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Old 27-Aug-19, 01:01
HermanDG HermanDG is offline
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Default August 2019 - A Summer Retreat

A SUMMER RETREAT


It was a beautiful, virtually cloudless day in Orlando. From experience, that seemed to be the norm in the Magic Kingdom, a tourist playground populated with theme parks — the most notable being the various properties owned by Disney and Universal Studios. After a business trip to Miami, I was hanging out in a very off-the-grid resort called The Grove. The place was so far out of the way that even Uber drivers — when they were either picking me up or dropping me off — would ask me how I ever found it. For many, even those drivers that trended to being local, finding The Grove tended to be their first and only instance of ever seeing the resort. That aspect made it perfect, especially with the timing of my stay — the offseason of late August — which meant that American kids were back in school thereby creating a much lower resort population that was comprised mostly of families of internationals from around the globe. From my vantage point, neck deep in a salt water pool under the shade of a couple of well situated palm trees, life couldn’t have been much better, especially with the proclivity of what seemed like an endless array of Euro and South American yoga moms wearing thong style bikinis to show off the results of their fitness regimens. The joint was teeming with some well formed, deliciously imported ass. Yup...it was 10:30am on a beautiful, Floridian morning and life couldn’t get much better.

And then I saw her...

Most of the pools at The Grove Resort were located just beyond the patio of the main, in-house restaurant, Valencia, which by no means was an oasis of culinary bliss, but they could make a decent Cuban sandwich in a pinch. For more satisfying fare, there were plenty of abundant options to be found around the city of Orlando and in places like Disney Springs and the Universal CityWalk if a person was willing to brave the shuffling, tourist hordes.

Around the pool area was a low, gated fence, apparently intended to prevent entry to anyone not wearing one of the resort’s insipid, orange pool wristbands. Within the main pool area at The Grove are three pools of varying sizes, all surrounded by foliage and palm trees, with the entire setting backing onto a natural park that is home to anything up to and including alligators. The management of The Grove strongly recommends that patrons do not swim in the waters of the natural park area as a precaution to remaining a diner at Valencia and not a main course for a gator with the midnight munchies.

Whenever anyone entered or left the pool enclosure, they were heralded by the obnoxiously loud crash of any one of the three pool area gates at he perimeter of the pool area. As a result, the crashing sound subconsciously became a Pavlovian cue to look up and see who was either entering or leaving the pool enclosure as, under the shroud of bliss afforded by the pool area, promise of new, potential playmates became the only worthwhile distraction. I must say that if my response to the gate crashing had become Pavlovian, then the look of this latest addition to my chosen setting had me appropriately drooling like a dog.

What a distraction this woman was...

From where I sat, she looked to be in her early 30’s. Right out of the gate, her body screamed of being inveterate of Pilates, with her flat belly that was lined with a distinctive six-pack that retained an ultra-feminine aesthetic. Her legs were strong and shapely, with well defined quads and calves that bounced to life with every step as she walked towards the middle pool of the cluster where I was conveniently hanging out. All the while her flip flops made that characteristic “slap-slap-slap” sound in conjunction with the soles of her pretty feet that featured an expertly engineered, French manicure. She had light brown hair and it cascaded down from under her white sun hat to a little past her neck line, seductively arriving at the cusp of some nicely rounded shoulders that intimated a nature of being prone to pumping some pretty decent iron. Those shoulders tied into some sinewy — yet sexy — arms, where her biceps and triceps did a seductive dance of balance and power, imbuing them with an animal magnetism — the kind where you wanted to run your hands across them in order to see if they felt as good as the looked. All the while you could intrinsically predict that the physical sensation of touch would only elevate your appreciation into an entirely different strata. Small veins pushed out along the surface of her forearms as she gripped her hotel beach towel and her obligatory tote bag. Even her little hands were imbued with a strong, sensuously feminine refinement that was reminiscent of the greatest works of artistic masters. Her body had a sheen that looked to be the product of sunscreen and the legendary, late August, Floridian humidity and as she moved past me, the scent of her acted as the stimulus to cause waves of primordial synaptic activity to explode deep within those recesses of my primal brain. She prowled the deck as if she was an apex predator; confident, imperious and in complete control of herself and all her surroundings. She was an astoundingly sensuous smoke show of a woman.

After stopping briefly to survey the pool deck, the Queen of the Grove began to migrate towards the more shady side of the pool where I was still stationed relatively motionless, giving off the impression of being zoned out while devouring her every move from behind the cover of my sunglasses and Cuban fedora. The Queen wound up picking a lounge chair not far from my position underneath the shadow of my current, most favourite palm tree, dropping her tote next to her chair and then arranging one of her two towels as a suitable base sheet. As she bent over, the back of her bikini was revealed to be a thong back which, along with the timing of her vacation and the current composition of guests at The Grove, suggested that she might be another European temporary import rather than a domestic vintage. The thong accentuated a remarkably well contoured buttocks that featured shapely, well formed musculature that underlined that it was not just used as a seat for general purpose. As she bent over, she had that sexy little hollow at the side of her hip girdle that always drove me a little crazy and her hamstrings popped to life making her legs look ultra sexy and well rounded.

Once her bottom towel was appropriately configured, The Queen positioned her second towel that was still folded at the top of her chair, apparently to act as a makeshift pillow — sufficient in scope while on vacation amongst commoners — to rest her regal brow. She paused after doing so in order to straighten up and then reach her arms up and extend into a luscious, full body stretch that pulled her up onto her tiptoes and engaged almost every muscle on her lavish body. Ay caramba...she was divine.

Spinning on her toes to follow her stretch, The Queen sat herself down and kicked off her flip flops entirely, allowing her precious feet newfound freedom. As she looked out across the pool, I casually remarked, “Beautiful day, eh?” in my standard, Canadian drawl. The Queen barely turned her gaze and made the barest upturn of the corners of her mouth. With her sunglasses effectively covering eyes, she gave no inkling of her true disposition, before pushing herself back into full recline on her chair with her head resting on her freshly MacGyvered towel pillow. Pausing only to adjust her bikini top — which appreciably jiggled her perky, considerably full, C-Cup breasts — The Queen went into a pretty standard issue“Vacation Zone Out Mode”, with the only signs of life from there being the gentle rise and fall of her rib cage and the odd stretch and twinkle of her toes, the effect of which went straight to my groin for some reason. Goddamn, I loved the untouchable, Grace Kelly types of über babes.

Sensing, that this one was priced well out of the range of potential playmate I rejoined my previous state of blissful vacationtude in my watery paradise, just doing the absolute minimum to maintain flotation.

As is often the case when zoned out, I lost any sense of time or place in my disjunction until, from somewhere in the fog, there was some distant recognition that the crashing of the pool gate was announcing new arrivals to the pool deck. I barely opened an eye and recorded that the newcomers were a sturdy looking dude with the kind of unshaven, partially balding, slightly pot bellied appearance that signalled “blue collar working stiff” to me and a couple of youngish looking kids — a precociously cute little girl and a chubby, “older past the point of chubby being cute” lad who looked like he was a sure bet to follow in what I assumed was his dad’s footsteps as some kind of factory worker / bricklayer destiny.

