amazon.com/author/candicechristian

Emma and Jenna are in their Sixth Form College to do ‘A’ Levels and begin meeting all sorts of new friends.

Jenna gets hooked up with Hari and Jodi, two older girls students that were in the habit of seducing the under class and coaxing them into all sorts of lewd activities. Their favorite pass time is the use of a large rubber dildo, and a willing victims anal cavity.

Jenna is brutally used by the two older girls and Emma vows to get revenge for her friend. Both Jenna and Emma have no idea the shame a degradation they must endure to exact their vengeance.

IT’S SPRING AND THAT MEANS ON THING, SOFTBALL! SUE AND MARGIE SHOW US HOW TO HANDLE THE HIGH HARD ONES OR THE SLIDER… OR EVEN THE SPITTER?

Susan wants to make the New Haven College softball team in the worst way. Margie offers her to help her make the team.

Margie is the star first baseman on the team and Susan want to make the team and play shortstop. Margie, being a star player has a lot of influence with the coach, and gets Susan on the team but at a cost. Susan must provide Margie with oral sex and more, anytime Margie wants it.

Here is just a sample:

.”Oh shit DAAAAM!” Margie moaned, a low needy sound, barely contained in the silence of the bathroom.

The huge first basemen leaned back hard against the wall, her hands tightly on Susan’s shoulders. Then grasped, fisting tightly on the soft shoulders. Margie fought to keep her movements slow, rocking gently with her big hips against the shortstops mouth.

“That’s right, give it up for your big momma,” Margie fought to keep her voice quiet as Sue knelt before her, sucking strongly.

“Oh fuck yeah!” Sue pulled her mouth back a little, feeling those juices on her face.

Slow, inevitable strokes that shifted Margie’s thick pussy lips back and forth on Sue’s lips. The cute shortstop felt every inch of her cunt, her stiff clit, rock hard, yet so smooth and slick. Her dripping girl-juice, oozing along her tongue. The heavy weight of her ass cheeks, the dense thicket of sharp pubes. Sue smelt the overbearing smells, tasted every familiar inch. The cute blond pushed her hands upward again slightly, feeling warmth.

Margie was still dressed in her over sized black cargo pants and heavy sweatshirt. Coaxing her on from under her deep hood. There on her knees before the first basemen, she felt every part of Margie’s intimidating on field strength and power. Tensed under her hands, below warm material. Sliding firmly over her lips.

“Ease up, baby.” Margie’s voice was low, strained. “I don’t wanna cum yet.”

Sue complied, feeling the huge first baseman’s hands still locked on her shoulders. Damn, she’d barely got off the field, and into the bathrooms to take a piss. Still she’d caught her. Pulled her aside into the handicap stall. Undid her pants as she pushed her down, like she had so many times before. Sue closed her eyes again as she ran her tongue firmly around Margie’s clit again, eliciting another breathy moan. She felt Margie’s hand slip onto her neck, pulling her forward. Sue’s tongue slipped deeper again, then Sue swallowed.

“I swear you are the best damn fuckin’ pussy licker I ever felt. Take me down, bitch…”

Sue slid her hand upwards, feeling the slick smooth, vaginal muscles constrict on her fingers. How many girls had dreamed of this? How many of the cheerleaders? Sue was beyond wondering, the strange reality of being slave to the New Haven Blue Jay’s star first basemen beyond its initial appeal. A tower of solid teenage muscle, developed years beyond her age. A future big time star, a first basemen built like a outfielder, with the unbelievable speed of a sprinter. The cute blond felt Margie’s slit push at her again, wiping girl juice and sweat across her tongue. She tasted the sharp saltiness of her fluids smeared over her lips, trailing back again along her tongue. Sue sucked harder, pushing her head forth to meet that big furry cunt as her nose drunk in the depths of Margie’s thick pubic bush. She felt the mounting changes, gradual, yet there. She felt Margie’s huge muscles tighten again under her hands, hearing her breath come quicker. “Ooooh yeah, babe! Lick me, bitch! That’s right!” Margie groaned again, both hands tight around Susan’s head.

“Get ready to taste mommas cum!!” Sue heard the quick pants, her engorged, big labia throbbing. The petite shortstop found herself almost welcoming the torrential flood of thick girl-cum. Hot, streaming, thick, filling her mouth, oozing slower than water down her throat. Assaulting her taste as Margie’s heady stink filled her nose. She drunk the first basemen, taking her cunt and juices without protest. The ultimate insult and act of submission the teenager could think of. Sue pulled back, hearing Margie’s slight sigh as her tongue slipped out of her pussy. She felt that heavy weight leave her mouth, slip off her lips. Lowering her head slightly, Sue caught her breath, heavy with the smell of wet pussy, her senses still swimming with Margie’s womanhood. She saw the massive first basemen pull up her cotton panties and short, working the zipper. A big hand grabbed her shoulder, dragging her upward to her feet.

“Hey. You know the deal. Right?”

Sue glanced downward a little, avoiding Margie’s dark eyes. They stared out from under that deep, black hood. Margie’s big hand came up, pulled her head up slightly. Their gaze locked momentarily. Sue stared back, a dull, deep look. Margie blinked, Sue nodding slightly, letting out one slight word.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Just remember.”

Margie stepped towards the door, adjusting the heavy satchel over her shoulder. The broad strap cut tightly over her big back and chest, pulling her baggy sweatshirt askew slightly. Sue saw her listen closely at the door a moment before pulling the bolt back, stepping out. The blond heard loud voices approaching, just before two of her team mates came into the bathroom. Sue grabbed her hat off the top of the toilet, her sport shoes clicking against the floor as she made her way out.

“Hey, Sue.”

Sue nodded with a dopey grin to Tara, the big player patting her shoulder slightly as she passed towards the toilet stalls. The shortstop caught Margie at one of the sinks, washing her hands, letting out a sigh as she dried her hands. She glanced back, grinning slyly at Sue as she passed by Nealie, one of the pitchers.

“Hey, don’t forget to clean your hands, Sue! Bet they’re all nasty and shit.”

Neal unintentionally saved Sue, shooting back quickly. “Shit, Margie you never wash your hands, you need to.”

She shoved the big first basemen slightly, Margie swinging back slightly in retaliation, but missing. Sue headed back to the showers, keen not to say anything, least one of her friends caught her still thick breath. The lockers were pretty much thinning out by the time Sue got back. She had come in late as it was. Then being grabbed by Margie in the toilets. Made to go into the stalls with her, and go down on the huge first basemen. Sue put her hat down, dropping down onto the bench, running her hands through her thick, almost red hair. A deal was a deal. But then, maybe it wasn’t even that. Sue stood up again, dragging her red jersey off, tossing it into her open locker. Her lithe body hurt. She was eager to get into the showers, clean off the stress of the practice. Wash out her mouth while she was at it. She tasted Margie’s fluids still on her lips, wiping her mouth again. That taste seemed to fill her as completely as Margie’s big cunt had minutes before.

The blond swallowed, started untying her shoes. All she was thinking about was getting back home. Sue put her shoes down, pulling off her black singlet. Her body was still a little sweaty. A heat born of Margie’s closeness, and the act of giving the huge Amazon oral sex.

