The year was 1907. Annette Kellerman, an Australian swimmer and jack of all trades debuted a piece of clothing. The one-piece swimsuit. Little did she know that 117 years later, the revolutionary piece of swimwear would be turning me on. While many males prefer the modern bikinis, there’s something about a simple piece of fabric covering a woman’s body. There’s an endless spectrum of colors to choose from but if I had to pick my favorite, it’s black. The simplicity is unmatched, it’s somehow slimming and accentuates a woman’s body. Second would be the leopard print, especially if it’s an older woman. That print will drive my wildest fantasies to its peak frenzy. I just want to rip that thing off with my teeth and take it as a trophy.
Of course that will be after I humble them in combat.
I have plenty of leopard prints taken from an older woman who thinks their age trumps my skills. There’s some titillating about standing over them, their bodies raptured with guttural moans filling the room. They just went through a crash course in combat. Being choked, stretched, bent backwards, squeezed and in some cases having their well toned abs being subjected to blows. There’s nothing to squashing a twenty-year old, those matches blend together over time. An older woman? Especially a wealthy one? I savor the memories of taking a confident opponent and humbling them. I want them to look in their closet days and stare at the empty hanger. In those moments they’ll feel a sudden sharp pain in an area that I worked them over. The one print that’s eluded me like a prized hunter has been a black one-piece.
Funny thing is, I didn’t have to seek her out, she found me.
A confident fit forty-two year old who’d heard about my exploits. Of course and say it with me “she wanted to shut me up and put me in my place.” Another spoiled rich female that was writing checks that her body couldn’t cash. The same spiel I’ve heard a thousand and fifteen times. She sent me workout videos and it showed off her body. The woman looked to be in great shape while she worked the heavy bag and free-weights. She possessed that classic hourglass build with a nice six pack, and a killer pair of legs, hips and thighs. Her skin was perfectly tanned no doubt from hours by the pool. She had squatted her way to a shapely bubble butt and her implants were top of the line. In perfect proportion to her body. A formidable opponent if you were to judge her based off the videos. She was very proud of her body and no doubt after having kids, she should be.
And I will be very proud to break her body in combat.
The day came and I had ice water running through my veins. My profession calls for in-home visits only, one cannot trust gym owners. The match was set to take place in a spare bedroom, one of many large empty rooms. This would be a piece of cake as I warmed up across from my opponent. She demanded that I wore a speedo and nothing else. I get that a lot and I look pretty damn good in one, so I’m not complaining. Her jet black hair was cut into a medium straight bob that went down to her collarbone. The black one-piece was worn in all its glory, it was a backless spaghetti strap number. She was wearing a silk robe and I noticed the robe had a belt. A lightbulb went off in my head. It looked like her breasts were spilling out of the sides and it showed off her bubble butt. The type of suit that looks good at the pool and even better mounted to my wall.
The rules are simple, well there are no rules. The match ends (at least for her) when I take the one-piece off and she surrenders. How does she win? Well, I’ve never been in that situation so how would I know?
The woman came out of the corner first, trying to grab a quick choke. Very obvious that she wasn’t paying attention during the mommy and me jiu -jitsu classes. This could’ve worked but the technique was sloppy. I broke the hold, locked a nasty grip on her left wrist. I lifted it up and smashed her elbow over my shoulder. Quite contrary to the movies, the move didn’t result in her arm snapping in two. The pain was shooting up and down her arm. She yelled out in pain as I calmly stepped behind her, lifted both hands and smashed each one into her vargus nerve’s. The cliched karate chop doesn’t knock people out like it’s portrayed. Yet the double blow had her on the mat writhing in pain. Her brain is working overtime trying to sort itself out, her nerve center is fried and she’s feeling numb all over. If this was in a ring she could crawl to the ropes and help herself up. In a mat fight, you were at my discretion as to whether I let you get up. She finally rose and I could see the fire in her eyes. Most women would be subjected to these blows right away and want out. This one however? She honestly believed all the midnight workouts would save her. I let her come to me and when she went to grapple, I smashed my fist into her diaphragm. Those abs would have to wait. A deep moan filled the room as she held onto me to stay up. A pushed her off as she fell to the floor, clutching her chest.
