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Old 05-May-18, 00:29
wrestlebrett wrestlebrett is offline
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Default Down Love-40 and no hope

For the last week, I’d done nothing each weekday but get up, make some coffee and then head to the computer to scan the help wanted listings. My company unexpectedly downsized and I went from making a comfortable living, with a salary in the mid-$400,000s, to wondering how I was going to pay the mortgage.

It was a humiliating experience to say the least. I was the senior member of our staff and, if I do say so myself, the most effective. I made that point to my boss when I was told I was being laid off. She didn’t disagree, but she pointed out that they could hire two people for what they were paying me.

I got it. It was a hit to my confidence, to be certain, but I figured I would get another job quickly.

Day after day, week after week, I waited, and nothing. No calls. No interviews. No offers. No interest. At first, I was kind of casual about my search for a new job, but after a couple of months of not even a nibble, I began to worry.

I’d pushed myself last week and I think part of my lack of success was that I was getting nervous. I hadn’t worked out. I’m 6-3 and I’d been 200 for the longest time. But I wasn’t eating right — way too much junk food — and the weight was going on fast. I stepped on the scale and I was 225. This was not good.

So after my coffee, I opted not to sit down at the computer and search. I needed to get a bit of exercise to get some air into my lungs and get my legs moving. I checked the weather on my phone and I saw it was cool, so I threw on a sweater, grabbed my tennis racket and a few balls and headed out. I was going to hit the ball around a bit until someone came around looking for a game.

I spent 45 minutes by myself, until a woman arrived by herself at the court next to me. She was about 5-5 or 5-6 I’d guess, and in her mid-30s. She had a gold Pittsburgh Steelers sweatshirt on that went down just past her butt. I watched as she hit a few serves, and it was clear she had been an athlete one day. You could see it in the way she moved.

When her ball came onto my court, it was an opportunity for a brief chat. I smiled and introduced myself as I handed her the ball. She stuck our her hand and said, “Hi!” in a cute, perky kind of way. She told me her name was Lori. She said she’d used to come to the park to play tennis with her daughter, but since she became a grandmother, neither of them had been able to get out much.

I was startled at this. I would have guessed she had a child still in middle school, but she was a grandmother. When I mentioned this, she laughed.

“I wish,” Lori said, chuckling. “But I’m 56 and not going to be doing this much longer.” Again, I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. There was nothing that would indicate this woman was a grandmother closer to 60 than 30. We chatted and eventually agreed to play a set.

I served first and hit an easy one over the net, to get it in but mostly to try to play down to Lori’s level. She loped over, got the ball, planted her feet and hit a forehand that rifled down the line.

Huh?

She played a lot more competitively than I had imagined. She won our set handily, 6-2, and I wasn’t really in it. As we chatted afterward, she mentioned that she was in track in high school and college. She was a heptathlete.

“I was a little pissed that you were condescending to me with that first serve,” she said. “You men always think you have to take it easy on us women.”

When I was employed, I did a couple of sessions a month, and hadn’t done one for a while. I liked semi-competitive to competitive sessions, and I’d met all the big names when they came to my area. I’d only been dominated once, by Arekah Lox, and otherwise, I always won or it was very close.

When Lori said, “You men always think you have to take it easy on us women,” I immediately began to fantasize about a session with her. I brought it up slowly, clearly afraid I’d embarrass myself.

Lori grinned back.

“Well, if you’re asking me if you want me to kick your ass, of course I will,” she said.

She invited me to wrestle at her home in two days, at 7:30 a.m. I accepted.

I showed up on time and Lori was wearing a large — way too large — sweatshirt that extended to her knee. I did catch a glimpse at her calves, and I have to admit, they were impressive. There was a youthful quality to her skin, even on her legs, and the musculature was impressive.

She showed me to the room where we’d wrestle. There was a lot of gym equipment, but plenty of space with mats for us to wrestle. We weren’t going to be restricted. When I commented on the large space, she said she did yoga there with a couple of friends and had a jiu-jitsu instructor come over monthly to give her lessons.

I raised my eyebrow and she grinned, excusing herself to change.

When she returned, I couldn’t believe my eyes. She wore a micro-bikini with a thong and she looked like she was 25. I had guessed her for her 30s, but in this bikini, she looked far younger. But she was a grandmother twice over. Her son also had a child.

