Annette By Michael Elk Annette and I wrestle. 1. We first met Annette and Maurice Forrester when I transferred to Montreal to head up our marketing division. Maurice was one of the three junior executives in my department, and since I was the new guy in town, dependent on their knowledge and experience, I got to know these three pretty well over the first few months. However I hit it off with Maurice especially well, and eventually he and his wife Annette invited me and my wife Jennifer to their house for a social evening. A few days later we reciprocated, one thing led to another, and soon the four of us were fast friends and spending at least one night each weekend together. Maurice was 29 years old, and Annette 26, while I was 35 and Jenny 31. Maurice was of English descent and from Toronto. He had met Annette while attending college in Montreal, having chosen McGill University solely, he claimed, because he had been given a French first name. Annette and Maurice were an amazingly attractive couple, and would have been popular in any group, so that Jenny and I were somewhat flattered to be their close friends. Maurice was about 5' 10" with dark features, a solid build, and a Tom Cruz face. Annette had more unusual, but interesting features. Shoulder length, dirty blond hair framed a face with large innocent eyes, a delightfully sharp nose and exotic, capacious mouth that looked anything but innocent. She was just as tall as her husband, with wide shoulders, narrow hips, and a sexy muscular derriere that looked incredible (and challenged the strength of the material) when squeezed into a pair of shorts. She carried herself magnificently, shoulders high, back erect, and breasts thrust forward with confidence. She also moved with the fluid motion of an athlete, so that I enjoyed watching her move whenever I could sneak a peek clandestinely. But the best part of Annette was her personality. She spoke with a delicious French Canadian accent, was bubbly and gregarious, and one of the nicest people I have ever known. She reminded me of a young Doris Day (though that comparison severely dates me). One Saturday, Maurice and I were golfing while our wives shopped. During the game, Maurice announced that he and Annette belonged to a mixed wrestling club, and wondered if Jenny and I might be interested. Then as he continued to describe the club, he casually mentioned that the intimacy of the wrestling often led to sex with the opponent. I wasn't nearly prepared for that kind of revelation. It shocked me but also set my heart pounding. "The wrestling is a lot of fun." he continued. "It's nice to tussle with a woman and feel her body straining against yours. Some matches are simply role playing and some become quite competitive. Of course the men generally have the advantage of size and strength, but we've been doing it now for close to four years, and some of the girls have become quite skilled. My Annette is a very sweet, kind, and sympathetic person. She wouldn't hurt a fly. But she really likes the wrestling club, and becomes quite aggressive on the mat. You wouldn't expect it of her, would you? I'm sure that she would be more than happy to wrestle with you, and I think you'd find it a pleasant experience, especially if you let up a little and give her a chance. "Anyway, think about it. Right now, Annette is enthusiastically describing the club to your wife, and trying to cultivate a germ of interest in her, just as I am with you. Go home and discuss it with Jenny, and if the two of you are at all curious, then we will have a practice session at our place next Saturday evening. Unless Jenny is exceptionally liberal-minded for a girl, I'd not suggest mentioning sleeping with your opponent. Just let nature have its way, and if anything happens it happens. And if it doesn't, it's not a problem at all." 2. To say I was eager to wrestle with Annette would be an understatement. I'd been half in love with her since we'd first met. And as a typical male, I'd have no scruples about climbing into the sack with her either. However my Jennifer has always been a bit straight laced, and I didn't think there was any hope of her going for the wrestling with all its sexual innuendos. But she surprised me by bringing up the topic before I had a chance to. She simply asked me what I thought of the idea, I said that it sounded like a lot of fun, and she agreed that it might be interesting. We didn't discuss it again until Tuesday when Annette phoned to invited the two of us for dinner and a practice wrestling session, and we accepted. 3. Immediately after supper, Annette showed Jenny and myself to the guest bedroom, where we changed into the wrestling gear we'd brought - gym shorts for me, and tank top and shorts for Jenn. We both admitted to being awfully nervous, but headed back to the living room with some degree of anticipation. Maurice and Annette were occupied with clearing furniture out of the way, and Jenn and I helped spread a few gym mats around. It was decided that Maurice and Jenny would go first. Maurice explained that they would not go all out, but would practice a few holds; that the idea was to have fun and to learn. Then Maurice stripped off his T-Shirt to reveal one of the most attractive bodies I'd ever seen. His arm and shoulder muscles were firm and defined, his chest solid, smooth and hairless, his abs lean and sinewy. He