The Shortest Story by Stacy Barehugger Possibly one of the shortest of mixed wrestling stories - almost a poem. ............. I wonder why some men do not like muscle on a woman, and will reject her based only on that. Is it possible to be so insecure? Is not a finely-sculpted musculature of a healthy female something to be appreciated as a work of art? Is this not beauty that a woman must earn, rather than simply being born with? My mate came into my life when I was so lonely, with such a large emptiness, and with a history that gave me such a reluctance to trust a woman, that I needed a woman that was a LOT of woman to fill the void - a woman who was so very understanding and so very strong on so many levels. I needed a woman who could overwhelm me enough to get me out of my doldrums. I needed a woman who needed me just as bad. Fortunately, my mate did all this and more, going so far as to share my love of wrestling. We concluded yet another wrestling match. Both of us had lost and won to each other countless times during our wonderfully long relationship, and both of us had the understanding that we were equals. Certainly, the outcome of our "battle of the sexes" could not have been easy for either of us or a spectator to predict. "Not knowing" was the suspense we loved, and so we wrestled, and then made love, or made love and then wrestled, or both intertwined, or at the same time. Both events made life interesting, and both were healthy. Perhaps both even kept us together. On this particular time, I savored victory over my muscular female soul- mate, although I would have just as gladly savored defeat. "I'm getting out of shape," she lamented, sounding almost disappointed at her defeat. "Wrestling keeps you in shape, win or lose, my dear," I responded, and gently kissed her. "I hope you realize that it is not easy to wrestle you, despite my strength- training," she stated. "The man is stronger than the woman, typically, and that is still true even in our case - even when you hardly work out as much as I. You are also larger. It is not fair. You haven't even earned it. Yet you are the superior." "You have prevailed over me at times with superior speed and skill," I said. "Pound-for-pound you are stronger, and probably healthier than I. YOU are the superior, and I worship you as such. I am honored to lose to you when I do. I know you worked so hard to defeat me, and you make me happy and proud of you when you do." "So we're both superior!" she declared. "No. Individually, we are both inferior to the power and madness that we generate together. Neither of us are strong enough to escape it, or each other." "So YOU make me strong when I'm with you, right?" she asked. "You learned to tolerate me - THAT made you tough," I joked. "Hah! You're right,# she laughed. #I'm tough enough fuck you at least as hard as you want to fuck me. Let's wrestle-fuck until we're exhausted!" "I'd love to, but you've already exhausted me." I said, telling a half-truth and playing hard to get with the woman I loved and now lusted for. "Ahh - right. The male typically has less endurance than the female," she stated cockily. "Oh yeah! I'll show you!" I protested. At that moment, my significant other giggled in anticipation, and without even a care of hurting her, I plunged myself full strength and deep into her muscular frame, and she enjoyed it and embraced me so tightly into her I could smell the lustful fragrance of her sweat, for she is truly that tough, and loving, and I am truly blessed. My lover is a big woman with a big heart. I know from the loneliness of my past that love should not be taken for granted. And yet I still wonder why some men do not like muscle on a woman, and will reject her based only on that.