Wednesday, August 8, 2007

Getting Warmed Up


"Well, well, well, Just lookee here, girls," said Kitten as the girls came out of their post-gym class showers and into one of the smaller gyms in the field house.

"Hey," said Rosa, "hunks all over the place. All right!" The place was filled with female wolf whistles as the other sophomore, junior and senior girls crime up behind Kitten, 16 and Rosa, 15.

"Hey, I know who they are," said Tammy, 16. "They're the wrestling team from Southfield that's going to wrestle our team today. My brother says they're one of the toughest teams in the state."

"No kidding?" said Kitten, as she walked around the edge of the mats as the muscular Southfield Rams continued to proudly go through they're stretching and warm-up paces before their scheduled match with the Nordyke Bulls. "They don't look so tough to me."

Randy, 155-pounder on the Southfield team, didn't take kindly to that. "Come to the match later", he said between sit-ups.

"Oho," said Kitten, "That one talks tough!" She walked around toward him. "I don't know about how you'd do in a prissy assed sport like high school wrestling, pretty boy. Maybe all right; I gotta admit you got some nice muscles on you. But I'll tell you one thing: On the streets of this neighborhood you wouldn't last a day. Shit, if you had any balls, you wouldn't he taking all this shit I'm giving you."

The boys didn't know how to react. Their coach was downstairs taking care of details before the match. They didn't want to get into trouble. But they didn't like taking this abuse either. Team captain Al Wantrobe, 165; thought he'd better step in before hotheaded Randy got carried away. "Just ignore them Randy. We've got more important things to worry about."

Tammy walked over to Al. "You have to worry about the match, huh? OK, I'll help you warm up. My brother taught me how to wrestle." Before Al knew it, Tammy had dropped down to the mat and wrapped her arms and legs around Al. Instinctively, he started wrestling, though not all that hard. He couldn't get free, even though Tammy was smaller than him.

The girls started clapping and yelling as their friend Tammy grappled with the Southfield captain. "Go Nordyke," yelled one. "Go Bulls," yelled another. One of the boys said, sarcastically, "Go Bulldykes," Melissa Grant, 18, curvy as a cheerleader and tough as a streetwalker, went up to him.

"Now that wasn't nice, was it!" she said. He started to respond, but she instantaneously brought her knee sharply up to his crotch. The boy wrestler collapsed to the mat in agony. Melissa turned her back on him, placed her hand under her blond flip and gave it a little toss at him. She rejoined the cheering and laughing girls, giving them a little wink.

Said Kitten, as Tammy and the captain continued to roll about sensuously on the mat, "Anybody else want to call us names?" -- she looked directly at Randy -- "you candy-assed, foul-smelling, cunt- sucking, pussy-whipped twerps."

Randy jumped to his feet. Sticking his face in Kitten's, he said, '"Now look, you goddamn...”

Kitten interrupted him. "Bunny," she said to the smallest girl in the group, "Go close that door. We're going to have a private party, and I wouldn't want all the noise to disturb the neighbors." The boys watched Bunny's little skirt flap as she scurried over to the large door and bolted it.

"Now," Kitten said to Randy, "what was that you were saying, peanut breath?"

"Now look, you...”

"Oh, right," Kitten said. She brought her knee up to his crotch, and the other girls took that as the sign to attack, and the battle was joined. The girls -- in tight jeans, slacks, short skirts, slit skirts - - swarmed onto the mat yelling: "Go Nordyke" and running for the shocked male wrestlers, They dove on some, kneed some who were standing, grabbed some in headlocks, slapped some, tackled some, kicked some and rammed into some, bowling them over. The boys could hardly believe this was happening, but their trained instincts caused them to fight back. Tiny Bunny shucked off her shoes, and faced off with Johnny Torpor, at 115 pounds not much bigger than her. She dove for his knees the way she knew a scholastic wrestler might, and he shot them backwards, bringing his stomach down on her back. From below him she threw a closed fist up at his crotch, now visibly bulging through his wrestling tights. She didn't land with perfect accuracy, but the glancing blow was enough to cause Johnny major pain.

