looks as if he wears them."
The man smashed his coffee cup on the floor and stood up, furious, with his fists clenched. Cathy sat back, crossed her legs, and raised an eyebrow.
"What’s your name?" she asked.
"Craig," he shouted back.
"I’m Cathy. Now if this gentleman here will make an exception to their rule, I would be glad to meet you in the ring. What do you say?"
The two men conferred and agreed to make it a formal match and ticket event, to be held in a month’s time so it could be advertised properly.
It sold out, much to the embarrassment of the club, who disapproved of mixed matches. But they couldn’t complain about the revenue. People were thrilled by the idea, and bought tickets for a variety of reasons: there were the "purist" wrestling enthusiasts, who were fascinated with the relative advantages and disadvantages of the competitors; women went, hoping to see one of their own sex defeat a man; and some men and women were there (though they didn’t admit it) because the idea of a man and a woman wrestling excited them sexually. Apart from all that, supporters of both contestants filled opposite front rows.
Cathy trained hard during the month, and she had also befriended a young man there, who craftily filmed Craig’s matches and training, which he then passed on to her. It was most useful! What she discovered, in fact, was that he wasn’t very good at wrestling at all, and that he tired easily. She even decided to make good her claim, and wear stiletto heels. (Meanwhile she decided to give the young man who helped her, Joe, a real treat once the match was over.)
In the women’s locker room, Cathy shook a little, but more from excitement than nerves. She put on her outfit with as much care as she had chosen it. It was a daring blue and black leotard, with black laces criss-crossing the front, down to her waist – guaranteed to make any man lose his concentration! She smiled as she looked in the mirror. Yes, it showed an ample amount of bosom, and accentuated the rest. She checked her nails: perfect, a deep glossy red. Black stiletto pointed boots completed the picture. She checked the rear view too. Fine! Her bottom wasn’t as generous as her breasts, but it was a splendid womanly shape.
As both wrestlers entered the ring, the ringside announcers began the match.
"Well wrestling fans, here we are with famous female wrestler Adele Roman (Galleries 385, 387, 544, 545, 563 and 596) to announce the next match of the evening. What do you think of this match-up Adele?"
"Thanks for the invitation to co-announce this match, Jim. This is a grudge match between Craig Bishop and Cathy Dunkin. Craig, known as "The Disciple", is fairly new to the sport but has potential. Cathy has just come off wins against her husband and son (Gallery 617) and a tag team victory with her daughter, Calie (Gallery 618). She looks in prime form and will be a formidible opponet tonight."
"It looks like they are about ready to go, Adele, so lets go to the ring introductions."
Ding, Ding, Ding.
"In the red corner, please welcome Craig Bishop, 'The Disciple', and in the blue corner, please welcome Cathy Dunkin!"
The crowd cheers in anticipation of the exciting match to come. After the introductions, both contestents return to their corners and take off their robes to prepare for the bell sounding the start of the match.
"Cathy is wearing a blue and black suit cut high on the legs," comments Adele, "which fits her body showing all the curves, and check out those wicked boots! Underneath Craig's robe, he is wearing a black thong. The wrestlers are now in their corners after the introductions waiting for the bell."
"And there it is! This match is underway with Craig and Cathy approaching each other in the center of the ring and suddenly Craig rushes Cathy for a quick takedown. Cathy is ready for him though and moves to her left, sidestepping his attack."
Cathy expected Craig’s first move from the footage Joe had sent her. He reached clumsily forward to grab her; she leant back out of the way, and karate chopped his dangerously extended neck with her right hand, before working that arm round his neck so she had him in a headlock. She marched him in this hold to the side of the ring, holding his head between the ropes, nestling against her left breast.
"I bet you never thought you’d get as close to my big tits as this," she murmured so only he could hear, although the nearest audience members could see she had started to taunt him. "Do you like them? Here, try the other one!"
He flung his arm pointlessly through the ropes, and the audience could see his eyes beginning to bulge. All the while she teased him by increasing the relaxing the pressure slightly, so that his face could feel how pliant her breasts were.
"It was a gamble on Craig's part, Jim, and Cathy is really making him pay for it."
