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Old 17-Jul-18, 15:23
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Default The Wrestling Coach's Daughter

I'm in my singlet, headgear on, bouncing from foot-to-foot on the edge of the mat in typical pre-match mode and I’m pissed off. My wrestling coach told me only moments ago that the coach from the other school said they didn’t have anyone in my weight class and asked to sub in his kid, a freshman who’s two classes lower. I wrestle at 145 pounds, so I'm being asked to take on a 126-pounder.

This is a no-win situation for me. You beat someone smaller and it's because you're supposed to: lose and you look like an idiot. My coach knows this and committed me anyway. "Good practice," he muttered, barely looking up from his clipboard.

This really steams me. I'm 17, a junior and have been wrestling varsity for two years. Now I'm being asked to risk a loss to a freshman. Although I'm pretty sure I won't lose it still gets me mad. I had to earn my spot the hard way. No freshman is going to stroll in and pull off an upset at my expense. Whoever this clown is I'm going to make him pay.

Still bouncing, I see the group on the other side part and my opponent steps onto the mat. A murmur goes through the gym as I stare in disbelief. It's a girl!

It takes me a moment to get over the shock and I shoot my coach a dirty look and he shrugs wordlessly in reply, like he had no idea. Yeah, right. I'm being asked to wrestle a freshman girl! A smaller freshman girl! I had heard that there were some girls that wrestled boys but I had never seen one. I considered it a myth, like unicorns. Now I was being set up by my own coach - he knows if I pull out now it’s a forfeit. I shoot him another dirty look.

She looks to be about four inches shorter than me, about 5'4". She doesn't look like she weighs 126 but her butt is kind of large and is unmistakably female. No way her red singlet can hide that. But she doesn't look like the female wrestlers I've seen on the internet, all muscled and bulky; she looks like a young girl. Toned-looking, but still, no bodybuilder type. In fact, even with her headgear on I can tell she's actually pretty cute, with a blonde ponytail almost halfway down her back and a trace of dimples I can see even with her mouth guard in.

I snap out of it. No cute 14-year-old girl is going to distract me from my goal, which is to humiliate and destroy her.

The referee signals and we come out to the center mat and get our anklets. I'm home team so I get the green. Her red matches her singlet. I glower at her while the referee gets ready, hoping she can feel the intensity in my stare. I whisper “I hope you don’t start crying little girl,” while the ref has his back turned. Some of the guys do a little trash talking before the match and I usually don’t, but If she thinks I'm going to take it easy on her she in for a rude surprise. Girl or no girl she is going down and going down hard. This is a potential embarrassment for me and I can already hear catcalls from my so-called friends in the crowd. There’s a buzz in the gym and even the other mats have paused to take in the sight of a girl wrestler taking on an older and bigger boy.

She glances up at me but doesn't look cowed, as I was expecting. She looks kind of calmly confident, which surprises me. I remember going up against older opponents when I was a freshman and it was nerve-wracking, but she looks as though she's measuring me. She whispers back, “Haven’t you heard? There’s no crying in wrestling.”

She'll pay for that lack of fear. Our feet line up in the neutral position and the whistle blows.

I want to let her know right away she is going to regret coming up against me and bull rush her, planning on shoving her out of bounds immediately just to let her know she’s up against someone who is bigger and stronger. I get a half-second jump on her and have her halfway to the edge of the mat before she reacts and manages to slip my hold, twisting away to my right. Showing a burst of speed she then goes after my legs and I find myself falling backwards as her hands clamp onto my back knee. She lands on top of me and I see the ref signal a two-point takedown. Fuck! Now I'm really mad.

I bridge and throw her off, rolling to my feet in a one-point escape. I abandon my half-baked plan to bull rush again and begin to circle. I plan on taking her down hard and shoot for her lead leg. I grab her and sweep with my back leg and we fall together, with me on top. This was more like it. I latch onto the back of her arm and scramble sideways, hoping to establish an armbar and end this match quick.

I guess she's no novice because she breaks free and I discover she's a lot stronger than she looks as she wrenches her arm out of my grasp like it’s nothing. I follow up by grabbing her ankle but she skitters away and leaps to her feet. No two-point takedown for me. I leap up as well and resume stalking her.