Beyond noting their entry into the scene, there was nothing there to hold my attention, so I went back into repose. In the fog of relaxation, it registered that some if not all of the new group got busy with enjoying the pool somewhere opposite to where I was, so no worries. Again, time lost all context as my vacant rapture again consumed me, so from that perspective I had no sense of bearing on how much time passed until I again heard the harbinger call of the crashing pool gate which made me think, “Who disturbs my slumber?” just like the front gate of Aladdin’s Cave of Wonders from the old Disney movie.

The minute I saw her, however, I was pretty happy to be disturbed.

This one was a young, honey blond princess. I imagined that she was about 5’9” and she carried herself with a coltish swagger. The strut was well deserved because the girl was really fit for her age, with a bearing that was gracefully athletic — but tempered by that faint hint of youthful uncertainty — that gave her a powerful Lolita vibe. I surmised that she recognized her growing feminine power, but just didn’t have all the tools in the kit to fully leverage all of her wiles. But make no doubt about it, once she did figure out the nuances of her full game, no man would be immune from her coquettish influence. The package in my opinion, even in its work in progress state, was incredibly potent.

Like all adolescents, her focus as she walked the pool deck with her towel casually stuffed under her left arm, was her bejewelled iPhone. She held her phone in her left hand so that her elegantly long fingers of her right hand could dance across the screen — likely so she could message whatever gaggle of friends consumed her attention with messages built out of full streams of emojis and any combination of “LOL’s”, “OMG’s” and “GTFO’s”. Her golden mane framed a beautiful face — even without the aid of makeup as an ancillary benefit of being well within the full bloom of her youth — that featured model quality bone structure, ridiculously high cheekbones, pouty lips and magnetic blue eyes. It wasn’t hard to see that her snugly fit, white bikini barely contained the fleshy mounds of her natural, almost D-Cup breasts that hung like succulent, ripe melons. Her fluid motion made her busom sway in a manner that was marvellous to behold. While it became increasingly difficult to determine the age of girls these days, I consolidated my thinking on being that if Princess Lolita was of age, then it was just barely, but I figured she had to be somewhere in in the 16-18 year old range.

It was plain to expect that a body like her’s was likely a fertile playground for the imaginings boys in her school that made them pant and drool. Her foundation was a pair of long, strong, ridiculously sexy legs that were built of juicy, well developed muscles. Her full, inner quad tear dropped into the top of her knee and the prominence of her sartorius muscle seemed the type of thing that you’d find on someone who’d spent significant time on a soccer pitch, especially given the balancing context found in the sweep of her outer thigh as it rounded into her knee. From there, highly pleasing, well defined calves bubbled out and then constrained themselves into her tiny ankles and dexterous feet that were adorned by simple, black flip flops.

Up top, she had the dedicated posture of an athlete or dancer, wide across the collarbones, with defined shoulders and arms. Her evident latisimus muscles of her back helped to accentuate a slight V-Taper of her torso into her tiny waist. Her abs were pronounced and surrounded the cutest little “outie” belly button before vanishing into the top of her bikini bottoms. As I watched her, all that I could think of was wishing that I was 16 again and not newly turned 51, even though I was no slouch for my age due to a lifetime of working out. Princess Lolita was a little hottie ready to go full supernova once she put it all together. What an embarrassment of riches.

As she sauntered across the pool deck, Princess Lolita seemed to make a beeline towards the working stiff, Mr. Blue Collar and his brood. Arriving near where they played slightly opposite me, she diverted her attention from her bedazzled iPhone long enough to crouch down and chat with Mr. Blue Collar in a way that definitively suggested that the previously identified party of three was actually a party of four, with Princess Lolita being an elder sibling to the younger kids. “Good Christ”, I marvelled, there was nothing in her father’s very common physical appearance that implied the type of genetics on display in Princess Lolita. To be honest, I almost immediately wrote it off as a miracle of human evolution that the two of them were related at all, even though her younger sister looked to be a mini-me clone of the good princess. Then the required gap filler became materialized.

“Ella”, shouted The Queen across the water towards the artist formerly known as “Princess Lolita” in a notably British accent. Goddamn, that woman was not getting any less sexy by having an accent on top of everything else. She was intoxicating. “Ella” raised her gaze and her lovely face became even more lovely as she warmly smiled and returned The Queen’s royal wave with an energetic wave of her own.

“Mummy!!”, Ella replied, rising up from her conversation with her dad and younger siblings, quick walking towards her mother, the foreign born liege of Über Sexosity. As they got closer, the two females warmly embraced. I felt slight guilt at wishing that my head could be strategically positioned between their four boobs, but that sentiment evaporated within nanoseconds.

“Late morning, sleepyhead”, The Queen Mum gently scolded, while still looking equal parts sexy and mysterious behind her sunglasses, then continuing, “but that’s what vacation is for.”

Ella replied, “I know Mummy”, something about the term of affection accentuated my desire to unwrap The Queen from her bathing suit and spend a few hours in her royal chamber, “What are our plans for today?”

Ella’s sweet voice and matching English accent only further accentuated her hottie status. I love the foreign birds.

“Just relaxing around the pool”, The Queen Mum replied while sitting back down and curling her knees into her chest while wrapping her arms around her shins, “taking time to unwind in paradise.”

“Okay Mum”, Ella answered while playing with her strawberry blonde hair, “that’s perfect.”

I considered the prospects of being tormented all afternoon by the site of Ella frolicking in her white bikini with her younger siblings. I was up for it, especially after realizing that she had her mother’s affinity for thong back swimwear and an ass that quite honestly made me glad to be alive. Putting down her towel, Ella defied published pool deck protocols by running across to her other family members in her bare feet and then cannonballing into the pool with a mighty splash.”

“Oh Ellie!!”, The Queen exclaimed, viewing the scene from her throne.

“What?”, Ella replied, smirking impishly and looking like a good reason to consider jail time now that she was soaking wet and glistening like a new age, Denise Richards style temptress in the pool.

The Queen just laughed and then laid her regal head back down, lingering with her knees bent until stretching them out again to full length with the infrequent scrunching and stretching of her toes. It made me want to masquerade as one of the spa attendants and offer her a foot rub on the house with my tongue. In the pool, vigorous play with a ball commenced and I re-zoned for maximum relaxation while keeping one eye on Ella. There wasn’t a way that she moved that wasn’t a treat to my throbbing manhood.

No matter how stimulating the sight of Ella in her bikini was, I must’ve relaxed back into a bit of a stupor at some point, a trance that was abruptly broken as a waterlogged Nerf football wound up cracking me in the skull. Drowsily regaining my composure, I noted that my response to getting beaned may have resulted in collateral pool splashing that similarly shocked The Queen from her coinciding state of bliss via over spray. As I straightened my dishevelled sunglasses and fedora while locating the errant Nerf ball, Mr. Blue Collar approached me in a conciliatory way, obviously embarrassed by the prospects of having disrupted an unsuspecting stranger. Behind him, Ella covered her mouth to contain a devilish grin and her tensing abs betrayed her mischievous case off the giggles.

