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Mixed wrestling, 280 pictures 1920x1080 (Full HD), completely CFNM, no blood.
“I want to start teaching the girls wrestling.”
“What the - ?”
Rachel and Ian, the two PE teachers, didn’t get on. Rachel, who taught the girls, wanted them to have equal time in the gym and the sports field, whereas Ian looked upon girls’ PE as a bit of a joke. They often disagreed during their little chats in the staff room, and today was no exception – at least initially.
Ian thought Rachel was “pushy”, always wanting more prominence for the girls in sport; she thought he was sexist, preferring to promote boys’ competition. She also considered him to be lazy, shouting encouragement from off the field, whereas she always “got stuck in”.
They had both observed the other teaching, and neither liked the sight. Ian saw an “unprofessional” colleague, getting muddy, kicking a ball, or throwing a javelin. She saw someone who picked the sides, blew the whistle, and then sneaked off for a smoke. True, he knew a lot about rugby, played it at weekends, and shouted a lot when the boys played it. But it wasn’t helpful shouting – he called them “wimps” and “great big girls” if they got hurt.
“What’s ridiculous about it?” Rachel challenged him.
“Girls don’t want to wrestle. They like games like netball, and they prefer to do gymnastics.”
“A lot do, yes. But some have come to me and asked if they could learn wrestling, and I’m willing to teach them. All I’d ask is for the use of the ring for an hour a week.”
“Can you teach wrestling?” Ian asked doubtfully.
“Of course!” she answered scornfully. “I studied it as part of my curriculum. Didn’t you?”
“Well yes,” he lied, having avoided it.
“In time, I’d like the girls to compete against the boys too.”
“No. I can’t allow that,” he stated emphatically.
“If a girl got hurt, we’d get sued.”
“Suppose a boy got hurt?”
Ian scoffed at that. “It wouldn’t happen.”
“And what if a man got hurt, after he infuriated a woman with his sexist attitude?” Rachel asked, staring at him.
“Are you threatening me?” he demanded, but quietly so as not to be overheard.
“Let’s call it more of a challenge. After school today, in the gym.”
“I haven’t got any shorts with me.”
“No, but you’ve always got an excuse, haven’t you? Oh well, I’m meeting the other female staff for a drink later on, and you know how we women gossip? It would be a shame if they got to hear that I challenged you to a bout, and you chickened out of it, wouldn’t it? Fight naked. You’re always boasting about your sexual exploits – surely you’re not scared of me seeing you naked?”
Ian felt decidedly uneasy approaching the ring. Rachel was calmly leaning against a corner of it, smiling slightly, and her self-assurance was disconcerting. He knew little about wrestling, yet she was qualified to teach it. Moreover, how strong she looked! She wasn’t over-muscled, but her whole body exuded a subtle power. True, he was strong as well; but his strength was all on display – he was astute enough to understand that hers lurked menacingly within the womanly figure that she had.
“Hello Ian,” she greeted him, stroking him ironically under the chin. “Come to play with one of the big girls, have you?”
“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” he replied, in no mood for verbal point-scoring.
“By all means,” she consented, inviting him to lock up.
Ian went to join hands, but she darted past, whipped her arms around his neck, and placed him in a headlock. With an effort, she forced him down, first to his knees, and then on his stomach. She hooked his arms over her legs, secured her hands under his chin, and hauled him into a camel clutch.
Damn her, she was chuckling as his body creaked and groaned. Hot pain rushed through his ribs, as she employed a perfect balance between the crouch of her thighs and the force of her hands under his chin, locking his head underneath her plentiful breasts.
But she wasn’t one to linger. Keeping hold of his right arm, with a mechanical working of the thighs, she swept him over, so that he landed on his back. She was at his side as he landed, and she wrenched the arm she still held towards her, while pushing him by the neck with her left leg in the opposite direction, in an armbar.
Rachel got her first yelp out of Ian, and let him go, grinning. She enjoyed the startled look on his face as he tried to move his arm but couldn’t, because it had gone “dead”.
“Ah, did the bad girl hurt him then?” she mocked.
While he was still working to get some life back in his arm, she grabbed it, along with his head, and pushed him onto his knees in front of her. She let go of his head, but seized his free arm and placed her right knee on his back. Then she heaved both arms towards her, while pushing his main body away with her knee, in a variation of a backbreaker. Ian swore softly with the fresh pain in one arm, the renewed pain in the other, and the further punishment to his ribs.
Rachel abruptly stood up, keeping hold of his wrists, and hauled him up bodily, so that his face was trapped under her sex, in what could be described as “face-standing”. For a third time, his arms were pulled one way, while the rest of him, starting with his face, was locked.
“Well this is a treat for me,” she taunted him. “Breathe deeply – if you can!”
Saying which, she forced him onto his back but retained the “hold” of her sex on his face, this time properly face-sitting, with a head scissor. Facing away from him, she looked thoughtfully at his manhood.
“Hmm, shall I, shan’t I?” she sighed, enjoying the anguished anticipation that she knew he felt. “It’s like that very first time all over again, wondering whether I should put my hand inside his trousers. But of course, being a bold girl I didn’t wonder for long before I plunged my hand down and took hold – like this!”
