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  #11  
Old 03-Dec-19, 02:58
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Default Re: Old Story: Mom vs Dad

I really like all your stories . I am extremely pleased that you have returned to writing and love your new story. Let me know if you are missing any more stories. I have been saving stories that I like for a very long time.
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Old 10-Dec-19, 06:28
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Default Re: Prequel: Wrestling David's Mom

Quote:
Originally Posted by ddelurker [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
Moms vs. Sons





After my humiliation by David's mom, I thought things couldn't get
much worse. I was wrong.

For a few days I didn't go out of my house much. My mom asked me if
anything was wrong, but of course I didn't talk about the situation
with her. In fact, I worried that perhaps Mrs. Jones might tell my
mom about what happened; the two of them were fairly good friends.
David was fairly cool, at least...he didn't tease me about being
overpowered by his mom. He tried to make me feel better, pointing
out that I'd let her have an advantage to begin with and that she
never would have gotten the edge if we'd started out even to begin
with.

About a week later, my worst fears were realized. David and I had
been out at the lake. When we came back to my house and went into my
back yard, I was mortified when I saw Mrs. Jones, in a lime green
bikini, laying in a chaise lounge next to my mother, who was wearing
a pink bikini. They were sunbathing together! Actually, at the
moment they were painting their nails; obviously they had been
sunbathing--and talking to each other. When they saw me and David,
they both began giggling. "I hear you're ready for the wrestling
team, Matt," my mom called out to me, and both women cackled.

I turned to head inside, but David's mom said loudly, "Don't worry
Christie. I bet most of his opponents on the wrestling team won't be
105 pound women in their 40s, so he might not get hurt too badly."
Again they laughed, but my teenage ego couldn't take it.

"Look," I said, "You know I was just playing around last week. I
didn't want to hurt you, Mrs. Jones. And Mom, I don't know why
you're laughing. You know you wouldn't stand a chance against me."
David chimed in and said both of them together couldn't hope to hang
with just one of us, if we were prepared.

At this comment the women looked at each other, then back at us, then
giggled some more. It was a funny sight: two women in their 40s,
holding their hands gingerly waiting for their fingernails to dry,
looking up at two athletic boys in their swimsuits, and being totally
unintimidated. The fact that our moms were so completely unafraid of
us made me mad, and I think it even bothered David, so he repeated
his challenge. The next thing I knew, we were about to begin a tag-
team wrestling match in my own back yard, with the handicap rule that
David and I had to tag in and out, but our moms would both wrestle at
the same time against us.

David went first, perhaps because he was more annoyed at the
challenge to his manhood. Truth be told, he was bigger and stronger
and more athletic than I was, and I was still a little uneasy after
having been humiliated by Mrs. Jones, so I was secretly happy that he
started off. Our moms advanced toward him, then tried to flank him
cautiously, then suddenly lunged forward. In a flash David threw his
mother to the grass and straddled her. My mom, who was quite a bit
fleshier and curvier than David's mother, attempted to attack him
from behind, but he managed to grab both her wrists and force her to
the ground next to him. In less than a minute, David held both women
squirming on the grass. "That was easy," he said, reaching back to
tag me.

I eagerly jumped into the fray, taking my place astride David's mom
and seizing my own mother's wrists. My mom struggled and twisted but
couldn't escape my grasp, and I bounced up and down a little (not too
hard) on Mrs. Jones, causing her to grunt. I thought this was fair
payback for last week. It was a wonderful feeling to be so
completely in control. Suddenly, it ended.

Mom rolled away from me and, what with the sweat and suntan oil all
over her, I lost my grip. In trying to keep her subdued, I leaned
over too far, allowing Mrs. Jones to roll me to the side, though she
was still in between my legs. But now she had both her arms wrapped
around my legs, and she was on her knees. As I turned my attention
to her, Mom grabbed my right wrist with both her hands and pulled it
as far as she could. I tried to jerk it back but she had a
surprisingly strong grip. Mrs. Jones, still holding one of my legs,
began to tickle my exposed ribs with her other hand. I tried to
fight her off with my free hand, until Mom grabbed it, too. Now my
mom was sitting on the grass above my head, her feet pressed into my
shoulders, and was stretching my arms above my head. It hurt! Mrs.
Jones stood up, holding my legs under her arms. I was helpless!