She doesn't back up. She eyes me and turns to stay in front of me as I circle, elbows in, feinting with either hand to see if I can catch her off-guard. She's on the balls of her feet, quick and athletic. After one of my feints she comes in again for my legs. I'm expecting it. She can't have that many moves, I figure, and she's too young to have any kind of experience.

Except that she feints too. I'm in a staggered stance and when I go to shift my lead leg she rises and hits me with her shoulder in my midsection. Before I even know what's happening I feel her grab the back of my thighs and she lifts me off the ground. Lifts me off the ground! Maintaining her momentum she turns, completes the move, and slams me down, my head banging off the mat. I'm in a momentary daze. I hear the ref’s whistle as we pause the action.

“Unnecessary force!” he says, giving her a sharp warning for using too much force to slam me down. He signals a one-point penalty to the scorekeeper. She turns her head in surprise and I take advantage of that lapse and hop to my feet the second the ref signals to continue.

I stagger away, realizing that I've already had to bridge twice to get her off me. She hasn't had to bridge me at all. Adding to that – she was just reprimanded for treating a 17-year-old boy too roughly. A 14-year-old-girl was too rough on me! I am beyond angry and take a deep breath to figure out my next attack.

She doesn’t wait. With astonishing speed she launches herself at me again and gets her hand on the back of my neck to try and throw me off balance. I do the same to her and we stagger around the mat locked up like a couple of battling elks. I am frustrated at how strong she is and angry that I can’t control her, so I decide to use my weight advantage and go for a penetrating shot. I suddenly push off my back leg and drop to a knee with my front leg, jerking my hand loose from her neck and sweeping it for her calf. I catch it and drive forward, upending her. Before I can capitalize she twists out of my grip, rolls away and I see the ref signal for a one-point escape. Then I scramble to my feet and the ref whistles time, end of round one. It’s already been two minutes and as I glance over at the scorekeeper I see she’s leading 4-1.

We’re the home team and the gym is packed with our supporters but the typical roar of encouragement has muted to a low buzz of conversation. Everyone is watching our match and I feel the pressure of their expectations. I trot over to the coach who looks daggers at me and says, “Quit screwing around, Hutton. She may be the coach’s kid but she’s a girl, for god’s sake! Use some technique! Have you forgotten everything you know?”

I nod, my mind racing. I had naturally assumed my superior size and weight would give me a big advantage, but I just wasted the first round finding out that wasn’t the case. She is sneaky fast, has good technique, and has shocked me with how strong she is. I’m going to need to strap it up and get down to business – treat her like any other opponent. I don’t care if it looks like I’m picking on her - if I wind up on the losing end of this bout it would be catastrophic.

I head back to the middle and the ref flips the disc and it comes up red, so she gets to choose how she starts the second round, either on top or bottom of the referee position. I start to get in the defensive position, which is the normal move, but she stops me. “I’ll take bottom,” she tells the ref.

A murmur goes through the crowd. She’s taking a chance with this decision but I don’t waste a minute as she drops to her hands and knees. She’s gambling that I won’t pin her this round and she’ll start the third round on top. It’s her funeral, I hope. She braces herself, head up, as I carefully slide my hand around her back and underneath her, placing my palm flat against her stomach, which is tensed and very firm. I accidently graze her breasts and she gives me a dirty look. With my other hand I grip the back of her upper arm. It too feels rock solid. A random thought flashes through my brain – is her arm bigger than mine? Can this be possible?

Before I can finish the thought the ref blows the whistle and I bear down, but not before she shoots her legs out in front of her with blinding speed and scrambles like a crab to break free. It works and I see the ref signal to the scorekeeper for a 1-point escape. God damn it! She’s up 5-1!

Now we’re both on our feet facing each other again, slapping at each other as we each try to snag a hold. She grins at me with supreme confidence as I see she’s decided to ditch her mouth guard. Like she’s not worried about me hurting her! This inflames me even more and the extra rush of adrenaline helps as I go for an ankle pick. Chopping her arm away I grab the back of her neck and give it all my speed as I drop to a knee and grab her ankle. I succeed in capturing it and drive up and forward, lifting her leg as I do. This gets her hopping on one foot and I use her imbalance to lower my shoulder and drive into her. She doubles over, I get under her and stand erect with her draped over my shoulder. Then I turn the tables on her and try to slam her onto her back like she did to me. See how she likes it.