"She's really grinding that side headlock on him, Adele, and using a high school wrestling move, takes him down to the mat face first."
Now she had him down on his front in a sleeper, with his head partly over the edge of the canvas. She thought she’d try the sleeper early on, as he was prone to tiredness, to drain his strength and energy. Her breasts now dug into his still painful neck and shoulders. Then came the masterstroke. Some of the audience cheered, others gasped, and some had to look away as Cathy shot Craig through the lower rope, and back through the middle one in a romero. She hooked his legs into hers, securing his knees beyond the middle rope with her feet, and held his wrists, so that his back was arched unnaturally backwards over the middle rope. Then she applied pressure, gaining the first grunts of pain of the match. These became shouts, as she applied yet more strength to the hold.
"Wow! Look at that, Jim, she has put him in a ceiling hold between and through the ropes. I don't think I've ever seen that done before. The crowd loves it!"
At last she freed him of that agony, and held him in a side anocanda, his chin secured in the crook of her right arm. She hooked her right leg around his, and again started to increase the pressure. It was his back that was suffering, once again being arched the wrong way.
Cathy hauled him up into a standing anaconda and held him with his left leg over the ropes, and his right leg behind them above his supporters, still with his neck and right leg trapped and under pressure.
"Here you are," she called to the supporters, "Here’s your champ! Help him, help him! Pray for the Bishop!"
"No!" uttered his supporters in disbelief, as she now picked him up, and held him at head height in a rack, inflicting yet more pain on his back.
"D’ you want him?" she asked, and they started shuffling and looking the other way.
"Looks like Cathy is thinking two and three moves ahead. She now hauls Craig to his feet only to thread him through the ropes into an abdoman stretch. Craig has to be wondering when he is going to get a break. Cathy is lifting him up and puts Craig on her shouldrs, stretching his body even more. I'm amazed at her strength! And there she goes, slamming Craig down on her knee in a backbreaker!"
She really looked as if she were about to drop him at his supporters’ feet. Instead, they sighed with relief as she knelt down and slammed him over her right leg in a back breaker. Even so, it was still only that leg that kept Craig between her and his supporters. (In fact it was one spindly stiletto heel that did.)
"That one about broke him in two, Jim! Cathy hasn't even broken a sweat yet and now she has him screaming with pain in a body leg scissors. He is pleading for a break but somehow I don't think he is going to get one."
The audience were finally spared after all when Cathy changed the hold to a body scissors. But she gripped Craig’s ribs and stomach in her fearsome legs, with his head still over the side of the canvass. Many of his supporters were now looking away more often than at the action, while he choked, spluttered and heaved.
"You’re not going to be sick over your supporters, are you?" Cathy mocked, "That’s not nice!"
"Cathy is now dragging Craig into the center ring off the ropes and silences him with a little eye gouging. The look on Cathy's face says it all. She is in total control and enjoying herself."
"Check that out, Jim. Cathy has now slid up from a body scissors to a suffocating head scissors! She still has his legs draped over the bottom rope so he has no hope of escape. She is not only strong but a smart wrestler. Obviously, that contributed to her wins over her husband and son."
Now, with his legs dangling over the lower rope, she changed the hold into a head scissor, eliciting the first female cheers of the combat. "Atta girl!" One shouted. "Go on, have some fun!" Another chimed in, as Cathy sat on his face, gripping his neck in her thighs, and his left arm in her left hand. She smothered his mouth and nose in womanhood, and all his attention was given to trying to breathe at all. Resistance was out of the question.
At last her legs forced him onto his knees, and she now secured his neck in her calves, locking her ankles together. But it was only to progress to a change of head scissors; she now lay across him, once again gripping his neck and face between the tops of her thighs, imprisoning his face at her sex. Muffled sounds drifted up to her while she lay back, as if she were relaxing. Her sturdy, curvy body trapped him entirely. Cathy looked down at Craig’s troubled face and smiled. Flaying his hands about to no effect, he found the supple flesh of her hips and buttocks – and gorgeous they were, in both the modern and old-fashioned senses of the word!