might have modeled for the statue of David, or portrayed Aphrodite's Adonis in a play. There was little doubt that he worked out regularly. I'd never seen him without a shirt, and felt a pang of jealousy - surprisingly not of his body, but of my wife who would soon have her hands all over that delightful torso. And his attractiveness was not lost on my wife. I can read her well, and when his naked chest was first exposed, her jaw had dropped, and she'd looked absolutely dazed for the few seconds it took to regain her composure. They started out on their knees, and Maurice showed Jenny how to cinch in a side headlock, keeping, along with his head, one arm trapped in the loop of her arms; then how to use her shoulder to flip him onto his back, how to spread her legs for leverage, and how to spin to keep her body perpendicular to his as he tried to escape. Now Jenny is strong and athletic, and at 5' 9" and 155 lbs, no slouch. However I doubt that she could ever be a match for Maurice. He just seemed too powerful. Nevertheless, he looked convincing as he fought to get free, and Jenny just as convincing as she clamped down tightly to control him. I found her supposed domination of this strong young man to be amazingly erotic, and desperately wanted to believe it was legitimate. Eventually Maurice quit struggling and capitulated, and I found myself very much erect.. The next half hour passed much the same, with Jenny practicing holds on Maurice, and Maurice sometimes escaping and sometimes not. As the match progressed, I found myself more and more fascinated with Jenny. It was obvious that she was enjoying herself immensely. Her face portrayed a continual air of pleasure, and she was soon giggling like a teenager while bantering back and forth with her opponent. The world was forgotten, she was so engrossed with the activity. I'm sure that she had completely forgotten the presence of me and Annette. Her absorption was spellbinding, her childish glee captivating, and their entwined bodies erotic and sexual. Eventually Maurice started to take charge, manipulating Jenny more or less at will and confining her body in ways I'm sure Jenny had never encountered. His movements became decisive and his dominance absolute. Hands casually touched, and even stroked, my wife's thighs, breasts and torso, while simultaneously controlling and restraining. His intent was all too obvious, and Jenny knew perfectly well what was happening. Gone were the girlish giggles and the friendly banter, replaced by an eerie silence, broken only by grunts and groans of effort as her lithe, feminine body fought and strained helplessly in his strong masculine embrace. It was the most erotic thing I'd ever experienced, and I wasn't sure whether Jenny was enjoying Maurice's domination or panicked at his assault. Eventually, their two bodies untangled. Then they lay unmoving on their backs exhausted. After a few moments, Maurice sat up. "Man that was fun, eh Jenn? You're pretty strong for a girl, you know. When you learn a few holds, you'll be awesome. You'll be kicking your husband's butt regularly in about two months." Then he slowly stood, extended his hand to my wife to help her up, and said, "Let's leave these two to enjoy their own bout. Come upstairs with me." Jenny was taken by surprise. Her face reddened with embarrassment and she hung her head with discomfiture. While Maurice pulled gently on her hand to encourage compliance, Jenny lifted her eyes and snuck a peak at me. Suddenly I realized that I wasn't the only one massively aroused by the wrestling. The color in her face was not just the blush of innocence, but also the flush of excitement. She has always worn her emotions on her sleeve, and I could see there was nothing she desired more than to be led away and ravished by her conqueror. This was a feature of my wife I'd never seen and I was more fascinated than annoyed. How could I blame her for desiring sex with a Grecian God? I could have stopped her with even a hint of a scowl. Instead I nodded my head ever so slightly, registered the timid smile in response from Jenn, and watched the two of them disappear into the hall. 4. In my voyeuristic fixation on the wrestling match, I had been largely oblivious to Annette watching beside me. Now as I turned to face her, I suddenly realized that the two of us were alone and that I was face to face with this gorgeous creature who I was supposed to wrestle. I also realized that I was breathing heavily and obviously aroused. My plight was embarrassing and the ambience awkward. How do you face a woman when it is obvious that you have been massively excited by a mere wrestling match. However Annette remained composed and nonchalant. It was as though what had transpired was a daily occurrence, and not the most erotic thing I'd ever experienced.. Quietly, and in her delightful French cadence, she said, "Maurice is very good. We will have at least two hours." 