“Ella...”, The Queen intimated, her tone rising with a true sense of motherly “knock it off” and by that meaning not my hat. Mr. Blue Collar was now within a couple of feet, his face still suitable ashen.

“No worries at all, folks”, I replied, “Rule One for any sporting event is to keep your eye on the ball. No problem at all.”

With that I tossed the ball back towards the kids but just short enough and with enough velocity that it sent a spray of pool water up into Ella’s still giggling face and then carried through with enough inertia so that the ball bounced and caught her in the left boob. Post facto, her face expressed the amused shock of someone not used to anyone fucking with her so royally and you could see her surprise almost instantly replaced with an expression of “Oh...GAME ON”. The Queen showed the barest sliver of a grin before lying back down to resume her sunbathing. Mr. Blue Collar chose to introduce himself.

“Sorry, mate...looks like you’re no worse for wear though”, he began, “Hullo...my name is Charlie. This lot here is my family. We’re from Southampton in the UK.”

“Hi, Charlie”, I replied, “Nice to meet you, my name is Herman. How long are you and your family here in Orlando?”

Charlie filled me in on the facts that he and his family — including the spritely Ella, son Jack, Ella’s mini-me Kylie and royal wife The Queen, AKA Clare, were all in Orlando for the next two weeks. They were looking forward to spending time between the various theme parks and relaxing at the resort while taking advantage of the currency exchange for the British Pound that was more favourable in the US than it was in comparison to the Euro throughout the European continent. Apparently Brexit was causing some problems. Charlie, by trade, owned a contracting company and Clare was a Vice President in one of the banks back home, so while they both did okay, she was the true power player of the coupling. Of the kids, the two youngest were still in elementary school, but Ella — newly minted at 19 to my surprise — had just finished her first year at the University of Birmingham — after having been admitted with High Honours — demonstrative in establishing that she was much more than just a pretty face and a rocking bod.

Charlie and I continued to chat. Intermittently the odd Nerf ball would lob in as a tester to our observance and every so often Clare would also chime in while rolling onto her side and propping her head onto her hand. Queen Clare was savvy and you could tell that — even behind the sunglasses — she was measuring and gauging, listening intently and in a very mindful way. As much as Kylie was a mini-me of Ella, the eldest daughter was also an apt pupil of the mother.

As the day went on, Charlie and I chatted on any number of topics — hitting it off very amicably as you’d expect from card carrying members of the British Commonwealth. Towards the end of the afternoon, Charlie advised that he and the family needed to get back to their room so that the y could get ready — the family had a date to keep with the epic Walt Disney World fireworks show. I wished Charlie well for the evening and expressed that I hoped to catch him and the family around the pool again in the coming days. He didn’t need to know that what I was most looking forward to was seeing his wife and eldest daughter modelling as many bikinis as they had packed. Following friendly goodbyes, the family sauntered off and as they did I caught a backward glance from both Queen Clare and Princess Ella. The measuring continued.

Without Charlie and his family to entertain me and my overly fertile imagination, relaxidating in the pool somewhat lost its lustre, even with some of the other nubile, Euro-Yoga moms still in attendance. I decided to head back to my suite, consider a late afternoon nap and then, pursuantly, dinner options. I knew that there was a barbecue restaurant down the way in the resort right next to their kids’ water park, that I figured I should try out at least once while I was there on vacation. With that, I got up out of the pool, towelled off and then made sure to drop my microchipped hotel towel in to the proper return bin. I didn’t want to incur the management’s wrath or a $20 surcharge.

The suites at The Grove were modern and stylish. Because of how relatively affordable they were, I found them to be an above average value and there was also an opportunity to purchase individual units as well. Part of the reason for my trip was to assess the prospect of purchase as an investment opportunity. As such, I wanted to mix and mingle throughout the resort, talking to as many vacationers, staff members and owners at The Grove as possible. So while I did originally consider getting out of the resort for dinner, eventually I came to the conclusion that the evening was likely best spent doing more due diligence and chatting up as many people as possible, especially the servers, maintenance crews, etc.

For dinner, I decided to take the walk down the path that ran the length of the resort that led to The Grove’s barbecue pit style restaurant — the Longboard Bar and Grill — which was a decent enough looking place to have a meal. Situated within the area of The Grove that was known as the Water Park, Longboard is an open air restaurant next to about two and a half acres of chaos. The Water Park featured a large pool with adjacent water slides and a lazy river and is always jam packed with guests.Towards the back of the Water Park is a set of water slides for smaller kids and a Flow Rider surfing simulator that directly neighbours the restaurant. You can smell the barbecue as you draw near to Longboard and the restaurant offers a pretty standard menu of grilled dishes to salve most cravings — unless, of course, the dining guest is a vegan. But much like Valencia, there is nothing too inventive or profound on the menu. If I was being honest, the real reason that I liked hanging out there was because it afforded me the opportunity to watch wannabe surfers epically wipe out on the Flow Rider — which really was my kind of entertainment. So as I took my seat, it wasn’t long before I had a menu and a great view of the faux surf slaughters of the day.

Recognizing the relatively pedestrian options after thoroughly perusing the menu, I decided to take my chances with Smoked Brisket Wrap, but substituted the kale salad in place of the usual side of fries. As I went through the mechanics of ordering, I made sure to subtly question my server on some of the aspects of the resort, trying as hard as possible to get at any of the true detail that only staff members might have.

After my meal came, rather than tie on the full feed bag, I decided early on that it was probably to go a little lighter for dinner, so I planned on banking most of the brisket for lunch the next day and went in deep on the kale salad. I considered that now that I was into my less metabolically ambitious years, that extra care on the diet front paid the greatest dividends in terms of maintaining fighting trim. Even for a guy now into his second decade, I was still well above the norm for my age in terms of fitness. I credited — first and foremost — vanity, but also a very disciplined approach to diet and exercise, getting proper rest and eschewing alcohol, other than with the odd meal and saying “no” to any and all drugs. The benefit of all of discipline was that I still had considerable muscle tone, felt great physically and looked decent enough in my shorts, especially when spending time rolling around with the various and sundry sessionettes that still bewitched me for whatever reason. To close this evening, however, I thought it might be wise to spend some time over at the bar in order to chat up the bartender. For some reason those guys always had all the best insider information and dirt on everything, so it made sense as a savvy investment of time.

The bar at Longboard was a competent enough venture as far as bars go, even if it was only open until 8:00pm. There was a decent selection of spirits and wines and even if the beers were generally domestic other than draught Stella Artois and bottled Heineken, it wasn’t really a problem, because I regarded pretty much the entire beer segment as swill. I had to admit that I was pleasantly surprised to see that (a) not only did the bar stock Hendricks gin but (b) the bartender knew to make my Hendricks and tonic with a slice of cucumber and not a lime. As I sat in my chair just taking in the full retrospect of the day, a welcome sight suddenly materialized in front of me.

“Hullo, lonely man”, she said, “Not a friend in the world, then? Maybe I’ll do?”

Goddamn she was stunning...

