Gretchen Thompkins lay awake in her bed. She was alone, reflecting over her day even as she anticipated good times at the upcoming Louisiana Harvest Dance, a fixture in small communities of the antebellum South.
Like her neighbor Annie Leone, Gretchen was a big farm girl, just shy of six feet tall, with thick thighs and burnished blonde hair that trended auburn. She had luscious tits, green eyes and (not surprisingly) well developed biceps.
Gretchen was also something of a tomboy. She had a quick temper; Gretchen would fight at the drop of a hat. Now nineteen, she was a year older than Annie. The two girls were good friends even though they'd had several scuffles over the years. Gretchen won most of these.
Gretchen's fiery temperament bled over into her sex life. She liked to wrestle. Men who desired a home deep in her wet spot had to fight for it before, during and after the fact. This was largely due to Gretchen's history. Her earliest sexual experiences occurred while wrestling boys—Gretchen's favored sport. From childhood she found that she could quickly subdue male competitors using superior strength and leverage. Half-nelsons, arm-bars, ankle-locks and tight waists were her stock-in-trade.
During one such contest with Ray Ray, a black slave from her farm, she found herself astride him, pinning his arms to the ground. Though fully clothed, their genitals mashed together as Ray Ray struggled to counter her winning hold. Gretchen felt an inexplicable cylindrical lump rising in Ray Ray's groin. It didn't have the angular power of an elbow or a knee or a femur. She knew how to counter those anatomical weapons. No, this lump pressed her labia apart in a manner she found disconcerting yet delightful—even though she was fully dressed. She held Ray Ray down and surreptitiously rubbed herself up and down the length of this lump. She was puzzled to find that this motion pacified her competitor in proportion to her own arousal. It seemed to sap his will to compete. For some reason he stopped struggling and offered his increasingly firm lump up to her thrusts, though she thought she'd disguised this grinding action as a natural wrestling move.
Something felt strange about this position. If Ray Ray really tried, she felt he could throw her off. Astride him like this, she didn't have him properly locked up. At least his shoulder blades wouldn't be exposed to the ground. She noticed that he didn't seem to be trying very hard to escape.
Also, as deeply as she pressed him, Gretchen still felt like an unfilled abyss. She felt she possessed a canyon that could subdue Ray Ray's lump, and was designed to do so, and would
enjoy
doing so, yet she couldn't quite figure out how to accomplish it.
Anyway, this rubbing felt pretty good. In minutes a great warmth enveloped her, then an increasingly bright light, then a fibrillating rush. Finally something inside her musculature snapped and rocketed Gretchen into a realm of blissful exuberance. Her breathing became strained. Her toes trembled. She struggled to merge her groin with Ray Ray's lump through their clothing, casting her prior reticence to the winds.
When she recovered from this pall, Ray Ray's eyes were fluttering. He was actively massaging her groin with his lump. By now, it straddled up to his navel. His hands gripped her buttocks. He seemed to be on the verge of the same type of preternatural collapse Gretchen had just experienced.
Gretchen leapt off his body, flipped him over and snapped him into a three-quarter nelson. She cradled him up so that his shoulders touched the ground as his body painfully doubled over upon itself.
"SAY UNCLE!!" she demanded.
Ray Ray struggled uselessly. He was locked in.
"SAY IT!!" she demanded again.
"UNCLE!!" gasped Ray Ray.
Gretchen let him go. She stretched out on her elbows and smiled at him.
"I told you I could whup you," she chided.
"What was that...move...you did when you were on top, there?" he asked, ignoring her challenge.
"I dunno," she answered. "First time I've done that. It just happened like that."
"Let's do that again?" he asked hopefully.
"Tomorrow," Gretchen replied. "I gotta get back to the house."
She spent the better part of a year wrestling with Ray Ray like this. No one knew of their bouts. Even touching a white woman in any sort of physical manner would have brought the full weight of Southern culture down upon Ray Ray. Despite this risk, Gretchen liked him. She especially liked manhandling him. It made her feel powerful.
