Teenage siblings get to grips in the wrestling ring
We grew up in a three bedroomed house. My parents had the biggest room, of course, my two sisters shared another and I had a room of my own. We didn’t have a spare room, so whenever guests came to stay over I had to surrender mine and sleep on the sofa.
Although sleeping on the sofa was a pain, the arrangement did have an upside. It meant that, unlike my sisters, I had a double bed in my room, so that there would be enough space whenever grown up couples came to visit.
Today, though, my younger sister had decided could use my double bed for a quite different purpose.
She wanted to use it as a wrestling ring!
These were days before the WWWF so we weren’t talking about the razzamataz of a multimillion dollar sport.
We were recreating the type of wrestling that kept Britons glued to their TV screens on Saturday afternoons, in the 1970s. These bouts weren’t housed in massive stadiums, but in civic halls, in medium sized English towns. And the contestants weren’t muscular Adonises in sparkly costumes; they were ordinary looking blokes in swimming trunks or, fatter, ordinary looking blokes in leotards.
It was great entertainment, though and, whilst some grown ups said that all the fights were fixed, the youngsters loved it and we all had our favourites. Schoolboys would have play fights with their friends trying to copy moves like the “Half Nelson” or the “Boston Crab”.
Of course my younger sister and I had wrestled like this too. Sometimes for fun and sometimes, as an extension of our regular childhood arguments.
I thought those days were well behind us, but now my 13 year old sister, said wanted a rematch.
So, today, while we had the house to ourselves, we were standing on opposite corners of my bed, wearing our dressing gowns and posing for our imagined audience.
Mary played the role of MC.
“And it’s time for this afternoon’s main bout.” she announced, “In the blue corner, weighing in at “far too big for his boots” it’s Stinking Steven! Boooooo, booo!”
Charming!
I slipped off my gown and stood proudly in my blue patterned swimming trunks, like a real wrestler.
“And in the red corner,” my sister continued, “weighing in at “mind your own business” it’s the champion; the beautiful, Miss Marvellous Mary! Hooray, ray, ray!”
The audience seemed to be a little biased…
Mary casually shrugged off her dressing gown to reveal that she was also wearing her swimming costume. But not the modest one piece suit that she had worn last summer. Oh no. Oh no, indeed! Today she was wearing a very grown up red two piece bikini.
I couldn’t believe my mother had bought it for her. She would never allow her to parade around the house in her underwear but she was going let her be seen at the swimming pool, on the beach, sunbathing in the park and heaven knows where else in nothing more than glorified knickers and bra!
I couldn’t decide whether the bright red costume was supposed to conceal her “rude bits”, or display them. She did look great though!
“Ding, ding. Round 1!”
Time to concentrate on the fight.
We both lowered our shoulders, stalking eachother warily, with our arms out wide, ready to defend or attack.
Mary was eyeing my hands and my feet to predict my movements. I meanwhile, was struggling to look at anything except tits. When she leant forwards, her cleavage yawned at me in all it’s teenage beauty and her breasts to jostled temptingly, within the scanty cups.
My sister took advantage of my distraction and rushed me, headfirst.
I saw her coming, stepped aside and pushed her down onto the mattress.
She climbed back to feet. She either didn’t know, or simply hadn’t noticed that her left breast had tumbled out of her bikini.
She came at me again.
We caught each other’s arms – pushing and pulling until she backed me up against the wall.
I grabbed her shoulders, shoving her aside so I could make my escape but accidentally dragging brastrap off her right shoulder.
She fell to floor again and stood up.
Furious!
I’d rarely seen her looking more outraged. Bare breasted and with her hands on her hips, she berated me.
“What is wrong with you?
I’m trying to wrestle and you just want to see my tits.
Have you never seen tits before?
Have a look.”
She scooped them up to show me. “They’re soft and pink, with brown bits on the end!
What’s the big deal?
Every woman has them!
Here have a closer look”
She stepped towards me.
I tried to reply, “Oh, erm, Mary, I’m sorry, I….”
“Ooomph, what was that?”
I was on my back.
Mary had hooked her ankle around mine. Tripping me and jumping on my chest to pin me down.
“One, two, three!” she counted, “first fall to me.!
She raised her hands and danced triumphantly.
“You boys are so predictable,” she mocked, “You didn’t see that coming did you? I don’t need all those muscles – I’ve got a pair of these!” she added pointing to her chest.
She was probably right. She had fooled me and I did feel foolish!
I had to win the next fall or my little sister was going to beat me. My fifteen year old pride couldn’t allow that…
Mary pulled her costume back into place. “Ding ding, round 2,” she announced.
I was first off mark.
I didn’t hesitate.
I dived down at her knees, wrapping my arms around them and tackling her to the ground.
We grappled and rolled around on the mattress trying to gain supremacy.
Neither of us could gain a decisive hold, as the other one always wriggled free.
Eventually, we both stood up, panting heavily, chests heaving.
Mary swung her right foot at me.
It was aimed at my crotch!
I reacted with urgency.
Hopping backwards, I caught her foot with my hand, stopping it just inches before it kicked me in the balls!