She mopped her underarms with the singlet, tossing it too. Susan’s chest and shoulders were firm with smooth, swimmer’s muscle. She was maybe a little on the big side for a shortstop, but her coach had said speed was something they could work on. Sue was all for it. Softball was her life. She wanted to make it big, and she would do anything to improve her fitness to the level she needed to.

The cute blond quickly peeled off her tights and remaining clothes, stripping her panties. She was still a little wet there, her slick cunt free, still partly sticky. She rubbed herself with her damp panties, tossing it into the locker with the rest of her stuff. Naked, she headed to the showers. Sue was all smooth, compact power. At five foot, seven inches her slightly stocky strength showed well in the smooth, almost soft curves of her body.

Everything freed from her mind and body as the hot water washed over her. Sue let out a long, heavy breath, closing her eyes, putting her face into the full force of the water. Its warm embrace caressed her muscles, easing away ache, tight pains. The warmth eased her mind, soothing her soul like the gentle caress of an intimate lover. Sue opened her mouth, taking in some of the hot water to swill around, spit. She leaned both palms against the tiled wall, letting the water catch her thick blond hair. The warmth seemed to drive more in the girls mind. It reminded her of what she wanted. She wished it was the warmth of another. She felt the water run down over her weighty breasts, into the crevice of her shaved pussy, her hand lingering low for a brief moment.

She slid her fingers inside her, her flesh tightening slightly, barely wet with her touch. Sue stroked slightly, parting her lips, rubbing. She couldn’t help think again of Margie. The blond thought of her in a slightly different frame of mind. What if it wasn’t like that? What if it didn’t have to be the way it was.

The brief fantasy passed through her mind. What if it was something more than the one sided deal that it was? Sue felt the thrill of victory. A scholarship. Her dreams coming to reality with word that she would be able to attend New Haven College, and play for the Blue Jays. Sue frowned as she remembered, pulling her finger free of her opening, putting her hands back against the wall. The water stroked gently at her strong back, Sue hanging her head somewhat.

Then working it out. Meeting with the one guy she had heard legends about. Margie Mallory. Sophomore softball player. Finding out how she had pulled strings to get her into the New Haven softball program. She couldn’t believe it. Sue had refused to believe it. No college softball player could do shit like that. Her disbelief changed to something else when Margie had put a big arm around her shoulder, talked to her in that low, dark voice she sometimes did.

“Straight up, it can be good for you here, honey. I can make it good for you,” the huge first basemen paused slightly. “But you gotta work, you know? You gotta bring the good out of your situation too.”

Sue cocked her eyebrow slightly. Margie seemed to press closer. Her presence was intimidating, all-encompassing of even the blond, not to mention the sense of overbearing power.

Margie’s voice was quiet. “So how ’bout you start off by going down on a girl?”

Sue was caught off guard, her face showing the confusion. Margie’s big arm around her, her huge body pressing against her felt more dangerous then. She felt the heat of the huge first baseman body, the sudden sweat that had broken out on her own.

Margie was, as far as Sue knew was very straight. Had a long lasting relationship with really cute guy on the basketball team here at the college. Sue didn’t know his name, but had seen him around a few times. Margie must have heard the rumors of Sue being bisexual. It wasn’t a huge secret, but just a rumor.

“Suck my pussy.” Margie repeated.

She explained, Sue silent, barely comprehending.

“It’s simple. I got you up in here. You wanna stay up in the Blue Jays? You go down on me.”

Susan’s head swum with the questions. The confusion. The disbelief. All passed in time. The shortstop ran a hand over her face, wiping at her wet features. Strong Nordic features, full lips, a pert nose. Her green eyes glanced forward at the whiteness of the tiles before her, her hand passing back through her hair.

How long had she been here? Sue couldn’t remember exactly. How many times had she gone down? That was about as hard to guess. Sue found her mind wandering back to her thoughts, her wistful fantasies about Margie. What it would be like to make love to a girl like her. Have her do she same back. Her hand was again stroking a now wet womanhood. Sue lost herself to the warmth, the gentle embrace of her hand. Her shoulders rose and fell against the striking rain of water. The water fell down over her back, her chest. Eventually streaming down over her moving hand, and thighs. With one hand steadied against the wall, Sue ran her hand upward, through her slick slit. She closed her eyes on her fantasies, feeling the warm pleasure of the water and her erotic masturbation showering over her.

“Hey, Sue!”

The blond froze, torn from her pleasures with a sharp jolt. She recognized Tara’s voice, not turning around, but doing her best to move her hand slowly from her throbbing groin. Sue managed to glance back over her shoulder, giving her teammate a brief wave, running her hands through her hair.

“You going to that party tomorrow night?”

Tara sounded like she was going through her locker, Sue doing her best not to think about her wet pussy.

“Uh, where is it?”

“Over at Shawn’s place.”

Sue nodded a little, turning the hot tap down. Tara called out again.

“Hey, you know most the teams gonna be there.”

Sue let the cold water run a little longer before shutting it off, and turning to get her towel with still a trail of juice running down her thigh. She looked nonchalant, mopping herself down, seeing Tara still at her locker, just up from her own. The outfielder was dumping some clothes into a bag. She saw the big girls eyes drop slightly, flutter away from Susan’s naked form.

Sue noticed Tara was barely out of her Blue Jays jersey, and she was already in her Pete Rose one, like always.

“Yeah, I’ll probably make it.” “I’ll pass by your place around eight if you want,” Tara glanced back at the blond, keeping her eyes on Susan’s. “Pick you up.”

“Yeah. That’d be cool.”

Sue wrapped her towel around her waist, ignoring the Tara’s stare. She knew Tara was used to seeing naked guys around the showers. She preferred the outfielder didn’t see or smell her pulsing pussy, after having caught her rubbing one off in the showers. Sue knew Tara well enough anyway. She was a good gal, friendly and sensitive. Sue had always wondered why Tara hadn’t hooked up with someone already.

She definitely wasn’t lacking in looks or size. Soft features, maybe a little on the tall side, nice boobs, ending in a tiny waist and full butt.

. “Cool then,” Tara patted her hand on Susan’s strong shoulder. “Ill catch you then, alright?”

Sue nodded back, opening up her locker. She didn’t need the towel, or to wait for Tara to leave anymore. Her pussy had since calmed down. Tara was already heading out as she tugged her towel back off her hips, began to mop herself down. Man, she couldn’t wait to get home.

***

 amazon.com/author/candicechristian

This newest release is a return to the Wrestling Mothers Club genre. There seems to be a following I didn’t realize was there for these stories.

Liz enters a Waffle House, late in the evening for something to eat, after an earlier appointment. When she arrives she notices a young girl in her yoga classes, Nancy, and they begin a conversion that takes many unusual twists and turns.

Nancy, is so enthused with Liz’s story, she want to here more, especially when she finds out she is a Lesbian Session Wrestler.

They begin to meet at a coffee house during the day to continue the conversation which is a one way thing. Liz tells Nancy some spell binding and spine tingling tales of her sessions. So engrossed is Nancy she asks for a session.

Liz agrees, but does Nancy know what she is getting into.