I take too long. As I try to slam her down she gets one arm around my neck and grabs the back of my lead arm. As I drive her towards the ground she tightens her headlock and pulls at my arm simultaneously and as we fall forward she uses my momentum to roll me and I go under. Now I’m flat on my back and she’s going for a cross-body pin. Unbelievable!

I see the ref signal for a 2-point takedown and I bridge furiously. No way was I going to let this girl get me that easy. I use every reserve of strength and much to my horror, she matching me, if not beating me! I flail away as she attempts to trap my arm between her thighs and her taut body stretches sideways across my chest as I feel her core strength battling to control my free arm using both of hers. For long seconds we writhe and buck, straining with all of our might for control. If I let her capture my arm it would be disaster. I’m sweating and straining, not caring how it looks as the crowd watches me struggle underneath her body. She is clearly in control and I need to do something desperate or I’ll not only lose the match, but lose by a pin. A pin by a girl!

Luckily we only have one ref today and he’s on the opposite side so I take my thumb and jam it into her armpit as hard as I can. It’s totally illegal but the ref can’t see me and I hear her gasp in pain. Distracted, she loosens her legs grip on my arm and I jerk my arm upwards between her thighs right into her crotch and torque my upper torso sideways, flipping her onto her back. Her coach is screaming bloody murder but the crowd roars and the ref can’t hear him and he signals a 1-point escape for me. Her mouth is right next to my ear and she grunts “You’re a cheater!” and I reply, “Stop crying,” before she separates my arms with brute strength and I can’t hold her and she rolls away from me.

Now we’re both on our feet again, circling. She’s feinting and bouncing around but I’m gassed and glance over at the timer, wondering when the end of the round is. I skip backwards as she comes after me with malice in her eye. She’s really pissed about me intentionally hurting her but what was I supposed to do – lose?

I know it looks bad as I backpedal but she’s fast and strong and I need a minute to catch my breath so I cross the boundary and the ref blows his whistle and penalizes me 1 point for stalling. The crowd boos but the timer goes off and I don’t give a shit. I head over to my coach as the scoreboard reads 9-0.

The coach is as mad as I’ve ever seen him and gets right in my face. “You’ve done it now, hotshot! That little girl is kicking your ass and you need a pin to win. Are you going to let her throw you around like that? Get in there and finish her!”

My mind is racing as we meet in the middle of the mat to start the third and final period. I have two minutes to turn this thing around. I don’t even have time to figure out why she’s beating me; I just need to figure out how to win. How can she be beating me?!! She’s 14 years old!!!

It’s not going to get any easier as I get on defense. It’s her turn on top and she takes her time settling in, her arm wrapping around my waist with her palm flat up against my stomach, her knee between my legs and her other hand gripping the back of my elbow with painful force. She turns her head sideways and places her cheek in the middle of my back, whispering so that only I can hear, “This is it asshole. I’m pinning you.”

I’m nervous as hell when she says that because there’s no hesitation in her voice at all. She sounds like it’s a foregone conclusion and I’m suddenly fearful, which is a bad thing to be in the middle of a match. How can she be so certain she’s going to pin me? To lose to her would be bad enough, but she is the coach’s daughter and I could explain it away by attributing it to superior technique. But to be pinned by her would be… well, it would be worse than bad. My reputation, my place on the team – everything would suffer. I can’t let her do that to me, I just can’t.

The ref blows his whistle and we go. I use a move I’ve seen in practice but never tried before; I scramble forward three quick paces on my knees and create separation, then I twist my back towards her and jam my elbow underneath her arm and bear down. This causes her to stumble and I am now on her back, position reversed. I see the ref signal for a 2-point reversal but I have no time to celebrate because she jerks my right arm down and forward and the next thing I know I’m on my back again as she executes a perfect roll.

