Forced Quickies

by Rosa Alvarado

  It was nearly all rehearsed and acted to a script. As there were at least two live shows each week, the fighters would either been crippled for life or dead by middle age if it had been genuine. Injuries were infrequent, and usually strains picked up during training.

  After shows the "fighters" laughed with each other, shared jokes, stayed in the same hotels. Sometimes they would rehearse the words for the next "catfight". Feeding the image of grudges between 'fighters" that were fictional.

  The only exception was the annual challenge contest. The company would select who they thought was the best potential candidate to challenge the Dyke Grappler Champion, or The Dyke for short. The criteria were vague, supposedly performance and fitness. In reality what would sell best to the internet subscribers.

  This year and last the challenger was easily selected. Sweet, how she hated the name given her, was a superb athlete, strong, fast, supple and with genuine wrestling skill. Day by day she got closer in standard to the previously unbeatable Jess.

  Taller even than Jess, Sweet had short blonde hair, a boyishly pretty smile, and was leaner and very much faster than Jess. She was also twelve years younger. It was only in technique she fell short against the champion, and she was learning fast.

  Last year she had won two of the five rounds, but Jess had dominated the other three. Jess often won by submission of an opponent but this had never been on the cards . Sweet had found it difficult to be ruthless with Jess. She admired the champion, even thinking about her made her feel light headed. She relished their times laughing together and enjoying each others' company

  A year later it seemed Jess was facing defeat in the challenge: the first four rounds had clearly gone to the challenger.

  In round 5 Jess began to feel all of her 38 years, slow, breathing heavily, just wanting it to end, so she could relinquish her title with dignity. To be no longer "The Dyke" would be a relief. Jess just felt a great warmth towards Sweet, if she was to lose her title, she was happy it would go to her friend. She often wished they could be closer friends, possibly lovers.

  There would be a ritual humiliation at the end, but it was mainly for show. Even if strap-ons were involved, the girl on the receiving end was treated fairly gently, most enjoyed it. There was even a retractable strap-on if any girl could not deal with it. The crowd and internet viewers were left unaware they were being conned. So if Sweet won, Jess was sure she would be treated fairly lightly, verbals yes, but those were for the fans, nobody bothered about that. She more than liked Sweet, they were often chatting together or exploring towns together as the Company toured the country.

  Seconds to go, soon her reign would be over, but Sweet seemed to relax, already savouring victory. With a huge upward push Jess sent the challenger off her, into the air, and onto the canvas. Jess jumped on Sweet, forcing the younger woman into the submission position. The count started and finished, Jess had retained her crown

  Jess forgot all the usual consideration towards a loser, forgot the times early in her career when she had been shown mercy, the times she had shown it, and when she had stopped a fight, risking the sack, when her opponent had an emotional breakdown. She forgot her feelings towards Sweet, forgot Sweet herself, forgot everything but the elation and relief of victory.

  Wordlessly and harshly she fucked Sweet with the dildo, not hearing the cries of anguish. She even laughed as the challenger sobbed her way off the stage.

  Jess entered the changing room ready to gloat and goad. Her blood ran cold. There in the fetal position was Sweet, rocking herself, weeping her soul out. Jess felt like a devil, full of self-disgust. She knelt down and took Sweet in her arms, saying sorry over and over. She was crying too. Crying at what she had become. She felt just total love for Sweet, but also that she had polluted something beautiful. She felt dirty inside, that she was not even worthy to be with this kind and beautiful woman. The fact that Jesse was still champion now seemed to her to be some kind of horrible bad taste joke. She wished she could hand the stupid, meaningless thing over to Sweet. So somebody can beat someone in a fight, so what!

  This was the last fight, she determined. "I can never trust myself again", she thought. "I lost it. I hurt someone who had no intention of hurting me. I have put my pride ahead of my humanity."

  But weeks passed, pain in both eased, the friendship at least in part restored. Jess agreed to fight for one more year, then to retire as champion, or hand over the crown, probably to Sweet.