"Cathy is on her back now and has clamped an ankel scissors on his neck, giving him time to breathe, but keeping him helpless. She has now put him back into a head scissors making it hard for 'The Disciple' to breathe. The pressure from those talented legs has got to be taking a toll on him."
"I think I heard Craig gasp 'Stop' when she let off the pressure, but now she has reversed the head scissors, forcing his head into the mat. Jim, this woman is unrelenting in her attaack on poor Craig. He may be having second thoughts about wrestling in this division."
"Your're right, Adele. Since his opening move failed, Cathy has been putting him through the ringer.
Using her legs more than her hands, Cathy changed Craig’s position so he was facing downwards in the scissors. She did it to place his body underneath hers on his front, still facing away from her. Kneeling on her right knee, she gripped his left knee and pulled his leg back, the "wrong" way, in a single - or half - Boston crab. Pain pierced its way through his body, from his left ankle to his neck. He opened his mouth in distress, but no sound came out because it was so dry with all the punishment.
Cathy momentarily released him, but he couldn’t do anything; couldn’t even think what to do, so numbed that he was. He was powerless to stop her dragging him by the chin over her legs, while she lay on her back. With her right hand she held his right ankle over his left leg, and arched his back, backwards over her legs in a bow and arrow. His poor back! It was still suffering after the recent backbreaker, and now it was having this repeated attack.
"Cathy is really playing to the crowd now, Jim. I don't think 'The Disciple' knows what to do at this point. He just keeps pleading for a break."
"Cathy now has Craig in a full hamerlock and before he even knows it, she has released the hold going straight to a flying head scissors!"
Craig tottered about, having to support both their weights and endure a head scisoors and arm bar. This proved to be too complex even for Cathy, and she made do with just her favourite head scissors. Craig's knees buckled. He fought both to breathe and to stay on his feet.
"Another amazing move, Jim. Cathy now has his head trapped between her thighs, resting her legs on the turnbuckle for leverage. Terrific move! This girl has been working out. Maybe I should be taking notes."
"I think Craig was trying to say something there, but it was muffled between her thighs. Cathy must have heard it though, because she immediately has dropped to a standing head scissors and is driving his head into the turnbuckle with those powerful legs.
When she released him still on his knees, it was all he could do to hold the middle rope for support. She wasn't having that. Taking his neck, she forced him on all fours.
"Cathy now has him on all fours and is riding his neck like she's busting a horse. And Bam! Cathy has collapesed 'The Disciple' to the mat into a reverse head scissors."
Until she lay across him, that is, still engulfing his neck in her thighs, with his face once again trapped by her sex. She added to his misery by seizing his left arm, and changing the hold to a figure 4 head scissors; then relinquished the scissors just before he passed out, and concentrated on the arm lock, with her lying underneath him.
"Cathy is some talented wrestler, Jim. The punishment she is dishing out is incredible. Some thought it was a fluke that she beat her husband, but tonight I don't think anyone has any doubts about her abilities."
"Cathy is still working over his neck and head. Oh, and now she has him off the mat and slams his head between her thighs! Looks like she's going for a suplex and Slam! She plants his face into the mat with a full body slam. Before he can stop the room from spinning, Cathy locks him up in a boston crab."
"I see Cathy has noticed his defeat boner in the thong he's wearing, Jim. She just can't resist grabbing his package for a litle rough stuff. That can be most embarassing for a guy losing to a woman and pleading for her to stop."
Some of the more adventurous women in the audience began to cheer again. Many men looked squeamish, and there were some complaints. Then, gripping his head lower down her thighs, she locked his right arm, lying across him. She hauled; he roared. She heaved; "No!" He yelled. At last she let go, stood up, and looked down at him, lying on his front. Having been quite sympathetic, the crowd began to boo. Some shouted "Get up!" and there was some slow-hand clapping.
Cathy laughed. He couldn’t get up!
"Cathy has released her hold and 'The Disciple' is crawling for the ropes."
"Bad move on his part, Jim. Cathy has planted her boot in his back and is stretching his arms back. His shoulders have to be ready to explode!
