VIRAGO, part 2
by amazonfan
Angela deals with Charles


***********************************************************************
There exists a small group of women, numbering about two dozen, 
operating under the name Virago, Ltd.  "Virago" is an old word 
rarely used today that means "a large, strong, domineering 
woman".  The women of Virago, Ltd. are some of the most 
extraordinary physical specimens on the planet.  Each one 
possesses enormous physical strength, far exceeding what one 
would expect of women or men of comparable size.  Each is well 
versed in a variety of fighting techniques.  And each has a shape 
that makes men drool.  These are women who work for 
governments, corporations and individuals, spying, conducting 
investigations, committing extortion, exacting revenge, even 
assassination.  Women capable of fitting into a variety of roles, 
from secretary to stewardess to reporter to personal trainer to 
CEO.  These are their stories.
************************************************************************

Angela Adkins boarded the 757 out of LAX bound for Newark and sat in the 
third row.  She liked American's First Class cabin.  2-1-2 seating, so 
she could sit in the middle aisle and not be disturbed if she didn't 
want to be.  Midweek flight.  Coach was only half full.  First was 
almost empty.  She shoved her carry-on into the overhead bin on the side 
and slipped her Powerbook under the seat in front of her. 

Just before they closed the plane a businessman got on and sat in the 
window seat of Angela's row.  She studied him casually.  He looked 
familiar.  Damn, she'd have to wait until the 757 was above 10,000 feet 
to power up her Mac.  But Angela knew how to be patient. 

Charles Gelles, seat 3A, let out a relaxed sigh.  Just made the plane.  
No one in L.A. could conduct a quick meeting.  Glad it was over.  
Glancing over at the woman in the single middle seat.  Looked to be in 
her late twenties.  Very attractive.  Nice clothes.  Expensive tastes.  
No wedding ring. 

The flight attendants strolled through the cabin as the jet taxied its 
way to the main runway.  They passed out the list of videos available 
and the First Class menu.  They asked each passenger what they'd like to 
drink after takeoff. 

"Welcome aboard, Mr. Gelles.  What can I get you to drink after we're 
airborne?" 

Angela had heard the attendant.  She was sure she'd downloaded an active 
file with that name.  What a coincidence that she'd happened upon him on 
this flight. 

Seventh in line for takeoff.  It would be twenty minutes before they 
took off.  Charles stole another look at the woman seated in the middle 
aisle.  His eyes were drawn to the expanse of tanned skin that emerged 
below the hem of her skirt.  Although quite shapely, her thighs were 
unmistakably large.  Her calves were proportionately big.  They looked 
quite firm.  Charles was becoming intrigued. 

"The captain has informed me that you are now permitted to use approved 
personal electronic devices.  Please refrain from using cellular 
telephones for the duration of the flight." 

Angela powered up her Mac and used her password to access the security 
files.  Sure enough there was a file on Charles Gelles.  Age 38.  
Single.  Chief Financial Officer for Tartan Industries.  Someone at 
Tartan was leaking information to the newspapers and Virago had been 
hired to find out who.  Although Gelles was not a prime suspect, he was 
in a position to have the information that was being leaked. 

Angela used the Airfone to call headquarters and let them know she'd 
encountered Gelles.  They gave her the go ahead for her to interrogate 
him.  She said she'd think about the need for a back up agent after she 
landed in Newark. 

She returned to her seat and finished reading the computer file on 
Gelles.  It always amazed her how good Virago was at getting information 
on people.  She smiled when she came to the "Miscellaneous" section.  
Turned out that Mr. Gelles' name was on the mailing lists for Premier 
Productions, Joan Wise and Jaguar Videos.  Mr. Gelles liked to watch 
videos of women wrestling. 

"Like shooting fish in a barrel," thought Angela. 

She went into the lavatory and dabbed on some Aliage, her favorite 
perfume.  "No point in being subtle," she thought as she removed her 
brassiere and put it in her purse.  She left an extra button unbuttoned 
as she put her blouse back on.  She practiced a wicked smile and 
prepared to return to her seat. 

Charles wondered how to approach his aisle mate.  Damn it why was he so 
shy with women?  Maybe that was why he liked to fantasize about strong, 
dominant women.  If they took control of the situation he wouldn't have 
to be so worried about making the wrong move... 

