The Wrestler Who Almost Crushed Me in the Ring

I had only been on vacation for three days and I was already bored. I spent my mornings by the hotel pool, my afternoons wandering around downtown, and my nights staring at the ceiling, not really knowing what to do with my free time. I was twenty-six, with a reasonably well-built body thanks to three weekly gym sessions, and a habit of getting myself into situations I never quite had full control over.

So when Laura told me about the wrestling events on the plane, I didn’t hesitate for a second.

I had met her during the flight. She was around forty-five, with black shoulder-length hair and the calm attitude of someone who had seen too much to be surprised by anything. She worked as a referee at amateur wrestling tournaments: nothing official, nothing televised, but with a real audience and money at stake. She explained that they accepted untrained participants if they passed a small test.

—How much do they pay? —I asked.

—Quite a bit just for participating. More if you win. And if you lose... —she paused briefly— the winner chooses what happens next, inside the ring.

She gave me her card before we landed. I didn’t throw it away.

***

The address was an industrial building on the outskirts: gray concrete facade, no visible sign. A receptionist showed me into a room where I waited about twenty minutes before a man in a suit arrived and explained the conditions. In short: there were almost no rules. No deliberate fractures, no weapons. Everything else was allowed.

—The loser’s punishment is to be at the winner’s disposal, inside the ring, for as long as the referee specifies —he added without changing his tone, as if he were reading a contract clause—. Sexually speaking. Here, the winner fucks the loser in front of the audience. No limits, except the two I already mentioned.

I passed the tryout without a problem. They looked me up and down, had me do a few push-ups, checked that I had no previous injuries, and told me I would start in two days.

Two days to decide whether it was a good idea. I signed anyway.

***

The locker room was small and smelled of cheap deodorant. I put on my wrestling gear—tight shorts and nothing else—and waited for an assistant to come with information about my opponent. When he arrived with a tablet and started showing me videos, I tried to focus on what mattered: speed, defensive movements, weak points.

It wasn’t easy. My opponent was named Valeria and was about forty-two.

The videos made it clear that she didn’t fit into any simple category. She wasn’t muscular in the conventional sense, but there was nothing soft or neglected about her either: a broad, firm abdomen, thick arms without excessive bulk, solid legs. And above it all, a substantial pair of breasts that her Lycra bra barely contained. Nothing soft in sight. Everything compact, resilient, built to absorb punishment and deliver more in return.

In the videos, the men who faced her lost predictably: they moved in where they shouldn’t, got distracted, and she brought them down with an efficiency that didn’t require speed. She was slow with her strikes but devastatingly forceful. Her ability to absorb damage was striking: she took impacts that would have floored anyone else and remained standing, enduring, waiting for the other person’s mistake. In one of the videos, after winning, she sat astride the loser’s face and sank her pussy into his mouth until she came while the audience howled. In another, she forced the defeated man to suck her on his knees before leaving him sprawled in the ring with his face smeared in saliva and someone else’s semen.

Don’t move in where you shouldn’t. That’s the only thing you need to remember.

She almost never lost.

***

The audience was larger than I had expected. Around two hundred people in stands on either side of the ring, constant noise, the heated atmosphere of something about to happen. I entered first, and the reception was lukewarm: I was new, and nobody knew what to expect from me. When Valeria appeared, the noise changed its nature. A mixture of whistles, applause, and something difficult to classify that had more to do with anticipation than respect.

She took off her robe at the edge of the ring and let it fall without looking back. Tight black bra, Lycra briefs. She looked down at me for a second before climbing in.

—Leave while you still can —she said quietly, almost without inflection—. This isn’t going to go well for you.

—Thanks for the warning —I replied.

The referee who climbed into the ring was Laura. I recognized her and felt a slight sense of relief that would prove completely unjustified.

***

The bell rang.

Valeria proposed a test of strength from the very first second: arms spread, hands extended, the classic gesture for measuring strength. I went along with it, intending to slip away quickly and look for a side entry. I miscalculated the distance.

She caught me before I could react.

The embrace was like being trapped between two walls closing at a constant speed. The pressure against my back was precise and brutal, my lungs emptying in slow motion while I could do nothing to stop it. I pushed, tensed every muscle I had, tried every possible way to pull free. All I accomplished was making her squeeze harder.