We had been fighting for a minute. For me it had gone in a flash, for her it must’ve been an eternity.
I took a seat near her head and locked my legs around her head. This was the basic run of the mill headscissors, not the type that has her face in my crotch. Only scumbags do that and I only reserve that for those who truly deserve it. I turned onto my side to make sure she couldn’t bridge out. My legs aren’t the most powerful, but I have the technique to put her out. Did you know that many consider swimming the best full body workout? Well, I like to swim and I shave my legs to improve my time. Before a match however, I let those babies grow out so my opponents feel those hairs against their faces. They hate that! Staring at her as she writhed and fought to stay alive, I could feel her body melting into mine. That’s the true feeling of putting somebody out. Her moans were music to my ears but you know what? I’m not done with her. She wanted this. I released my legs and got back up as she massaged her no doubt hoarse throat as I plotted my next move. To my shock, she got back up just a bit slower than before. The fire in her eyes was still alive as she called me to lockup. I rolled my eyes, this was obviously a stalling tactic but I gave in. Why the hell not? We locked up and I gave a little just to perk her up. Then she kneed me in the crotch.
It didn’t hurt that bad but I went down and sold it. She followed with wild punches that didn’t even come close to hitting my face. Mostly my arms and shoulders as she mounted me and went to choke me. Right as her hands neared my throat, I quickly swept her and now the tables were turned. Her confidence faded fast, her eyes were widened. My left hand went around her throat, not to choke but to hold her down. Three lightning fast punches smashed into her stomach, starting the ruination of those abs she’s so proud of. Her eyes closed as cries of pain escaped her mouth as I got off her. That arm of hers that I smashed over my shoulder sure looked appetizing right now. Her wounded limb was stretched out as I stomped down on it. She screamed in pain as I pushed my foot down on it. She desperately tried to get it off. I didn’t hear any bones break so why should she worry? She wanted my foot off her arm so badly yet she protested when I put it on her throat.
You can’t please the rich.
This was even better. Just enough pressure to make her panic as she desperately tried to get it off. Hilarious if it weren’t so pathetic. Then I really began to push down as she began choking on her phlegm. Her eyelids were getting heavy but once again, it wasn’t time for this to end. I’m getting my moneys worth from this spoiled brat. I released my foot finally and hauled her up. The fire in her eyes was still there was as she desperately tried to push away. That midsection of hers was looking mighty nice so I sized her up and smashed my knee into it. She bent over hollowing in pain, both hands covering her stomach, her knees buckling. I ripped that wounded arm back and twisted her body into a cruel abdominal stretch. She was absolutely powerless as I stretched that abdomen the way it shouldn’t and I worked over the arm I’ve been attacking. As her cries of pain filled the pain and the struggle to escape was fading, I added a new layer. I’m a fairly limber guy so I turned it into an Octopus Hold, putting the squeeze on.
If her body was a rubber band it was about to snap.
I let go of the hold as she crumbled to the mats in agony. She wasn’t moving. Let’s motivate her with an armbar. I mounted her with ease and looked in her eyes. The fire was extinguished as I grabbed her arm, turned and locked it in. I wrenched hard as she tried to escape but I had her dead to rights. I was attacking her elbow joint, hyper extending it and knowing that a break was coming. She frantically tapped the mats and I relented and released. She resumed laying on the mat, holding her wounded limb. I was getting bored, let’s smash that stomach of hers some more. Dragged her up, put her against the wall and restrained her hands. I reared back but the shell of this once proud woman made me relent. I backed up, called her pathetic and walked away. I could hear her running towards me looking to make a comeback. I waited until the footsteps were at their loudest and simply tripped her to the ground, laughing. I sat on her back and pondered my next move. The Full Nelson Camel Clutch, in the right hands, it is inescapable. It’s a very theatrical move as you can pull them up slowly and bring them down. I’m not about theatrics. I ripped her off the floor, hoping that she’d surrender the suit. She was screaming out loud trying to escape. Hellbent on hearing her give I pulled back even harder, leaning as far back as possible. She finally screamed but it wasn’t to surrender the suit, it was a submission.