She was coming back to her seat.  Damn she was a big woman.  She was 
standing right above him, looking for something in the overhead 
compartment.  Her arms stretched over her.  Wow she's got nice tits.  
You can just about make out her nipples under her blouse.  Oops.  She 
dropped something on the floor.  Bending down.  Go ahead, take a peek.  
Go ahead.  She's not looking.  Holy shit.  What cleavage.  Holy shit.  
She doesn't have a bra on. 

"Need any help?" he asked.  Maybe that sounds lame, he worried.  What a 
lousy come on line. 

"It just looks like I'm a spaz.  Believe it or not, I've got it under 
control." she replied brightly. 

"Funny, but spaz is not the word that comes to mind when I look at you." 

"Ooh, a charmer.  Right here in First Class.  Mind if I join you?  That 
middle seat's kinda lonely." 

Charles swallowed hard as the lovely sat down beside him.  He could not 
believe his luck.  God she was gorgeous.  And what a body.  He wanted so 
much to look at her abundant curves, but he was so scared she'd catch 
him staring and be turned off.  What exquisite torture. 

"So what's sending you to Newark?  Business or pleasure?" he inquired. 

Angela had her trap set. 

"Business.  All expenses paid.  I'm really getting the royal treatment." 
she replied. 

"Which I'm sure you deserve.  Who's picking up the tab?" 

"Well this may sound a little strange to you.  But, well, I guess you 
can see I'm not exactly the skinny type.  Well I'm going to do some 
videos.  Not porn stuff.  These are videos that I do some wrestling in." 

Charles' pulse skyrocketed.  And he started to get an erection. 

"Do you wrestle guys or girls?" 

"With my size, guys.  What makes me think you know something about 
this?" 

Charles turned beet red. 

"You're blushing!  Confess!" 

"Well a friend of mine showed me some videos he bought in New York.  
Some of the stuff looks faked.  But there are some more muscular women 
who make it look pretty convincing." 

"You mean you're not sure if a woman could really defeat a man?" 

"I guess not." 

"So you've never tried it yourself. 

"What?  Me?  Wrestle a woman.  No, can't say as I have." 

"But you'd like to."  Angela smiled her most devilish smile.  Charles 
blushed again. 

"Welllllll..." he chuckled, afraid to make eye contact. 

She reached out and took hold of his upper arm.  Small and soft as she 
suspected.  She gave him a playful squeeze. 

"I don't mean to sound critical, but judging by this arm, I'd dare to 
say that I could mop the floor with you." she winked. 

Charles squirmed a bit.  Self conscious of his arm.  His eyes drifted 
down again to her thigh.  Lord it looked big. 

"Twenty seven inches.  Bigger than my waist.  I get these wrapped around 
you and it's over," she whispered, knowing what he was thinking. 

His mouth was dry.  He could not speak.  The flight attendant brought 
them a fresh round of drinks.  She noticed his hand trembling as he took 
a stiff pull on the Tanqueray and tonic. 

"Do you, have you, um, ever ah, wrestled in private?"  He held his 
breath. 

"You're asking me if I would wrestle you." 

"I guess so." 

"You're not sure?" 

"Well I've never really done this before and I didn't want to give you 
the wrong impression." 

"What, that you want to get into my pants?  By wrestling?"  She laughed.  
"You'd have to win first.  And that I'm willing to wager, wouldn't 
happen." 

"You really think you could beat me?" 

"No question about it.  Here, feel this."  She took his hand and placed 
it on top of her left biceps.  She made a fist and slowly bent her arm 
up.  Charles was shocked as a tremendous ball of rock hard muscle 
exploded beneath his fingers, swelling and straining against her silk 
sleeve. 

"Wow.  That feels really big." he murmured. 

"Bigger than yours." 

"How much." 

"Seventeen inches." 

"Holy shit.  That's a lot bigger."  Charles was practically feeling 
faint.  Right beside him sat the flesh and blood embodiment of his 
erotic dreams.  Could this really be the ripe, muscular buxom dominant 
who could overpower him with astonishing strength?  Oh god he must not 
blow this once-in-a-lifetime chance. 

The flight attendant stopped with the linens for their tray tables.  
Charles welcomed the opportunity to cover his lap and hide the bulge in 
his pants.  But not before Angela saw the effect she was having on him. 

He was so tentative.  He seemed so afraid of her.  She'd have to push 
him into it. 

"Look.  I go straight back to L.A. after I finish taping, so if you'd 
like to get together, we only have a few days." 

"And could we wrestle?  I mean I've never done anything like this before 
and it just seems a a crazy chance and I'll kick myself if I don't do 
it." 