David yelled encouragement, and I realized that all I needed to do
was free one of my hands and I could tag him. So I squirmed and
bucked in my mom's grasp. The women realized what I was doing,
though, and Mrs. Jones suddenly began dragging me across the grass,
away from the "corner" of our makeshift ring. I got a wicked
grassburn in the process. When I was ten feet away she stopped.
Before I could break away, Mom grabbed one of my wrists and Mrs.
Jones, leaving my legs alone, grabbed the other. Both women now sat
on the grass to either side of my head, their feet braced against my
head and ribs, and they pulled my arms straight out from my body. I
yelled my surrender but they ignored me. THey were laughing so loud
they may not have heard me.

Finally they let me go but I couldn't move. I lay there, spread
eagled in the grass. Mom knelt at my right arm, looking down in my
face, and Mrs. Jones looked down at me from my left. "I think he
needs some more," said Mom, and Mrs. Jones agreed. I tried to roll
away but in a few seconds the women had their knees on my arms and
used one hand each to secure my wrists. With their free hands they
tickled me mercilessly. I made the mistake of kicking my legs up,
trying to dislodge them. This backfired; the women grabbed my ankles
and bent my body in half, my knees staring me in the face.

My mom, normally mousy and subdued, and Mrs. Jones, the
quintessential Sunday School teacher, had gone wild. Holding me
upside down and vulnerable, they used their free hands to spank,
tickle, and pinch my bottom. I begged them to stop, but they kept on
abusing me. All I could see was the bare flesh of these two 40-
something women, their sweaty breasts bouncing in their bikinis, as
they mercilessly tormented my rear end with their newly-painted
fingernails.

Realizing that I was completely helpless, David now charged across
the lawn to my aid, despite the rules of our so-called tag team
match. He threw his mother off me and was struggling to dislodge my
mom when his own mother grabbed him around the neck from behind.
Mrs. Jones then fell backward, dragging her son with him, squeezing
her legs around his midsection for good measure.

While they grappled with each other, I was now one-on-one against my
own mother. Although I had suffered a lot, having had my arms
stretched and my body bent in half, I was in a rage at this
humiliation. My mom was laughing, clearly thinking this was great
fun. We squared off against each other on our knees. Mom locked her
hands with mine in a classic game of "mercy." I pushed her wrists
back slowly, even as her polished nails dug into the skin on the back
of my hands. But suddenly she shifted her grip so that her hands
were underneath mine and she gained an advantage. I yelped in pain.
Then she reversed again and suddenly my wrists were bent completely
backward. She pushed me back and I couldn't fight against the pain
and her leverage. Even though I was a strong, athletic male, my mom
was forcing me to my back and forcing my arms to the grass. I
struggled with every ounce of strength but Mom ended up on my chest,
her knees on my biceps, holding my hands solidly on the ground. I
would marshall my energy and force one arm up, slowly, but she would
then counter and pin it back to the ground. After a few minutes, I
couldn't struggle any more. Mom pulled my arms together, my biceps
against my ears, and held them tightly with her thighs. She looked
down at me, and I still remember the the view: her face framed my her
heaving, sweaty breasts, hammocked by the pink bikini, her rounded
stomach dripping in sweat inches above my face. All her weight was
on my upper chest and neck, seeming to anchor me permanently to the
grass.

While my mother was pinning me, David's mom had acheived something
his sister had never been able to do--she had him in an inescapable
wrestling hold. The combination of arm choke and body scissor proved
to be devastating. Mom eventually let me go, though she bent one of
my arms into a hammerlock so I couldn't flee into the house, and
together we watched David's last, futile struggles. He looked very
sleepy, and I realized that Mrs. Jones must have cut off either his
air or his blood supply with her choke hold; at any rate, his eyes
were slits and he was barely moving. When she let her so go he
rolled to his side and groggily tried to climb to all fours. As
easily as changing the diapers on a baby, Mrs. Jones forced him to
his stomach and pulled both his arms behind his back, crossing them
between his shoulder blades, and then sat on his wrists. This is
what she had done to me last week! And as she had done to me, she
pulled his head back by the hair and forced her feet in front of his
face. "Come on David, kiss my pretty toes!" He had no choice but to
obey.

In an instant, my mother was doing the same thing to me. I was
kissing her red toenails, my arms captive under her bottom, my hair
in danger of being yanked out by the roots.
Wonderful and very hot story. Please, write more !!!! Thank you so much.

Added after 7 minutes:

Quote:
Originally Posted by ddelurker [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
Prequel: Wrestling David's Mom





When I was a sophomore in high school, my best friend was David. The
summer after our sophomore year we spent a lot of time just hanging
around, enjoying the outdoors, playing basketball, and swimming.
When we got bored, sometimes we would annoy David's little sister,
Teresa, just for fun. Teresa was going to be a freshman; she was
blonde, perky, and athletic.

