A Wrestling Story

By aj143143

Here's another story. It's kind of long, and it takes a while to get going, but please be kind.

I've been wrestling on my school's JV team since I started high school last year. The thing I really like about wrestling is the glory of it. Wrestling is a man's sport -- it's been that way since the Greco-Roman times. It's a test of balance and strength; just two men on the mats, and whichever subdues the other wins. There's no luck, no "big plays," no substitutions, and no ambiguity about who earned the victory. That's the way I always felt sports should be. And there's a kind of mutual respect between winner and loser that sort of grows out of the exhausting struggle, the heroic duel that takes place on the mats. When you're beaten you know that the better man won, and you respect his strength. When you win, you know it took all the strength you had and the state of exhaustion you share with your vanquished opponent makes him your ally, no longer your enemy.

Lately, though, something happened that changed the way that I feel about wrestling. One of the other teams in the area has a girl on their team, and when we went up against them, I had to wrestle her. Now like I said, wrestling is about strength and balance, and there's just no way this girl could be that strong. But she's been in the papers a lot lately, and rumor has it she's been WINNING a lot of her matches. She's been quoted as saying that wrestling is about "skill and strategy, not brute strength". Well I'd just have to show her what brute strength could do. I disrespected this girl before I even saw her. She was invading my sport, and she was trying to knock down the manly image of the sport.

Well your opinions about people always have a way of changing when you actually meet them in person. When finally saw Jessica in the wrestling room there was one thing about her that really didn't fit with my mental profile of her. She was hot! She had blondish-brown hair tied up under a wrestling cap, a very pretty face, and an athletic body that looked very good in her spandex wrestling suit. I could hardly keep myself from gawking at the way her suit squeezed her breasts against her chest. She was probably about average sized in that regard, but she looked a little small because of the tightness of her suit. On the other hand that suit left almost nothing to the imagination. You could even see little bumps where her nipples were trying to poke through the material. When the two of us got up for our match and stood face to face in the circle, I got my first good look at her full figure. Her thighs were pretty muscular -- not as thin or as soft as I had expected. Her legs weren't short or stocky, though. And they were well toned. My gaze moved upwards, and I saw that she had pretty curvy hips. Her hips were broad in an athletic sort of way -- very toned. She had a relatively thin waistline, and her tits looked so smooth.

I raised my gaze to see her staring straight into my eyes with an angry, disdainful snarl. She was trying to look tough, but I wasn't impressed. She just looked out of place to me in a man's sport. But I realized that my mind wasn't where it needed to be. Wrestling demands concentration and intensity, and she definitely had the edge on me in that sense. As we squared off I tried to get my mind back on technique. Staying low to the ground, keeping strong balance, and taking this girl down.

The match started, and we circled each other for a few seconds before she made the first move. She came in low at my legs and wrapped one arm around my left hamstring and the other around my back. She was stronger than I expected, and I had to step back with my right leg to maintain balance and throw my weight around her. I reached over her back and grabbed the top of her left hamstring with one arm. I wrapped the other around her stomach and pushed down with my body to try to throw her off balance. At that moment I could tell that her strength wasn't going to match mine. I could definitely wear her down. But my concentration was broken again.

With my face pressed against her back near her cute butt I could smell a faint trace of perfume. I had one hand on her thigh very near her pussy, and her head was wedged into the bottom of my stomach just a few inches away from my crotch. Now that was a turn on, but I had to remember that she was my opponent.

A thought came into my head, and I sort of muttered between breaths, "Hey, while you're down there, why don't you give me a blow job." I hardly managed to get the words out between grunts, and I didn't really think it was even audible, but boy did it make her mad. She dug into my back and legs with her fingernails, and she started driving with her legs and twisting her torso, violently trying to take me down. But I was too strong for her. I held my ground, and her wildness gave me an advantage. I twisted her around and down almost onto all fours, while I still had my chest on top of her back with my arms locked around her waist. She lunged forward and locked both arms around my right thigh, restoring her balance and averting the takedown. I put on more pressure, preparing to try to twist her down to the mats again. Just then, she swung her right arm up, hitting me square in the groin with her forearm before wrapping the arm around my lower back. I was startled, but of course I had protection.