A sample of The Lesbian Sessions:

I finished drying, left my hair damp, for sake of utility, it was going to get messed up anyway. And headed to the where she said the match would take place, in her workout room. I didn’t bring it up but Liz’s husband didn’t seem to be home tonight. If she wanted to explain I guess she would, I wasn’t going to ask. 

“So Nancy,” Liz began “now it’s just us girls, I think we should get into some salacious girl talk.That will get the tone set.”

“Ok, you first.” I replied “Did you have anything unusual happen in any of your sessions today?”

Liz thought for a moment and then spoke “My noon session was pretty tame. Sheila, my client’s name, and I wrestled in just panty hose. A first for me. Not really a fan because the material is rough. 

Knowing that the conversation was about to move on, I quickly intervened.

“So why don’t you tell me about you most outrageous moment in the panty hose session?” I asked.

“Well, nothing like outrageous, she pinned me once and made me submit once.” Liz laughed “But I did force one submission by holding her in a body scissors, her back to my stomach,  and squeezing her breast and pinching her nipples. I think that why I lost in the end. I really pissed her off and she fought like a woman possessed.”

“Wow, you’re wild Liz.” I said impressed. “How did she make you submit?”

“Ermmm…” She stalled for a second, then thought ahh to heck with it “Sheila got me in an, inverted belly to back, head scissors, with those rough panty hose scraping my face. I was not so painful, rather annoying. I got so wrapped up in trying to escape, she was able slide her hand down inside my panty hose and pull on my labia with wild abandon. She saved that one for the deciding fall since I would not get a chance to retaliate. I hate wrestling in pantyhose.”

There was a stunned silence, following by me asking a barrage of questions.

“Was that the most excitement of all today’s sessions?” I asked starting to feel my panties getting moist.

“No, sex wrestling with Susan was, it was some fantasy stuff but mainly just submission wrestling. We wrestle topless and wear tiny thong panties. Actually just a strip up the back and the front. Since we both shave our pubes, the strings can get embedded up into a pussy quickly.”

“Oooh! So just a regular wrestling match then? Submission style.” I asked. Really turned on now.

Liz looked a bit anxious then answered, “Well the submission had be by orgasm, by Tribbing. The loser is the one that can’t take anymore stimulation and submits. Not the total of orgasms.”

“Did you win that one? I mean, you certainly must have gotten turned on during the other sessions and I bet you would have cum the moment her clit touched yours. That is what Tribbing is right, rubbing pussies together to climax?” I looked at Liz somewhat defiantly.

I could tell Liz was tired of my questions and answered, “I did win that one by the way. I have a sore cunt so I’m in a bad mood sort of. I told her we needed to use baby oil or some other lube. But my client was walking like she had done a couple hours on a mechanical bull, she probably has an ice pack on her pussy.  So come on let’s get this match going, enough talk about me. Unless you have a story about face sitting some Milf from yoga class?” she smiled wanly. All business. Totally in character now.

You can see more at Candice Christian’s website and get even more information;

http://HTTP://CANDICECHRISTIAN20.WIXSITE.COM/WEBSITE

amazon.com/author/candicechristian 

Kait has plans to meet friends, Ted and Carol, on her last night in town. Unfortunately they are called away on a family emergency and they have Shari, their daughter, stand in for them and entertain Kait.

Kait, the mature woman and the pretty teenager, Shari, hit it off at once, and it’s not long before the two are sweating up the sheets, and exploring every orifice on the other woman.

They try every thing they can to pleasure the other, from oral gratification, to scissoring or tribadism.

Kait realizes she need to keep the affair under wraps from her family and Shari’s making Shari her dark secret; of Daughter of Darkness

SAMPLE OF ‘DAUGHTER OF DARKNESS’

It was my last evening in San Francisco and I had been invited to spend it at the coffee lounge just around the corner from my hotel. I had spent many happy evenings there with the owners Ted and Carol. I had spent the last five months working at the ‘Frisco office of the company that I worked for trying to salvage something after a manager had run off with a large amount of the assets. I had recovered most of what was missing and felt that I was leaving after a job well done.

I walked down the street and could see the coffee lounge ahead of me but it looked as though it was closed. I carried on and walked up the steps that led to the entrance. I looked through the small windows in the door but could see no sign of life, so feeling disappointed I turned and started to slowly walk back to my hotel. I had only walked about twenty yards or so when I heard the sound of someone running up behind me, and then I heard someone calling “Kait, please wait.” I turned around and there stood Shari, Ted and Carol’s daughter. She told me that they had been called away at very short notice to visit Carol’s mom who had been taken to hospital after falling down some steps. This had resulted in a broken hip and wrist along with some cuts and bruises. As Carol couldn’t drive, Ted considered it his duty to take her even though it would mean closing the coffee shop for the evening, as cover couldn’t be arranged until the morning. I told Shari that I quite understood and that I would walk back to the hotel and have a quiet night but she said that she wouldn’t hear of it. She said that I was welcome to come for the promised coffee and that she would welcome a chance to have a girlie chat.

Shari was what you might describe as petite. Slim, but not skinny and being less than five feet tall she gave the impression that she was only aged about fourteen or fifteen. I knew that she was in fact eighteen as I had attended her birthday party a few weeks earlier. We walked back to the coffee shop and as I followed her up the few steps, which led to the side door, she walked through a shaft of sunlight that shone through the light summer dress she was wearing to reveal the perfect shape of her young body. I followed her through the door which she held open for me and as I walked into the large hall way she closed and locked the door behind us. Shari ushered me into the lounge and offered to take my jacket. I slipped this off and she made a remark about how much she liked my dress. It was just a white cotton summer dress with inch wide shoulder straps and a small blue bow at the front. It wasn’t a very short affair, with the hemline just above my knees. Hers was a much skimpier article. A very pale printed flowered pattern on a thin cotton material. The shoulder straps were very narrow and the hemline was about five or six inches higher than mine. There was a sofa along one wall with a small dining table and chairs beside, tucked up a corner. In the center were two recliner chairs facing each other with a small coffee table to one side and another small table beside one of the chairs on which stood a small electric fan? This was giving a very welcome light breeze on this very warm evening.

Shari told me to take a seat and she would go and make coffee. She went out of a door on the other side of the room to the one from which we had entered and I could soon hear her putting the necessary things onto a tray. She returned shortly with this tray and placed it onto the coffee table which was positioned between but to the side of the reclining chairs and sat down on the facing chair to the one I had occupied. I had slipped my shoes off and slid my feet up onto the chair so that my heels were tucked up, touching the cheeks of my bottom, resulting in the hem of my dress riding up by about four of five inches revealing a fair amount of my bare legs. Shari poured out the coffees, not needing to ask how I liked mine as she had served me hot drinks many times in the past. She placed a filled cup onto the table beside me and placed another beside her chair and then kicked off her own shoes and slid her feet into the same position as I had mine. 

We talked about my future plans and she asked if I was sad at leaving and I told her that if it wasn’t for my son back home I would be more than happy to stay. She asked how old my son was and seemed genuinely surprised when I answered that he was almost twenty. At that point she asked how old I was and I told her that I would be thirty-eight the next day. She said that she was stunned and that if asked she would have guessed that I was well under thirty years old, a comment for which I thanked her. With that she said that she would go and fetch some wine from the rack and we would have a drink to celebrate my forthcoming birthday. I said that I would very much like that but I would have to use the bathroom first. 