Oh well, good enough.
I slowly lowered her down, her entire back must’ve been on fire. I should’ve ripped the suit off her right there but I was enjoying this. I dragged her up and that pretty face of hers was a permanent mask of agony. I believe the clutch had her crying, I could see red in her eyes. I wasn’t paying attention when she broke free and nailed me with a gut shot. The air left my body and I went down to one knee as she balled her fists and clubbed the back of my head. This was desperation and she went for another choke. I was a bit dazed and felt the hold being locked in. This was league better than the early choke but that was before the arm work. She was having trouble tightening it and I finagled my hand in there. With a sudden mover, I broke the choke, grabbed the bad arm and slammed her to the mat with an over the shoulder throw. Her body crashed into the mat with a horrendous thud and a cry of pain. I stared down at her as any confidence evaporated from her. The same back I had tried to break in half just took a full force judo throw. What to do next?
I quickly dragged her up, put her head between my legs and waited. I let the anticipation build as she desperately tried to pull out. I grabbed the black fabric near her ass and pulled it into a wedgie. Humiliating and disappointing right? All that hype for a wedgie? Wrong, with one pull I had her up in the air and crashing down on her head and neck with a stump piledriver. She let out a massive cry of pain before going limp. I sat on the floor, demanding a surrender from her. All I could hear was a chorus of gibberish that I took as a refusal.
It was time to get mean.
It was time to attack the breasts.
I walked to her robe and undid her belt. I rolled her over and undid the straps to her one piece. I also bound her hands together so I could have my way with her. She was barely cognitive and barely resisted. I pulled them down to her abdomen exposing her beautiful breasts. Whatever doctor operated on her deserves a gold medal. My opponent was finally coming out of her haze and I noticed a look of panic in her eyes. She realized her hands were bound, her breasts were exposed and she couldn’t defend herself. I took my sweet time and mounted her, feeling those beautiful assets of hers. I began alternating punches to each breast, the blows landing on the nipple. Each blow resulting in screams. There was no playful teases like pinching, I was going for the kill. More blows, I must’ve launched six or seven punches but the bitch was still resisting. Even trying to escape! How rude! I began claw and raking them as screams continued to fill the room. Another refusal to give up and now I was busting out the big guns. First I wrapped my legs around them in a cruel scissors variation, going full power. Nothing, she was still resisting and trying to escape. I stood up and dropped the big leg drop right on both breasts. A hellish cry of pain with tears running down her eyes, she was close. I put my foot on her right one and pushed down, still no submission. Goddamnit. Then the left one, no submission. Now I was livid so each breast got a stomp in retaliation. I went over to her legs and ripped off the one-piece. Now she was fully naked and at her most vulnerable. I stared at her lower half, her perfectly trimmed bush. I spread her legs and the fear in her eyes had me feeling orgasmic. I dropped a massive knee on her crotch, eliciting the loudest scream of them all. Her body was spasming as she valiantly tried to move. I had her dead to rights. I reset and dropped another big knee and her body bridging upward. Followed by two more, screams as if she were being murdered. I kept the knee on pushing on as I leaned forward and resumed digging my nails into her breasts.
Finally, she screamed her submission and I could take my trophy.
I was equal parts exhilarated and exhausted. I had pounded this woman for fifty-two minutes, other women lasted half as long. I had to respect her determination and her fighting spirit. I stood above her and looked over my work. Her stomach was reddened, her breasts had scratch marks and bruising all over. Her body and spirit had been broken in combat by a much younger fighter. Her eyes were pleading with me, no more pain. Put me out of my misery. So I obliged. Dragged her up, demanded she bend over and I dropped her with one last piledriver. I went for the more drawn out theatrical version, same result. Head driven into the mat, same cry of pain from before. This time I placed her unconscious body in the ass-up pose. I placed my foot on it, rolled her over and put my foot on her face. Right on the nose and mouth, holding my trophy in the air.
