Jenny The Fantasy Wrestler

Hi, Guys and, hopefully, at least a few Girls.

My story is different from the others you can find in the Femdom Fantasy Judo Club library. Mine is 100% true. Well, maybe 75% true. Most of what I'm going to tell you happened to me in real life or at least 50% of it did. Or maybe 40%. It doesn't matter how much is real. The important thing is that the 75% that's made up is true in spirit because of the 20% that's really true.

What did you say? That doesn't add up. Good catch! What happened to the other 17.5%? They're the bits I only share with Colman when I have him trapped in a cunning submission hold or pin. You all know Colman, right? He's the guy who started this little club.

One different thing about my story is that I can spellcheck. Come on, guys! It's not that hard. Of course, you're probably very, very hard as you write out your titillating fantasies, and probably your shorts are all wet too. It couldn't be very comfortable sitting at your computers in gooey wet underwear, panting, and typing with just one hand. Believe me - I know! But really, guys, please spellcheck and punctuate.

Hey, Hairy Jack, I loved that girlie pink gi with the mini-skirt that your darling Zarina made you wear last week after dumping you on your ass with twelve different judo throws in three and a half minutes. But why did I have to reformat the whole fucking story? And don't forget, there are two thingies called "shift keys" on your keyboard - figure them out - or get a new keyboard.

The other difference is that I'm a girl. Just like the few other female members, I see myself as a domineering world-class "judo" bitch. (Lilah, hon, are you still around? Feel like sparring? We could try rolling. A bit of BJJ could end up with some hot tribbing? No? Boob riding? Yeah? Good on ya! Call me ASAP!) I really do enjoy writing stories about kicking your sorry asses and then fucking you unitl MY head explodes.

Colman figures that 97.5% of his members are guys. That's OK, I like those odds! But why, you ask, is a girl telling a true story dedicated to exotic and erotic male fantasies? Almost all the stories are written by men for men. What do I know about your innermost cravings?

It just so happens that I know a little something about hyper-sexual femdom wrestling, but I'll be upfront. I have my own fantasies that do NOT involve me grinding my firm but yielding butt into your wet crotches and hard cocks, lifting you onto my hip and slamming you onto your backs at my feet. Well, not more often than ten or twelve times a week. Or maybe three or four times a day.

Where the fuck is my Magic Wand? Oh. Thanks, doll. Time out fellas

!!XXX!!XXXXXXX!! (times about 10 to 15 minutes and then...) 'OH FUCKING YESSSSS! Ah! Much better, thankyou.'

My fantasies are the usual girlie things, but they're not all candlelight and wine, chocolates and roses and sappy violin music. No sir! I can be as raunchy as any guy when I close my bedroom door and pull out my favourite clit-flicking toy. And before you ask, no, I do not fantasize about making out with Charlize Theron - as much as she might want me to - LOL. That doesn't mean I don't make out with girls in real life - I do, or at least I used to - and I like it a lot - sorry - liked it a lot. Nowadays, I only fantasize about it a wee bit more often than the F/m judo femdom thing.

I still do "judo" on my darling Colman because he loves it so much. But I don't fantasize about that either. I'm not saying anything that Colman doesn't already know - I don't get off on doing "judo" on him. Much. A little, maybe. Or a little more than a little. How much more? You figure it out. But he'll tell you the pounding my pussy gives his cock after a workout has nothing to do with the number of times I threw him multiplied by the number of times I made him tap out.

Why am I here? What can I offer? What's with the quotes around "judo"? Just this: Up to about a year ago, I was a Fantasy Wrestler Girl, and I am happy to share my story with you. So while I DO NOT share your excitement, your arousal, or your soppy underpants, I understand very well how much being on the receiving end of a sexy femdom beat-down excites and arouses you guys. I get it. Trust me. I've aroused, thrilled, excited, and induced more ejaculations for guys like you by grappling with them than most of you have had yum cha.

I will start at the beginning. My full name is Chan Yu Ling, and I am a second-generation girl from a very traditional Taiwan family. My English name is Jennie, and my friends call me JenJen. Colman is the only one who calls me JudoJen, but you can all call me that if you want.