  A year of tedious, scripted touring followed. Sweet seemed less confident, less committed; but the fans craved a rematch, wanting to see the "The Bitch" Jess brought down by Sweet. Lusting for revenge, revenge the lowest of all motives.

  Well they would have it, Jess decided she would make sure Sweet won; she would throw her title, but subtly so everyone, including Sweet would think it genuine.

  The night of the fight was hot and humid, Sweet seemed nervous, Jess thought, but in the opening exchanges Jess used her skill and knowledge to get Sweet on top. The confidence seemed to surge back into the previously uncertain Sweet. As usual both girls had become naked. Sweet held Jess in a scissors position. Jess tried to resist, but now Sweet was too strong. So be it, thought Jess. Even the feel of the younger woman's fingers on her clit and pussy did not trouble her. To her amazement Jess realized she was going to come. This supposed ultimate humiliation had not happened to Jess since her earliest days as a lesbian wrestler.

  Now she wanted it, needed it, because Sweet was turning her on, and she felt she should be shown up in front of this baying crowd, because of what had happened a year ago. Her mind went with her body into rapture, shouting Sweet's name. Soon she felt Sweet's lips on hers, the deepest kiss she had ever experienced one of honeyed love. Gentle words soothed Jess, her new lover telling her what happened a year ago was washed away, that all was well, that they had both found love in and for each other.

  Sweet gently helped Jess up, hugged her, and the women walked towards the exit.

  "The contest isn't over." growled the leering referee.

  "Oh yes it is, and you can keep your title, neither of us want it, we have each other," Sweet said, squeezing Jess's hand devotedly.

  "This time," Jess said, "We have both won."

  The End.

  One-Night Stand

  Bree van de Kamp took a sip of her wine and cast a brief look round the wine bar. It busy enough that individual conversations didn't carry, but not so packed that the hubbub drowned everything out. The drink wasn't the best she tasted, a little too sweet for what was supposed to be a dry white wine, but for the mid-range price it was passable. In fact it was much like the bar's clientele, neither down-market labourers in jeans and covered in tattoos nor high-rolling financiers awash with cash after closing a multi-million deal. Most of them were junior management or middle ranking public servants with a few students with good scholarships or rich parents to leaven the mix.

  Her friend, Susan Mayer, leant forward, her eyes quickly scanning the nearby tables as she did so, "So, anyone take your fancy?"

  Bree blushed, a number of the men were certainly attractive, but she still shook her head, "No-one."

  Susan grinned, "I can tell when you are lying, Bree, I've played poker with you enough times."

  "That's useful to know," said Bree dryly, "It'd explain why I always end up with more chips than I started with."

  "You're changing the subject," smiled Susan, though Bree wondered if it was her friend who was the one doing that rather than admitting that Bree had a better poker face than she did.

  But Susan had been right, Bree had certainly being lying about not finding any of the men sipping drinks and munching peanuts attractive, lots of them certainly were. It was just Bree, still remained a conservative Republican at heart. And a full and true daughter of liberty didn't just go out to get laid, no matter how much her friend thought she needed. Well, that wasn't true, thought Bree, or else she wouldn't have allowed Susan to talk her into this quest for cock, b
ut she at least outwardly pretended to not be interested. She took another small sip of her drink, "I can't see anyone, is there anyone you're interested in? If not we might as well leave and try again next week, when there's more choice."

  Susan's eyes darted around like a lion surveying a herd of gazelles and a hungry smile spread across her face, "Plenty, and not just for me, Bree. There's more than enough for us both."

  It was the answer Bree had expected, or at least hoped for. Susan Mayer was a divorcee with a young teenage daughter; it meant her cock-hungry friend didn't have the opportunities for all the casual sex she desired -- unless she wanted to Julie the impression it was all right to have sex with lots of different men with no strings. However Julie was staying over with her Dad and Susan wouldn't want to waste the night on celibacy. In fact as soon as she had replied Susan had turned her head back to the bar and was scanning it for any men who might have an interest and weren't completely foul looking. Bree was confident in her friend's ability to pick men, at least for one-night stands if not perhaps for relationships; and if she got one she would get a second for Bree. It allowed the redhead widowed homemaker to get all the fun of a fuck without the guilt of looking, a win-win.