She covered his lips with her fingers. 

"Ssshhh.  Don't worry about it.  Just be prepared to lose." 

"I can't believe this is happening to me." 

"Pays to fly First Class."  They laughed as the flight attendants 
brought the first course. 

Charles never wanted a flight to land so badly in his life.  As the 757 
floated down gently to the runway Angela gave his hand a playful 
squeeze.  "Make sure you rest up," she kidded.  They'd agreed to meet at 
her hotel the next evening and go out to dinner.  Charles assumed they'd 
end up wrestling in her room. 

At 7:00 the next evening Charles wheeled up to the hotel.  Angela came 
right out the door, draped in a black outfit he recognized as a Donna 
Karan.  He noticed she liked loose clothes.  He liked the amount of 
cleavage the deep v of her blouse was revealing. 

Angela, in turn, took in his navy double-breasted suit.  Looked like 
Armani.  Shined shoes.  Immaculately clean car.  He opened her door.  
The man had some taste. 

He headed for Westfield, about half an hour away, where he had 
reservations at Chez Catherine, a small intimate French restaurant that 
served some of the best classic and nouvelle French cuisine outside of 
Manhattan.  Not many tables and not many customers this evening.  
Charles let Angela soak in the atmosphere, the crisp linens, the fresh 
flowers, the Laura Ashley print wallpaper.  Mozart played softly in the 
background. 

He chose the sole meuniere.  She selected the mousse-topped baked 
salmon.  He handed her the wine list.  She perused it and made her 
selection quickly. 

"The puligny montrachet, please," she told the waitress.  Charles liked 
her selection.  Hardly inexpensive, but a wonderful wine even at $55 a 
bottle.  Perfect for the fish.  The woman had some taste. 

Dinner conversation was light and engaging.  To their mutual surprise 
and satisfaction, they discovered they were both fans of classic jazz 
from the '30's and '40's.  Names most people wouldn't recognize were 
well known to them both.  Bunny Berrigan.  Bix Biederbecke.  Ben 
Webster.  Sidney Bichet.  They both had some taste. 

When the creme brulets and double espressos were finally finished and 
the bill settled, they just sat there smiling and chatting softly.  
Charles had reached across the table and put his hand on hers.  It 
didn't feel like a date.  It felt comfortable.  He had almost forgotten 
his wrestling rendez-vous.  She'd almost forgotten she had an 
interrogation to do. 

She excused herself to go to the ladies room.  She reached for the 
beeper in her pants pocket, the kind that just vibrates instead of 
chirping.  The message read "Immediate file update.  Mail box access."  
That meant that something important had changed regarding one of 
Virago's active cases and that she could access the information either 
through her computer or her voice mail box.  If she opted for voice 
mail, she'd get her message in code, which she'd probably have to 
translate.  The computer would be faster.  She could wait until she got 
back to the hotel, but she'd better get back there now. 

She strolled back to their table.  She leaned forward and let him pick 
up the scent of the Aliage she had just re-applied between her breasts.  
She whispered in his ear, "If you want your chance to wrestle me, little 
boy, I suggest you take me back to the hotel -- now."  Charles turned 
his head to speak and found himself looking straight into the 
magnificent chasm of her cleavage.  Angela took his chin in her fingers 
and tilted his head back until his eyes met hers. 

"Did anyone ever tell you just how extraordinary every inch of you is?" 
he whispered. 

"And just what qualifies you to say?  You haven't seen every inch of me 
-- yet." 

Charles exceeded the speed limit the entire ride back to the hotel. 

"Check the mini-bar to see if there's something nice for an after dinner 
drink and grab plenty of ice from the machine down the hall," Angela 
instructed, wanting something to occupy Charles while she plugged her 
Powerbook into the phone dataport and logged into the Virago e-mail 
system. 

It would be safer if she accessed it through the Internet, so there'd be 
no record of the Virago computer phone number on the hotel records.  She 
dialed the local Sprintnet access number for 9600 baud and got through 
quickly.  A few keystrokes later and she was on-line with Virago. 

"Tartan Industries security leak terminated.  Remove Charles Gelles from 
active file.  You may dump all related files." 

Terminated.  Whoever had leaked the information on Tartan had paid for 
it with his life.  She hadn't realized Tartan was willing to go to those 
extremes to put an end to its problems.  She was glad it hadn't turned 
out to be Gelles, considering how the evening had been going.  But she 
knew as a consummate professional that if she had had to take Charles 
out, the job would have been done. 