I write "judo" with quotes when I talk about myself because I have never taken a judo lesson in my life. Obviously, I can't treat Colman to a session with a real lady judoka, but when I was in the 4th grade, my dad started teaching me Tai Chi. You must have noticed some Chinese people in the parks waving their arms around and dancing in slow motion. I learned the whole set in just a few weeks, and my father made me practice with him every day until I left home to go to University.

I never really understood it until I was in the 6th grade. I had a crush on a boy in my class, and one day at recess, the class bully had him on the ground and was punching his lights out. Without thinking, I pulled her off him and belted her in the face and broke her nose. She screamed and rushed at me, so I threw her to the ground and broke her collar bone and dislocated her shoulder. That was the power of Tai Chi. I hadn't used any martial arts "techniques" on the little bitch, but, as my father explained, my daily practice had taught my body what to do without me having to think about it, analyze the situation, decide what to do and then do it. No. My training had ingrained in every nerve and muscle a martial arts intelligence. I automatically knew how to distribute my weight to throw the most effective punch and how my body should align itself to best absorb the force of her aggression and redirect it with minimal effort, so that she could throw herself to the ground.

My high school years were uneventful. Perhaps it was the North American diet, but I out-grew both my parents. By graduation day I was 5'9' tall and I weighed 123 pounds, soaking wet. I'm not much more than that now. 128 or so. Like a good Asian girl, I kept my virginity, but I also learned how to give decent head. (I've improved - I now give Great Head!) My dates always went home happy as long as they treated me with respect, and I didn't hate them.

I had no orgasms in high school. I never even masturbated. My virginity was too precious to let anyone, even me, play with my pussy. I only had to break one guy's arm to protect my purity in those days.

Things changed in my first year of university. I needed a part-time job. My honoured father paid for my tuition and rent and books and gave me a little something for pocket money. But he is not a rich man, and I thought if I could earn my own money, it would be of great help to my family.

I was a waitress for a while. I didn't mind the hard work, but the pay was too low, and the hours were too long. I started looking for something else.

One day I was drinking coffee with some new friends in the cafeteria. Abby, a second-year student, got up and said she had to go to work and left. About two hours later, I went to the library, and I saw Abby working at a study cubicle. I didn't say anything.

A few days later, the same thing happened. Abby went off somewhere to work and came back a short time later. She was petite and pretty and always dressed in style with clothes I knew could not be cheap. I wondered what kind of work had such short hours and paid so well.

The next time she excused herself, it was about 8:00 PM on a Thursday night. I asked her where she worked. She had to rush off but promised to tell me later.

I was getting ready for bed at around 10:30 when she knocked on my door. All I was wearing was my granny panties and a bra that was too big for my breasts. I put on my robe and opened the door. Abby came in and sat on my bed.

'Are you really looking for a job?' she asked me. She looked very different now, with her subtle make-up, her designer dress and her high heels. She was so gorgeous that my heart skipped a beat.

'Yes. I need the money.'

'Good money, short hours?'

'Yes.'

'Do you have an open mind?'

'Sure.' With all the blow jobs I'd dished out in my senior year of high school, I was pretty sure I had an open mind.

'You are a beautiful girl, Jen. Take off your robe, and let me see your figure.' Did she want me to be a fashion model? Or maybe to parade around in lingerie at one of the exclusive men's clubs downtown? That wouldn't be too bad. Anyhow, I had just said I had an open mind, so how could I refuse?

I took off my robe, wishing I had nicer underthings to wear for her. She didn't seem to care. 'Turn around,' she said. I did. 'Very nice!'

'Thank you.'

She got off the bed, came over to me, put her hands on my breasts and squeezed them. 'Natural?' she asked.

'I'm going to have them enlarged when I graduate.'

'You musn't! They're perfect as they are. Take off your bra. Let me see them as the Holy Mother intended.'

'Why?' I asked. What kind of work did Abby have in mind for me? I was starting to get nervous.

''Just turn around.' I obeyed, and she unhooked my bra and slipped it off my shoulders. Then she turned me back to face her. She took a good look at my breasts. 'Very nice,' she said. 'Take a seat.'