Victory.
Of course that will be after I humble them in combat.
I have plenty of leopard prints taken from an older woman who thinks their age trumps my skills. There’s some titillating about standing over them, their bodies raptured with guttural moans filling the room. They just went through a crash course in combat. Being choked, stretched, bent backwards, squeezed and in some cases having their well toned abs being subjected to blows. There’s nothing to squashing a twenty-year old, those matches blend together over time. An older woman? Especially a wealthy one? I savor the memories of taking a confident opponent and humbling them. I want them to look in their closet days and stare at the empty hanger. In those moments they’ll feel a sudden sharp pain in an area that I worked them over. The one print that’s eluded me like a prized hunter has been a black one-piece.
Funny thing is, I didn’t have to seek her out, she found me.
A confident fit forty-two year old who’d heard about my exploits. Of course and say it with me “she wanted to shut me up and put me in my place.” Another spoiled rich female that was writing checks that her body couldn’t cash. The same spiel I’ve heard a thousand and fifteen times. She sent me workout videos and it showed off her body. The woman looked to be in great shape while she worked the heavy bag and free-weights. She possessed that classic hourglass build with a nice six pack, and a killer pair of legs, hips and thighs. Her skin was perfectly tanned no doubt from hours by the pool. She had squatted her way to a shapely bubble butt and her implants were top of the line. In perfect proportion to her body. A formidable opponent if you were to judge her based off the videos. She was very proud of her body and no doubt after having kids, she should be.
And I will be very proud to break her body in combat.
The day came and I had ice water running through my veins. My profession calls for in-home visits only, one cannot trust gym owners. The match was set to take place in a spare bedroom, one of many large empty rooms. This would be a piece of cake as I warmed up across from my opponent. She demanded that I wore a speedo and nothing else. I get that a lot and I look pretty damn good in one, so I’m not complaining. Her jet black hair was cut into a medium straight bob that went down to her collarbone. The black one-piece was worn in all its glory, it was a backless spaghetti strap number. She was wearing a silk robe and I noticed the robe had a belt. A lightbulb went off in my head. It looked like her breasts were spilling out of the sides and it showed off her bubble butt. The type of suit that looks good at the pool and even better mounted to my wall.
The rules are simple, well there are no rules. The match ends (at least for her) when I take the one-piece off and she surrenders. How does she win? Well, I’ve never been in that situation so how would I know?
The woman came out of the corner first, trying to grab a quick choke. Very obvious that she wasn’t paying attention during the mommy and me jiu -jitsu classes. This could’ve worked but the technique was sloppy. I broke the hold, locked a nasty grip on her left wrist. I lifted it up and smashed her elbow over my shoulder. Quite contrary to the movies, the move didn’t result in her arm snapping in two. The pain was shooting up and down her arm. She yelled out in pain as I calmly stepped behind her, lifted both hands and smashed each one into her vargus nerve’s. The cliched karate chop doesn’t knock people out like it’s portrayed. Yet the double blow had her on the mat writhing in pain. Her brain is working overtime trying to sort itself out, her nerve center is fried and she’s feeling numb all over. If this was in a ring she could crawl to the ropes and help herself up. In a mat fight, you were at my discretion as to whether I let you get up. She finally rose and I could see the fire in her eyes. Most women would be subjected to these blows right away and want out. This one however? She honestly believed all the midnight workouts would save her. I let her come to me and when she went to grapple, I smashed my fist into her diaphragm. Those abs would have to wait. A deep moan filled the room as she held onto me to stay up. A pushed her off as she fell to the floor, clutching her chest.
We had been fighting for a minute. For me it had gone in a flash, for her it must’ve been an eternity.