Ella pulled up the chair directly next to me. She was wearing a loose fitting, lilac LuluLemon top that kind of pleated at the back. Beneath her tank top you could see inferences of white bikini and a whole lot of really healthy, tanned skin. Ella wore a pair of tiny jean shorts that accentuated her fabulously long legs and a pair of black flip flops finished her look along with a few bohemian style bracelets on her left wrist. Contrary to how I had originally been introduced to her, Ella wore the slightest bit of make-up around her eyes that made them absolutely pop and made her look like she had stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine. The girl was a true beauty.

“Well hello, Ella”, I countered, “I thought you and the family were off for fireworks at Disney tonight?”

“Mums and Dad have gone with the little ones”, she replied, “I told them that I wanted to stay and relax by the pool. I’m a grown up, you know.”

“I see...but you really aren’t dressed for the pool, Ella”, I noted in factually accurate terms.

Ella’s face contorted into a mock frown, eyes blazing like sapphires.

“Hmmm...you’re a snarky one, aren’t you, Mr. Herman? Tell me what’s a girl got to do to get a drink around here?”, Ella queried.

“Let me take care of that for you”, I offered, motioning to the barkeep.

Ella giggled expectantly. She was a charmer, even if she was just past the point of being jailbait, although with the make-up and the way she was dressed, she could absolutely pass for being older than 21.

“So what did you order for me?” she asked, smiling broadly.

“See for yourself”, I answered, waving my hand towards the simultaneously arriving barkeeper.

Ella looked down to find a beautifully concocted libation of Coca-Cola on the rocks.

“What’s this?” Ella questioned, slightly bewildered.

“Something age appropriate”, I replied, I’m sure while sporting an obvious smirk.

Ella frowned and then sat back in her chair while crossing her arms. “You are an abysmally dreadful man. I am 19, you know”, she pouted, staring daggers in my general direction.

“True, but drinking age in Florida is 21”, I informed her, “but if you’re ever in Ontario, look me up and I’ll buy you a big girl drink — maybe something with an umbrella.”

Ella was amused by our game, but not amused to be down in the early going.

“Are you mocking me? It’s not a good idea to mock me, you know.” Ella challenged, still pouting but looking SO GOOD while doing it, punctuating her statement by giving me a solid jab in the left shoulder with what I noted to be quite solid technique, “I’m a handful you know.”

If I was being truthful, she was much more than a handful, but as tempting as she was, I definitely felt the need to maintain decorum. I honestly wondered why a girl like Ella would be hanging with an older guy like me. A beauty like her would have to have her pick of dudes in almost any situation that she might find herself.

“Oh I have no doubt that you are formidable, my dear. I’m sure that you can whip your weight in wildcats”, I responded, “I’m sure an old guy like me would have no hope in the face of your fury.”

Ella squinted at me and smiled mischievously, like she could see through me. She really was a player, even at her young age.

“You say that, but the way you carry yourself, you don’t believe it”, Ella challenged in her lovely English accent, “you’re beyond confident. Even today when I pegged you in the noggin with that ball, you didn’t shrink away, you challenged me right back...”

“A lucky toss”, I demured.

“Oh bollocks!” Ella replied, “You had the cock sure swagger as though you were saying, ‘You want some? Here it is baby’ like it was nothing. Why do you think I’m here, really?”

“For the gratis Coca-Cola and witty repartee?” I questioned.

“See? There you go. I’m sure that EVERY engagement with you is a test of wills, a game to be played to the hilt”, she surmised, “NO ONE my age ever challenges me like that. So you intrigue me.”

“Tell me more about yourself, Ella”, I encouraged and she certainly didn’t disappoint.

Ella was attending the University of Birmingham and was doing her Bachelor degree studies in the Honours program of Sport, Exercise and Health Sciences. She had cultivated her interest through her lifelong participation in all sports such as tennis, football and rugby, but truly found her calling in judo and Olympic wrestling to the point that she was a national level judo player and bordering the same in wrestling. Ella’s eyes lit up even more brilliantly when discussing how much she enjoyed the physical interaction and physical and psychological challenge of combat sports. That interest was what fuelled her thirst to study. It was all part and parcel of her desire to not just compete, but dominate. When she spoke and got all lit up on the topic, I have to say, I bordered on full boner.

“So you should watch yourself, Mr. Herman”, Ella defiantly stated while sipping her, now, third Coca-Cola, “mess with me and I’ll take you down and kick your arse!”

“If only I had a nickel for every pretty girl who’s told me that”, I said satirically, thinking of the long list of women with whom I’d tangled.

“Ever wrestled a real woman before, Mr. Herman?” she challenged.

“Quite a number actually”, I replied.

“NO ONE like me”, Ella responded with the radiant fire in her eyes making her look even more beautiful.

“Maybe”, I offered in return, not actively seeking to bait my young companion, but happy to see where it could go. I did love a good tussle, whether win, lose or draw. Ella looked like she could be a fun problem to have one on one.

“Want to know for sure, Mr. Herman?” the lovely Ella pressed forward, itching for me to throw down the gauntlet.

“My, my...what do you have in mind, Ella?” I said, lobbing my hat in the ring.

“Hmmmmm...”, she smiled, looking like the canary who just ate the cat, “how about we spar in your suite? You’re a big chap, so that should help you with a wee lass like myself. What say you, Mr. Herman? Are you up for a challenge?”

I smiled...bait taken hook, line and sinker. “Okay. Let’s do this. When do you want to do this UFC match?”

“RIGHT NOW”, Ella demanded, “I’m ready, the only question is if you are.”

“Let’s go”, I said, “No time like the present.”

Ella smiled broadly and popped out of her chair. She was a tigress, this one.

We walked back down the path towards the main building where my suite was. All the way, I couldn’t help but notice the grace and fluidity of Ella’s quality of movement. There was something about true athletes that was so magically poetic when they moved — it was so effortless. As we continued down the path we carried on with both small talk and a wee smidgeon of shit talk. Ella was supremely confident and I was thanking my lucky stars. The girl was like a profound oasis in a desert of the mundane. I doubted that there was a ride or attraction that was compelling as this girl from the south of England, other than her mother. She played on varying levels at all times, leveraging her intellect, confidence and definitive sensuality to probe, prod and entice. Before we’d even stepped on a mat, she’d already proven that she was more than just “a handful”.

As we got to my suite I held the door for her. “A gentleman”, she documented demurely, “that gets you points but won’t save you.” My suite was tidy even though my scheduled cleaning was only set for two days later. I’ve always desired a tidy living space and so my suite reflected that sensibility with everything in its proper place. Once inside, Ella and I moved the living room furniture in order to fashion our wrestling ring. Watching her as we did, it was evident that she was a strong girl.

“Well let’s get you off to get into something more fitting for our little contest”, Ella commanded once our ring was constructed, “I assume you have a spare bedroom where I can get changed?”

“Sure, right through that doorway”, I indicated, sending her on her way to the second bedroom. In my bedroom I prepped by changing into a pair of bike shorts that I’d packed. No matter where I went, I always made sure that I had gym gear. Travel was never an excuse to not workout. As I looked at myself in the mirror, i recognized that while I might no longer be in my prime, I was sure that I could still offer a decent challenge, even for a 19 year old jockette with a chip on her shoulder. Satisfied with my chances, I opened the door and stepped out into the living room.