The more squeamish in the crowd turned away, or looked down at their feet, during her next move. She pushed his head over and beyond the lower rope and sat on his neck and shoulders, increasing the pressure on his throat against the rope, while keeping hold of his head. The coarse material of the rope frayed the skin of his throat, as he choked and implored Cathy to release him. One or two of his supporters began to leave. Cathy relented; it was easy enough to change this hold to a camel clutch. All she had to do was move down a little on his back, move her hands under his chin and heave. Easy!
But Craig’s discomfort was hardly mitigated. His back, neck and shoulders were already scorching from her previous punishment. Having had several courses already, here she was forcing dessert on him. Once again his spine was being wrenched unnaturally. He was close to passing out …
But Cathy didn’t want to end the combat just yet. She let him fall, and dragged him round into a headlock, while most of his body hung precariously over the edge of the canvas. In fact it was only the headlock that prevented him from falling. The crowd realised that there was a structure to all her actions, and it was obvious that she was thinking about three moves ahead, for now she converted the hold to a choke, lying underneath him, holding his neck and throat in the crook of her right arm, and locking her legs over his. At least he wasn’t hanging over the edge now. Yes, but why were they both moving slightly? The answer lay in the lower rope: Cathy was pushing Craig’s sore neck and throat against it again. But now, while maintaining the choke, she heaved him round and hooked his left leg underneath the rope so that her right arm was now managing two jobs for the price of one, as it were. The double hold was also burning his spine and that perennially troubling sciatic nerve. As ever, she steadily increased the pressure, while he coughed and the muscles in his back and leg blazed and tore.
Craig went limp.
"I believe Cathy has choked him out, Jim. She is now admiring her work as Craig lay face down, not moving on the mat."
Cathy stood up while he lay face-down, his head over the side of the canvas. She sniggered to herself and the crowd, many of whom joined in. But her work wasn’t over. Craig was stirring, and she couldn’t have that.
"Craig is now trying to crawl out of the ring but Cathy is having none of it. She's pounced on him and looks like she is trying to dislocate his shoulder!"
"Look at that, Jim! She has him in a hold he'll have nightmares about. I can hear his pleas for help from here, but Cathy isn't letting up."
His head was still over the side of the canvas, and the crowd nearby could see him grimace. Then yes, once again she increased the pressure, and he found his neck and shoulders being forced into an unnatural position towards the lower rope.
"No way, Adele! It's the coup de gras, Cathy's stretching Craig over the bottom rope forcing her spiked heel into his lip! He's not only going to need a Chiropractor when this over but also a Dentist!"
To the sounds of grunts and moans from Craig, she maneuvered him up and backwards, and inserted her legs underneath his arms, which were now locked at a perverse angle, in a double chicken wing, but with her legs doing the work. She sat on his back, and moved just far enough down his body to keep the balance – and the strain on his legs, ribs and spine.
But this couldn’t last. He slumped down on his left side, and Cathy wrenched his right arm into an arm bar between her legs, while she sat on his right shoulder. Sensing victory, she quickened the pace of the action. She let go of the hold and kneed him in the chin, still with his head over the edge of the canvas. Now she swapped her knee for a devilish threat from her right stiletto heel on his upper lip, holding him prone and in agony over the lower rope, one of his legs on either side of it.
"What an evil look on her face, Jim. Now she is dishing it out above and beyond! 'The Disciple' is submitting but Cathy is keeping the pain on with her boot on his throat. He's trying to get the referee's attention, but I don't think the referee can hear him between the choking and the crowd noise."
As a finale, she stood with her right foot on his throat, and her left on his groin. He screamed in pain for a moment, and then silence: he had passed out.
I think it's over, Adele! Craig is limp on the mat and Cathy is standing over him in a victory pose."
"Finally, the referee has raised Cathy's arm and declared her the winner of the match. Craig on the other hand may need some medical attention."
Cathy exited the ring and raised her left fist in triumph, to the roars of the crowd. "Anyone else feel like staring at my big tits?" She demanded, glaring.
There were various muttered replies of "No, I’m fine thanks", "Not today", and "I didn’t notice".