  "What about them?" Susan nodded at a couple of guys over by the window.

  Bree looked at them, they were, at most, in their very early twenties and probably younger than that, eighteen or nineteen. They were good-looking though, and with what looked like fine physiques. Bree metaphorically licked her lips with hunger, but safe in the knowledge Susan would disagree she said primly, "Aren't they a little young?"

  Her friend grinned and shook her head, "No such thing as too young. If they're old enough to drink they're old enough to screw." She didn't wait for an answer from Bree, but raised her glass to the two young men. They returned the silent toast, appraising the two Milfs as they did so.

  Bree automatically straightened her back, which pushed her bosoms out, exposing her cleavage. Susan smiled at her and Bree shrugged, "What? I had a little kink in my back."

  "Sure, you did," said Susan in a tone that suggested she knew exactly why Bree had stretched and it wasn't to get rid of an ache in her spine. She didn't push it, instead she nudged Bree, "They're coming over."

  "Hi ladies, can we join you?" the young man grinned. He and his friend were more muscular and toned closer up, the shirts they were wearing tight against their rippling bodies, "I'm Don, this is my friend Harrison."

  "I'm Susan, this is my friend Bree. If you get us a couple of dry white wines you can do," said Susan.

  A few moments later the two young men were sitting with the Milfs, new glasses of wine in front of them. It turned out neither man had reached twenty-one, though Don had at least reached twenty. The athleticism of their bodies was explained by both of them studying at Fairview University on Football Scholarships. To Bree's surprise, despite their youth, they managed to be entertaining and at to have a passing knowledge of art and literature, even if sometimes they interspersed some sophisticated views on Charles Dickens with their views on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Though at least the conversation on Buffy seemed to connect with Susan, who sometimes watched the Vampire Slayer with her daughter, a chore Bree managed to avoid with her children.

  One drink was followed by a second. And this time the conversation was accompanied by light touches and giggles. Bree didn't resist as Harrison's knee touched hers and his inner calve rubbed up against her legs, nor was Susan complaining as Don's fingers rubbed at the back of her hand and slid up her wrist as the young men joked and charmed. A little more alcohol was drunk, not enough to lead to drunkenness, or even to make the two Milfs tipsy, but it certainly loosened things up and the four of them found themselves getting friendlier.

  Bree looked close into Harrison's face, he was certainly handsome, a face which could be described as chiselled if that hadn't suggested a lack of life, which the wide smile and dancing eyes said was untrue. It was a face unlined by any cares or worries, but the traces of dark stubble stopped it being seen as too boyish. Bree moved closer, almost like she was examining him, or at least trying to gaze into his eyes. Beside them Susan and Don had had their mouths clamped against each other, the older woman grappling against the twenty year old and both of them giving every indication that they were enjoying it.

  I feel like I'm such a slut, thought Bree as she opened her lips and felt her tongue slide onto Harrison's. I feel like I'm such a slut and I'm going to enjoy it. The young man's hands were on her waist, holding her tightly as they made out passionately, the table wobbling as both couples accidentally banged it as they writhed in throes of desire, their chairs creaking under them. A few people raised eyebrows at the kissing couples, but not many, more than one table's occupants were exchanging saliva, the place had a reputation for it, and the only thing of slight note was the age differences. And about that neither Bree nor Susan cared, and from the slurping of the men's mouths and the wanderings of their hands Don and Harrison weren't concerned either.

  "Mmmnn, that's good," moaned Bree as Harrison's mouth moved from hers and slid to her neck, kissing and licking the smooth pale flesh. One hand kept steady on her side, squeezing and gripping at the waist, the other was under the table and under her dress. It slid up her thigh, almost seeming to dare her to stop it. But only a prude would do that and Bree was out to get laid. She gave another moan, allowing Harrison to suckle at her throat and not stopping the movement of his hand further up the thigh than would be considered decent.