Now she’s on top of me again and the crowd falls silent. They can’t believe what they are seeing. She has my head and arm wrapped up in a headlock, her hands cupped and locked, my face smashed up against her chest. My free arm is flailing wildly, trying to get a grip on any part of her that will give me a hold. I’m trying to bridge but have no leverage. She increases the pressure on my arm and I see the ref watching closely to see if injury is imminent. It feels like it is, like it’s going to pop out of the socket any second but the ref lets her continue squeezing me. With my face pulled into her chest I feel suffocated and overwhelmed. I didn’t expect this. I can feel my strength waning as body part by body part she forces me down and holds me there.

Randomly, an image pops into my brain and I imagine how this would look from an overhead camera; the blue 38-by-38’ mat with the boundary circle in white flanked by sets of bleachers with an excited crowd on their feet shouting at us. The other mats trail off to the side but nobody else is wrestling, they’re all on their feet watching us. We’re in the middle of the mat, me on the bottom as the girl in the red singlet methodically takes command and forces her will on me.

Everyone in the gym sees her began to take control of me. I’m helpless as she methodically tightens her grip, stopping just short of an illegal hold, drawing it out so it’s plain to see I’m at her mercy. I’m gasping for air as she whispers “Can you feel it? I’m going to pin you…”

Taunting is prohibited so she does it so the ref can’t hear. “You can’t stop me,” she whispers and I’m afraid it might be true.

What she does next is uncalled for. There’s no way to sugar coat it – she shifts her weight and mounts me like a Shetland pony, straddling me with her legs, her chest pressing into mine, bodies tight together as her arms encircle my head. The crowd watches as I writhe helplessly underneath the young girl as she establishes her position. My neck is corded and my face is red as I struggle with everything I have to keep her from overpowering me but it’s hopeless. She’s too strong, too determined. She’s going to pin me in front of the whole school.

Then it gets worse.

She decides to punish me for hurting her. Horrified, I realize what she is doing but am helpless to prevent it. She could pin me now but doesn’t. Every time the ref drops down and looks underneath me to see if both shoulders are touching she raises one side up so it looks like I’m resisting. If it goes on much longer the ref will call it but for now the torture continues.

Then she takes her right hand and uses it to squeeze my right arm twisted up behind my head. Palm down, she forces my arm to the mat. With her newly freed hand she grabs my left wrist. Inch by inch she begins to take control of my struggling body. First, she slams my left hand to the mat, then the right. She is showing everyone that she can hold my arms down. Then she tightens her legs clamped onto my torso, slamming her hips into mine as I attempt to bridge one more time, forcing me back onto the mat. Clearly, she is stronger than me at this point and able to punish me any way she sees fit. My upper body under control, she then hooks her ankles inside my calves and spreads me in an excruciating grapevine. I’m now pinned like a dead butterfly.

Then she rises up a little, her face directly over mine, looking down at me as she forces my hands to the mat.

I’m apoplectic with rage and shame. It’s one thing to lose to a legitimate wrestling hold applied by a legitimate wrestler, but to lose by being overpowered by a girl lying on top of you is too much for me to bear. I grit my teeth and whisper, “Just get it over with…”

The look on her face is frighteningly remorseless. She says, “Why should I? I can do this all day.”

I believe her.

The ref hops to the side, drops onto his stomach and watches as she finally forces my shoulder blades down. He begins an agonizingly slow countdown, “One thousand one, one thousand two…”

He slaps the mat and my life is ruined by a 14-year-old girl. She holds me down and stares down at me with disdain, daring me to speak while the place erupts in noise. I don’t say a thing.

Then while everyone gets busy for the next match and a lot of people are milling around she rubs it in. She releases me from the grapevine then calmly sits up on top of me and removes her headgear. Then she reaches behind her head and takes the elastic band off her ponytail, her biceps flexing impressively, then shakes her hair loose. It falls below her shoulders and I can see that she’s more than cute – she’s beautiful. She has the youthful face of a 14-year-old, the body of an 18-year-old and the strength of a 30-year-old.

She looks down at me like she’s a lioness and wondering what to do with her little zebra. “I thought high school boys would be tougher,” she says.

I don’t say anything. I am in awe of her.

The ref comes over, looks down at me, smirks a little, and then tells her, “The match is over – you won. Get off him and go shake hands with the other teams coach.”

“Yes sir,” she says, smiling up at him all innocent-like. The ref turns away and she doesn’t move, the innocent smile slipping away as she looks down at me.

