Academic Wrestling

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Academic Wrestling

Product Details

Бренд: Erotic fighting

Уникальный код: W-754

Mixed wrestling, 270 pictures 1920x1080 (Full HD), partially CFNM, no blood.

Sporting rivalries between individual countries is as old as international sport itself. Of course, if any two countries compete against each other, there is rivalry; but certain countries harbour a passionate desire to win – and a corresponding dread of losing – against an individual state. Witness England and Australia over cricket, for example. Sometimes the rivalry is transmitted through the individuals – for example, Borg and McEnroe in Tennis, or Prost and Senna in Formula One. At other times it extends to whole continents, as in America and Europe with golf.

One rivalry was about the most intense ever known, though it was obscure – and that was the national antipathy between Germany and Algeria over wrestling. So obsessed were those countries’ boards in their desire to beat their nemesis, that they started mixing the sexes in a bid to secure an advantage. At first it was assumed that the country which fielded a man against a woman would triumph. But this assumption was contradicted by results, and led to a rethink.

So when Germany fielded its wrestling pride, simply known as Wolfgang, Algeria answered with Colette, a woman renowned for her brutality at home, especially against men. This particular league was given added interest by having no “distractions”, such as spectators or a referee, but was televised (and avidly followed in Germany, Algeria, and in this case France, as Colette was half-French). A simple scoreboard announced the winner at the finish – though judging by the state of the combatants, it was usually superfluous.

The absence of any audience gave these matches a surreal atmosphere. They were weird, but strangely addictive, and more intense without the usual cheers, jeers and chants that you get with sporting events. The league had even been nicknamed “Academic Wrestling”.

So Colette and Wolfgang faced off, staring at one another, in the silence of an examination room. Wolfgang wore the blue leggings of the German team’s colour, and Colette had on a red (Algerian colour) leotard, cut well over the hips. Its tight material accentuated the graceful curves of her perfect body, and the generosity of her breasts. Soft black boots completed the picture.

They went to lock up, but Colette suddenly jumped, and bore down on Wolfgang. Fair enough – she was a lot lighter and smaller, and opted to have gravity on her side to compensate for their disparity in weight. It worked, and she had him down on his knees in moments. While he was still weakened by the exertion, she brought him down on his back in a head lock.

She may have been lighter, but she had an ant-like strength, which belied her slight frame (with the exception of her breasts), and her locked arms around his neck soon had him struggling to breathe. Audiences in front of their televisions could hear the grunts, gasps and groans of the combatants as Colette sought to dominate from the outset, and Wolfgang searched for a way to escape.

He found it when Colette moved to change holds to an armlock. She was too slow as she went to lie across him, and he clasped her throat in his right hand. He placed his left between her thighs and tormented and distracted her by fingering and teasing her sex through the wispy material of the leotard. Well it was fair enough, considering the liberties female wrestlers took whenever they had male opponents.

On the other hand, he was too preoccupied with what his left hand was doing, and neglected to keep the pressure going on her throat with his right hand. Colette managed to do a 90 degree turn to clasp him around the head in a renewed lock, and to lie on his right arm, rendering it useless, while his left was limited to an ineffectual hold on her shoulder. Big deal!

Eyebrows were raised in front of thousands of televisions at Colette’s next, unorthodox, hold. She banged Wolfgang’s head down on the mat and lay on it, while linking her arms underneath his chest and right arm, with her left arm head locking him. If they were a clock face, his backside would have been pointing at 12 o’clock, while her legs and feet were at 20 minutes to. Her arms were so strong, it amounted to an unusual body/head scissor.

But to remind viewers (and Wolfgang) that there’s no substitute for the real thing, Colette shot over his body and gripped his neck in her thighs, facing away from him. That was more like it, thought most viewers: a head scissor, pure and simple. Millions of women grinned at their screens while she tore down his leggings – even in Germany, to the consternation of their husbands, watching with them. (Though there were some men who privately enjoyed it; and – yes – some even in Germany.)

With his leggings gone, Colette flipped him over with her legs onto his back, displaying his genitals for all to see. She maintained the scissor, but now perched herself at an oblique angle away from him. The grip of her thighs around his neck was so intense that Wolfgang forgot about the exposure of his manhood while he fought for every scarce breath.

She inched round until she lay directly above him. He tried to prize her off, but his hands worked in vain against the springy flesh of her buttocks. This was distracting in itself, and Colette chuckled, sliding upwards a little, so that the hold became more of face-sit. She looked down thoughtfully at his cock, then applied her right hand to it. The microphone picked up her dusky French-Algerian accent, as she forced him to arch his back by pulling on his cock.

“Earlier, you touch my pussy. Very well, it’s my turn now (or yours, monsieur, if you understand), and I use my hand like so … be still, monsieur! Really, such a violent reaction! Have you never had a woman’s hand around there before? Now, feel how strong my hand is, while I hold both your cock and balls - ah, monsieur, don’t thrash about so much!

Colette had relinquished the scissor. One small, ladylike hand was all it took to control and dominate him, and she relished it! But then, with a sigh, she thought perhaps she ought to do a bit more wrestling, so she hauled him above and across her, facing upwards, while she hooked her ankles together over his neck and left arm. His right arm she locked in the crook of her left arm, which she teasingly held against her breast. This left her right arm free, so she continued with the punishment/pleasure on his manhood.