  Susan brought her lips away from Don, smiling as she wiped a trace of saliva from them, "You two want to come home with us?"

  Harrison looked at Bree, who nodded to show that the 'us' included her and she was also inviting her young man back. She had arranged with Susan that if... when... they scored she could have Julie's room rather than take her conquest back to her own house, Andrew and Danielle already had low morals without their Mom giving them an example of bringing back strange men for fucking. Harrison looked at his buddy, who gave a brief grin and then turned to the housewives, "Sure yeah, we're up for that."

  "I'll call us a cab," said Bree in a businesslike tone. There was no point in wasting time.

  *

  Susan slid the driver two twenty-dollar bills, "Keep the change," she said. The drive had only been thirty dollars, but Susan thought he deserved a tip for not commenting or complaining at the two couples making out loudly in the back of his cab. Don was standing beside her, sliding his arm round her waist as she straightened. The Milf smiled as she fished in her bag for her house-keys, watching Bree and Harrison continuing the heavy slurpings and fondlings they'd begun in the bar and carried on in the taxi.

  Susan was impressed by how much Bree was throwing herself into their night out. The redhead had been reluctant to even agree to a night out, especially one Susan had made clear was to find a guy to relax her with. It had taken all Susan's power of persuasion, including a threat if she didn't agree to hit the tiles with her that Susan would provide one of her world famous Lasagne dishes and stand over Bree whilst the redhead ate it all. Whether it had been the threat of food poisoning or Susan's selling of the healing powers of large chunks of dick for stressed single Mom's Bree had eventually agreed to go out with her cockaholic friend.

  And for a short while Susan had thought Bree had blown it. It was obvious that the two guys, despite being English Majors, were really only making polite conversation when talking about Dickens and Jane Eyre. Susan had managed to steer the topic onto something more to their taste, reckoning that the pair of young hunks were more likely to be lusting over Sarah Michelle Gellar than thinking deeply about dead writers. And still Bree had kept trying to bring the conversation back to classic literature, leaving Susan unsure whether her friend was just really bad at pick-ups or was deliberately trying to wreck their chances of a screw from a couple of rock-hard young athletes. Luckily, Harrison and Don's lust for pussy was as strong as Susan's lust for prick and they'd handled Bree
deftly until Harrison had got a chance to shut her up by slapping his mouth on hers; a mouth that had hardly left its target since.

  Opening the front door Susan walked in with me Don, pausing as she waited for Bree and Harrison to realise the door was open and break from their mouthings long enough to enter. It took them at least half a minute, leaving Susan standing like a bellhop, before there faces split and they walked in holding hands. Susan shut the door behind them, "I'll get us some more wine shall I?"

  It was already chilled and by co-incidence there were four glasses sitting in the kitchen. Bree had followed her out into the kitchen, in theory to help Susan carry in the drinks in practice to check in with her friend. Susan poured the first glass, "So? You look like things are going well with Harrison."

  Bree blushed a pretty pink, "I think so. I'm not going too fast am I?" she asked nervously, "I don't want to put him off by being too easy."

  Not for the first time Susan wondered if Bree had entered this world through a dimensional vortex from Stepford. The brunette shook her head smiling softly as she poured a second glass, "Take it from me Bree, neither Harrison nor Don is going to worry about us being too easy. If anything would put them off its that we're not easy enough."

  "Oh," Bree went slightly deeper red and flashed a quick glance into the main room where the two young men were standing talking whilst looking at the pictures Susan had on her wall, "How do you know?"

  "Trust me I know," said Susan, she handed Bree the first two glasses and started to pour some wine into the third, "What did we say about thinking about tonight?"

  Bree sighed, "Have some fun and get laid. I hate having fun."

  "I'd never have guessed," said Susan dryly. Then she smiled, "Look go out there and relax. I can tell Harrison wants it, you'll feel a lot better if you give it him and stop worrying about what's right."