5. "I like to wrestle harder dan Maurice and Jenny. Is dat OK?" Annette asked as we faced one another on the mat. "Den we can fight hard. Don't go easy on me because I am a girl, OK?" My opponent's slightly broken English was adorable; and she looked gorgeous in a yellow tank top (that charmingly displayed a trim, lean navel), white short shorts, and like me, no socks or shoes. But it wasn't just a pretty face gazing so provocatively at me from across the mat. She also looked quite formidable with her broad shoulders, firm thighs, and delightfully rounded and muscular buttocks. Her arms were not as thick as mine, but the muscles were well defined. And I doubt there was an extra ounce of fat anywhere on her body. "Maurice must work out a lot." I said. "Do you?" "A little. We both join de gym two years ago, and we go sometimes two, tree times a week." I didn't know what to expect as we placed our hands on each other's shoulders and locked up. Her smile though was delighted and eager. We pushed and shoved a bit as we felt each other out. My opponent was strong; perhaps even stronger than I'd expected. But I was confident in my masculinity and began forcing her backwards. However I hadn't counted on her quickness or aggression, and while I was occupied in planning the next phase of my attack, she took the initiative. She had been resisting my pressure, and simultaneously stepped back and feinted left. Off balance and turning in the direction of her ruse, I didn't see her right arm swing quickly from my blind side to encircle and ensnare my arm and head. She locked her hands together and bore down viciously, so that I was forced to bend at the waist. My jaw met the bone in her hip in a most uncomfortable and painful union. Then, in nearly the same motion, she used her right foot to sweep under my feet, while wrenching hard on the headlock, and sent me crashing heavily onto the canvas. Annette maintained her grip all the way down, and I found myself flat on my back in a very uncomfortable position, with my right arm out of commission and my left unable to reach anything worth while. This was precisely the hold that Maurice had so carefully described to my wife, and that they had practiced; and I had given little thought to its ever being applied to me. Annette worked the manoeuver to perfection, leaning as far back as she could in order to place as much of her weight on my body as possible in order to keep my shoulders flat to the mat. Had there been a referee, I would have been quickly counted out. I tried to hook her near leg with my own, so that I might leverage myself free, but every time I swung my leg at hers, she spun away (as directed), and managed to keep her body perpendicular to mine. Eventually I tired and quit struggling. I'm not sure whether I suffered worse from the softness of her breast against my cheek, a harsh memento to my defeat by a girl, or from the pain of her forearm cutting cruelly into my ear. I was beaten, and we both knew it. As I was contemplating how best to couch my surrender, she suddenly began to count with zeal. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq. You want me to count higher, or do you give up? I tink you will not escape, n'est pas? C'est une victoire pour les femmes encore une fois." 6. We took a slight breather, whether necessary or not. My defeat had come so quickly that neither of us had broken much of a sweat. Without an audience, the humiliation was tolerable, even erotic in a frustrating kind of way. My loss showed that her skill could overcome my strength advantage if I wasn't careful. I won the 2nd round, but had to cheat to do it. I offered her a handshake as we squared off, and then used her arm to pull her in close. She was giggling like a teenager as I applied a bear hug around her chest and around those delightful breasts, so that I realized she wouldn't get upset if I did beat her, and that she wasn't taking the match too seriously. I leaned back so that her feet were off the ground and she was helpless to break the hold. Then I took her gently to the mat, maintaining my grip until I had her pinned beneath me. She arched and strained delightfully, but wasn't strong enough to overcome both my power and my weight. "OK I am beat" she said laughing, "But you cheat and are going to pay for dat." So I took my time, enjoying the feel of mastering this delightful girl, and counted her out with all the arrogance of vindicated male superiority. 7. In the third round, I made the mistake of going low for her legs. Annette was too quick. By the time I got my arms around her thighs, she had thrown her legs back and straightened them, making it impossible for me to haul them in. All I'd accomplished was to put myself in an awkward position. She leaned forward, over my back, wrapped her arms around my waist and used her weight to drive me face first into the mat. Before I could recover, she had spun around my body, keeping me down with her weight, to face the same direction that I was. I fought to get to my knees, but her arms quickly encircled my waist, just above the hips. She simultaneously lifted and rolled my body sideways, forcing the two of us to make a complete somersault so that I wound up on my knees again with her still attached to my back. "Gutwrench!" I heard her say, and I could hear the glee in her voice. At least my opponent was enjoying herself. Then without hesitation, she again lifted me and leaned over hard the way we had just come, rolling me back over once more. I was a quick learner, and flattened myself against the mat to prevent another revolution. I was getting dizzy. However I was in a bit of a quandary. I couldn't get up without being rolled silly, and I had no idea how to get out from under my tormentor. "Dat is called a 'gutwrench'" she hissed into my ear, as she released me