As I went to stand up I caught my foot on one of Shari’s shoes and lost my balance. I stretched out a hand to stop myself from falling only to catch the edge of the coffee tray sending the pot and it’s now luke-warm contents spewing onto my dress as I staggered back into the chair. Shari leapt up and picked the coffee pot from my lap and quickly placed it back onto the table before grabbing my hand and helping me out of the chair. She then led me to the door that she had gone through earlier and led me down a passageway to a stairway which we climbed. I could feel the cold coffee on my skin as it soaked its way through my dress and panties. At the top of the stairs was a door that Shari opened to reveal a bathroom and she told me to go in and take off my now sodden dress and anything else that was wet and then said that she would fetch something for me to put on. She pulled the door behind her and I did as she said and removed my dress. My panties were also soaked so I removed those as well and stood there in just my bra. There was a tap at the door and it opened slightly as Shari’s arm came into view holding a toweling gown. She asked me to hand her the stained, wet clothes and as I did so she told me to put the gown on and when I was ready to make my way back to the lounge. At this point I heard her walk back down the stairs. I put the gown on but it was quite small and although it did fit round me it finished just below my bottom. Because of its length, and both of us being slim, I guessed that the gown was one of Shari’s own. With my now bare pussy only inches away from exposure I knew that I would have to be very careful as to how I sat.

I made my way back to the lounge where Shari had just finished wiping the remains of the coffee pot contents from the floor. I remarked that the gown looked a little skimpy on me and gave a little twirl as if to demonstrate, holding the bottom of the gown down at the front so as not to expose myself, or Shari to any embarrassment. Shari said that on me it looked very sexy and alluring and much nicer than it did on her, confirming that the garment was indeed hers. I apologized for the coffee incident but she told me not to be silly, as accidents happened to everybody, and besides I shouldn’t keep my lovely legs hidden away behind long dresses and the incident had given me a chance to show them off. I felt very flattered and told her so.

Reeling from a broken engagement, Markie finds love with georgous Olivia, a women from her Yoga class!

Sample of Reflections of a ‘Lost Woman’

Markie crossed the rec room at the club, carelessly dropping her towel and locker key onto a mat along the wall. Several ladies were already warming up for the noon yoga session. She laced up her sneakers, pausing to frown at her reflection in the wall-length mirror in the front of the room. Ric was a fool, she decided. Well, he’d soon see that running off with a woman who was almost young enough to be his daughter would be no picnic. Her finger felt naked without the engagement ring that she had worn for the last six months. She rubbed it absently. She was a lost woman for sure.  Then she noticed the new lady who had recently joined their yoga class. Olivia Something… Today she was a study in blue: light blue workout shoes, darker yoga pant, and even darker Lycra sports bra, a contrast to her long red hair, which was tightly pinned up.

Markie felt an odd flutter in her stomach. Olivia was sexy, she realized. Embarrassed by the thought, she took her usual place at the back of the room, trying not to watch as Olivia stretched out. But, oh! Unlike most of the badly out-of-shape 30-somethings in the room, Olivia had very little fat on her lithe body. Markie found herself wondering what those nipples would feel like against her tongue. She hadn’t been with another woman in years, but now the thought excited her. She felt her crotch becoming damp.

As the class got underway, Markie tried to push the erotic thoughts aside, but every time she did, Olivia’s movements caught her attention. She noticed the redhead’s nipples getting hard as they rubbed against the sports bra, and Markie noticed that her own nipples were hard as well. From her vantage point in the back of the room, Markie could see all of Olivia, and the view of her round breasts in the mirror as she bent over. Then she noticed the growing wet spot between Olivia’s legs — sweat, she decided, but the thought of licking and kissing that hot pussy was arousing, and the pelvic exercises that they were doing were adding to her desire. If she didn’t get some relief soon, she was going to jump out of her skin.

Fortunately, floor work was next, and Markie positioned her mat so that the corner caught her throbbing clit. The stimulation wasn’t as direct as her fingers, but it would do. As they lay on their stomachs, Markie had an excellent view of Olivia’s crotch. She could even see Olivia’s swollen labia clearly outlined through the thin material. Was Olivia turned on as well? The thought nearly sent her over the edge. As she worked the edge of the mat against her clit, she imagined doing sixty-nine, how Olivia’s pussy would smell, how her juices would taste, what the woman’s tongue would feel like lapping against her clit…breathing hard now, lost in the throbbing of her impending climax, she saw that Olivia seemed to be pinching her own nipples. Then her orgasm overwhelmed her, and she came, a hot wave washing through her body, followed by hard contractions pulling inward. Release…

As she became aware of her surroundings again, she noticed how wet Olivia’s crotch appeared. Had she…? No time to wonder. The class was ending. She took her time rising from the floor. Olivia seemed in no hurry, either. As she passed the redhead, Olivia flashed her a sexy smile.

“See you tomorrow, Markie,” she said in a low, sultry voice.

It has been a very busy week for Candice, she has been quite active releasing: For Your Love, A 4 book bundle titled ‘Crying out for Love’,  A Certain Girl and Thursday she released ‘I Wish You Would’. This girl must not have a social life, that’s quite an output.  Below are samples:

　amazon.com/author/candicechristian

http://candicechristian20.wixsite.com/website

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Sample of ‘I Wish you Would’

Even in this day and age of feminine equality and fairness for all, the world of academia is still totally male dominated. All throughout my career I’ve had to fight tooth and nail to get anywhere; putting up with patronizing lecturers during my undergrad years, convincing ugly balding old professors to give me a Ph.D. research post then struggling through years of dealing with both to finally get a lecturing post. Not that I’m complaining mind, not really. They say these things build character, and I suppose they have done. But I had thought finally getting a lectureship, working under a fellow female professor, I might be able to concentrate on my job for once. Fat chance.

Professor Lizbeth E. Zarrat is without a doubt the worst boss I’d ever had, and that includes working with some pretty seedy individuals in nightclubs during my undergraduate days. Technically, since I’m now a full member of the University staff, I’m not answerable to anyone short of the principle and the University itself, but of course it doesn’t really work like that. I was given the unenviable task of teaching the 1st year course, and Lord High Lizbeth of Stuck-up is the head of first and second year engineering undergrad teaching.

Perhaps I should have pointed out earlier I’m a Civil Engineer, an area not traditionally over filled with women. I’m cursed, in a way, with being attractive with it. I know I should be happy, plenty of my friends get really annoyed with me, mock or otherwise . . . , when I complain about being attractive, but it can be a serious handicap when you’re trying to be taken seriously, especially by men. Nobody ever really though I was any good at any work, they tended to assume I was rather dumb eye-candy that had taken an engineering course to get a man with a good job. At least I’m not blonde. . .

I’ve had a couple of boyfriends, but they never really lasted long. I’m sick and tired of being patronized by guys who couldn’t see beyond my figure and looks. I’m not going out with you to get help with the mathematics and I certainly will not do THAT just to get your inferior assessment answers that are probably not even half as good as the ones I did two weeks ago when it was handed out!

