I looked him over, studying his posture, his clothing, the way he licked his lips nervously. I mentally check over the things I have in my bag and their placement. Thank God I had brought all my rope; this was not a small man.
Sure, he came across all cocky online. Switch fight, eh? All's fair in love and war I suppose, and I'd learned a bit about taking care of myself, even against guys bigger than me. But I had a feeling he relied too much on his bulk to aid him. He appeared to not have any equipment with him.
I look over my glasses at him, cocking an eyebrow.
"You ready to start this thing?"
"As ready as you are."
It had started off as a joke at a munch, something about jello and wrestling. He was attractive and intelligent so I decided to take the chance. Not that I didn't come off as super-cocky myself. But then again, what use is it to not believe in yourself?
Seeing him in person made me even more confident. Sure, he was tall, but by the way he carried himself, he had a high center of gravity. A very dangerous thing.
"Are you sure? You could just give in and spare me the work of putting you in your place."
His response was to roll his eyes and glare at me. He had pretty eyes, at least.
We circled a bit on the mat, aware that others at the club were watching. My favorite bit of rope was in my hands, hemp for a strong grip. I need my knots to hold tonight. I say a quick prayer to St. Catherine, patron saint of fibrecrafts.
He lunges for me but misses, recovers neatly. I grab his long right arm and slip on a lark's head around his wrist before I get down low and pull. Unfortunately for me, he's more deft than he appears because he slams into me, taking me with him to the mat. Both of us go down, ass over teakettle.
My hand reflexively remains on the end of the rope. I pull the rest of the length in and see that he's raised himself on his tied arm which I mercilessly yank, causing him to fall hard on his right shoulder and off of me. I roll on top of him but he uses the momentum against me.
Fuck, I'm pinned, his hips and thighs on mine. Which, I muse, he knows is the strongest parts of me. Fuck. I squirm, my arms pushing his shoulders ineffectually. He grins and pins my hands in one large one. Well, at least he smells good, with just a bit of that tang of exertion. He buries his face in my ample cleavage, savoring his victory, I suspect. He finds a nipple and I arch my back, my body wanting more. I'm enjoying the dissolution in my body which makes me feel more pliable and I push myself further into his embrace.
But I notice the hold on my hands slackening. The tension is seeping out of him as lust and hubris take over. I give him more, my hips thrusting against him.