It was go time...

As I emerged, I found Ella doing some limbering up in the living room, wearing only a tiny white bikini that was beautifully offset by her tanned skin. She was a model of health and physical conditioning. Obviously the genetic pool on her mother’s side of the family was dominant and so many of her physical characteristics were a match to Queen Clara. That sexy athleticism ran in the family like Ben Johnson hopped up on stanozolol. Rising from a hamstring stretch, Ella walked towards me — almost strutting — with an air of absolute confidence. I was in her world now.

“My, my...you’ve held up well for an old codger”, she chimed, looking to build doubt by age shaming me.

“I’m like a fine wine, Ella, I get better with age” I countered confidently, feeling up for the challenge.

The reality of the situation was that while Ella had youth and athletic pedigree on her side, there were still some advantageous physical realities that played in my favour. While Ella was 5’9” and a very healthy 150 to 155 lbs, I was still 6’3” and about 235. On top of that, I’d already had a number of matches with females, so there was no sense of awkwardness or embarrassment for me. I recognized this as an athletic challenge and I was sure that Ella presumed that I wouldn’t be in any kind of comfort zone given her youth, physical prowess and budding, yet still potently abundant, sexuality.

As Ella drew near, she reached out with her right hand and traced her fingers from my sternum out to my right shoulder and then around to my back until she arrived at my spine. There, she her fingers up and down my back a couple of times before continuing to trace her fingers around to the side of my left shoulder. Stepping in front of me, she place both hands on my chest and then ran them up and down my torso, feeling me up from my collarbones to the waistline of my shorts.

“Wow...Mr. Herman”, she exclaimed, “You’re totally lush compared to my dad. Back in the day you must’ve been a damn fit bloke. Seeing you in your knickers is almost making me feel a bit randy. I wish I could’ve nabbed you in your prime.”

Ohhhh...she was cute.

“Why thanks, Ella”, I returned serve, “maybe I’ll put you over the knee of the master.”

“I doubt it”, Ella replied, while simultaneously boosting herself up on her tiptoes in order to whisper in my ear, “because I’ll do ANYTHING to win.”

And with that, a knee slammed into my groin...

No bones about it, I dropped like a stone to my knees, catching my hands at the top Ella’s hips as the nauseous waves of pain set in an filled the entirety of my being. I could hear Ella giggling as she located her hands at the top of my head, tousling my hair with her left hand as her right slid down and relocated under my chin.

“Always expect the unexpected, Mr. Herman”, Ella instructed as I tried to find my bearings and swallow my testicles back down into my nutsack.

Using my chin and my hair as her implement, Ella pulled me grudgingly back to my feet and then drove me back into the wall on the one side of my suite, standing me up by placing both of her palms on my chest and pushing me back. She smiled devilishly.

“See Mr. Herman, NO ONE ever challenges me”, Ella declared matter of factly, “Not you, not anyone.”

Ella punctuated her statement with a pummelling left hook straight to my liver, completely paralyzing my body and making me dry heave in agony. Rather than letting me fall, Ella caught me and again pushed me back against the wall with both hands and taking time to kick apart my feet — I assumed — to give me a wider base and help stabilize me against the wall.

I guessed wrong as another powerful knee shot up into my gonads like a piston, again dropping me to the floor. I heard Ella’s chuckle grow into a cruel, throaty laugh as my field off vision filled with stars and the sight of her cute, well manicured feet with their athletic bearing and long, sexy toes. Ella lifted her right foot so that the top of it gently touched against the bottom of my ravaged groin. “I’ll bet that smarts, doesn’t it?” she giggled.

Ella lowered her foot back down to the ground and then once again drew me back to my feet using a robust handful of hair and her index and middle fingers that she had clawed up into my nostrils for added humiliation. Maintaining her hold, she walked me back into the middle of the floor. Woozy from the damage that she’d already imparted on my body, I wasn’t specifically cognizant of the full mechanics of what came next, all I remember was a sense of Ella grabbing the outside of my right elbow with her left hand, her hooking her strong right forearm under my left armpit and then grabbing the top of my left shoulder while stepping her right leg over and around my right leg. From there, Ella drove her right hip underneath me into the crease of my hip and then powered up through her legs while throwing me over the top of her and then following through and exasperating my fall from her throw by landing with her full weight on top of me at the immediate point of impact. The girl had basically hit me with the equivalent of a nuke and as all the ripples of impact echoed throughout my body, I found myself of the edge of complete unconsciousness about a minute and a half into our ad hoc wrestling match.

Ella, proving to be a little sadist, took time post impact to relish the fruits of her labours, smiling and licking her lips with glee as a writhed beneath her. She scissored my right arm between her legs and then used both of her arms to bend my left arm into a painful wrist lock, applying her full weight across my chest to pin me to the floor.

“How’s that feel, Mr. Herman?”, Ella questioned, simultaneously torquing both her leg scissor on one arm while cranking down on the wrist lock on the other. I grimaced in agony to her delight and she rewarded me with a lick of her tongue across the length of the left side of my face.

“Mmmmmmmmm”, she purred, “I love to hear a boy groan while I’m destroying them.”

Ella’s body, as soft and supple as it seemed from afar was like steel cable up close when engaged. Already her status as an elite athlete was without question — there was just a different quality to how those types could leverage their physical gifts to maximum devastation. With my arms feeling deadened by a few minutes of constant torque and pressure, Ella decided to switch it up, but not before softening me up for torments to come. Releasing her right hand from the wrist lock on my left arm, Ella switched to pinning that arm by holding it down and then pushing her upper body up into a one-armed plank. With my right arm still held helpless within her leg scissor of that appendage, Ella had full authority to apply her free right hand to any task that she desired, so she began hammering down gut punches into my abdomen, with specific emphasis on my solar plexus. Try as I might to lessen the effect by steeling my abs against the barrage, I was in too much of a compromised position to really have any effect on the damage being done by my blonde assailant. By the time she was done, I wasn’t just softened up, I was goo. As she released my arms and popped to her feet quick as a cat, my only action was to roll into a fetal position. Not satisfied to give me any harbour in the storm, Ella kicked me back over onto my back and then stepped across my torso so that she had a foot on either side of me.

“Where’s your game now, Mr. Herman”, Ella chided, “Where’s all that snarky confidence from the pool?”

Ella did a quick hop and landed with her full weight on my unprotected abdomen, riding my body like a surf board with her left foot positioned slightly forward across my sternum and her right foot on my battered lower abs. With any movement that even resembled an attempt at escape, Ella would stomp down on my lower abs — or even my groin — with her right foot. To accentuate her dominance, the Honey Blonde even crouched down and extended her arms out as though she was actually surfing, maliciously laughing at my plight under her cruel influence. It wasn’t just about defeating me as an opponent, it was about pure humiliation under her dominance.