The audience began to liven up.

—Relax —she murmured in my ear—. You’re going to need your strength later. When I have you on your knees with my pussy in your mouth, you’ll be glad you saved your breath.

She released me suddenly. I fell backward and took several seconds to catch my breath. The ring floor was cold. I know because I spent quite a while looking at it from down there.

Okay. Now I know what I’m up against.

Before I could get fully upright, a hand seized my hair and lifted me halfway. The first fist landed in my side. Then another. Then a third. Blows to my ribs without pause, methodical, each one aimed at exactly the same spot. I couldn’t contain my groans of pain. It was a burning sensation spreading with every impact toward my back and chest.

The audience chanted for her to finish the job already, pull down my shorts, and fuck me right there.

I lost count of the blows. At some point the pain became so constant that I stopped registering it as new information and began looking for a way out. I was still standing. She was slow. That was enough to keep me going.

***

Valeria raised her arms toward the stands to receive the ovation. I used those five seconds to get to my feet. My legs were trembling. My ribs were burning. But I was still standing.

She turned and looked at me with something resembling surprise.

—You’re more stubborn than you looked.

—We’re not finished yet.

This time I didn’t wait for her to raise her arms. As soon as I was within range, I used all the speed I had left and landed a kick against the side of her face. It wasn’t enough to knock her down, but it sent her staggering into the corner of the ring, shaking her head. I took advantage of the moment and went after her before she could recover.

The blows to her abdomen were beginning to have an effect. The area had reddened, and she clenched her teeth with every impact, covering what she could with her arms. I struck her arms too. They were hard, but the pain got through all the same. I heard her grunt for the first time.

—Now it’s my turn —I told her near her ear.

I continued with a short burst to her stomach. She tried to cover herself, but the space was too tight. The skin of her abdomen was visibly reddening, and her breathing had become labored and broken. Even so, she remained standing, braced against the corner, enduring with a concentration that was beginning to seem like something more than physical resistance.

Then I moved in too close.

The heat of her body at that distance was difficult to ignore. Her nipples stood out clearly against the taut fabric of her bra, thick and erect, pushing the Lycra almost to the point of tearing. Between her legs, the outline of her pussy was visible against her briefs too, a swollen cleft that the wet fabric revealed shamelessly. I promised myself I wouldn’t make the mistake I had seen in the videos, and I made it anyway: four seconds of distraction, my cock beginning to press against my shorts, which she used to land a hook I never saw coming.

I staggered. I spat and took a step back. Then I came back at her.

I closed the distance again, this time with greater purpose. A cross to the chest made her bra give way on one side, and a heavy, white breast sprang free of the fabric, its dark nipple pointing into the air. The sound that came out of her wasn’t entirely pain. I stopped for a moment. It wasn’t a moment of physical weakness; it was something else.

Valeria leaned against the corner with her breast partly exposed, breathing hard. Her nipples were erect, her skin flushed. I moved closer and tore away the other side of her bra in one pull, leaving both breasts exposed, trembling with every breath. I began working them with my hands: squeezing, twisting her nipples between my thumb and forefinger, stretching them until a hoarse moan escaped her that she couldn’t hide. I pinched hard, firmly enough that every whimper she made was involuntary. Her head fell back. Her hands tried to push me away, but there was no real strength behind them.

The audience no longer shouted. They watched.

I lowered my mouth and ran my tongue over one nipple before biting it carefully. She exhaled sharply. I switched to the other, took it entirely into my mouth, and sucked until I felt her whole chest tense, then bit lightly and went back to sucking. Her hips moved forward on their own, seeking me, rubbing against my thigh. I felt the dampness of her briefs against my skin. She was soaked.

I slipped one hand between her legs over the fabric and pressed my open palm against her swollen pussy. She let out a long, uncontrolled gasp. I pushed her briefs to one side and drove two fingers all the way inside her at once. She was hot, tight, dripping. I pumped quickly, searching for the spot with my fingertip while pressing her clitoris with my thumb. I heard her truly moan for the first time, a deep sound that came from her chest.

—Look at you —I told her in her ear, without stopping my fingers inside her—. The undefeated wrestler, with her pussy soaked in the middle of the ring.