Sorry, I’m flitting back and forth between my current life and my history, I hope you’re not getting too confused! I know who I am at the moment is based on who I have been and the things that have shaped my life. Perhaps I should give you a little more of my life story. My name is Dr Brittany Byrd, I’m 29 years old and I was born and raised in Scotland. I had a happy enough up-bringing, was considered a bit of freak because I enjoyed school – very very silly to admit in the rougher Labor voting socialist areas of Scotland – and generally kept myself to myself. My parents, God bless them, were never rich, but brought me up without ever really needing anything. There were plenty of things I wanted I never got, either because they were too expensive, or deemed not-for-girls, but I suppose I never really needed them anyway.

It was always assumed that like my elder sister and my parents before, I would go to University. However, it was assumed I would study something a little more lady-like that Civil Engineering. Nobody objected, but it was talked about in hushed tones, like the embarrassing Great-Grandmother who was “self-employed” during her youth.

Nobody at my University or work ever really took me seriously, and although at the time I didn’t think it bothered me, I guess it must have done, otherwise I wouldn’t be making such a big deal of it now. I think what annoys me the most is that even by the time I was in my final year they still didn’t think I was serious. I had been in the top 5% of my year, every year, and yet still I was treated as the dumb girl only along for the ride. Anyway, that’s something I should put behind me, but it’s given me this drive to always prove myself, to show that just because I’m an attractive woman I’m not stupid.

Once I’d finished my degree, I managed to find a research post, studying for my doctorate. The only reason I got it was because the professor was convinced that if he had three years to try, he was bound to get in my pants at least once. I don’t drink, so his plans at every research group meal or party always failed, and in the end I finished on time, and the filthy old bloke had to accept it was never going to happen.

A few years of bouncing around post-doc jobs and I finally got an interview for a lectureship at a mediocre university. I knew it was working with Professor Zarrat, I’d read a lot of her papers, and spoken to her once or twice at conferences. Although she’d never impressed me as a person, her work was extremely impressively, few engineers could boast as high a success rate within her field. Fortunately, it was slap bang in my area too, and when the interview arrived I was perfectly prepared. I had invested in a new suit, I say invested because although I’m usually very careful with money (you have to be surviving on post-doc wages) I’d spent most of my month’s wages on it. It’s difficult to hide my chest, but I was happy with the job it did. Basically, I wanted to make myself as asexual as possible, so it would be my work and skills that the interviewers would concentrate on.

The panel consisted of Professors Zarrat, Bourne and Pidgeon, the three heads of school in effect. Bourne and Pidgeon were fine, they seemed nice enough men. Pidgeon’s nearing retirement and you could tell in his manner that ultimately he doesn’t really care anymore – but in a happy go-lucky way. Bourne runs the whole engineering school, and is 100% motivated by research. Everyone within a university has to do research, there are no purely lecturing posts, and because many academics never visit the real world, where people have real jobs and real lives, they thinks the entire universe runs on academic research, and primarily doing better and harder research that your fellow universities. So in other words, he wanted to know how good I was at publishing papers. Fortunately, I had a wealth of completed projects, and he was suitably impressed.

Lizbeth Zarrat, however, was a bitch. Because our fields overlap, she knew all the tiny flaws and problems with my work. They weren’t special to me, if you take any results and keep asking “Why?” sooner or later the answer will become “I don’t know”. I model real world situation in a laboratory, and assumptions have to be made, pardon me for not being able to fit an entire canal into my lab! Her questions were so picky, worse than any post-presentation ones, that I really believed I must have failed her standards completely. I’m not one given to crying, but it was pretty hard to drive home that evening and for the first time in 8 years I was sorely tempted to reach for the wine bottle.

It was a pleasant, but scary surprise, to be phoned the next day by a cheerful professor Bourne to tell me I had secured the job, pending one year probation. To be honest, I was so delighted I didn’t really question the probation period, and I still haven’t, but I don’t know if all new members have the same condition. Considering it was Professor Zarrat that was going to write my final report, perhaps I should have checked it earlier.

It was a nightmare of a year. I was thrown straight into the deep end both with research and teaching. Lizbeth gave me a completely new course to teach, five hours a week plus organizing tutorials, laboratory workshops and assessments. Then, on top of that, she passed me a new research project with a very limited grant that needed results by the end of the year. Now, I suppose a bit like my friends you’re thinking five hours a week sounds pretty simple. But it’s not, because I had to prepare five hours of lectures, which means at least ten hours of prep, plus the tutorials and laboratory work, which easily brings me up to a full week. Then the additional research, a project that really should have taken 18 months to two years, meant I was doing 70 to 80 hour weeks.

Things came to a head about half way through the year when despite my best efforts to the contrary, I was forced to take a day off with a severe cold. I’d tried desperately hard to keep going, but in the end I simply couldn’t get out of bed. By the next day I was able to come into work, but only just, and within five minutes of getting into my pokey little office, Lizbeth was knocking at the door.

“Come in”

“Ah, Dr. Byrd, made it into work today then?”

The tone of her voice was nothing short of insulting, but I tried to ignore it, and not let her know how frustrated I was with her.

“Yes. . . ”

“Good. I don’t appreciate last minute absences.”

Perhaps my deep calming breath would have been more effective if I hadn’t had to open my mouth like a fish to do it. . .

“The only reason I didn’t let the school know in advance was because I hoped I could recover sufficiently well overnight. Unfortunately, I did not.”

“Well, it’s simply not good enough. See it doesn’t happen again, you let a lot of people down.”

I don’t think a even a ten minute calming breath would have been enough this time. I was tired, ill, and sore and felt I’d been worked like a bloody slave for six months. Finding energy I didn’t really know that I had, I leapt to my feet and my weakened control snapped.

“Now look here you stupid bitch!” I screamed, “I work damn hard and if you work me so hard I get ill then it’s not my bloody fault that I have to take some time off! If you weren’t such an uppity cow that never. . .”

The slap rocked me back on my heels; for a small woman, she’s got some force. I was dazed for a second or two, and my cheek stung so badly it was bright red. I could feel the blow had upset my nose too, and I took a second to dab my face with a tissue before turning to see her again.

The slap hadn’t really calmed me down and I was all ready to begin screaming again but I stopped dead in my tracks. Her eyes were wide open and staring, extremely shiny, the black pupils looked tiny surrounded by the light blue iris, pin point aimed at me. Her usually tied back blonde hair had come loose and lay around her shoulders, slightly curled, with a lot more definition than I ever expected and her mouth was turned down in a slightly twisted frown behind clenched lips. Despite myself, I had to admit should could have been a far more beautiful woman than she let herself be. And with the amazing speed that thoughts can come in these times, I felt a certain empathy with her, is this what I would become in ten years? Still young, still attractive, but forced to hide it for professionalism sake?

Before I stood any chance of getting even soppier, she snapped back at me, turned and stormed past the crowd gathered at the door.

I was actually forced to ask someone else what she’d said, I’d been too shocked to hear. Her threat was to show me what real hard work was like. . .

https://candicechristian20.wixsite.com/website

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This release is really back to my roots, romance and erotica, ships passing in the night. I love the feel of the story, the atmosphere is perfect. I hope you like reading it as much as I did writing it. ENJOY!