But he was innocent.  She did not have to interrogate him.  
Interrogation was Virago shorthand for subjecting someone to so much 
pain that they tell what they know.  Something she was more than capable 
of.  Something she'd done many times in the past. 

No, no interrogation.  Just a guy scurrying around the hotel trying to 
fill an ice bucket.  A cute guy who seemed really shy with women, who 
seemed afraid to take the lead.  But a nice guy.  A guy with interests, 
with a career.  Someone who she could spend some time with.  A guy with 
a fantasy of wrestling a strong woman.  And there she was, one of the 
few women would could more than fulfill his fantasy.  On the other hand 
she didn't have to do anything.  She could just throw him out and send 
him home, go to sleep and head on to her next assignment. 

"The things we do for love," she sang to herself as she went into the 
bathroom. 

She heard the entry door slamming.  Charles had returned. 

"I still say Harry Connick, Jr. is pseudo big band," he yelled from the 
outer room.  He wanted to make sure she knew he was back.  He was so 
nervous.  What would wrestling her be like?  Would she be as strong as 
her arms and legs seemed?  What would she think of him if he lost?  Did 
she want to fool around?  How would he know?  What should he do?  Being 
afraid of women was tying him up in knots inside. 

"Then if you lose, you owe me two front row seats to his next concert," 
Angela said, emerging from the bathroom, wearing a full length red silk 
robe.  Charles swallowed hard.  He hadn't expected her to have changed 
out of her Donna Karan outfit. 

She started clearing the furniture away from the large area rug in the 
living room of her suite.  Charles jumped in to help. 

"I thought what we'd do is roll up the rug and then take the rubber pad 
underneath and roll it up if it's not too dirty.  Then we'll put the rug 
back down and lay the pad on top," she explained.  "That way you get 
cushioning on the floor without getting rug burns."  Everything was 
rearranged in a couple of minutes. 

"You can get changed in the bedroom," she indicated.  "Want to go over 
the rules before you do?"  Charles nodded yes. 

"OK.  No blows to the head.  No low blows.  No biting, scratching, hair 
pulling or tickling," she began.  Charles raised his eyebrow 
mischievously.  "I mean it.  No tickling.  And I hate arguing over pins.  
Were both shoulders down?  Was the count too fast?  So pins don't count.  
You either submit or you are honest enough to agree that you can't 
escape the hold that you're in.  Sound fair?" 

"That's fine," he replied.  "Is one submission the victory or do we 
wrestle for a time limit or what?" 

"Usually it's a time limit match.  But there is one other variation, if 
you're feeling very brave or very sure of yourself." 

"Oh sure, set it up so that I sound like a sissy if I say no," he 
chuckled.  "So what's this other variation?" 

"It's one I bet you never saw on your friend's videos," she continued.  
"The idea's very simple.  We wear just two pieces of clothing.  The 
person who loses the fall has to remove one piece of clothes.  So once 
you've lost two falls you're naked and the other person's the winner.  
Get it?" 

"That means the match lasts no less than two, but no more than three 
falls." 

"You got it." 

Charles took a deep breath.  He noticed his hands were ice cold.  He was 
afraid to answer.  Angela stood patiently, smiling, staring at him with 
her big green eyes. 

"Oh, one other thing," she added.  "The two pieces of clothing have to 
cover different parts of the body."  Charles looked like he didn't quite 
understand.  "Probably a guy thought this rule up.  So the girl doesn't 
end up wearing two one piece bathing suits.  If she loses one fall, she 
wrestles the next one without her top.  Or bottom." 

"Well I guess I wouldn't want you to think I was a sissy," he said 
tentatively, still unsure of whether or not to agree to try strip 
wrestling. 

"Go get changed and then get your butt back out here," she laughed. 

Charles hands were trembling as he unknotted his silk Valentino tie and 
unbuttoned his shirt.  Then it struck him that he couldn't have 
underwear on under his gym shorts.  That would be two pieces of clothing 
covering the same area.  He either had to wrestle in his boxer shorts, 
which he thought would be too embarrassing, having her see him in just 
his underwear.  Or he could wear the gym shorts.  But without underwear 
underneath she was more than likely going to be able to see his cock 
because the shorts had loose legs.  If he got excited it was really 
going to be awkwardly obvious.  He sat on the edge of the bed debating 
his choices. 

"How's it coming in there?" she called from the other room.  "You trying 
to sneak out the window?  You're a chicken!" 