I took a seat near her head and locked my legs around her head. This was the basic run of the mill headscissors, not the type that has her face in my crotch. Only scumbags do that and I only reserve that for those who truly deserve it. I turned onto my side to make sure she couldn’t bridge out. My legs aren’t the most powerful, but I have the technique to put her out. Did you know that many consider swimming the best full body workout? Well, I like to swim and I shave my legs to improve my time. Before a match however, I let those babies grow out so my opponents feel those hairs against their faces. They hate that! Staring at her as she writhed and fought to stay alive, I could feel her body melting into mine. That’s the true feeling of putting somebody out. Her moans were music to my ears but you know what? I’m not done with her. She wanted this. I released my legs and got back up as she massaged her no doubt hoarse throat as I plotted my next move. To my shock, she got back up just a bit slower than before. The fire in her eyes was still alive as she called me to lockup. I rolled my eyes, this was obviously a stalling tactic but I gave in. Why the hell not? We locked up and I gave a little just to perk her up. Then she kneed me in the crotch.
It didn’t hurt that bad but I went down and sold it. She followed with wild punches that didn’t even come close to hitting my face. Mostly my arms and shoulders as she mounted me and went to choke me. Right as her hands neared my throat, I quickly swept her and now the tables were turned. Her confidence faded fast, her eyes were widened. My left hand went around her throat, not to choke but to hold her down. Three lightning fast punches smashed into her stomach, starting the ruination of those abs she’s so proud of. Her eyes closed as cries of pain escaped her mouth as I got off her. That arm of hers that I smashed over my shoulder sure looked appetizing right now. Her wounded limb was stretched out as I stomped down on it. She screamed in pain as I pushed my foot down on it. She desperately tried to get it off. I didn’t hear any bones break so why should she worry? She wanted my foot off her arm so badly yet she protested when I put it on her throat.
You can’t please the rich.
This was even better. Just enough pressure to make her panic as she desperately tried to get it off. Hilarious if it weren’t so pathetic. Then I really began to push down as she began choking on her phlegm. Her eyelids were getting heavy but once again, it wasn’t time for this to end. I’m getting my moneys worth from this spoiled brat. I released my foot finally and hauled her up. The fire in her eyes was still there was as she desperately tried to push away. That midsection of hers was looking mighty nice so I sized her up and smashed my knee into it. She bent over hollowing in pain, both hands covering her stomach, her knees buckling. I ripped that wounded arm back and twisted her body into a cruel abdominal stretch. She was absolutely powerless as I stretched that abdomen the way it shouldn’t and I worked over the arm I’ve been attacking. As her cries of pain filled the pain and the struggle to escape was fading, I added a new layer. I’m a fairly limber guy so I turned it into an Octopus Hold, putting the squeeze on.
If her body was a rubber band it was about to snap.
I let go of the hold as she crumbled to the mats in agony. She wasn’t moving. Let’s motivate her with an armbar. I mounted her with ease and looked in her eyes. The fire was extinguished as I grabbed her arm, turned and locked it in. I wrenched hard as she tried to escape but I had her dead to rights. I was attacking her elbow joint, hyper extending it and knowing that a break was coming. She frantically tapped the mats and I relented and released. She resumed laying on the mat, holding her wounded limb. I was getting bored, let’s smash that stomach of hers some more. Dragged her up, put her against the wall and restrained her hands. I reared back but the shell of this once proud woman made me relent. I backed up, called her pathetic and walked away. I could hear her running towards me looking to make a comeback. I waited until the footsteps were at their loudest and simply tripped her to the ground, laughing. I sat on her back and pondered my next move. The Full Nelson Camel Clutch, in the right hands, it is inescapable. It’s a very theatrical move as you can pull them up slowly and bring them down. I’m not about theatrics. I ripped her off the floor, hoping that she’d surrender the suit. She was screaming out loud trying to escape. Hellbent on hearing her give I pulled back even harder, leaning as far back as possible. She finally screamed but it wasn’t to surrender the suit, it was a submission.