In fact, the wrestling was Gretchen's main reason for their interactions. She was largely ignorant of the sexual connotations borne of this close contact.
Their next two matches offered no opportunity for a rehash of their earlier grind session. Gretchen took him down and mounted him from behind, working his arms and legs into position for a winning pin. On the third encounter, though, Gretchen deliberately struggled to a position atop his groin, elicited his lump and dry humped him until they extemporaneously exploded in tandem. Gretchen recovered quickly and pinned him again. She noted a huge, dark wet spot on his cotton pantaloons afterward. Had he peed himself?
It wasn't until weeks later that Ray Ray was able to mount and dry hump Gretchen from the superior missionary position. She splayed her legs open for him. This felt good. A few encounters later he was able to hump her from behind. After he splattered in his shorts, he flipped her over and pinned her for the first time. She let him.
Gretchen concluded this encounter by reaching into his pants to draw out his moistened lump. Her curiosity won out. As she suspected, it was his penis. But it wasn't as stiff now as it had been during their match. It was limp and sticky. It looked like the regular penises she'd seen around the farm dangling between the thighs of exhausted slaves. It smelled like her brother Tommy smelled, sometimes, when he returned home from the nigger quarters. It flopped out of her fist and doubled over across her knuckles. Creamy fluid oozed from its tip. After considering it for a few moments, Gretchen impetuously reached down and took it in her mouth. This seemed a natural progression of her curiosity. In seconds Ray Ray's cock bloomed aloft, doubling in size and girth. Gretchen was amazed.
"This is what you been pressing me with, not that shriveled up other thing," she said. "How do you get it stiff like this?"
Boldly, Ray pushed her down. He pulled her swimming shorts down to her ankles, exposing her golden bush. Ray Ray drew an admiring gasp. Gretchen's pussy gaped open before him.
"What are you doing!!" Gretchen erupted.
With that she kicked off her shorts and proceeded to give Ray Ray a grappling lesson for the ages. She twisted him up like a pretzel, bending his body into angles it was never designed to accommodate. His dick retained its tumescence, however, even managing to stiffen into a characteristic rigor. This, too, sapped his resistance to Gretchen's skill.
For her part, Gretchen was perplexed. Someone had told her that men's penises behaved like this. Now she'd seen it for herself.
She released Ray Ray. They both stood. Ray Ray's cock stood straight out, unapologetically seeking the liquid warmth of her aforementioned chasm. Gretchen abruptly turned and trotted away, re-donning her swim shorts as she tiptoed thru the underbrush. She was breathless and disheveled. Why had Ray Ray introduced his naked penis into a wrestling match? What did that have to do with a competition she was inevitably destined to win? What was this strange, musky taste in her mouth?
Still, she felt an otherworldly emptiness and knew, somehow, that Ray Ray's dick was designed to mollify that hunger.
"I'd better ask somebody,"
she thought.
The following week Gretchen broke protocol and brought her best friend, Polly Lynn Bannister, to her meet up in the woods with Ray Ray. Polly Lynn was a couple years older than Gretchen. She was a stunning brunette with hair cascading deeply down her back and wispy freckles on her cheeks. She didn't have Gretchen's tanned, farm-girl bearing. Polly Lynn looked like some store bought model of a woman.
Predictably, the young Negro was shocked at this breach of confidentiality. Spanning back a decade to childhood, their wrestling matches had always been a secret, something fun between the two of them. Not even Gretchen's brother knew of their meet-ups in the woods. Gretchen and Ray Ray wrestled and talked and laughed. Sometimes they caught frogs and snakes and put them together, screeching as the frogs scrambled to escape becoming a meal. All their years of athletic foreplay had led to this one afternoon. Ray Ray had been hoping that this would be the day he might finally get the chance to consummate.