"All right.  I'm coming," he called back, finally deciding to wear a t 
shirt and his gym shorts.  He opened the door and moved into the other 
room. 

Angela sat on the couch surveying Charles' body.  She smiled to herself, 
seeing that he would be no trouble.  He was a bit thinner than she'd 
imagined.  Average muscle tone.  He most likely didn't spend much time 
at the gym. 

"What's your height and weight, big boy?" 

"Six feet. 185." 

"Good we're just about even." 

"You can't possibly weigh that much." he said, genuinely surprised. 

"I'm 5'11" and 182.  Muscle weighs more than you think." 

"Honest to god, I never would have guessed it.  Maybe your clothes 
camouflaged it too." 

Angela stood up off the couch.  "Maybe you'll believe it now," she said 
reaching for the sash of her robe.  She never took her eyes off his as 
she dropped her robe to the floor. 

"Holy shit," he whispered.  Before him stood the body of his dreams, 
wearing the kind of lacy, semi-transparent bra and panties you see in a 
Victoria's Secret catalog.  Her broad shoulders were capped by huge 
rounded delts that curved around until they were met by the swelling 
mass of her biceps and steel chords of her triceps.  He had felt how 
massive and hard her 17" arms were on the plane.  Seeing them now 
without a blouse he was struck by just how large they were, so much 
bigger than his.  Her chest was extraordinary, wide and commanding.  The 
cut between her pecs flowing into the generous cleavage of her ample 
rounded breasts.  And below this abundant superstructure, the deep cuts 
of her hard abs, tapering dramatically to a waist that could not have 
been more than 23 inches around.  Flaring out again to solid womanly 
hips, perhaps 38" around.  The legs that first captured his attention 
the day before were phenomenal, lengthy sculptured gams that broadcast 
an aura of prodigious muscular power. 

"Wow," he said.  It was just about all he could manage.  She was even 
better built than he had imagined, and he had dreamt about her almost 
all the time since yesterday.  She turned around once, allowing him a 
view of the broad expanse of her back, the incredible flare of her 
bulging lats, the cast iron balls of her glutes. 

"Why, if we weigh the same, do I suddenly feel like you're twice my 
size?" he asked apprehensively. 

"Well I'm not.  I'm just put together differently.  Why don't we see if 
I feel twice as strong to you?" 

"Oh boy, the moment of truth."  He was so nervous now. 

"Come on, it'll be fun.  Don't worry.  I won't hurt you.  Too much."  
She winked and waved him over to the pads. 

Charles' mind flashed to images from the wrestling videos he'd bought 
over the years.  He tried to think of what he should do, how he should 
approach her, what holds to try to use.  They each crouched a bit and 
moved slowly in a circle. 

Angela reminded herself that this was just for fun so that she would not 
go on autopilot and methodically break him in two.  Nevertheless, he 
would know shortly that she was his superior.  That her muscles could 
force him to do whatever she wanted.  But that's why he was here.  He 
wanted her to dominate him. 

She flashed forward, ducking down to grab him around the waist and lift 
him up in her arms.  She cinched her bear hug tighter to make it harder 
for him to get his arms freed. 

"Holy shit," he exclaimed, astonished at the suddenness of her attack, 
the strength of her embrace, and the obvious ease with which she held 
him aloft.  It took a bit of squirming and straining before he was able 
to pull his arms out from inside hers.  But it didn't do him much good.  
He simply could not pry himself loose.  As Angela began to bend forward, 
he was arched back, creating a searing pain at the base of his spine.  
He grabbed at her shoulders and arms, awed by their sheer mass and 
unbelievable hardness.  He was tempted to submit, but he couldn't give 
up in less than a minute.  He grunted and grimaced and struggled to 
endure. 

He felt her sliding a leg behind his as she eased him back to the floor.  
There was little he could do to prevent tripping and falling backwards 
with Angela's 182 pounds body-splashing on top of him.  He tried pushing 
her heavy frame off him.  Charles rolled onto his stomach and tried to 
gather his wits for his next moves. 

Angela knew it would take little of her energy to ride him from on top.  
Charles, on the other hand, would likely tire quickly trying to move her 
weight off him.  It would be fun to play with him for a while, wearing 
him out while demonstrating her power and wrestling mastery.  She swung 
her body around so they were facing in opposite directions, her pelvis 
and legs centered over his upper back and head.  More weight for him to 
try to budge.  It also put her in position to head scissors him if she 
chose to. 