from her bear hug and slithered up my body. "If dis was a real match, I would get 2 points for each time you go over. So I am ahead 4 to 0. OK? "And dis is called a chicken wing." she continued, as she ran her left arm under my bicep and back up over my shoulder. "It is a good hold, don't you tink. and legal too in real wrestling." I panicked a bit, as my tormentor seemed to have a plethora of strange, but effective holds that I'd never heard of. I struggled ferociously against this one, but she had my arm somehow out of commission, and all I could do was squirm futilely in her grip. Eventually I tired and stopped moving, and that was when she really went to work. I might have put up more of a resistance, but you have to realize that I had no idea what she was up to, and therefore no defense against her holds. She released my arm, but placed a knee in the middle of my back to keep me secure, while she reached back with her other leg to hook mine and bend it back at the knee. Then with her hands, she grabbed my other foot, bent it back as well, and crossed my legs at the shins so that pushing on one kept both immobilized. She then maneuvered that flat, trim stomach of hers between my two feet and leaned her weight onto my legs, using her tummy to keep them trapped so that both her hands were free to torment me further. Quickly she grabbed my left arm and twisted it viciously behind my back and up near my shoulder blade. Then she squirmed her way up along my body towards my head, controlling my feet with her legs. Now, as well as having my legs and arm immobilized, she could also use her weight effectively on me. It was most uncomfortable, and I couldn't budge an inch. To be so totally controlled by a girl was both erotic and frustrating, and I felt my squashed member trying to become erect. I wasn't sure whether I liked her domination or not, but I had little choice in any case. "A hammerlock is not legal in real wrestling." she cooed. "But I tink you must put up with it because you cheat before. Now, say uncle." "Uncle!" I said without hesitation. I didn't have another option. "Say dat girls are better dan boys." "Girls are better than boys." "Say dat you are a weak helpless male, and dat I could beat you with one arm broken." I could hear nothing but excitement and triumph in her voice. She was really enjoying my helplessness, enjoying her mastery over a male. Who would have thought someone so pleasant and congenial would be so into domination. "I am a weak helpless male, and I think you could beat me silly with two broken arms." Well, you get the picture. She kept me there tied in knots, for at least five minutes, forcing me to state my surrender over and over in progressively more silly, childish rants. By the time she did release me, her edicts had become so weird and comical that we were both laughing at their absurdity. 8. We sat on the mat and chatted for several minutes while we recovered from the last bout. We had only fought for about 20 minutes, but I was surprisingly tired, and said so. "Wrestling is hard work." she replied. "You have to have good shape. You will also be sore tomorrow. You will find muscles dat you don't know you have. Now we wrestle one more. Dis time the way the old Greeks did - without clothes. You beat me and den we will see what else we do. OK?" 9. My embarrassment at being naked with Annette lasted only until we locked up and I had to concentrate on the match. My discomposure dissipated somewhat when my opponent showed no hint of modesty, and I was compensated by the sight of her pert breasts and comely figure. But all that was quickly forgotten as I contemplated the impending combat and realized that I could all too easily lose. It didn't take long. Annette came in low after my legs, and I was too slow or too tired to react quickly enough. She managed to wrap her arms around my left knee, and then forcefully hauled the leg up and in tight to her body. Balanced on one foot, I had zero stability, while my antagonist crouched low and worked at lifting my leg even higher. Her face was uncomfortably close to my sex, and her hair even tickled my privates. But that position didn't last long either. Her attack progressed way faster than I could think or react. She nimbly stood up, thrust her shoulder into my abdomen, and lifted me clean off my feet, before finally tipping me over and driving my back viciously into the mat. The air left my lungs with a rush, and I learned first hand what it meant to have the 'wind knocked out of me.' Long before I could recover, she had straddled my body, seized my wrists and pinned them firmly to the mat. I found myself gazing helplessly into a pair of angelic blue eyes, and a jubilant smile. I began struggling of course, but she leaned forward, putting her full weight into keeping control of my wrists. Ivory breasts, sculpted to perfection, swung deliciously above my face, a cogent reminder that it was raw feminine power keeping me captive. And the nipples were unbelievable. Dark red and rubbery, they were long and hard and very much erect, registering her obvious state of arousal. I managed to raise my arms a couple of times for a couple of seconds, but she would lean into it with extra zeal and force them right back down once again. Eventually I exhausted what energy I had left, and stopped struggling. "I tink you are beat, cherie." she hissed, her