HI, MY NAME IS MARYANNE, this story is my attempt at releasing a few cobwebs, I have never told anyone about this event, not even my, now, husband. I’ll start with a little bit about myself……

I’m a 37 year old married woman, although I was not married at the time this story took place. I’ve been married for just a little over 3 months, and the event I’m about to write about, took place, just over a year ago. I’m 5’5″, with long dark brown hair, lightly permed, with the full length cascading down over my shoulders, and wrapping neatly in toward my body. I’m of a nice build, not skinny, and also not overweight, what I would like to call nicely rounded. 34C-30-32 for all those with an eye for detail.

I’m straight, although the story you are about to read is about me and another woman, it was very much a one off event, and even though I did enjoy it, I prefer men. I can remember it as if it was only moments ago, I was sitting quietly on the couch, watching TV, when the door bell sounded. It had been a very long week at work this week, and to be honest I was all for letting it ring, I didn’t want company, and least of all, I didn’t want to have to move from my comfortable position. But then the Ringing got more intense, which brought a tone of panic to the room, I started to think what if it was serious? Maybe a relative was sick, or worse still, DEAD!

I jumped up, running for the door, my breath now rapid, and my mind swimming in a pool of fear and worry. I had forgotten that all I was wearing was my nightie, which although long, down to my calves, it was rather flimsy, and almost transparent. I didn’t even take time to look through the eyepiece on the door, and thinking back on it now, I acted rather stupid, if there had been a guy at the door, he would have seen a little more than he’d bargained for.

Margo?!! I thought, as I opened the door, seeing her standing there. How the hell did she know where I live? And what is she doing here, at this time of the night? My mind asked.

“I’m s-s-sorry Mare”, came her apologetic sobs.

I was speechless, I couldn’t think of anything to say, my mind was too busy trying to work out what had happened, here was Margo, whom I ‘d only known about 3 weeks, after taking her on in my office, to do some light office work. She had walked into the office only 3 weeks ago, for the interview, and had told me all the things I wanted to hear, at 21 with experience in computers and typing, she was perfect for the job.

Since then I ‘d got to know that Margo was a very pleasant girl, well spoken, neatly turned out, and just recently I had noticed she was also very witty, after seeing her reduce the office to a room of giggling gals.

At 5’2″, and slim, she was a petite girl, and her mid-length brown hair, sparkling green eyes and very warm smile were more than enough needed, to catch the attention of every guy who entered the office.

“Margo?!!” I finally heard myself say. “What’s wrong hon? you look distressed!”, I said, after seeing the horror behind her eyes, they were no longer sparkling prettily, they were bloodshot, tear filled, and her pupils were dilated, almost swallowing up the green surrounding.

“I’m s-sorry”, she repeated, still sobbing, “I’m sorry for disturbing you at this hour, I had nowhere else I could go”, she finally managed, between bouts of tears.

This I could understand, she’d only moved to the city 4 weeks before this night, after living over 200 miles away, in a little town called Angola, all her life. I had learned, how she grew up there, and only moved away with her boyfriend, Peter, as her parents were not keen on him, which she had assured me was due to him not being able to find work.

“It’s ok, sweetie”, I reassured her, with my tones now, gentle and caring. “Come on in out of the cold”, I said, taking her hand, and leading her into the living room, closing the front door behind her.

“I’m really sorry, I…” she started.

“It’s okay, now forget about being sorry, and tell me what happened”, I interrupted, my tone still caring, but now with a hint of intrigue.

I showed her to the couch, where she sat down, telling her to gather her thoughts, as I went to make us some tea, to calm her nerves. When I returned, she was still sobbing, her face no longer the pretty picture I was used to seeing about the office all day long, and instead I was now faced with a girl who was afraid, worried, and god knows what else. Handing her a mug of hot tea, I placed a pack of McVities Dark Chocolate Digestives on the coffee table in front of her, and then my own mug beside them.

I always found that chocolate was up to any occasion, and almost always enough to change a frown into a smile, it was not going to work this time, I could tell that, but every little bit helps, as my mother used to say.

I sat next to her, then in a mother’s tones, I asked, “now sweetie, tell me what happened, I can’t help if I don’t know what went on”.

I’d never been a mother, but I ‘d always believed everyone had maternal instincts, whether they got to use them or not, and I was getting to use them now.

“My boyfriend….”, she began, then after a sip of tea, she continued.. “He.. He..”.

She went on to tell me exactly why she was here, her boyfriend, Peter, who, she now told me, was abusive, both mentally and physically, had accused her of sleeping around, of which she assured me she hadn’t. He had then lost his temper, which was apparently a regular occurrence, and had started to yell and shout at her, but this time he had really lost it, and as she tried to calm him down, and make him see reason, she noticed he had returned from the kitchen with a rather large carving Knife.

“When I saw the knife, I started to scream, and ran for the door”, she had informed me.

“He was screaming, I’ve never heard him so mad before, just screaming, screaming out, I’M GOING TO KILL YOU BITCH!!!”, she went on to explain.

She had managed to get out, and headed for the local taxi depot, which she knew would still have people around it, even at this late hour. And after realizing in her hurry to leave, she had not taken her purse, and only had loose change in her dress pocket, which amounted to just over $10.00. That rule out Uber, so a taxi it was.

Then she had thought of how I had once mentioned I lived in University Rd. Which was within her financial reaches. After paying the taxi driver, she had then knocked on doors, until she found someone who knew where I lived, leading to where she was now. She didn’t have my phone home or cell phone number, so she was unable to call first.

When she’d finished telling me, she was sobbing heavier, almost speaking in frantic tones nearing the end, I reached out my hand taking hers, holding it gently, and using my thumb to delicately stroke the back of her hand, as I was looking into her tear-filled eyes, and spoke to her in firm tones, “He won’t find you here, we’ll call the cops, and you can stay here, as long as you want, he’ll pay for this, you can be sure of that”.

“No, Please. NO POLICE!!” she screamed, with a new terror in her voice.

“Honey, you’ll have to get them involved, he was going to kill you”, I heard myself reply.

“Please, you have to promise me, NO POLICE, they can’t do anything, and it would only make him madder”, she pleaded, with begging eyes.

“Okay, I’ll not call them, but I still think you should, and I hope you change your mind.” I said, my voice returning to comforting whispers.

For the first time that night, she showed the merest shadows of a smile, which although not entirely heartwarming, it was a lot better than distraught, desperate sobs.

I returned her smile, if you could call it that, and held her hand tighter. At that moment I moved my gaze back from her face, and noticed her hair was soaking wet, then as my gaze moved further, I noticed that in fact she was soaking wet all over, I hadn’t noticed it was raining outside, and with her going from door to door looking for me, she must have been caught right in the middle of it.

She was only wearing a light summer’s dress, with a mid-length neck line, and a hem line which reached down just above her knees, with light spaghetti straps over her shoulders. And a pair of Cherry red Dr. Martin boots, which threw me back for a second, I ‘d only ever seen her conservatively dressed, although doc martins were hardly appropriate for an office, I giggled to myself inwardly at this thought.

Her skin was red, and I could now see her shivering, which I had mistaken earlier as part of her sobbing.