Charles could feel his shorts riding up.  He was afraid he might be 
close to exposing himself.  After all her head was right down there.  
All she had to do was look up his shorts.  And even though he didn't 
have an erection, that bear hug just moments ago had gotten his penis 
swelling.  He thought he'd be safer pressed flat to the floor, rather 
than raised up on his knees. 

At first, Angela thought Gelles' flattening himself out was a peculiar 
move.  After all, it was just making it easier to ride him.  Then she 
got suspicious that he might be getting aroused and embarrassed.  Why 
not roll him over and find out?  She swung around again so they were 
facing the same way, stuck her arms under his chest, and rolled over 
onto her back pulling Charles on top of her. 

He wriggled loose and rolled over quickly and ended up straddling her 
stomach.  He couldn't quite believe he'd managed to get on top of her.  
And now he might even be able to get in control.  They grabbed each 
other's hands.  Charles struggled to pin her wrists to the floor.  
Angela was perfectly positioned to look right up the leg of his shorts.  
The circumcised head of his slightly engorged penis was almost peeking 
out. 

"If you ever saw me bench press," she announced, "You'd know you'd never 
be able to pin me."  With a sudden powerful upward thrust of her entire 
torso she bucked Charles off her body.  He rolled sideways onto his 
knees and Angela got in the same position.  They advanced towards each 
other without getting to their feet and grabbed each others hands again, 
this time in a test of strength. 

Angela smiled an amused smile, cool and confident in the overwhelming 
power of her upper body.  She let him try to move her arms, applying 
just enough of her strength to contain him.  He tried harder and harder, 
with little results. 

"Who's gonna weaken first?" Charles asked, thinking they were at a 
deadlock. 

Angela simply, slowly forced Charles' arms straight above his head and 
moved her body closer to his.  Then she spread his arms out to his 
sides.  Charles gazed in wonderment at her bulging biceps, delts, and 
pecs and understood he and she had not just been stalemated. 

Without warning Angela began thrusting her arms forward like pistons, 
shoving his arms backwards, each alternating thrust twisting him from 
side to side.  She shoved with both arms at once and Charles toppled 
backwards.  She dove forward and sat on his chest.  Now it was Angela's 
turn to grab the opponent's wrists to try to pin them down to the floor. 

Charles' heart was racing.  Not just from the exertion of battling this 
super woman.  He now found himself in one of the positions he'd often 
fantasized about, on his back with a muscular powerful woman on top, 
battling with all his might to avoid the male humiliation of being 
pinned by a female.  But his strength had been sapped.  Her endurance 
was far greater.  Was she just toying with him?  Look at how she smiled.  
The force she exerted was unrelenting. One last valiant attempt to 
resist...  But he was overwhelmed! 

Once pinned he stayed pinned, completely unable to raise his wrists off 
the floor.  Angela pulled his arms together, stretching them out over 
the top of his head.  She leaded forward pressing her hard pecs against 
his face.  Her voluptuous breasts hovered just below his chin, so that 
Charles' view was completely taken up by a sizable chasm of cleavage. 

He thought of how easily she had flung him off her when he was on top.  
So he tried to buck her off as well.  Angela just pressed her imposing 
thighs against his sides.  Two walls of steel encasing mere mortal flesh 
and bone.  Like an egg shell in a vise.  Charles' efforts were 
completely futile. 

"Unless you have something else in mind to try," she said, "I think this 
is about the point where you show that you're a good sport and you 
concede.  Remember?  The rules were you submit or you admit you can't do 
anything." 

Charles tried to arch and bridge himself one last time.  Angela 
contained him instantly.  His muscles went slack. 

"All right.  Shit.  I give.  That's it.  I don't think I can do a 
thing." he confessed. 

Angela sat up straight, clasping her hands together above her head in a 
victory salute.  Then she hit a double biceps pose, her 17" peaks 
ballooning into full relief. 

"I knew you wouldn't be able to beat me cause of these," she declared, 
raising off Charles and getting to her feet.  It was obvious to her just 
to look at him that the first fall had really worn him out.  The bulge 
in his gym shorts was also quite obvious. 

She offered him a hand to get up and pulled him towards her in a tight 
embrace.  She kissed him, her tongue quickly slithering into his mouth.  
She cupped his buttocks to pull him against her more tightly, to feel 
his burgeoning erection.  And while Charles responded to her kiss, he 
made no moves of his own. 

Shy and scared to make any moves, she thought.  Well she could fix that. 