She’d been divorced for a few years, but told me when she first started doing jiu-jitsu, she’d roll with her husband. They began to have problems, she said, when she regularly got the best of those grappling sessions. It led to other issues and before long, he left her.

She wore a teal bikini with tiny white stars. I was staring at her thighs when she pointed me toward the bathroom so I could change.

She asked if I wanted to start standing or on our knees. I said standing, and soon paid for it. We began, and she confidently approached me. We tied up and I could instantly feel her strength. She quickly caught me in a headlock, and pulled me into her breasts. Slowly but surely, she increased the power, stunning me. I was beginning to see stars, but I was embarrassed about tapping for the first time less than 30 seconds into the match. I knew I had to find a way out of this.

I tried to think of an escape, but before I could do anything, Lori acted. She torqued her body and turned, and flung me over her hip. I slammed hard onto the mat, and it hurt. She pounced on me and was on my chest in an instant. I was honestly woozy, and I wasn’t even woozy against Arekah, so this was something.

She lifted my head, quickly slid her leg under and soon had me in a figure-four that was inescapable.

I tapped and Lori laughed as she called me a pussy. My daughter could last more than 50 seconds, she said.

She won the next two falls rather easily, and I was getting embarrassed. I told myself to focus and to not stress, because I was going to need to be in control of my breathing.

She offered to give me an advantageous position. A lot of session wrestlers had done that, and laid on their backs and invited me to mount them. Lori was different. She told me I could start however I wanted.

I sat behind her, put a body lock on and got a rear naked choke in. When I was ready, she said start, and I started to squeeze.

Lori, though, grabbed my wrist with her hand, which was extremely powerful, and began to yank. She soon got my arm from around her neck and pivoted. Next thing I knew, she was in mount. She taunted me for a minute, locking me in a schoolgirl pin and slapping me lightly in my face.

“Come on, big, strong man, show me what you can do,” she said, almost cooing. “This little girl is kicking your backside. She then giggled, and switched to an excruciating grapevine pin. There was no sense fighting it; it was incredibly painful and I was going nowhere.

I surrendered. Lori laughed and let me up. She walked over and I marveled at her perfectly round ass. When she finished, she casually yanked her top off and flung it in my direction. She was beaming.

“I have a deal for you,” she said. “One more fall. If you can beat me, I’ll let you do whatever you want. If I beat you, $250. OK?”

I had been unemployed for so long, and had no options, but the thought of doing whatever I wanted with this goddess was too much. I hadn’t learned my lesson despite the one-sided beating she’d given me.

I accepted. She asked if I wanted to box or just wrestle. Given the luck I had wrestling, I chose boxing. She handed me a pair of gloves and a head guard. She pointed out that I didn’t have a mouthpiece and asked if I were sure I wanted to box. I said I was.

We started and she was flicking jabs at me that were landing on my arms. They didn’t hurt, but I’ll admit, they did sting. She seemed to have flawless technique. I circled warily, looking for an opening, as she kept up the stream of jabs that landed to my arms and shoulders.

She faked a right and I responded to it, and it was the worst move I could make. She hit me with a left hook on the side of my abdomen, so hard I felt paralyzed. I didn’t go down because my body wouldn’t move, but I was bent over at almost 90 degrees and moaning. She fired a left hook at my head that I partially blocked, but she came over the top with a right that dropped me.

She threw her arms over her head and I waved my hand in surrender. I didn’t have $250 and I’d just lost that much to this grandmother who gave me an unexpectedly one-sided beating.

She allowed me to shower, and I thanked her as I was about to go. After all, I thought to myself, I got a high-level session for just $250, way less than the normal fee. It wasn’t all bad, but the damage to my ego was complete.

Lori mentioned that she went to the tennis court a couple of times a week, if I’d like a rematch.

I wanted to say yes, but I knew I’d want to session with her again and that there was no way I’d ever be able to beat her. I smiled, and said, “We’ll see,” and got myself out of there.

Never did I think anyone would beat me like that, but this 56-year-old hot grandmother had just done it. I awakened the next day, made some coffeee and headed to the computer.

I needed to look for a job, seriously. But as I looked, I winced several times from the beating I’d taken.

Even when she wasn’t there, Lori was dominating me again. I couldn’t forget her.

I never would.

Last edited by wrestlebrett; 05-May-18 at 15:59.
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