Wolfgang was on his feet all the while his head and neck were trapped under Colette’s feet. But she had the rest of his body raised, so that his spine, ribs and chest were dangerously stretched, just as they would be in a Boston crab or camel clutch. And all the while, her right hand teased, groped, fiddled and grasped.

“Mais, monsieur, je voudrais mon plaisir aussi.”

In case anyone was wondering what she said, she now sat back down on his face, sighed, and declared, “Ah, oui, c’est bon!”, they would have got the gist. With a deep smile on her face, she continued her manipulation of his manhood, paying particular attention to his balls. She cupped, tickled, teased, squeezed and grabbed, as her nether regions engulfed his face. Audiences in front of their televisions began to wonder if they were watching wrestling or porn.

Whether Colette sensed this or not is a moot point, but she now scooped the helpless male into the air, with her right hand under his waist and her left … you needn’t ask! Then at last she relinquished the intimate, devastating hold of her left hand, and he was lying face down across her shoulders. He thought she was going to rack him; but no, she had him up and over her front instead, and slammed him down on the mat, still keeping hold of both his legs.

She swung him this way and that by his legs, more for the humiliation than for any wrestling advantage (although humiliation could be said to be a psychological advantage). But then she brought his legs right back – a million people at home were made to jump by his sudden shout of pain – and sat on the small of his back in the old, dependable, Boston crab.

Wolfgang’s whole body bent, creaked, stretched and strained under the slight woman’s manipulations. This was wrestling again, nothing more; and his bones, muscles and tendons seethed with the fiery pain. The cameras automatically “homed in” on the agony that was etched across his face.

If anything, this agony intensified with Colette’s next hold, a bow and arrow. She had him up on his back, over her raised legs below the knees. Her left hand clasped his throat, and her right held his right leg just above the ankle, where it overlapped (and bent with it) his left leg. Now, all she had to do was push up with her legs …

Wolfgang yelled and cursed. She had severely weakened both his body and his capacity to endure, and she was obviously upping the ante. When she hooked both his legs under her arms, placed her feet beyond and either side of his head and pulled away, he roared in agony. His backside was in the air (presenting an unlovely sight for television viewers), and his knees were parallel with his face in a grotesque twisting and mauling of his body. This unconventional hold was arguably Colette’s most effective yet.

It was a relief (though not much) when she let him sink down on his back, and head scissored him from behind. At least his body was no longer being strained to the limits. But then again, he was struggling to breathe. And those legs were possessed of fearsome strength! She had them hooked around his neck and throat, and she squeezed away. He would have shouted again, but it was impossible for him to make any sound. Viewers just saw the noiseless scream.

It was no better for Wolfgang when Colette switched to his side, while maintaining the scissor. He had to move with her, so was now on his side, and it demonstrated how completely she was dominating this match. Many of his fans could no longer watch; some even shed tears at the severe anguish the looks on his face betrayed. She moved back behind him, but what was the difference? She still constricted his neck in this relentless grinding down of his capacity to stay in the match. The scoreboard raced and rattled away with Algerian points.

Colette put him on his knees, lay underneath him, hooked those powerful, unforgiving legs once more around his neck, and grinned at the camera. You didn’t have to be a genius to understand what was next on her agenda. Sure enough, she forced his head down until his face was against the thin fabric of her leotard, that scarcely concealed her sex. It was time for some compulsory lady pleasuring!

Colette lay back, luxuriating in the sensations of Wolfgang’s tongue. Those at home who had earlier tutted at her antics, suddenly felt relief that she was no longer torturing his limbs. Now it was her turn to shout! It was like the old joke about the woman who was arrested for making too much noise while having sex, and the police asked her to “come quietly”.

The pendulum had swung back from wrestling to sex, and Colette no longer had to force Wolfgang. Indeed, with one hand on a lovely breast, he seemed to relish it. (Either that, or he knew that so long as he was pleasing her, she wasn’t dragging his limbs to destruction.) Even when she sat up, she kept his head where it was. Her hands rested on it, but gone was all semblance of conflict.

Gone, that is, until she stood up, forced him onto his knees, and snapped her thighs shut around his neck. For good measure, she seized both his wrists and locked his arms behind his back. The scoreboard, which had been idle for a few minutes, now clicked and whirred back into life. What would you call the hold? A standing-head-scissor-double-arm-lock? Because that’s what it was, even if it is rather a lot for a commentator to say.

Like Colette’s earlier unorthodox holds, it was as effective as any more familiar ones, and once again Wolfgang seemed close to submitting. She manipulated his arms to unbearable angles away from any natural position, all the while intensifying the clamp of those formidable thighs.

At last she allowed him once again to drop to the mat on his back, as she lay above him in the “69” position. Once again, his tongue was thankfully back at its delightful task; but this time she focused on his manhood again. She had almost made him cum previously, and it took just a few light pinches, pushes and pulls to get him over the edge. His body gyrated with the climax.

Once Wolfgang’s frenzy had subsided, sated as he was with both fighting and sex, Colette decided it was her turn. She now knelt above his face, placed his hands on her pliant buttocks, and made him pleasure her. With one huge climax (which had viewers turning the volume down), she relaxed and celebrated victory, kneeling as she was over the loser’s face. Then she stood and posed above him, and the scoreboard confirmed her win: Algeria 1, Germany, nil.