She grabbed his t shirt and started pulling it of over his head.  "Price 
for losing the first fall," she reminded him. 

"I don't know if I'm going to have any better luck the next fall," 
Charles offered.  "I can't believe how strong you are.  It's like I'm 
half you size, and I'm not.  I never imagined any woman could do what 
you can.  This isn't like those videos.  You're in a class by yourself." 

"Flattery will get you somewhere," she chuckled.  "But it won't get you 
out of having to wrestle the next fall.  You didn't do too bad the last 
time.  You were on top at one point." 

"Yeah, but you tossed me off like it was nothing." 

"Well, I'll just have to give you some extra incentive.  Make the stakes 
a little more interesting.  Tell you what I'm going to do.  I'm going to 
concede the next fall right now.  You win.. We're all even.  So the next 
fall is the rubber match.  You win and you're the champion.  You only 
have to win once instead of twice." 

"I guess that makes this some kind of handicap match," Charles 
responded, "But seeing how strong you are, I'd be a macho fool to turn 
it down.  You want to risk the championship on one fall, that's fine 
with me." 

"Good.  You rested? Let's do it."  Angela put her hands behind her back 
and unclasped her brassiere.  She tossed it at Charles.  He caught it 
and couldn't resist the temptation to look at the tag.  46D.  Never in 
his life did he imagine he'd be holding a bra that big in his hands.  
Never in his life did he imagine that he would come face to face with 
breasts that magnificently round and full that were so firm they really 
didn't need the bra that had just been removed.  He looked down, nearly 
mortified by the flagpole accentuating his shorts. 

Angela began to stalk him.  She would really enjoy teasing him now.  She 
quickly tackled him to the floor again and lay on top.  As he 
concentrated his efforts on avoiding another pin she slid a hand inside 
his shorts and began massaging his balls. 

"Try and stop me," she whispered, "I can play with you and there's 
nothing you can do about it.  See?  I can fondle your balls and squeeze 
this cock.  Oooooh.  It's really hard, isn't it?  I'll bet if all your 
muscles were this big and hard when they got pumped up you might 
actually have a chance of winning when we wrestled.  But I'm the one 
with the big hard muscles, aren't I?" 

"Yes.  Yes.  God please stop stroking me." 

"Afraid you'll lose control?" 

"Yes." 

Angela rolled the head of his cock between her thumb and index fingers. 

"Good.  I want you to realize that I am in complete control.  Anything I 
want you to do, you do.  Anything I want to have happen, happens."  She 
let go of his cock and smacked her breasts against his face.  Then she 
rolled off him and bounced to her feet. 

Charles had only gotten to his knees when he felt her arms looping under 
his from behind.  She yanked him up and picked him off the floor, 
holding him with just one arm and supporting his weight against her hip.  
Immediately she snaked her free hand inside his shorts again. 

Charles didn't know whether to try to pry the arm holding his body loose 
or to try to remove the hand pumping his cock.  All he knew was if he 
didn't stop her very soon he was going to come in his shorts.  Was she 
trying to make him come?  Was she testing him to see if he was man 
enough to control his ejaculation? 

The sweat on their bodies gave him just enough lubrication to slip out 
of her hold.  He spun to face her and she just stood there pressing her 
breasts together with her powerfully bulging biceps. 

"Come on big boy. Come and get it.  Show me what you've got."  She 
motioned with her fingers for him to come forward.  He crouched and 
charged at her like a football player going for a tackle. 

She could have sidestepped him, but she just stood there and let him hit 
her.  His momentum knocked her back on her ass.  Charles was between her 
legs.  He was scampering to get astride her chest when she swung her 
legs up and around his waist. 

Charles froze.  He remembered seeing women in his wrestling videos use 
their legs to crush submissions from their hapless male foes.  And here 
he was, trapped between a pair of 27" behemoths.  He grasped the sides 
of her thighs, rock hard flesh that did not yield to his probing 
fingers. 

"Oh shit," he grimaced, realizing the mistake he'd made in being trapped 
this way. 

"Game.  Set.  Match." she chuckled., lying back and putting her hands 
behind her head.  She alternately flexed each enormous biceps.  "And you 
thought these arms were strong.  I warned you yesterday on the plane 
what I could do with my legs." 

"I remember it well.  These incredibly built legs of yours were the 
first thing I noticed about you.  Well I's no fool.  I know when I'm 
beat.  I'm going to concede the fall and match to you now, rather than 
being subjected to the torture of your squeezing the living shit out of 
me." 