There were only two places to sit in my room, the desk chair or the bed. I sat on the chair, and Abby, all 5' 2" of her, came and sat on my lap. She put her arms around my neck and kissed me. I didn't know what to do, so I did what I thought an open-minded girl should do. I kissed her back. We kissed for a long time, and I fondled her breast without really thinking about it. It seemed like the natural thing to do. I touched her the way I liked to be touched. She murmured softly and nuzzled my neck and then kissed me again, and this time she slipped her tongue into my mouth. She got off my lap, took me by the hand and led me to the bed.

OK - you caught me. I'm making some of this up. Who can remember all the piddly little details? Why the hell does the writer always have to do all the hard work anyhow? Feel free to decide what's real and what's fantasy. Great literature is a collaboration between writer and reader, so it's your turn to fill in the blanks.

How much kissing did we do?

Why didn't we warm up with some hot play wrestling? Or maybe we did?

Was she in pantyhose or stockings?

Garter belt or stay-ups?

Was she wearing undies? What style? Color? Material? How did it feel under my fingers when I stroked it?

How wet were my panties?

What about my bra before she took it off? Sport? Strapless? Cotton? Silk? Lift and separate or squeeze together for extra cleavage?

Did I slip a hand under her blouse, or did she unbutton it for me?

Was she even wearing a blouse? Maybe it was a tank-top? Or a dress?

If a blouse or tank-top was it with a skirt (how short?) or jeans or slacks?

Did she lead me to the bed, or did I pick her up and carry her? That's a freebie, but you're not allowed to look back.

Did I denude her of her undies with my lips, tongue and teeth, or did she help me?

Who kissed whose breast first? How much foreplay (making out, fondling, licking, sucking, nibbling, stroking, probing, et cetera) did we indulge in?

Which of us made the first move on the other's cunt? Was it a hand up the skirt? Or fingers down a waistband? Or maybe tongue(s) lapping up an inner thigh or two?

What other body parts did we explore, and how? Did we scissor? Or grind clit on clit in missionary?

Who first went down on the other? Or did we 69?

Did we nipple fuck? If so, did we do tits between thighs, or did we boob ride each other?

Did we take turns with the nipple fucking? (That's to make sure nobody gets a score of zero)

Did her talented tongue spare my virginity, or did she pop my cherry with her fucking finger?

Did we do each other's back doors? How? Tongues? Fingers? Toys?

How many orgasms did each of us have? How earth-shattering were they?

Remember - this would have been my first Big O.

Here's a deal, folks. If you decide to finish this little vignette for me, you can send it to me. I will decide who writes the best lesbian sex scene. Sorry, no prizes, this is just for glory and fame. The smart money says the winner will be a girl. Maybe we should have a runner up/sore loser category just for the guys. Remember, the judge is always right, even when she's wrong!

The main thing is that Abby came on to me, and I gave her my tongue instead of a punch in the mouth. More importantly, I kind of liked making out with her. OK, I confess, she gave me my first orgasm without trying very hard.. She was that gooood!

'It's like this,' she said afterwards, with no preamble. 'We'll start you off working with me on threesome dates. I get at least three of those a week, usually more. We get $300 an hour each with a 1 hour minimum. The big spenders will book us for at least two, and we give them a $100 discount. Once in a while a high roller will book us for the night, and he or she gets a $600 discount - nine hours for the price of eight. They might want us to put on a lesbian sex show, then we double team him or her. When we hook up with a high-roller, we usually get dinner in a five star restaurant, orchestra seats for a show, and room service in the morning. And the more times we can make him, or her, cum, the bigger our tip. Later on you can fly solo. You should get at least three gigs every week. What do you say?'

'Wait a minute! Are you telling me that you're a prostitute?'

'Escort, hon. There's a big difference. And there's a huge demand for China dolls. You'll make out like a bandit.'

'What's the big difference?'

'The quality of the clients, the amount we make and the lack of a pimp.'

'I don't think I can do this!'

'You don't have to decide right away. Think about it and remember we will also get quite a few female clients.'

'There are women who hire female pros - er - escorts?'

'More than you'd expect, and you're a natural for girl on girl. Trust me. I know.'

She was shitting me, of course. I still get way hotter when I'm with a man. (Or am I telling you what I think you want to hear? Figure it out.)

I thought about it and finally said no. Abby was really disappointed. 'Why not for chrissake?'