I figured it was totally accidental, but I still wanted to give her a hard time, so I muttered, "What, you didn't think I'd be wearing a cup?"

She muttered back, "I always test." She drove me back a step, using her temporary advantage while the words swam in my mind. Then she muttered again, "I've won some easy matches that way..." Now my concentration was totally gone. I could just imagine taking a full force blow to the nuts without my cup. She would have probably been able to just throw me down and have her way.

Before I got my head back in the game, she had worked me down onto one knee, and she had her shoulder pressing into my ribcage while she locked her arms around my waist. I was in a bad spot. Then I decided, if she could fight dirty, so could I. I decided to goose her. I brought my left hand up, grabbed a handful of breast and squeezed. She immediately gasped, pulled her chest back, and tried to squirm away. I'm sure some of the people on the side saw what I was doing, but they were all guys and they were probably enjoying it. The referee didn't call a foul -- now that I think about it, there probably isn't any rule against boob-grabbing. This is a man's sport, after all, so why should anyone have thought of making it illegal. I used the advantage to regain my footing, and I probably could have taken her down if I wasn't enjoying it so much. I gave her breast another little working over, which made her squirm again, and then I moved my hand. After all, I wasn't going to be able to take her down by the tit.

Well that move seemed to remove a lot of her inhibitions, because the next thing I knew, I felt her hand sliding in-between my legs. She couldn't grab anything because I was wearing a cup, but it was still very disconcerting. I figured she was playing mind games. Maybe this was what she meant by wrestling being about strategy. Or maybe she was just retaliating. Anyway, she grabbed at my butt with her other hand as she slid her chest on top of my back. She had the high ground now, which meant I had no more access to her titties, but I was going to be wrestling seriously from here on out anyway. If I could just push hard enough on one of her thighs make her lift it off the ground, then I could take her off balance and spin her to the ground for the pin. I drove her back with a major exertion, but she managed to keep her balance even with a couple of very quick steps backward. At this point I was totally committed to the offensive, and I hardly even noticed the pressure she was putting on my groin cup. I thought maybe she wanted to break it, but that wasn't going to happen. And she was pushing mostly sideways anyway. But I was dead wrong. She wasn't trying to break the cup, she was trying to move it, and at that she succeeded.

I felt the cup come out for a second away from my body, and my testicles dropped down. Then the cup snapped back, trapping my left testicle outside the cup. Now that was really painful to begin with -- my testicles got banged up a bit in the process -- but what really froze me was the realization of the danger that I was now in. The first blow sapped a little strength, but if she figured out that my testicle was unprotected I would be dead meat. Fortunately for me, she didn't seem to realize it, and she was still working on my cup. I say fortunately, only to an extent. Extreme discomfort is a vast understatement for what I felt when she slid my cup around with her hand, dragging my testicles along for the ride. I couldn't help but squirm and writhe. I had to force her out of this position fast and go for the takedown. There could be no more playing around. Still, that would be hard, especially with my abdominals tightening up from the pain and my increasing difficulty breathing.

Fear, however, has a way of helping you to do things you wouldn't have ever thought you could do in a normal state of mind. I was now desperate. I felt another shot of pain as my testicle was squeezed between my cup and my thigh. My body convulsed, and I almost lifted Jessica off the mats. I decided to try again, and with one violent jerk I managed to take her off her feet and throw her down. I had broken her hold, and now I had her. I sprung on her for the pin, and I would have finished her, but as I thrust forward, my legs closed, catching my left testicle between my cup and my thigh, and smashing it. My motion stopped, and I tried to recover balance and pin her, but she took the chance and escaped. Worse yet, as she eyed me, she seemed to have a very evil grin in her eyes. I realized that I had a momentary chance to fix my equipment while we were separated. I reached down with both hands to adjust my cup and get both testes back inside. But Jessica had already figured out what had happened, and my movement only confirmed her suspicion.