I held her heel tightly and lifted it higher, until Mary over balanced and toppled onto her back.
“One, two, three!”
I pinned her down and claimed a fall.
The next one would be the winner…
We returned to our corners to prepare for the final battle.
Mary stared at me, making sure she had my full attention, “I was doing better without this,” she told me, throwing her top aside, “I’ll beat you topless!”
“Ding, ding, round 3!”
Time to wrestle again.
We pushed and slapped for a while. Mary’s boobs bounced and swayed before me.
I couldn’t afford to be distracted again.
I pulled her down and we grappled and groped on the mattress, reaching for eachother, dodging away and grabbing wherever we could.
An arm, an elbow, a tit, a hip, an ankle, a tit, a waist, a tit again.
I couldn’t help it, I was getting mesmerized by those bobbling boobs.
I knew I had to snap out of it or I was going to lose the fight.
I decided to try something new.
I tickled her on the ribs.
She instantly broke down into a fit of squeals and giggles, tring to wriggle away from me
I has forgotten that my sister was so ticklish.
“No, no, stop,” she cried – rolling, screaming and giggling, her tits flying all over the place!
I didn’t stop.
I kept on tickling her ribs until she scooted out of reach, then I tickled her between her legs instead.
Oh my word!
She was incredibly ticklish down there!
She exploded in giggles as she tried to scamper away.
But there was on escape.
I held her down and tickled her, without mercy. Torturing her sensitive pussy with sweet, relentless teasing.
“OoooOoo ha ha ooh, stop, stop that now Ooooooo…”
“Do you submit?”
“Oooo ho, yes, yes I submit, I submit!”
I stopped tickling.
I had won the bout.
We both lay there – panting, out of breath. Me in nothing but my swimming trunks and Mary in nothing but half her bikini.
It was a few minutes before either of us could speak again.
“I suppose you want to claim your prize,” said Mary.
“What prize?”
“Don’t pretend you can’t remember our old rules. Loser gets spanked.”
“Yeah but that was when we were kids. We don’t need to do that now.”
“No, fair’s fair.” she shuffled herself over my lap. “How many do I get?”
She was obviously up for it.
“Twenty in that bikini.”
“Twenty? That’s a lot. I only used to get ten!”
“Yes, but you never used to try to kick me in the balls, did you?”
“He he, I’d forgotten about that.
Sorry
How many would I get without the bikini?”
“Fifteen.”
She shook her head, “Ten?”
“Twelve and that’s my final offer.”
“Okay, twelve. You are the victor, after all…”
“And don’t you forget it.”
I pulled her bikini off and bared her well rounded arse.
The aim of the spanking was never to cause too much harm.
Even as youngsters, it was mostly symbolic. A naughty way to humiliate the loser and emphasize winner’s dominance.
Now, as a teenager, it offered an opportunity for intimate touching and for sexy caressing after each blow.
With every slap my hand lingered longer on her forbidden flesh and ventured lower. As her arse got redder, her pussy got wetter.
I reached down into her crotch and rubbed her sex like I owned it.
After stoking and probing the lips and the creases, I moved on to the nub – the secret place where I knew she liked to be touched most. My fingers were moist from her juices and they caressed and teased there until I made Mary moan and squirm.
I think she liked it!
I drew my hand away. Time to be her annoying brother again,
“I can see why you were wearing a bikini,” I teased.
“Why’s that?”
“Because you’re soaking wet down there.”
“Well, I think you need to buy some bigger trunks.” she replied cheekily, looking back over her shoulder.
I glanced down. I could see what she meant. My erection was stretching my swimmers to the limit.
“Fair comment.” I conceded.
“Can I see it?” asked Mary, “I’ve never seen one before.”
To be honest, I was a little bit shy about letting her see my dick, but she was already very naked and I’d just fingered her to orgasm, so I could hardly refuse, could I?
I carefully pulled the front of my trunks over my erection, revealing my rock hard cock.
Mary, looked at it quietly.
“You don’t mind if I touch it do you.”
“Well take care, you know what happened last time.”
“It’s okay. Diane, told me how.” Diane was our 19 year old sister. I was in no doubt that she would knew how to handle a cock.
Mary touched it gently, running her fingertips over the sensitive head, surprised to find that the flesh was so soft even though the shaft was so hard.
Then she wrapped her hand around it, gripping more firmly.
“Diane says boys like girls to hold it like this. Am I doing it right?”
“Oh y y yes.” I was suddenly having difficulty speaking.
“And they like girls to do this, don’t they?”
She started to wank me.
“Oh no no you mustn’t, you’ll make me…”
“I know I’ll make your sperm shoot out like it did when we played James Bond. It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
It was a good job she didn’t mind because I was still young and I came quickly, squirting my creamy spunk across her boobs and her belly.
“Was that good? Did I do it right?”
“Yes, that was very good!
Of course you did it right, just look at yourself – you’re covered in it.”
“Ooo yes.”, she giggled.
I handed her the box of tissues that I kept next to my bed.
“Thanks, Diane says I should taste some first….”
To be continued…
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