The body surfing torture eventually lost its appeal and Ella was again mobilized to change things up. Sinking her weight fully down into her feet for one last exclamation, Ella crouched down and then jumped up and off me landing off to my left side. I again began to curl up, only to feel Ella pulling me up to my feet once again to my feet by the hair on the top of my head. Looking to go back to the well, Ella again powered me back towards the wall. I was sure that another round of knee smashes to my groin were sure to follow. As accomplished as she was as a martial artist, Ella was maybe getting a bit overconfident. Even so, I knew that if she got off another round or two of completely unchallenged offence, there would be no coming back — I’d be done like dinner.

As Ella began to shift her weight back into her left heel in order to set up for another knee smash, I moved as quickly as possible. Overwhelming her arms with the sudden force of my movement, I bent down slightly and grabbed her around both of her luscious thighs and then straightened up, lifting her off the ground. Before Ella could register what was happening, I violently brought her back down, rushing her wide open vagina with an Atomic Drop across the top of my knee.

“Ohhhhhh...BOLLOCKS!!”, Ella moaned as her eyes slightly rolled back and her sensuous mouth opened in realization of the dumbfounding pain emanating from her pussy and her shock at the sudden turn of events. Quickly pivoting, I drove Ella’s back into the wall and delivered three or four quick knee lifts into HER breadbasket that encouraged a matching series of grunts and groans in response. Finally, with Ella reeling from my flurry, I reached down between her legs, hefted her up overhead and then slammed her down to the floor with an aggressive Body Slam. As she crashed to the mat, I could hear the air rush out from her luscious body and she moaned her suffering. Somewhat spent from the expenditure of energy required by my desperate offensive, I had to take a knee as Ella’s body twisted and contorted in agony right next to me.

“Oh you fucking cunt”, Ella hissed in her pained state. I took it as a compliment.

Knowing that I needed to maintain my offence while also finding a way to do that without expending a ton of energy, I brusquely rolled Ella onto her belly, heavily weighting my right knee into the small of her back. Grabbing a very generous handful of her hair, I pulled the savage Miss into a Chin Lock that twisted her spine into an agonizing crescent moon. As she widened her mouth to voice her agony I took the opportunity to accentuate Ella’s suffering by fishhooking either side of her mouth with my index and middle fingers while maintaining the shape of the Chin Lock with my ring a pinky fingers. I had to admit that as I heard her feet kicking at the floor behind us in partnership with Ella’s pained lamentations, I felt a truly pure sense of accomplishment. Suck on that, Junior Miss Judo.

While the Chin Lock was effective in wearing on Ella, she was too strong and accomplished a fighter to lose to so simple a hold. To have any chance to win this match, I needed to wear out her entire body.

I roughly shoved Ella’s upper body down to the floor and — in conjunction — I quickly pivoted on my right knee and caught her left shin as it reflexively rose once her face collided with the floor. I quickly followed that action by hooking her left foot under my armpit to catch Ella in a Half Boston Crab and then planted my own left foot between her legs so that her pubic mound pressed against the back of my left heel. Pushing off my left foot, I slid my shin — and all my weight — further up Ella’s back so that it was centred over her diaphragm and thoracic area of her spine, generally a very sensitive area of the body. This approach was designed so that Ella would be forced to work for every breath she took while also allowing me to robustly deepen the Half Boston Crab hold that I maintained on her leg. The Piece de Resistance was the handful of Ella’s hair that I used to wickedly jerk back on Ella’s head to produce a pained yelp followed by a torrent of expletives in her proper, British tongue. British people swearing with their formal sounding accents really epitomized the concept of clean dirt.

“How’s that grab you, Ella?” I taunted while giving another bitter tug to her golden locks.

“You cunt!!”, Ella cursed, “when I get free of this I’ll....AIIIYEEE!!!”

I cut off Ella’s commentary with another harsh wrenching of Ella’s head using her hair. There was no call for bad language.

“Oh princess, that’s IF you get out. I kinda like you where you are right now”, I goaded, hoping to infuriate. When facing a talented fighter, pulling them out of their place of discipline and into a place of emotion could be a double edged sword. My gamble was that emotion would cut deeper with someone young like Ella than respecting her prodigious skills and physical acumen. I wanted her to be in a state of rage to — hopefully — encourage errors of over aggression, rather than just letting her ply her technique without question. I needed to work both the mental and physical theatres of war.

“You’re not playing with your usual fare of little boys that you can bully for their lunch money, Ella”, I commented while lifting my weight and then dropping it anew across her upper thoracic spine to punishing effect while again driving the wind from her body, “While you think you’re a big girl, you still aren’t ready for anything other than the kiddie table.”

I dropped my weight down across Ella’s back again to both punctuate and punish. It was the least I could do — she’d gone to town on me when she had the upper hand. My nuts were still aching.

Ella’s moans were music to my ears, but she was so strong that it was going to be a true challenge to find a way to completely subdue her. As it was, Ella was struggling mightily and she was as strong as a ox, particularly in her legs and core. To address Ella’s mounting exertions, I released my hair grab, allowing her head to fall back to the floor. With my right hand free I wrenched mercilessly back on Ella’s captive leg to excise another grunt from my blonde opponent. Having re-secured her left leg, I took the time to lay a mighty spank on Ella’s left butt cheek that left an imprint of my hand as a temporary tattoo. Ella bucked and reared, cursing like an outraged sailor. It really entertained me to humiliate her in this way by emphasizing her youthful ineffectiveness. Having not ever wrestled a woman so junior to me, Ella’s debasement aroused me to the point where my throbbing cock was poking into her gluteus, further infuriating her.

“You dirty old man!” she hollered, “when I get out...Oooowwww!!”

I interrupted her with another crisp smack on the ass, reddening Ella’s skin even further.

“Quiet now, Princess”, I condescended, “or Papa will spank.”

Ella continued to roar her displeasure, slapping her hands on the ground and kicking her free leg. I gave Ella a few more sharp spanks that further heated her succulent ass. Her body shook with tantrums and her bum was absolutely sizzling by my hand. However, I realized that I needed to do more than just beat her ass, I also needed to beat her ass.

As prep, I applied another butt drop on Ella’s back, taking the wind out of her sails just long enough for me to hop up to my feet. As I did, I picked up Ella by her hair and then abused her with a quick Snapmare that ruggedly flipped her back down to the floor. I repeated the Snapmare manoeuvre a couple more times in quick succession, expressly to disorient her and wear her out. After one last cycle, as I picked her back up, rather than repeating the Snapmare process, I quickly spun her around and drilled with a knee smash square into her adorable, belly button, doubling her over with a loud gasp.

Ella’s face looked absolutely starched as I straightened her up one last time and reached between her legs and hoisted her up for another BIG Body Slam. Pausing at the top with Ella reduced to dead weight, I derisively patted Ella on her bum, traced my thumb across her vulva and then slammed her body to the floor. Ella crashed down and rolled side to side, arching her back in agony, quietly whimpering as she did.

With Ella’s compete level dropping with every pursuant hold, it was time to close up shop with her. I deliberately walked towards her feet and then reached down and picked up her legs by her ankles, spreading them wide like a wishbone. Ella’s eyes widened in horror.

“Nooooo...”, her voice trailed off plaintively.