"Oh come on," she teased, "Don't you want just a little sample?  How can 
you have a wrestling match with a woman and not want to know what it 
feels like to be trapped between legs like these?" 

Charles ran his hands over her stupendous thighs, in awe of their heft 
and hardness, in fear of the power they must possess.  But she was 
right, he did want to know what it felt like.  It was a part of his 
fantasies. 

"Just a little then.  And for god's sake, don't try to kill me." 

Angela's practiced technique gradually increased the pressure on 
Charles' sides.  He stared incredulously as the twin pillars encasing 
him swelled, the muscles and sinews popping into flexed detail.  He 
gritted his teeth and tried tightening his own muscles, but they were 
incapable of withstanding the relentlessly increasing pressure. 

She braced herself with her elbows and bridged her hips off the floor, 
lifting his torso along with her.  Charles threw his head back and 
groaned, clutching her thighs.  She was pleased to see how long he was 
trying to last in her scissors.  She knew that, in spite of the pain, he 
was relishing this moment of being helpless.  Of being overpowered by a 
woman's superior strength. 

"Oh god.  Oh god that hurts.  Shit.  Sheeeiiitttt.  That's it.  That's 
all I can take.  I give.  I give!"  He slapped her thighs in submission.  
Angela unlocked her ankles and parted her thighs.  Charles rolled 
forward on all fours, practically collapsing on top of her. 

"You done good.  You held out longer than I thought you would." she 
said. 

"I always wondered if that was for real in the videos or the guys were 
acting.  That was unbelievable.  Your legs are so strong.  You were just 
crushing me.  That was intense." 

"You loved every second of it." 

"No way.  It was torturous." 

"Well there's an obvious way to settle this argument.  Since you lost I 
believe you now have to take off your shorts." 

Charles looked down and saw how obvious his arousal was.  "You're bad," 
he laughed. 

"No.  You're hard.  Stand up and peel those suckers off for me." 

Charles and Angela both got to their feet.  He realized there was 
nothing he could do to avoid the moment of truth.  He pulled his shorts 
down over his hips, let them fall to the floor, hooked them with his 
toes and kicked them to Angela.  She caught the pair and just tossed it 
aside, focusing her gaze on Charles' 7 1/2" cock which was quickly 
rising up to full erection. 

She mimicked his motions, peeling off her own panties and kicking them 
to Charles.  He could not resist the temptation to hold them up to his 
nose and sniff them.  The musky perfume of her obvious arousal made him 
even harder. 

She closed the gap between them, embracing him, pressing hard against 
him.  He delighted in the magnificent mass of her hard muscles, her 
jutting breasts, her erect nipples rubbing against him.  She welcomed 
his thick penis pressing insistently against her stomach. 

She kissed him deeply, her tongue swirling deliriously in his mouth.  
She took his hands and placed them on her breasts, encouraging him to 
feel how big and heavy and firm they were.  He took a nipple in his 
fingers and rolled the erect nub.  She moaned her approval. 

He felt her hand descend to his crotch, gently massaging his balls, 
tugging at his sack, ever so gently scratching him with her nails.  Then 
she placed her hand on his groin just behind his balls and her other 
hand cupped behind his neck. 

With the ease given to those of superhuman strength she picked him up 
off the floor and cradled him in her arms like a child.  She pulled him 
tight against her breasts and kissed him again.  His erection throbbed 
insistently in his lap. 

"Let's continue this in the other room, " she whispered, carrying her 
defeated foe through the door into the bedroom.  She tossed him onto the 
bed and stood triumphantly over him, letting him take in the towering 
sight of her naked rippling physique. 

"Who's the champion?" she asked, flexing her arms in yet another display 
of power, size and dominance. 

"You are my queen," answered Charles, vanquished yet completely smitten.  
He ran his hands up her calves, entranced by the softness of her skin 
and the girth of her muscle. 

"And now you are mine," she declared. 

"Yes.  If you will have me." 

"Oh yes, my dear Charles.  I will have you.  If you thought wrestling me 
fulfilled your wildest fantasies, you ain't seen nothin' yet.  When I 
finish making love to you, you'll be the tiredest, happiest, most 
thoroughly fucked man on earth.  If I were you I wouldn't plan on having 
the strength to go to work tomorrow." 

Angela laughed sexily and leaned over to turn off the light. 

Charles took a deep breath and readied himself for a long night of 
lovemaking. 

As her lips met his he thought, "Sometimes dreams do come true." 

The End.