“Sweetie, your soaking right through, I’m sorry, I never even noticed, now let’s get you a nice hot bath, I ‘ll get you something to wear, and you’ll be feeling better in no time”, I assured her, as I jumped up, still holding her hand in mine, leading her to stand, and taking her to the bathroom door.

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Candicechristian2001@gmail.com

The Third and Final Episode in the Wrestling Mothers Club:

Wrestling Mothers Club – A Story of Joy

British Invasion

Dani came in one evening after I’d gotten home.

“Constance’s friend is over here from the UK and dropped in this afternoon,” she said.

“Oh yes?” I said.

“Yes! And I’d like to call on your good services as a referee again, apparently Constance told her about me, and after a couple of days rest she said she’d be rarin’ for a bout!”

“Oh yes!” I said again.

“Yes! And I’ve accepted for Friday evening. Okay with you?”

“Sure,” I said, “but are you feeling up to it?”

Dani and I have a close relationship, both being divorced and working together. She is my Executive Secretary at a prominent advertising agency. She also has a hobby that we share. We belong to the Wrestling Mothers Club. Great exercise, excellent stress relief and can get a bit erotic with the proper opponent.

I knew her physical capabilities and although her flexed biceps still make me boggle, I wondered if she was still in hard training.

“Of course I am Joy,” she said, “I don’t let you into all the secrets of my training…just be ready for Friday that’s all!!”

“Who is this girl?” I went on.

“She’s no girl,” answered Dani, “she’s 32, about two years older than I am. She comes from Manchester, and her name is Josey. Oh! and, er, she’s black, and beautiful and say she’s whipped Constance recently, would you believe.”

Dani had decided to hold the match away from the normal practice facility, my rec room was often converted to a wrestling venue, for private matches.Since Dani’s opponent was not a potential member, it was easier for the match to be held at my place.

Friday evening arrived. I was next door. The gym mat was down, the furniture moved, I’d also subdued the lighting to remove any glare. Josey arrived about eight. A real black stunner. We had refreshments in another room, and although the conversation flowed easily the smiles between Josey and Dani were tight, and they studiously avoided each other’s eyes whenever possible. We got around to details.

“To a finish,” said Dani

“Nude,” added Josey.

“Right on,” said Dani, “now about the holds.”

“Come on Dani honey,” interrupted Josey, “we’re mature women not little girls.”

“I don’t mind you using anything I’ve got if you can for leverage, because I’m sure as hell going to use any part of you I need to!”

“OK! Agreed,” I said quickly. “No holds barred…wrestling…” “Without swimsuits!” “To a finish!” “Do you want to be oiled?” I asked.

They both did just a little. A few minutes before nine I had both contestants in their dressing gowns ready on the mat in the lounge. Josey was flexing her biceps, and as a matter of interest I took a tape measure and measured her upper arm – “16 inches”, I said, “same as Dani’s.”

“How about this,” Josey said crouching slightly, she moved the gown from her right thigh…I placed the tape measure around the black pillar of muscle.

“28 inches,” I said.

At this Dani came over, and bared her upper leg flexing it, I passed the tape around, “28 inches,” I said.

Dani looked over at her black opponent, who stared back.

“What’s your bust and weight, ‘Black Power’?”

“Thirty-nine inches and 145 lbs.” said Josey.

“Looks like we start even then, because I’m 150 lbs,” Dani retorted.

I took their dressing gowns and they squared off in the center of the mat – two perfect feline specimens, one black, the other white, both powerful, preparing to match muscles and bodies until one succumbed to the other… Dani was in first, from the front she forced Josey’s arm up behind her in a hammerlock. Josey winced but brought her knee up between Dani’s legs… It never landed, Dani gripped the black thigh between hers and increased the pressure on the hammerlock… Josey gasped, then put her right arm behind her, grasped her own wrist, and with a quick effort broke the hold. She turned into Dani and with a hip throw sent her tumbling.

They got to their feet quickly and grappled again, close to the wall. Josey spaded her hand and slid it between them…Dani yelped! Josey’s back muscles knotted…she lifted Dani up the wall by her crotch…her strong right and buried in the thick black hair…

Josey held Dani, a left arm bar across her throat, in this painful grip for many seconds…Dani’s head rolled…

As a last resort she grabbed Josey’s head and held it between her breasts…eventually through not being able to breathe, Josey had to relinquish her grip and back away, heaving for air…as Dani slumped by the wall massaging her abused crotch…

They circled, warily this time, showing more respect for each other’s capabilities than when they started. When they closed it was to drop to the mat to try strength holds to wear each other down. Sometimes Dani’s suntanned but comparatively white body disappeared writhing under the black powerhouse, other times Josey strained for freedom under Dani’s muscular torso!

The slight acrid odor of sweat lingered in the air, it was now dripping off them, but showed up more on Josey’s wide black shoulders as she turned the white amazon over…

“Come on you muscle-bound white whore, where’s your answer to this one!!” Josey hissed.

When Dani found the answer which was her strong right hand plunged deep in the dripping pubic hair between Josey’s thighs and by good leverage throwing her black foe to the mat…retaining the grip, she panted “There’s your answer black bitch…”

Josey rolled away from that one, leaped to her feet crouching low, Dani crouched just two yards from her…

Josey, muscular black body gleaming with perspiration, beckoned, “Come on Daniie honey…black muscles against white…I’m all black woman and you’re all white woman…come on baby, bring those white nut crackers I’ve heard so much about over here and match them against my black ones…Let’s really decide who’s the best woman…or maybe you’re afraid I’ll bust your gut?…”

Needing no second invitation, Dani smashed into Josey…they braced, legs apart, grunting like men…sometimes squealing like women, breast to breast…their massively hairy bellies glued together, they commenced to thrust mightily into each others loins…matching stroke for stroke…In…Out…In…Out…Each woman gripped her foe’s clenching buttocks as if to prevent her escaping this war of attrition…

In…Out…In…Out…On…and On it went, until from sheer exhaustion, no doubt brought on by more than one orgasm each, they sank to their knees in a double bear hug. Josey forced Dani to the mat, attempted a grapevine…but Dani gripped thighs with her black opponent.

Soon they were shaking and sobbing for breath… tighter…tighter…closer…closer…as they once again forced themselves into each other…the huge muscles on their twined power packs etched in black and white ridges against their skin; eyeball to eyeball they grappled in vicious combat as only woman rivals can.. deep in between their legs both used that most powerful of all female weapons against each other in a way they would never dream of doing on a man..

In a bone crushing effort to drain and destroy the woman in front of her! The breath was hissing between their teeth as the white girl rolled onto Josey…the black amazon arched her back, but to no avail…Then she forced her head and shoulders up as if to topple Dani. Dani then quite deliberately sought out Josey’s mouth with her own…their necks taunted….their teeth must have grated as Dani bent Josey’s head back…still she did not remove her mouth from Josey’s…

Their breath must have been rushing in and out of each other’s lungs as the muscular white and black amazons lay there locked in a death grip…long minutes passed…strong experienced fingers brought each other off savagely more than once…finally the black hands ceased seeking a nerve hold on the deltoids and slid from the white fighter’s armpits, slowly to the mat…the black thighs and calves relaxed their grip on the white ones…Dani sat astride her rival…I’d never seen her so exhausted…her mouth looked sore…Josey’s appeared a little chewed too…Josey’s black body shinning with sweat, her hard shapely breasts with their large purple nipples, that had provided so much leverage for Dani, rose and fell as she panted…Dani, sitting up in triumph looked over at me.