Oh well, good enough.
I slowly lowered her down, her entire back must’ve been on fire. I should’ve ripped the suit off her right there but I was enjoying this. I dragged her up and that pretty face of hers was a permanent mask of agony. I believe the clutch had her crying, I could see red in her eyes. I wasn’t paying attention when she broke free and nailed me with a gut shot. The air left my body and I went down to one knee as she balled her fists and clubbed the back of my head. This was desperation and she went for another choke. I was a bit dazed and felt the hold being locked in. This was league better than the early choke but that was before the arm work. She was having trouble tightening it and I finagled my hand in there. With a sudden mover, I broke the choke, grabbed the bad arm and slammed her to the mat with an over the shoulder throw. Her body crashed into the mat with a horrendous thud and a cry of pain. I stared down at her as any confidence evaporated from her. The same back I had tried to break in half just took a full force judo throw. What to do next?
I quickly dragged her up, put her head between my legs and waited. I let the anticipation build as she desperately tried to pull out. I grabbed the black fabric near her ass and pulled it into a wedgie. Humiliating and disappointing right? All that hype for a wedgie? Wrong, with one pull I had her up in the air and crashing down on her head and neck with a stump piledriver. She let out a massive cry of pain before going limp. I sat on the floor, demanding a surrender from her. All I could hear was a chorus of gibberish that I took as a refusal.
It was time to get mean.
It was time to attack the breasts.
I walked to her robe and undid her belt. I rolled her over and undid the straps to her one piece. I also bound her hands together so I could have my way with her. She was barely cognitive and barely resisted. I pulled them down to her abdomen exposing her beautiful breasts. Whatever doctor operated on her deserves a gold medal. My opponent was finally coming out of her haze and I noticed a look of panic in her eyes. She realized her hands were bound, her breasts were exposed and she couldn’t defend herself. I took my sweet time and mounted her, feeling those beautiful assets of hers. I began alternating punches to each breast, the blows landing on the nipple. Each blow resulting in screams. There was no playful teases like pinching, I was going for the kill. More blows, I must’ve launched six or seven punches but the bitch was still resisting. Even trying to escape! How rude! I began claw and raking them as screams continued to fill the room. Another refusal to give up and now I was busting out the big guns. First I wrapped my legs around them in a cruel scissors variation, going full power. Nothing, she was still resisting and trying to escape. I stood up and dropped the big leg drop right on both breasts. A hellish cry of pain with tears running down her eyes, she was close. I put my foot on her right one and pushed down, still no submission. Goddamnit. Then the left one, no submission. Now I was livid so each breast got a stomp in retaliation. I went over to her legs and ripped off the one-piece. Now she was fully naked and at her most vulnerable. I stared at her lower half, her perfectly trimmed bush. I spread her legs and the fear in her eyes had me feeling orgasmic. I dropped a massive knee on her crotch, eliciting the loudest scream of them all. Her body was spasming as she valiantly tried to move. I had her dead to rights. I reset and dropped another big knee and her body bridging upward. Followed by two more, screams as if she were being murdered. I kept the knee on pushing on as I leaned forward and resumed digging my nails into her breasts.
Finally, she screamed her submission and I could take my trophy.
I was equal parts exhilarated and exhausted. I had pounded this woman for fifty-two minutes, other women lasted half as long. I had to respect her determination and her fighting spirit. I stood above her and looked over my work. Her stomach was reddened, her breasts had scratch marks and bruising all over. Her body and spirit had been broken in combat by a much younger fighter. Her eyes were pleading with me, no more pain. Put me out of my misery. So I obliged. Dragged her up, demanded she bend over and I dropped her with one last piledriver. I went for the more drawn out theatrical version, same result. Head driven into the mat, same cry of pain from before. This time I placed her unconscious body in the ass-up pose. I placed my foot on it, rolled her over and put my foot on her face. Right on the nose and mouth, holding my trophy in the air.
Victory.