“Whatever happened to doing whatever it takes to win?” I asked caustically.

With that, I firmly held Ella’s ankles and dropped my right knee right between her legs, hammering into her wide open pussy. Post impact, I held her there, legs spread with my knee grinding down into Ella’s labia. Ella gasped and couldn’t make a sound. She had been so certain earlier in our match and now all that certainty was collapsing right in front of her. Her body shook convulsively and her mouth remained agape, intimating that there should be something to say, to scream, but finding nothing. As she struggled, I threw her legs to the side, allowing her to roll over and try to quell the sensations that she was feeling in her privates. She curled into a fetal position trying to find solace. I gave her a moment and then, as deliberately as before, I walked back towards her head and grabbed another handful of her honey blonde locks and roughly tugging her to her knees. I ruggedly pulled her face into my groin.

“You wanted to play with the big kids, Ella”, I began, “I told you that I’d spank your ass. What do you think now, Ella”

Her muffled reply was unintelligible.

I pushed Ella face down into the mat and sat down across her lower back, my haunches weighing down on her lumbar spine. Continuing to use her hair as a means of control that accentuated her suffering, I pulled Ella up into into a deep Camel Clutch, mercilessly torquing her back while eradicating any hope for escape by trapping her upper arms behind my elbows. Completely helpless, I decided to pull the material of her bikini top away, exposing her fresh, young mammaries to my private audience. Fiercely groping her breasts as part of this final indignity, I asked Ella if she wanted to submit. Anguished moans were her only reply. I ratcheted up the intensity by squeezing Ella’s pink nipples while pulling her ever deeper into my clutches, holding her there until I sensed that she would beg to offer me anything for her release.

“Ella, do you submit?” I asked her

“Unnnnnhhhh...nnnn...” she lamented, still not getting to the point.

“Answer me”, I demanded, squeezing her fleshy breasts and bending her back to the breaking point.

“Yes...I submit...please....I...SUBMIT...”, she whimpered, her voice cracking.

“Who owns your ass, Ella?” I asked her.

She moaned. Upping the pressure, I asked again.

“Who owns your little ass, Ella?”, I demanded beyond the point of negotiation.

“You...my body...is YOURS...to do...with...to do ANYTHING you want...”, she stammered, broken.

I held her there for a few more minutes, allowing her domination at my hands to sink in and the I let Ella go, gently lowering to the floor and then turned her onto her back. Grabbing her wrists, I pinned them high above her head and moved my face to within a couple of inches of hers.

“So now, Little Slave Ella, what would you like right now?” I asked her, still marvelling at her beauty, even when fully spent.

“Good Christ”, Ella replied breaking into a wily grin and licking her lips, “Make me cum and make me cum hard. NO ONE has ever fucked up my shit like that before...I goddamned loved that.”

The girl was a natural, born switch. I absolutely knew it.

“I thought you might”, I replied, “Let’s get you cleaned up so that I can get you dirty.”

“No fucking way”, she retorted, her English accent sounding even lovelier when her words were filthy, “Let’s get even dirtier RIGHT HERE.”

I smiled. I liked this one.


To be continued...?

Last edited by HermanDG; 27-Aug-19 at 09:19.
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Old 27-Aug-19, 06:25
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Default Re: August 2019 - A Summer Retreat

unmatched skill level in your descriptive details. that installment was linguistic wizardry mate. thank you.
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Old 27-Aug-19, 09:04
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unmatched skill level in your descriptive details. that installment was linguistic wizardry mate. thank you.
Thanks, my man. I really appreciate it...
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Old 27-Aug-19, 14:45
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Default Re: August 2019 - A Summer Retreat

Oh, wow. When I started reading this I had no idea how it was going to end, but damn... It was one hell of a ride. I have rarely been so happy to see the words to be continued...

Thank you so much for writing this, mate. Please tell me that the incomparable Miss Ella gets her revenge on you and makes you kiss her spanked bottom until it is all better.
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Old 27-Aug-19, 14:54
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Oh, wow. When I started reading this I had no idea how it was going to end, but damn... It was one hell of a ride. I have rarely been so happy to see the words to be continued...

Thank you so much for writing this, mate. Please tell me that the incomparable Miss Ella gets her revenge on you and makes you kiss her spanked bottom until it is all better.
Only my hairdresser knows for sure, my man. If folks want to hear more, there definitely is more to tell...that’s the reason for the question mark at the end of that statement...
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Old 27-Aug-19, 15:08
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Default Re: August 2019 - A Summer Retreat

Would love to see more of this story unfold. Always a fan of your writing and storytelling, so seeing Ella make a comeback would definitely be nice!

Either way, keep up the great work!
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Old 27-Aug-19, 15:26
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Would love to see more of this story unfold. Always a fan of your writing and storytelling, so seeing Ella make a comeback would definitely be nice!

Either way, keep up the great work!
Thanks, man — very much appreciated
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Old 27-Aug-19, 18:28
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Default Re: August 2019 - A Summer Retreat

Definitely to be continued!! There is no way this mark on the family honor goes unanswered either by Elle herself or just as likely The Queen when she gets word of what happened. Hope you can handle a 2 on 1 scenario. We've seen how you let yourself get into situations from your other adventures.
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Old 27-Aug-19, 18:51
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Definitely to be continued!! There is no way this mark on the family honor goes unanswered either by Elle herself or just as likely The Queen when she gets word of what happened. Hope you can handle a 2 on 1 scenario. We've seen how you let yourself get into situations from your other adventures.
I don’t make trouble, it just finds me...
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Old 31-Aug-19, 12:24
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Default Re: August 2019 - A Summer Retreat

CHAPTER 02 — Train in Vain



To say that Ella enjoyed the intricacies and nuance of combat as a part of the submissive/dominant relationship would be vastly understating the obvious. Our first experience turned Ella on to a new reality and as such she loved the idea of fully pitched battle rendering into this new realm of play for her. Make no mistake, she gave no quarter and could be an intense competitor, but where she might be fully dominant with others, she also seemed to crave the release provided only by being overwhelmed and made submissive. Eager to explore this new facet of herself, the shapely blonde took to being pushed and punished to her limits and beyond like a fish to water. Once so defeated, Ella revelled in having her world rocked while she was physically spent to a state of near exhaustion.

On the first day after our introductory match, Ella and I sparred in more of a freestyle manner. She was a very structured combatant, but I really leveraged my size advantage and she consistently found herself struggling from the bottom. All the technique in the world couldn’t overcome some physical realities, because as I was often told when playing sports, “you can’t coach size”. I used that advantage to full effect, overwhelming Ella’s discipline and defence, while often even absorbing some of her techniques in order to wear her down and get her into positions and holds for which she had no answer.

I loved applying holds like the Boston Crab and the Sharpshooter on her because of how great Ella’ sexy, long legs looked in those kinds of holds as she strained against them and I even trapped her in some Figure Four Leg Locks where I would torture her toes and tickle her beautiful feet while she was helpless to stop me. But the absolute best thing in the world for me was when I had the opportunity to cinch her into a rear naked choke. In that hold, I could feel every muscle of her body struggling on top of mine until she was forced to tap her submission. Every time she did, I would roll her on her back, pin her arms under my knees and pose over top of her, flexing my muscles like I was Hulk Hogan or some other WWE superstar.

