I used to spend each night, after school, with my best friend Elle. She was cute, short with an eye-catching chest and long dark hair. Throughout our years of friendship, I’d felt flashes of romantic affection for her, but she never seemed interested, and so I focused on the more platonic charms of our relationship. That changed on one of those after-school nights, when Elle asked me if I’d ever wrestled.

I remember this part vividly. I sat cross-legged on her living room carpet, and she sat at a desk with her back to me. She scooted the monitor to the edge to show me starting positions. “No,” I said. “I don’t think I’d be good at it.”

“Oh, I’d definitely be good at it.” Elle clicked through several photographs. “I have a fighter’s instinct.” That was so like Elle. She was cocky and competitive. “I’d take you down.”

I believed her. Though I was naturally tall and well-toned, I had little athletic ability. Elle would overwhelm me with her skill and fury.

Reluctantly, I agreed to practice with her, and she instructed me on positions. I was on the floor, on my hands and knees; she mounted me. Two things struck me at once. Her scent, sweet and a bit sweaty; and her boobs, flattened against my back. I admired their weight, and the way they compressed and swelled under the pressure of my body. As she counted us in, my heart accelerated. I was worried she’d pin me, and notice I’d already started to get hard.

That’s not what happened. Neither of us appreciated how important weight classes are for wrestling. I easily threw her to the floor. She let out a feminine yelp. I held her arms over her head and pinned her down by the wrists. Her tits jiggled as she struggled in my grip. Amazed at my own strength, I lifted one arm and gripped both her wrists with just one hand. She continued to struggle– I was sitting on her waist, so she mostly just flailed her chest up off the ground. She was helpless.

Elle groaned and growled and whined, but couldn’t break the pin. Seeing her struggle, a primal urge passed through me. Of course, I didn’t act on it. But I can’t deny it occurred to me.

Instead, I placed my free hand just below her neck, and pushed down, forcing her back flat on the floor.

“I think it’s safe to say you’re pinned,” I said.

Elle stopped struggling, but her breaths were still deep. Behind her tee shirt, her chest rose with every inhale. Her dark eyes were wide with wonder. “You’re so strong,” she said. “I don’t think I had a chance.” Her eyes darted down to my crouch. A bolt of panic struck me when I realized how hard I’d become. The outline of my dick showed through my shorts.

I jumped off Elle, as if retreating would make her forget what she saw. I turned away, face smoldering with embarrassment.

I will never forget her small voice in that moment.

“Why was that so hot?”

I feigned ignorance, but she continued.

“So this whole time, you could just physically dominate me like that?”

“I guess.”

“Could you do it again?”

My penis was still rock hard. “You don’t mind my– uh–”

“No. If I had a dick, it’d be hard too.”

I laughed at that, and finally turned back to her. We wrestled over and over that night. Sometimes I humored her and let her try some fancy moves before I pinned her. But whether she started above me, below me, or in the neutral position, I had total control over her squirming body.

I held Elle again with her arms over her head. Her face was sweaty and flush with exertion, and her eyes were smoky with lust. “Well, go on then,” she said. “You’ve defeated me. So feel me up.”

An hour of wrestling– grunting, sweat, exertion– had dulled my inhibition. I’d never touched a boob before, and Elle was the perfect first time. She moaned and gasped and twittered as I rubbed her big boobs over her shirt. I rubbed my thumbs over her hard nipples.

“Please, strip me.”

I don’t know what overcame the two of us. We were typically shy, and neither of us were sexually experienced. But I basically ripped Elle’s shirt off her body. Even lying down, her tits were huge, with big pink areolas. Her little nipples looked so hard, so dry, like they needed moisture. Without thinking, I lowered my mouth to her right tit. I rubbed my wet lips over her nipple, licked around her areola, then sucked her into my mouth.

Elle loved it. I’d never heard a woman cry my name before, and she nailed it. I told her to stay down. She nodded, and I released her arms. She remained prone beneath me as I massaged her heavy tits. I pressed them together, smooshed them, rubbed my palm gently over their surface, kissed them. Basically, I worshiped them. I’d wanted to do this to someone for years, and I had so many fantasies to get out.

“Fuck, that’s so good.”

I got off Elle long enough to flip her over. Again I admired her. Her hair was long and messy, her back bare, her breasts so big they swelled out around her sides. I kissed her at the base of her neck, then lower. My kisses became deeper, wetter, as I approached her lower back. She raised her ass toward me. I couldn’t place the scent then, but I later learned it was the aroma of her wetness.

“Is this okay?” I asked as I adjusted to sit over her.

“Do whatever you want to me.”

I can’t believe I didn’t orgasm, just from hearing that. I grabbed Elle by the waist and pulled her onto her hands and knees. She instinctively pressed and rubbed her butt against my cock. My dick quickly fell into the crevice between her cheeks, and she stroked it back and forth.

“Take them off,” she said, referring to her shorts. I of course complied, and got to see her fat ass. She wore striped underwear that emphasized the shape of her cheeks. I noticed a damp spot in the thin strap of fabric between her legs.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked. “Put me in my place.”

The first few spanks were weak, thudding against her skin. But after a few tries I got the form. Crisp slaps that stung her cheeks, and forced her to scream in pleasure. When I pulled her panties down to her knees, her ass was already reddening. I loved the sight of her wet vulva, exposed before me. I slapped her some more, until she laid on the ground.

And there she was, my best friend, prone before me, wet, purring my name, totally dominated. My penis was aching for her. I pulled down my pants. My dick popped out of my boxers.

We hadn’t even done oral yet, that would come later; but I rubbed my dick around her labia, slowly spreading them apart, and teasing her hard clit.

“Please Jacob,” she said. “Fuck me.”

And, of course, I did.