'I'm just not that open-minded, I guess. If I could do it without all the sex and nudity, I'd be fine with it.' I was making a joke, but Abby immediately lightened up.

'No sex? No nudity? There's someone you should meet.'

To cut to the chase, she introduced me to the mistress of a local S&M dungeon that had 'NO SEX!! NO NUDITY!!' in 99 point type all over its web site and print media.

'So what would I have to do?' I asked. The laundry list of kink turned out to be amazingly long, but once I said there was no way I was ever going to be a bottom, it got more manageable. There were a couple of things I wouldn't touch. Water sports and medical scenes are too close to nudity, and besides, the smells were offensive to my delicate nose. I found I could gleefully partake in tickling, assorted types of bondage games, spanking, flogging, caning (no, they're not the same, you amateur), tease and deny games (loved those!), and even forced feminization.

When we got to 'fantasy/session wrestling,' I jumped at it. Mistress was dubious at first.

'You're a bit too skinny for that. Most of those clients like girls with athletic physiques. And sometimes you need it. The guys can get out of hand every once in a while. Sometimes they forget they're in a scene.'

'I can handle it. Try me.' So she brought out one of the male tops, and we squared off. My instinct was to punch his lights out, but I was smart enough to know the difference between boxing and wrestling. The beauty of Tai Chi is its utter simplicity. It's mostly about blocks, strikes, and kicks, but it works exactly the same way for wrestling.

When you use Tai Chi to throw a guy, it's more like aikido than judo, but the effect is the same. He's going down hard. The big hairy bruiser Mistress brought out to spar with me hit the mat three times in a row via a shoulder throw, a hip throw, and a leg sweep, but Mistress was not impressed.

'Grapple, goddamn it. Get down there on the mat with him and grapple. Body on body, tits on his face, and a hand or an ass on his cock is what makes him hard, and that's the name of the game.'

So I tried it and got pinned in less than a minute, and the rough bastard gave my pussy a good rubbing. His mistake.

'Go again,' mistress shouted. So he let me up, and we squared off. I took him down again, and this time I was so pissed off that I cut loose and used all my cunning instincts to tie him into knots and hold him helpless until he said 'uncle'. Poor bugger never had a chance. From that day until I quit the biz last year (or is that supposed to be next year?), I was the dungeon's primary fantasy wrestler. Mistress took a generous cut of the dosh, but I generally cleared well over $1,500 a week, and it could have been more had I been willing to put in the hours.

'So here's the thing, sweetie,' Abby said as she sat on my lap and stroked my hair. We were back in the dorm, and she had just kind of followed me to my room. I'd given her this huge hug, lifted her off her feet, and kissed her. Then I'd sat on my desk chair and was cuddling her in my lap and kissing her some more. It was more out of happiness than horniness. But, yeah, I was horny as hell. The guy I'd been with had cum twice thanks to me, but I had sweet fuck all to show for it except wet panties and $300.

'Yeah?' I asked, snuggling her neck and caressing her breast.

'You are officially without a boyfriend for the next four years.' She was right, of course. I couldn't possibly get into the dating scene as long as I was in the sex business. What would I tell him? How could I count on him to keep his big fat mouth shut? It should have been a sobering thought. It wasn't.

I cupped Abby's neck in my hand, leaned down and kissed her. Her lips parted, and my tongue delicately probed her mouth, the way I like my lovers to treat my mouth.

'What's your point?' I asked when at last our lips parted, and our long, lingering kiss paused.

That's all for now, boys, and, I hope, girls. When you go to bed tonight, just imagine that a tall, skinny Asian woman has tossed you over her shoulder and dumped you onto your ass. She's lying at a right angle to you, has your chest pinned under her legs, is holding your elbow against her clit and your hand between her tiny perfect breasts. She's content to be wanking on your arm for the moment. Beware. Once she's cum, she's going to pull your wrist to the side and down, press her legs down hard, and thrust her hips up even harder. The pain will make you beg for mercy and then thank her for the pain. You'll then beg her to flip you again, and again, and again. I know. I've been there and done that.

I don't think I'll ever get tired of sending guys (and the occasional girl) home with wide, happy grins on their faces. How they explain their bruises to their better halves is their problem.

Happy landings, everyone.