He wanted to crumple up in a little ball and just rock back and forth until the pain went away, but he continued to try to fight. He was weakened, though, and before long he found that the girl had been able to grab his leg and pull herself around him so that she was now on top, She wrapped one arm around his waist and reached between his legs with her other hand and grabbed his balls, The boy screamed, "Goddamn you dirty bitch!" The girl stood up, pulling hard on his crotch and his waist. The boy was now bent over the girl's arms, his own arms hanging down toward the mat, and his toes just barely touching it. The girl -- loving every minute of this -- held him like that, periodically jerking upward on his crotch, watching him thrash and kick in his futility. When he would seem to be squirming off her, she would toss him a bit in the air and take a new hold on him. On one of those tosses, she decided not to catch him. The varsity wrestler fell with a splat on his face at the sophomore girl's little feet. He curled up like a fetus below her.

"Don't you wanna rassle anymore, Johnny?" she teased him with a nudge of her toes in his ribs. "I thought you boys like to rassle. Just with boys, huh!" He lashed out at her with a futile, petulant little kick. She laughed and turned to look for more action, confident that Johnny wouldn't be participating for a while.

Meanwhile, cute Tammy still had 165-pound Al under control. She was sitting behind him, her arms wound over his arms and behind his back, her legs wrapped around his belly in a scissors hold; but a scissors with a difference. She was rubbing the nyloned heel of one of her feet over Al's crotch. So far the pain had not been extraordinary, but Al was petrified by his inability to defend against that heel. He twisted and turned violently, but Tammy had learned a little from her brother -- and some of her holds were not ones Al was experienced in dealing with, because they were illegal in high school wrestling (including both the scissors and the locking of her hands behind his back)-- so she was able to hold him.

She enjoyed teasing him about that. She would nibble on his earlobe and say, "C'mon! Captain Al, when are you going to start wrestling?" Finally, she turned him over on his stomach and dug her heel hard into his crotch -- so hard as to force his midsection up into the air balanced on her heel. He started to yell in agony, but she forced his face flat into the mat by reversing her arms into a full nelson.

Melissa, the curvy, blond 18-year-old who had started things off and who was not tiny, was totally dominating one of the smaller guys on the team by playful, teasing little attacks or faked attacks on his crotch. Poor Tim Johnson was finding that no matter what position he would put Melissa in --and she would sometimes just stand there and let him try anything he wanted (at least after she realized that his interest was in tying "holds" on her, not striking blows)-- she could reach his crotch with a. hand or foot, or at least get close enough to it to scare him into an inferior position, from which she would be able to escape. Now he looked at her standing in front of him and was amazed to realize he was hesitant about making a move. Then she made one. She pretended to reach suddenly for his crotch; then she stood and giggled as she watched him back away quickly and crouched in defense.

She imitated him, crossing her hands in front of her own crotch. "Here I come, Timmy; I'm gonna get ya," she said as if he were a five-year-old she was going to tickle. Backing away, he toppled over another boy-girl match in progress. She was standing above him laughing when suddenly she felt something from behind. It was the boy who had made the "bulldykes" remark, the one Melissa had earlier kneed, Pretty well recovered now, he had attacked her in anger, bringing her down atop Tim and the other grappling couple. Now the five of them were rolling about in a heap. Melissa's attacker was yelling obscenities at her; about surprise attacks and dirty fighting and she felt hands -- his, she guessed -- reaching up under her skirt. First, though, she thought she better take care of Tim. A closed fist to his balls crumpled him up. Suddenly, then, she turned and faced her attacker. She lunged at him -- angry at his tactics -- and they rolled about on the mat, her bare legs flashing.

He managed to get her flat on her back. Sitting on her stomach, he said, "you wanna fight dirty, huh, lady? I'll show you dirty fighting!" He began to maul her breasts. In agony, Melissa bucked, sending the boy briefly off her belly. Before he could come down, she managed to get her knee below his crotch. He came down on it and fell immediately, screaming, to his side, holding his crotch.

Melissa knelt up beside him, brushed her hair back into place and said, "That'll teach you to mess with a Nordyke girl, you impotent little turd," as he lay rolling from side to side next to her She reached over him for the equally helpless Tim and dragged him into a position such that she could control both the boys with a girlish hand in each crotch.