clenched teeth a vestige of her exertion. Then in a teasing, playful manner, "Now you are mine to do wit how I like. So lie dere quiet, like a nice boy. I am going to rape you, and I don't tink you can stop me, eh?" Now it wasn't that sex with Annette would have been onerous, but her statement and her tone were a challenge. My sense of masculinity rejected the idea that I could be forced against my will; and in any case, I assumed that sex with Annette would follow as a matter of course once I got free. So I began bucking ferociously, trying to break her grip or to throw her off me. But again I had no success, and again quickly tired and fell back totally spent. Then I lay there helplessly as she wound her legs around mine and locked me in a tight grapevine. I did try to unwrap my legs once I figured out what she was up to, but her thighs were too strong and she simply used my efforts to pry my legs further apart. Ensnared by her strong arms and powerful legs, I was trussed like a turkey. It was like being locked in a vice. I could barely wriggle, and I doubt I could have escaped even had I been fully rested. My antagonist leaned close and feathered her lips lightly over my neck, sending shivers up and down my spine. Her breasts felt soft and hot against my chest, while the rigid, leathery nipples stabbed delightfully into my weaker male version. "You bitch!" I said. Although my tone was far from hostile, it was fraught with frustration. I immediately regretted my words, less Annette take them personally. Meanwhile my body, at least, was showing signs of enjoying her domination, and I was quickly becoming erect. "Dat is French bitch, s'il te plait." she responded gleefully, thereby demonstrating that she took no offense. "But for calling me a dog, I will have no pity while I ravish you. I will use you and bruise you, and den perhaps throw you in de trash." Then she drove a thick, moist tongue deep into my ear, causing me to squirm and giggle like a school girl. At that point, her legs tightened painfully on mine, as she used them as a lever to squirm higher against my body. I really couldn't move, and could only lie there passively as her hips began grinding against my hardness, and as she gradually worked her opening upwards towards the head of my engorged penis. By then her feet were locked around my knees instead of my ankles, and I might have been able to wriggle my legs free. However the barbarians were at the gate, and it was probably too late to stop her assault. In any case, by then I was beginning to enjoy my subjugation by this blonde French barbarian and gave up any further idea of resisting. Finally her sex was against my throbbing tip, and snakelike, began to surround and engulf it in a warm, moist prison. The pleasure was sudden and intense, and I heard myself involuntarily gasp. Then her lips were on mine, and her tongue forcing an entry. Her hair hung about my head like a wall, curtaining off my vision; and for delicious minutes I was enveloped in a world consisting solely of that soft mouth and probing tongue. Too soon, she broke contact, raising her body slightly, her hands painfully tight on my wrists and her back arched, as she concentrated on riding me slowly and deliberately. With eyes closed and lower lip clenched in her teeth, she moved her body in short, powerful strokes, gradually impaling herself further onto my staff. Her sex gripped me like a fist, caressing, squeezing and fondling. The pleasure was irresistible, and I came explosively within seconds. My partner's tempo suddenly accelerated as she too approached climax. Her sex no longer gently stroked and massaged, but began to claw viciously and painfully in its effort to milk my increasing softness; and in the process, threatened to rip my scepter from its roots. Her breathing quickened and an animalistic squeal of delight escaped her lips, accompanied by a sudden and noticeable stiffening of her body. Then she let out a most satisfied sigh, and collapsed heavily onto my torso. I took it as a sign that she had reached her own orgasm and that my rape was finally complete. 10. An hour or so later, the four of us were sitting in the Forrester's living room. Having put away the mats and replaced the furniture, we were just finishing the coffee and dessert that had been delayed by our physical endeavors. Other than for a couple of general enquiries as to whether Jenn and I had enjoyed the activity, the subject of the wrestling was largely avoided. It would have been too embarrassing for Jennifer and Maurice to talk about their intimacy on the mats or their tryst afterwards, and I certainly didn't want anyone else to know about my delicious humiliation at the hands of Annette. Only when the girls went to the kitchen to clean up did Maurice casually bring up the subject. "That Annette of mine is a pretty good wrestler, eh? She's stronger than she looks and has been at it for 4 years now; so she also knows a few holds. She's sometimes a bit too competitive, though, when she gets on the mat. And she really enjoys going at it with a male." Then he continued with a laugh. "She takes it so seriously that I don't wrestle with her any more. For such a nice person, she can be awfully combative. She likes to win, and can be quite ruthless and aggressive. Why I wouldn't put it past her to try to rape a guy if she thought she could get away with it."