I pulled back for a moment to look at her: her eyes were half-closed, her mouth open, her neck tilted back, her breasts rising and falling with her uncontrolled breathing. Her thighs were trembling. I withdrew my fingers, gleaming with her juices, and ran them over her lips. She opened them without thinking and sucked them.

Now. Take her down now.

I bent down to grab her briefs and finish the job. That was when the blow came from behind.

***

She aimed for my testicles but missed by very little. The impact at the base of my penis was enough to double me over. Before I could process what had happened, a right hand caught me in the face and knocked me onto my back.

Laura was standing in front of me, wearing her referee’s uniform and with no trace of neutrality on her face.

—Why? —was all I asked.

—Because I needed to see you lose —she said—. Valeria is my partner. Watching you with your hand inside her pussy was driving me crazy.

Everything fell into place at once, and in a way I didn’t like at all: meeting on the plane, the card, the coincidence of her being the referee. None of it had been accidental.

—Now I’m keeping you occupied while she recovers. Then she’ll finish you. And when she’s done with you, I’m going to watch her fuck you while I touch myself.

She kicked me in the stomach. Then again in my injured side. She planted one foot on my ribs and began pressing down slowly. The pain went from zero to unbearable in two seconds. I screamed before I could stop myself. I rolled toward the edge of the ring to escape and fell outside.

I stayed on the floor for a few seconds that felt like minutes. The audience had gone from enthusiasm to something ambiguous: some shouted encouragement, others told me to give up already. Laura climbed down from the ring with heavy footsteps and reached me before I could get fully upright.

Someone in the audience helped me back into the ring. What I found when I climbed up gave me no hope: Valeria was already standing and approaching. Laura immobilized my arms behind my back.

This is over.

***

Valeria stopped in front of me and studied me for a long second. Her expression wasn’t triumphant. She took my face in her hands and looked at me closely, as if searching for something.

I said what I was thinking without considering whether it was smart:

—You fought better than any of the people I saw in the videos. You take more punishment than should be possible.

I brought my lips close to hers and kissed her.

The audience fell silent.

Laura began shouting over my shoulder for her to finish the job, crush me, tear off my shorts, and shove it into me up to my guts. Her voice sounded urgent, forced, with a note that wasn’t confidence.

Valeria didn’t crush me. She released me slowly. She gently pushed me away. Then she turned toward Laura.

—The last time you interfere in one of my fights —she said in a low, very clear voice—. You had a job here, and it wasn’t this. We’re finished.

Laura had no time to answer. Valeria shoved her onto the ring floor with all the strength she had left. The impact was sharp and final. Laura landed on her back, breathless, blinking up at the ceiling.

The referee who came down from the stands took little time to count. One. Two. Three.

The bells rang.

***

The referee raised my arm. Then she raised Valeria’s. He declared us both winners. The loser was Laura, who was still on the floor trying to recover her composure and her pride, with little success on either front.

Valeria came over to me and spoke quietly:

—Do whatever you want with her first. Then I’m next.

I looked at Laura lying in the ring, unable to decide exactly how I felt. She returned my gaze through clenched teeth.

—This isn’t going to happen —she said.

The referee put handcuffs on her wrists and calmly explained that she was bound by the event’s rules. Laura writhed for a while, cursed under her breath, and finally lay still, staring at the ceiling with an expression that was half rage and half something else she didn’t want to show.

I knelt beside Laura and ripped the shorts from her uniform off in a single pull. Underneath, she was wearing soaked black panties: the fucking bitch had been getting herself wet throughout the entire show. I pulled them down to her ankles. Her pussy was exposed, shaved, with swollen, glistening lips. I shoved her legs apart and drove two fingers into her at once. I pulled them out dripping.

—Look at this —I told her, holding them up to her face before forcing my fingers into her mouth—. Suck. Suck yourself.

She tried to turn her head, but I grabbed her by the hair. She sucked them angrily, looking at me with hatred and something else. I released her hair and pulled down my shorts. My cock sprang out hard, swollen, red from the arousal accumulated throughout the entire fight. She looked at it for a second and swallowed involuntarily.

I knelt over her face, my knees on either side of her head, and pressed the tip against her lips.

—Open.