By the second day, we would wrestle in intervals of sparring and then parts of our session where Ella asked me to repeatedly put her into various holds and submissions. As we were becoming exceedingly familiar with each other, Ella’s defeats were generally followed by some incredibly intimate moments where I exacted “penalties” on her that left her moaning and awash in a state of her own carnal bliss. After every single set back, Ella would take a moment to collect her thoughts and then push herself back up to her feet, find some new reserve of energy while fiercely commanding, “AGAIN!” in her aristocratic, English accent.

The sight of her, covered with a slithery sheath of perspiration, while staring straight ahead with freshly determined, sapphire eyes blazing, was suggestive of the fire that burned within her. This statuesque beauty was becoming a ravenous connoisseuse of these hard fought wars in my suite, but I had to admit that there was nothing better than engineering every single backbreaking defeat of that glorious babe’s body then listening to her lamentations as she suffered under my “penalties”.

On the first day, at the start of our session, Ella wore a skimpy, turquoise bikini that was beyond flattering to her majestic body. After a wardrobe malfunction that day — caused when I became a little overzealous and aggressively tore off her bikini bottom, so that I could digitally manipulate her clitoris while attempting to submit her as I stretched her across my shoulders in Torture Rack hold — Ella concluded that we should start all our sessions fully naked from the get go, so that she didn’t run out of bathing suits while on vacation. Ella was even more breathtaking when nude and as an ancillary benefit, the lack of clothing provided us both with fewer barriers and greater opportunity to test and torture each other. Ella’s confident posture and fluid mobility was magnificence in motion and I appreciated her nubile physique as we prowled around our “ring” and mutually stalked each other while looking for openings and opportunities to dominate.

One time, as I held Ella in a bruising Chin Lock while rendering her legs helpless with her ankles crossed and pinned under me as I straddled her feet, she found the wherewithal to almost win the round with a sneaky sexual submission — at a point where I thought I was in total control and she was out of any offensive options — by leveraging her physical dexterity and the soft soles of her feet to tease my cock almost to the point of no return, requiring me to break the hold and fend her off until I could regain my composure.

Ella was a problem that needed to be solved in almost any position — whether she was on top or wrestling from the bottom — due to her physical prowess, competitive nature, creativity and her willingness to gamble in the thick of the fray. She was a savage ingenue who was growing exponentially as an opponent with every moment and this made me certain that she would eventually transform herself into an unstoppable savant in these carnal battles. As well, it seemed that Ella was trying to cultivate a talent of taking herself from the edge of certain defeat and then roaring back to a position of absolute dominance with the intent to completely turn the tables on an opponent and secure soul destroying victories. She would allow herself to be trapped in the same kinds of predicaments, over and over within our sessions and then experiment with different methods of overcoming those various holds and submissions. In Ella’s commitment to improving her fight game, nothing slowed her down for too long and it pushed me to grow my techniques and adapt just to survive her quickly evolving skill sets as well. It honestly became a sweaty chess match where each of us competed fervently to try and overwhelm the other. Over the course of those first two days, it would always end the same; with Ella popping back up to her feet, looking defiant and wishing for more.

“Again.”

“Again!”

“AGAIN!!”

She was indefatigable and dynamic and in the prime of her life. So I granted her wish every time and we continued endlessly on that second day, with me finding all manners of ways to subdue her with guile and power, while continuing to exact heavy tolls on her as penalties when she lost, ones that she relished and I hoped would continue for the duration of our stay in Orlando and possibly beyond.

After seven or eight hours, I successfully rode a — finally!! — fading Ella into a humiliating Reverse Matchbook Pin where she found herself being held prone under my full weight on her chest, while simultaneously being bent embarrassingly in half at the waist, her deliciously bare ass up in the air and her shapely legs immobilized by the hold I maintained around her muscular thighs under my arms. Ella moaned and cursed in frustration and anger beneath me. Observing a very pregnant opportunity to deepen her humiliation, I released her long, right leg to free up a hand. Already suspecting what was to come, Ella kicked at the air in futility with her right free leg and tried to find some leverage to in an attempt to inform an escape. However, I held firm and chuckled as I began to aggrieve her fully exposed femininity with my free hand bringing my captive blonde temptress to a squealing, shuddering, very explosive, sexual submission. I worked that pussy over until I felt Ella go limp and then, fully satisfied with my ultimate victory over her, I dropped her still captive leg to the ground. Rising to my feet, I stood victoriously over the teen titan and placed my right foot squarely between her heaving breasts, her skin dripping with sweat.

“I think you need a break, little girl” I commented while sardonically, adding, “maybe it’s time for Baby Ella to have her nap.”

Vitriol seared from Ella’s intense eyes. “Just a minute, Herman, to the victor goes the spoils.”

Ella rolled herself to her hands and knees, seductively crawling to a spot just in front of my feet. Rising up on her haunches while crawling her hands up the back of my legs, Ella’s fingers danced towards my groin. Arriving there, her touch sent shivers up my spine as she stroked me until she brought me to a pulse pounding erection. At that point, the comely blonde’s mouth engulfed my manhood. Ella was skillful in building my excitement as she slurped and swirled her agile tongue, bewitching my throbbing cock, I pulled her further towards me with some desperation using her golden locks. Within scant moments, I found myself at the absolute brink of euphoria and as I teetered on that edge, I felt the crush of Ella’s fist as it blasted me with a crippling nut shot while she, simultaneously, pulled her mouth away from my heavily primed unit. I dropped ignominiously to the floor, soiling myself with a reflexive, sporadic release of ovum that left me lying in my own spooge.

Ella raised herself majestically to her full 5’9” height, then sauntering deliberately to where I lay, she returned the favour by authoritatively placed her right foot in the middle of my chest and dominantly pressing me down to the floor in the process. Having brutally debilitated me, she threw back her golden mane and raised her arms above her in victory, pausing to flex both her biceps accompanied by a dismissive, girlish giggle. Bringing her hands on her hips, Ella looked down at me as she began tracing her long, elegant toes up my neck and then bringing them to a rest, along with the fleshy pads of her foot, over top of my lips. She smirked, looked radiant with her cheeks coloured from the exertions of our afternoon together

“Not another word from you today, Mr. Herman”, Ella instructed me breathlessly, “It’s never over until it’s OVER. And sometimes, not even then”

“Thanks for letting me know”, I wheezed, still prone and suffering.

Ella’s smirk grew in a big smile and then — after you could plainly see a coy thought running through her lovely head — reformed into another smirk with obvious, devilish intent. Ella dropped down to straddle my face with her crotch and followed by pulling my hands up over my head and pinning my arms under her knees. With both hands she pulled my face into her dewy pussy.

“Now make me cum one last time, Mr. Herman and make me cum HARD”, Ella commanded, reverting to dominant form.

As Ella ground down, I set myself to the task at hand, wondering if a bridge had been crossed.

Last edited by HermanDG; 31-Aug-19 at 15:16.
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