Ian shuddered. She gripped; he yelped. She eased off; he moaned.
“And, you know? The moment I seized his cock and squeezed his balls, I understood how easy it was for a woman to dominate a man,” she commented, working away, her hold crossing and re-crossing the boundary between pleasure and pain.
Seemingly reluctant, she relinquished the head scissors, and lifted him up, with his head facing the canvas.
“Pile driver!” she announced triumphantly, as his head met the canvas. “You’re easier to lift than I thought!" she added. “So let’s try one of these, shall we?”
In at him from behind, she locked his arms and neck. Then, with a sway that started in her legs, she swung him backwards, up and over, to land crashing on his head and shoulders opposite her, in a dragon suplex.
The bully of the rugby field screamed as the woman yanked his right arm into a lock behind his body.
“Who’s the ‘great big girl’ now then, eh? Come on, stop squealing, you wimp!” Rachel goaded him.
Using his trapped arm, she wrenched him onto his feet, with his body stooping forward. His face was an obvious target for her willing knee, which duly punished it. Then she played, almost idly, at separating his fingers from each other at excruciating angles, which made him yelp in pain.
Rachel released him, and he staggered away from her in a daze, his body a confusion of conflicting pains. She added one more, by firing a broadside of a right kick into the small of his back. It drove him almost onto the ropes, and this brought him to his senses: the rugby ruffian decided to escape from the woman.
“Hey!” Rachel shouted, as Ian grabbed the ropes. He hurriedly parted them, got his right leg beyond them … and her fist smashed into his right ear. It knocked him down, his body awkwardly balancing on the ropes, neither in the ring nor out of it. She sat on his shoulders, balancing on her feet, and held his head over the bottom rope, its coarse material scraping his throat.
She pulled him back into the ring, and let him drop. Kneeling on her right knee, she seized his left arm and locked it in the crook of her left arm, over her thigh, meanwhile punching his left ear.
Able to move him around as she chose, without opposition from him, she hauled him over onto his back, and yanked his right arm into an armbar, teasingly holding his forearm against her breasts. (Whether he was aware of them, so eaten up by pain as he was, is another matter.)
Swapping arms, Rachel now gave a similar treatment to his left arm, while hooking her right thigh around his neck, threatening another head scissors. Facing away from him, she plunged her hand between his legs. For a second time, she groped and manipulated his manhood.
“What’s the matter?” she asked when he groaned. “Don’t you like a woman’s touch?”
His reply was inaudible. In truth he was beyond thought, other than a desire for escape. His attempt to get away earlier had fatally harmed him psychologically. Obviously it was because he had failed; but more profoundly it was because he had been reduced to running away from a woman. He would never forget the shame he felt.
But the present was brought violently (literally) back to him, as Rachel now knelt on her right knee and hauled his left arm between her legs into another armbar. Lances of pain probed at, and from his socket, sending vibes all the way to his fingertips. Then she did the same with his right arm, hooking her right leg over his chest and throat.
“A man usually has to spend a lot of money on me before I get this intimate with him,” Rachel continued her tormenting, “I think I should make you out a bill!”
Ian moaned softly while his body was stretched one way by her hold on his arm, and pushed the other by her right leg. He gritted his teeth. How much more could he take? His limbs had taken severe punishment already, and this devil-woman showed no sign of relenting. Indeed, she now released the hold of her leg, but kept his arm trapped in the strong grip of her right hand, and punched him in the ribs.
Teasing wickedly, Rachel next chose to “trap” the back of his hand in her cleavage while kneeling on his neck. Then she tumbled him over, stood up, and took hold of his left arm once more, by the wrist. With Ian on his knees, she proceeded to “walk” him round the ring, like a dog on a lead.
Having entertained herself in this way, she pinched his neck between the thumb and middle finger of her right hand, while retaining her hold of his left arm with her left hand. Then she brought her knee up under his arm, in a move that could be described as an “armbreaker”, before twisting it behind his back and causing him to cry out in pain again.
Rachel raised Ian back onto his feet. It seemed an age that he had been on his knees, or flat on his back or front. It was something of a relief - until, that is, Rachel’s knee smacked into the left side of his face. His hearing was already “fuzzy” after she had punched his ears; now he had pounding and throbbing in his left ear.
With her other leg, she hook-kicked him in the left side, and he swayed and gasped, clutching his new injury.
“Come on, I need to get away soon for that drink with the girls,” Rachel urged, punching him in the face. His head swung to the side, next to her left fist as it followed through, before her right fist banged into his ribs. He lurched forward, so she brought her left knee up into his chest.
Pushing the pace now, Rachel blasted him under the chin with the other knee. Ian’s teeth banged together, jarring his whole head, before she elbowed him in the same place.
“I suppose this was inevitable…” Rachel sighed, before sending her knee devastatingly into his balls, meanwhile punching him on the nose. As he put his hands to his balls, she clubbed him on the neck with her right arm, before kicking him in the balls.
Ian sank down on the canvas, nursing his balls and whimpering.
“So that’s decided then,” Rachel stated briskly, posing with her foot on his manhood. “Girls’ wrestling starts tomorrow. We’ll be needing the gym, of course. You don’t mind, I take it?” she concluded, applying a little pressure.
“Ngno!” came the agonised reply.