The task of taking the boy's heavyweight went to 15-year-old Rosa, acknowledged by the girls as the meanest and toughest among them. She was also a bit overweight herself. She pushed several other guys out of the way in her single-minded pursuit of the big, overweight one. They stared at each other, him perplexed, Rosa excited, "Eat foot, fat boy," she said, as her foot came up squarely into his crotch. When he bent over, she seized him in a headlock and threw him to the ground. When he landed, she put another toe in his crotch. Just like that the big boy was helpless below her. She kneeled next to him and dug her hands in between his and seized his testicles and squeezed. The screams that went up exceeded any previously offered in the gym that day. The heavyweight's hand tore everyplace at the girl: on her hands, her hair, her clothes, her legs, her ankles. But he could not free himself. In fact, Rosa's lock became more and more secure.

There were 15 such scenes all over the room, some of the girls controlling more than one of the boys simultaneously. Celestine, for example, had kicked one boy in the groin and landed a bit off center. When he came at her in retaliation, she ducked behind a smaller boy, who she held between her and the first boy, ducking back and forth behind him as the first boy came at her, first from one side then the other. "Here I am, white boy," she said, "come and get me." Then she suddenly pushed the second boy hard against the first, trapping both against a wall as she pushed in behind the second one. Then, digging hard against the back of the boy in between her and her attacker, she, reached under both their crotches and grabbed that of the boy whose back was against the wall.

"Gotcha!" she cried, as she twisted him. Then she switched her hand to the other boy, then back and forth, torturing both the boys.

All over the room boy wrestlers were screaming in agony and -- finally -- pleading with the girls, begging to be released, screaming, crying for mercy at the soft hands of the Nordyke girls. "Stop, stop!! You win!" went the cries. When all the boys had been pretty much subdued, and were lying around the room in varying degrees of pain, Rosa, looked up, from her ministrations over the heavyweight, a mischievous gleam in her eyes, and said, "First one to get one of them stripped gets a free week's supply of joints, no pun intended." Immediately the girls set to work feverishly

All over the gym male bodies were being rolled and flipped and tugged this way and that as the girls tried to figure out how to undo the boys intricate uniforms. Bunny stood in front of an already hurting little Johnny Torper, who she had earlier been holding off the floor by his crotch, and she seized him suddenly with one hand around his balls. Then she squeezed with all her might, and the boy would have collapsed if she had let him. Instead, though, she turned her back on him -- still holding him where it mattered -- and secured her lock on him even tighter, raising her hand further and further until she completely enveloped him. Then she began to walk forward. He had no choice but to follow. She stood him in front of a wide window ledge. Then, using all her strength -- concentrated at his crotch, which she now held with both her hands -- she heaved his body up onto the ledge and spread the boy out before her. The latter was no easy task because all of Johnny's instincts caused him to fold up at his center, thus hampering Bunny's denuding of him without even trying to.

"Get flat," she ordered as she tugged at his hair, and he probably would have if only he could have.

Finally, frantic, Bunny pushed Johnny's torso out of the open window and brought the window down to hold him in place. That made it fairly easy for her to reach into his crotch and pull down his shorts -- thus exposing his rear end to the entire room -- and unbutton his shirt where it went below his groin in the back and back up in the front. Then she pulled off his jock strap, and shoes and socks. Then she stood pondering how to most quickly rid the boy of his shirt, rubbing her chin as his naked legs and ass flapped. She decided. She stood directly behind him, nimbly stepping between his thrashing legs. She put her hand under his crotch and grabbed one ball between two fingers. "Take off your shirt, Johnny," she said simply. He complied as quickly as he could.

Still, Bunny did not win the contest. That honor went to Rosa herself, who had known her strategy before she ever suggested the contest. Having her hands buried in the heavyweight's crotch already, it required little effort for her to shove one, then the other hand under his shorts. She seized the tail of his shirt and ripped it viciously from its buttons. That done, there was nothing to prevent her from quickly denuding the embarrassed, overweight boy of all his clothes, leaving him in a huddle of flesh -- exposing his fat ass so that he could cover his crotch. She stood up and waved his jock strap over her head in claim of victory. However, several of the other girls continued their strips just for the hell of it.

Then, with naked and half naked male bodies lying all over the room, the Nordyke girls took their leave, taking the boys' clothing with them. "Better luck against the Nordyke boys, boys," one said as they departed.


1 comment:

Ethan Stansmore said...

-.- are all these stories about how much women deserve to be beaten and taken down? All these stories basically say they're a threat... Why not just kill em? XD