—Go to hel—

I pinched her nose shut. She held out for a few seconds, turning red, until she opened her mouth to breathe. I drove my cock down her throat in one thrust. I felt her whole body contract, felt her cough around my shaft, saliva spilling from the corners of her mouth. I began fucking her mouth mercilessly, gripping her hair with both hands and setting the rhythm myself. Every thrust made her handcuffed body jerk against the canvas. Her eyes filled with black tears from her smeared mascara.

I pulled out before coming and lowered myself between her legs. I lifted her hips, placed the tip against her soaked pussy, and drove it all the way in with one thrust. She grunted, arched her back, tried to close her legs, and couldn’t. I began fucking her hard, with all the accumulated anger from the blows, my hands squeezing her thighs until they left red marks. Her pussy swallowed my cock with a wet, obscene sound that could be heard over the audience’s murmur. Every thrust made her breasts shake inside the referee’s bra. I tore that off too. Her dark nipples sprang into the air, smaller than Valeria’s but just as erect.

—Look at me —I ordered, gripping her jaw—. Look at me while I fuck you.

She looked at me with tear-clouded eyes, mouth open, moaning despite herself. I increased the pace. I pushed a thumb into her ass while continuing to thrust into her pussy. She screamed, a long, filthy scream, and I felt her come around my cock, her walls squeezing me, soaking my thighs. I kept fucking her through the orgasm, without giving her a second’s relief, until the spasms began repeating one after another and she stopped pretending she didn’t like it.

I pulled out before coming. I left her sprawled there, legs open, pussy gaping and contracting, panting.

I turned around. Valeria was standing a yard away, watching me, her breasts still bare and one hand between her legs beneath her briefs. She licked her lower lip.

—Now me —she said.

She came closer, pulled her briefs off one leg, and shoved me backward onto the canvas. She climbed on top, straddling me, with my cock pointing straight up. She grasped it with one hand, positioned it at the entrance of her pussy, and lowered herself slowly, very slowly, looking into my eyes as she swallowed it whole. When she reached the bottom, she sighed with her eyes closed.

—I’ve wanted this throughout the whole fight —she murmured.

She began to move. At first slowly, rising and falling with her hands braced on my chest, her heavy breasts bouncing against my face with every descent. Then harder, faster, riding me with the full weight of her body, her thighs squeezing my hips, her broad ass slapping against my thighs with a sound of flesh against flesh that echoed around the ring. I grabbed both her breasts and squeezed them hard, twisting her nipples as I had before, and she moaned louder and sped up.

—That’s it, that’s it, suck my tits —she panted—. Bite them.

I sat up without pulling out of her, settled her over me with her legs spread, and bit her nipples one after the other while holding her by the ass and making her bounce on my cock. She wrapped her arms around my neck and began moaning without restraint, a guttural, animal sound I hadn’t heard from her throughout the entire fight. I felt her pussy beginning to tighten, felt her whole body tremble.

—I’m going to come —she warned through clenched teeth—. I’m going to come all over you.

I laid her on her back without leaving her. I lifted her legs, placed them over my shoulders, and began hammering into her with everything I had, my hands planted on either side of her head, fucking her as deeply as I could. She clung to the ring ropes above her head, arched, screaming with every thrust. Her pussy made a wet sound each time I pulled out and drove back in. Sweat ran between her breasts.

She came with a long, uncontrolled scream, her entire body tensing and shuddering beneath me. I felt the flesh of her pussy squeeze me in waves, sucking me inward. I held out for five more thrusts and couldn’t take it anymore.

I pulled out in time, climbed astride her chest, and came over her breasts and face in a long ejaculation that splashed across her parted lips, chin, and reddened nipples. She opened her mouth to receive the last spurts and ran her tongue over her lips without taking her eyes off mine.

The audience was standing and applauding. Laura, handcuffed beside us, had stopped pretending a while ago: her legs were spread and her hips were grinding against the air.

***

Valeria sat beside me in the corner of the ring, her chest gleaming with sweat and semen, breathing deeply. The audience below was beginning to understand what had happened, and the noise gradually returned.

—No one’s ever kissed me like that after a fight —she said—. Or fucked me like that, either.

—I’ve never fought like that before —I replied.

It wasn’t the best comeback in the world. But she smiled, took my still-wet cock in one hand, and squeezed it slowly, and at that moment it was enough.