Dave and Teresa had developed a contest, of sorts, in which he would
let her put him into any wrestling hold she wished and he would try
to escape. To that time, she had never been able to keep him in a
hold; his superior size and strength always allowed him to fight his
way out of any hold she put him in, no matter how seemingly
inescapable.

So one day we were in David's back yard fooling around. His mom was
sitting in a lawn chair reading a book. I had always found his mom
attractive...she was slim and sweet. That day she was wearing a
denim short & top outfit with matching sandals. Her toenails and
fingernails were painted a shimmery pink that was popular in the
late '70s. Her hair looked like she had just come from the beauty
parlor.

Teresa came outside and started bothering David and me. Soon
she challenged him to their game of wrestling holds. He eventually
agreed.

As their mom looked on, David let Teresa position him on the ground
on his stomach, then put him into a double hammerlock. When she was
ready, she said "GO" and David began to struggle. I thought there
was no way he would escape, but amazingly he managed to roll over and
dislodge his little sister, who lost her grip on his wrists.
Predictably, a lot of name calling and trash talking ensued, and of
course I joined in.

Perhaps it was because I actually liked Teresa, and wanted to be
involved in the game myself--for some reason I ended up getting
really ugly and personal in the name-calling and being pretty rude to
Teresa. She and David were shocked. Suddenly David's mom was
standing next to us.

"OK, Matt, if you're so tough, why don't you let me put you in a
hold?"

I was shocked, and speechless. Mrs. Jones stood there with her hands
on her hips. She actually had to look up at me despite being thirty
years my senior.

"Afraid of a little woman? Come on, let me put you in a hold. We'll
see how tough you are then."

I couldn't believe it! This petite woman, with frosted hair and pink
lipstick, was challenging me!

Obviously, being a 16 year old boy I couldn't back down. So I let
Mrs. Jones lay me on my back. I was nervous when she crawled onto my
stomach. She took my arms and crossed them over my neck, then seized
each of my wrists. When she pulled my arms tight, my left arm going
toward my right and my right going toward my left, both crossing over
my throat, I realized that I might be in for trouble. Mrs. Jones
stared straight down at me. I still remember her pink lips and
rouged cheeks, and her slim, bare shoulders. Her thin fingers were
already digging into my wrists. "Ready?" she asked, already
giggling. "Yeah," I managed to croak. "Go!" she yelled and yanked
my arms painfully.

For the next few minutes I squirmed and bucked and twisted and
struggled and kicked and grunted--and yet I couldn't dislodge Mrs.
Jones. David was yelling encouragement to me, while Teresa was
cheering on her mom. I grew frantic, becoming all the more
embarrassed by Mrs. Jones's obvious enjoyment and by my growing
erection, which I was afraid Teresa would see. Soon I grew tired,
and as my struggles waned Mrs. Jones used one of her slender hands to
hold my elbows down across my throat, and with her other hand she
began to tickle me. She mocked me and teased me as she pulled up my
shirt and ran her long pink fingernails across my defenseless skin.

Eventually tears of rage and humiliation were trickling down my
cheeks, so Mrs. Jones let me up. As I rose to my feet I muttered
something under my breath. "What did you say?" she
demanded. "Nothing," I said. But it was too late. She attacked me
again. This time I couldn't use the excuse that I let her put me in
a hold...she used some sort of judo flip and suddenly I was back on
the grass. I rolled to my stomach, only to find her sitting on the
small of my back. When I tried to climb to all fours, she twisted
first one, then the other arm behind my back. Then she sat on my
wrists. I was completely helpless. Now David had abandoned me; he
and Teresa were both cheering for their mom. She pulled my head back
by my hair and put both her feet on the ground in front of me, still
pinning my arms to my back with her bottom. She rubbed my face onto
her feet and forced me to kiss them, much to David and Teresa's
amusement. Her shiny pink toenails were a humiliating symbol of the
femininity of the woman who had beaten me.

Before she would let me go, Mrs. Jones forced me to eat grass and
then made me say that I was a sissy, and that a woman had beaten me
up. It was the most humiliating moment of my life...until the next
week.
Please, more story like this... I love it to much..... make me very horny. You are fantastic writer !!!

Last edited by lisane; 10-Dec-19 at 06:28.
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  #13  
Old 12-Dec-19, 15:40
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boyandy boyandy is offline
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Default Re: Old Story: Mom vs Dad

I discovered your blogspot a couple of years ago and nearly memorized every story, but my all-time favorite of yours was titled "Can a woman rape a man?"
I just discovered yesterday that you had actually posted that story on this website years ago with the terrible title of "Another old story". Man! Who wants to read a story with that title?
I think you should ask Zweig if you can repost it with the correct title.It's too good not to share!
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