I first met Marianne in an internet chatroom, and we hit it off immediately. Chatting led to private messaging, then to phone calls and picture exchanges, and finally to an erotic meeting at a motel. Since we both were married, we had to be discreet. Marianne was everything my wife, Sharon, wasn’t. She was a voluptuous blonde, with 42DD breasts and very short blonde hair. She was sexually aggressive and adventurous, a small BBW at 5′7″ and 190 lbs. We had a wonderful time. At one point she asked me about my sexual fantasies, and I told her I would love to see her wrestle my wife. She had seen a picture of my wife, and her eyes lit up at the prospect of proving herself superior to Sharon and she readily agreed. We began to plan a way to set it up without my wife knowing we already knew each other.
Sharon had never wrestled before. At 5′6″, 125 lbs with a 36B chest, she is a stunning brunette who turns heads wherever she goes. She knew of my interest in female wrestling but never really approved of it; however, she agreed to a friendly match as a birthday present for me. We looked at various ads and profiles until I came across the perfect one for her, a woman new to wrestling….Marianne. Her profile described her as being smaller than she was to avoid intimidating Sharon. They exchanged messages, then spoke on the phone, and Marianne agreed to come to our house for a match. Of course, she told Sharon her husband was coming along, too. We made arrangements for our kids to be away that evening. My wife was a little nervous, but she said it all was a little exciting.
Finally, the evening of the match arrived. We met Marianne’s car downtown and led her back to our house. Once she pulled in, she explained that her husband had to work and that she trusted us enough to come alone. We went inside and had a glass of wine to break the ice between Sharon and our guest. It was all very cordial, but I could see my wife warily viewing her much larger foe. Marianne was excellent at not letting on that we already knew each other. After our drinks, we went downstairs to the family room. The girls had agreed to wrestle in bra and panties, and Marianne went into the bathroom to change.
“She’s pretty big”, my wife said as she stripped down to her Victoria’s Secret pink lace bra and panties. “Don’t worry, she looks out of shape”, I reassured her. “Besides”, I continued, “it’s just a friendly match.” We had already agreed on certain rules: no scratching, biting, punching of the face or mauling of any kind. If either woman got too angry, I would intervene. I had arranged the two sofas in our family room against the walls at the edge of the burbur carpet, giving the girls plenty of room to wrestle.
TO BE CONTINUED