She flew at me and knocked me down to my knees. I caught myself with my hands to avoid the pin, but I hadn't managed to fix my cup. Our bodies were now pressed together, her on top of me, with my head right in her crotch. I tried to keep her arms occupied, but I was in no position to do this, and she slid her right hand between my legs and started groping around. It took her no more than a second or two to locate my unprotected testicle, and she closed her fist around it and squeezed. Her nails dug into my testicle, and I convulsed in excruciating pain. I was hardly even still conscious, but the fear that she might rip my boy apart, or rupture it made me act fast. Still squirming, I shot a hand up and hit her pussy. Hard. She made a noise, her abdomen tightened, and she seemed to weaken, but she didn't let go. My whole gut was now wrenching so tight I could hardly move at this point, aside from my involuntary convulsions. Finally I put my head between her legs and bit the inside of her thigh as obviously as I could. This was a major penalty, and the referee should have stopped the match over it. Why he wouldn't stop us when she started crushing my testicle I'll never know. It had to be illegal. Maybe she had somehow managed to hide what she was doing. Anyway, what I thought was obvious was not so obvious to the ref, because he didn't blow the whistle. Then I felt an explosion of pain which crippled me. I lost feeling in my arms, and my head dropped to the floor. I didn't care about anything anymore. I just wanted it to be over. Jessica pinned me for the win, and then she finally released my scrotum.

At this point I was just lying on the mats, curled up in a ball and crying. Crying not so much from the pain -- I never cry from pain no matter how severe -- but rather from the humiliation of having twenty men watch my balls get crushed by a girl. Everyone was silent, and Jessica was loving it. While it might have looked before like my convulsions were just attempts to break her hold, now it was painfully obvious to everyone in the room what had been going on. I looked up at Jessica, who was standing just a few feet away. She had her weight on one leg, with her hand on her hip, and she was looking down at me with a smirk on her face. My coach came over and asked me if I was going to be able to wrestle in my second match. I told him no way. I was finished. And I asked him to get the trainer. I heard Jessica laughing at this, and I didn't know if it she was laughing because my voice was cracking, or because I had asked for the trainer, or both, but it infuriated me. One of the things I had always loved about wrestling was the respect. And this girl had no respect for me. She didn't even play by the rules, so I had no respect for her either. But she had destroyed me, and come out laughing. That was humiliating.

When the trainer came into the room, my coach told him what the matter was, and he came over to check me out. I could see over his shoulder that Jessica was desperately trying to see what was going on, but my coach was ushering her away.

He said, "This is not something for a woman's eyes."

Jessica said, "Why? He hasn't got anything that I haven't seen before."

My coach just said, "Just leave him alone." That was good. At least I'd get a little privacy. All the guys in the room were looking away, if they hadn't already left. Jessica still wouldn't leave the room, though. The trainer took off my suit (I was unable to do that myself), and he removed my cup and started inspecting. The inspection was extremely painful, but brief.

Then he said, "Well, here's what I can recommend: I want you to ice it. 20 minutes on, 20 minutes off. All day long. That should help with some of the swelling and the inflammation. And you can take some Advil, too. I think you're going to have to see a urologist about this, though. There's a lot of swelling, and I'm afraid you may have a rupture." I was paralyzed with fear.

At this moment I heard a female voice from across the room, "Oh my gaawwd! Did I really do all that? Wowwww -- I didn't mean to." Sure. Bitch.

The trainer helped me back into my suit, and I started firing questions at him, "Rupture? What does that mean? Will I be all... Can they fix that? They won't have to rem... Will they?" I was on the brink of tears again. And I heard Jessica giggle.

The trainer just said, "You'll have to see a urologist." And he left.

Some guys helped me out of the room (I was limping badly), and then they started the next match. The last thing I heard as I left the room was Jessica saying in a sweet and sexy voice, "Byyye, Jim. I hope I'll see you again..."

(End, Part I)