I shook my head…I could not count out the black fighter…I marveled at the fantastic body, now bathed in sweat…that powerful rib cage under those pink nippled heaving globes…she knew what I wanted to see…she turned Josey over onto her face…slipped her arms under the other woman’s armpits…her fingers clutched the hard black breasts…using them as leverage she strained backwards in a back-breaker, biceps bulging…minutes passed with no submission from the groaning Josey.

Dani let her flop forward on her knees, forehead resting on the mat, she crouched atop her like some big white cat on a black one, and in frustration slid her hands down, and trying something I’d never seen her do…a double claw hold!!! She gripped under her opponents lower torso, clawed fingers probing…seeking to force themselves through the very abdomen wall and grasp the entrails hidden there…after a lengthy and titanic effort Dani was rewarded for some half-an-hour of unforgettable wrestling against a superb opponent…

I heard it…low, and almost unintelligible…

“SUBMIT!! (groan)…

“I SUBMIT JOAN!!!…YOU’RE TOPCAT…GOOD FIGHT HON.”

As Dani relaxed, Josey added in a breathless whisper, as if to herself, “This time…I believe.”

***

Dani helped me put the rec room back to normal after Josey left. We talked for a bit before she left. Dani was on two weeks vacation and was in no hurry to go home. I had to tell her that I had to get to work early because the new girl I had hired to run Dani’s vacation was giving me fits.

“Jeez, Joy. She’s been there for about three months, what’s her issue?

“Shit, she is an air head with a dynamite body. Doesn’t have the sense to come out to the rain. She is taking advantage of the fact I have a wide on for her. She is due for her three month review day after tomorrow, and I am going to straighten this shit out once an for all.”

“Fire her?”

“Not if I don’t have too, but I am going to get more out of her than I am getting now.One way or another.”

“Good luck with that. I that prissy bitch at the gym trying to get your goat?”

“Monica?”

“Is that her name? I have not met her yet. You going to challenge her to a match?”

“Don’t want to, she is so young, afraid I’d hurt her, because she gets me so mad. No I think I can just ignore her and let her attitude run its course.”

“If you need any help let me know, I could come back from vacation if you need me.”

“Absolutely not. I’ll be okay. But thanks for the offer. I have to get to bed, and I don’t want to appear rude but……”

amazon.com/author/candicechristian The Art World is the setting for this newest Candice Christian story. It’s a tale of Andrea, a lost pilgrim, looking for the safety of a true love and romance, along the highways of the cruel and selfish world. (an excerpt from Destiny’s Child:)

Love the One You’re With

She was a newly graduated college coed. She always liked helping others so she naturally gravitated to sociology in school, and a degree in Social Work. The world was her oyster, and she wanted to experience everything, and help people at the same time. She also wrestled with the confusion of her sexuality. She kind of liked men, even dated a few, but she really had strange urges for attractive blond women.

Keeping these desires under wrap, was not difficult, for the most part, not actually coming out, but now and then an opportunity did present itself, that would not threaten her secret. Her name is Melody, and next week she was taking her new job in San Jose. So on this beautiful day, she wanted to go into the mountains and think about her future.

A decision was made to go hiking through a mountain about half an hour from her house. Melody was walking through along a mountain trail, wearing a white t-shirt over a bikini top and a pair of daisy dukes over a bikini bottom. Melody had a full bosom, beautiful face surrounded by long black hair.

The urges to start taking off clothes became stronger, and that is what she did. She started with her t-shirt, then her shorts…dropped them off in a ditch and buried them with sticks and leaves so she would be able to find them later… by this point, she could hardly stop herself from stripping… her pussy was getting wet, her nipples hardened… she wanted to wait until she reached the riverbank before she finished taking off her clothes, so she slid her hand into her bikini bottom in order to tease her clit and sooth her urges to finger herself.

What is that, she thought to herself,voices in the distance, right then, she thought that she would give them a treat by walking by in her bikini. She had never been so under dressed in such a secluded area… fear began to run through her head, she started to step back to go the opposite direction when two men walked out from behind the trees…

One man in a blue t-shirt, the other in a black t-shirt. They were just as surprised to see a woman in a bikini as she was to see them.

The dark haired beauty, was frozen by the men’s staring eyes… the man in the blue shirt commented on the size of her breasts to the man in the black shirt, then the man in the black shirt said, “She’s a slut dressed like that out here. She looks to be an Indian of some kind.” to the man in the blue shirt.

They both started to walk toward Melody, she turned around and ran. The two men made no attempt to run after her, but she didn’t realize it. She continued to run through some trees, her large breasts bouncing, her bikini top becoming loose until it fell off of her. By the time she managed to glance back and notice that there was no one chasing her, she had totally lost her breath, and dropped to the ground in exhaustion. She had hoped to meet some women to treat… she feared men.

After about five minutes of rest, she heard other voices, and was sure that they were female voices, so she slid off her bikini bottom, threw it aside, out of her sight. She placed one hand upon her breasts and the other between her thighs, and pretended to be sleeping, waiting for the women to arrive.

Conversations between the women got louder, and Melody knew that the women were getting closer, her pussy was getting wetter, she forced herself to stay out of her clit in order to continue to pretend to be asleep.

Two women appeared, and Melody opened her eyes just to take a peek at them, without them knowing. One girl was taller and thinner, nice breasts, red hair, she was wearing hiking shorts and a button down shirt. The other women was slightly shorter and a little heavier, her breasts were much larger.

Melody continued to pretend to sleep, the two women were commenting on her, but Melody couldn’t make out their conversation until she heard, “I want that pussy… if she is sleeping naked here, she wants me to take it” in a few seconds Melody felt hands on her thighs, opening her legs, a tongue soon met her clit.

No reaction from Melody except her moans of pleasure, she was trying to give the girls total control. One of the women grabbed Melody’s tits with both hands, fondling them roughly…

Clothing sliding off their bodies and hitting the ground, Melody could hear and she realized that they were both naked when one woman sat on her face, expecting Melody to eat her… that’s is what she did…

The three women continued, eating each other, touching each other, until it became dark and cold, the two women got up and got dressed, and left, Melody never spoke a word to them, and she hardly even saw the two women she had just had sex with, and that is the way she wanted it…

Laying there naked for a while, until she fingered herself roughly, remembering the experience she had just had, Melody realized she had just had done a very dangerous thing. She could have be hurt, or even killed. She knew from that moment forward, she was going to need to get grips on her sexuality, come out, if need be. Look for safer ways to satisfy her desires.

Melody hated rejection. She hardly ever attempted to pick up strange women, not a cold pick-up anyway, in college, she knew enough people to arrange an introduction if it was someone she’d never spoken to before. There was a time when she’d been able to gamble a pitch at any woman who looked available, an ability energized by an almost frantic need for sexual contact. One suffered the rejections in order to gain the acceptances. But no more.!