“You heard him,” I say, “You have to get off me now.”

She raises her chin and says, “Can you make me?”

I don’t say anything. What could I say?

Now a few people are noticing that she’s still sitting on me and start to point. I feel my face get even redder. “Come on,” I say, “You beat me already. Can I get up?”

She just sits there looking at me. “Maybe. What’s your name?” she says after a moment.

“Jeffrey,” I tell her. My embarrassment is ebbing and I don’t care what anyone thinks now, I am mesmerized.

“How does it feel to lose to a girl?” She’s kind of taunting me and kind of not, like she really wants to know how I feel.

“I guess you’re better than me,” I admit.

“Stronger, too.”

“Yeah, you are. You’re really strong,” I tell her and it causes her to smile a little. Not like a mean smile, though.

She looks down at me like she’s thinking about something, I look back, and for a long moment we seem to be reading each other’s minds.

“What’s your name?” I ask her, suddenly not wanting her to get off me, wanting her to stay and talk to me.

“Jodene,” she says. “You look like you’ve learned your lesson. Call me sometime.” Then she finally stands up and walks away and I stare like an idiot at her gorgeous butt in that bright red singlet.

Do I dare?

__________________________________________________

Edit by admin: This story has been voted the story of the month in [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]. Congratulations, @[Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]!

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  #2  
Old 17-Jul-18, 17:18
andy857 andy857 is offline
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Default Re: The Wrestling Coach's Daughter

Great story Boyandy! I would like to hear more about Jodene's biceps in the next chapter.
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Old 17-Jul-18, 20:07
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mixfightor mixfightor is offline
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Default Re: The Wrestling Coach's Daughter

Oh, you dare. You dare.
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Old 18-Jul-18, 07:29
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mksample mksample is offline
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Default Re: The Wrestling Coach's Daughter

bravo. double dare.
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Old 18-Jul-18, 21:59
socalblues socalblues is offline
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Default Re: The Wrestling Coach's Daughter

love your writing style and characters, but the girls are just too young for in my opinion. �� keep up the good work, even if i can’t join in lol
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  #6  
Old 19-Jul-18, 16:33
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boyandy boyandy is offline
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Default Re: The Wrestling Coach's Daughter

Quote:
Originally Posted by mixfightor [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
Oh, you dare. You dare.
You crack me up mixfightor...
I was trying something a little different this time. I don't think that writing action scenes is my strength so I tried to make it more readable by going with the present tense to make it feel more suspenseful and trying to make the domination seem like a logical progression from one round to the next.
If you have the time your feedback as to whether or not it was effective would be appreciated. Thanks.
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Old 19-Jul-18, 17:27
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Default Re: The Wrestling Coach's Daughter

Boyandy,

Extremely well written story. Your writing style makes a person feel like they were actually at the event. Your description of what happened to Jeffrey sounds a lot like a 3rd person account of an actual event. Having read this, it felt as though Jodene had caught me in that crossbody pin. Pure realism in the thumb usage to escape the pin, as that is used more often than people realize. The grapevine pin to seal the deal is an outstanding lead up to part 2 of this story. Does Jodene have a few more emasculating pins up her sleeve, or will Jeffrey concede and actually learn a thing or two from the coach’s daughter? Anxiously awaiting part 2 and many thanks.

E
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Old 19-Jul-18, 19:18
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Default Re: The Wrestling Coach's Daughter

Bigeric - awesome feedback, thank!
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Old 20-Jul-18, 22:26
pinfan pinfan is offline
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Default Re: The Wrestling Coach's Daughter

hi, like this story, Please follow up with an other part, when they wrestle again, she should dominate him with Some lenghty Schoolgirl pins, sitting astride his chest and taunting him.
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Old 21-Jul-18, 02:47
kendawg kendawg is offline
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Default Re: The Wrestling Coach's Daughter

This story was great. Jodene was really an amazing wrestler and way to much Jeffery to handle. I really felt his pain and embarrassment as the crowd looked on in disbelief. The funny thing is this fictional story could easily be true.

The popular thing is to have it continue, but it was told so well I don’t think it needs to be. Thank you for such a great story. 5 out of 5 stars.⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
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