Monday 17 August 2015

Who wear Pant in relationship

All Credit goes to original writer, I just re-posting with small improvisation. 
This is little bit long story but worth reading.

Jenny and Sam, Their Struggle
By Counselor
Husband and wife struggle to become the dominant sexual partner.


This is a story of two attractive young people who grew up in the late twentieth century.
 As children of their era and culture Jennifer and Samuel
had to deal with changing sex roles and the evolving customs of marriage. They
have worked hard to create a strong relationship with each other despite ups
and downs. Their marriage is very different from that of their parents, or, in
fact, of what they had dreamed of.

They consulted me after much of the story that I will relate here was over. It
was then my task as a counselor to help them understand and accept what had
happened and to adjust their lives to the realities of the modern world.

I am grateful to both the young man and the young woman for sharing with me
their experiences and their inmost thoughts. I have had to concentrate on
certain aspects of their full lives but have tried to capture the spirit as
well as the actual happenings that illustrate a modern dilemma. Since the
marriage relationships grew and changed, sometimes slowly and sometimes
rapidly, I have chosen to write about various phases so that the careful
reader might better understand how it all happened as it did.

I hope that this report may be of help to others who may have similar
experiences. Given the way the world is evolving, I believe there may be many.

The marriage ceremony was traditional, complete with bridesmaids, groomsmen, a
handsome groom and a radiant bride dressed in white. She was 21 and he 24.
They had known each other for less than a year, but were considered "the
perfect couple" as one of the guests noted. Both families looked forward to a
long and happy marriage of the conventional type.

Jenny admired Sam. He was three years older and, after all, a wife was
supposed to look up to her husband. Besides he was a medical student, a doctor
almost, clever and funny and smarter than she. She loved it when he made her
laugh. Sam reciprocated Jenny's love. She was everything he had ever dreamed
of. He loved her long blonde hair and the charming way she adored him. She had
a beautiful body kept in shape by regular exercise. Their lovemaking went
well. He was gentle and she receptive. The only strains at all were fatigue
and lack of time, for he worked long hours in the hospital and studied when he
was home in their apartment.

As she became more used to his lovemaking, she began to explore his body. She
liked to run her fingers over his chest and the muscles of his arms.
Especially his aroused male organ intrigued her. She liked to feel it against
her. Soon she experimented with holding it and massaging it, enjoying the
effects she could have on him. About three months into the marriage she began
exploring behind his penis, running her fingers over his scrotum. Soon she was
taking his testicles in her hand. It felt good to hold these sources of his
maleness; they fit so easily into her palm. One day she pulled on them and, lo
and behold, his whole body came towards her. She experimented further and
found that she could move his body back and forth just by pulling and pushing.
Where her hand went his body followed. It was fun and gave her a sense of
power and control. Once she said, "Oh, you moved. I like these. I could almost
keep them. No one else can have them. They're my property."

"Yeah. Just be gentle." From then on she called his testicles "her property."

They had tussled playfully since before they were married. She had liked
physical contact since she was a child and had gone on to become an aggressive
basketball player, an accomplished soccer star and reached the state meet in
the 400 meter run. She would sometimes throw herself on him and, although she
was a strong, well-coordinated young woman with a competitive streak, she
would quickly give in to his masculine strength. It was natural to do so, for
she was a woman although she was a 2" taller to him and 15 pounds heavie
but Phase one of the marriage was conventional; it was a happy time.

Phase two began one evening fifteen months after the wedding. They were
playing, laughing and tussling, he sitting on the edge of the bed wearing
nothing but his socks, she standing in front, moving in and out, teasing him.
He reached out pulling her toward him. She ducked down, her head coming close
to his lap. Impulsively, her right hand reached between his legs, closed upon
his testicles and tightened. She heard him gasp and felt his body stiffen. She
pulled with a slightly twisting motion.

Sam's protective instincts took over. He grabbed her wrist with both his hands
pulling toward him to relieve and tension on his balls. They were now face to
face staring into each other's eyes. "Oh, damn," he said, more in dismay than
in anger.

Then, in an attempt to make her let go of him, he twisted his right hand
clockwise and his left counterclockwise painfully stretching her skin. She
could not believe he was actually hurting her. Now it was Jenny's turn to be
dismayed. Tears started in her eyes, but her competitive nature took over. She
countered by squeezing his balls.

Now it was his turn to be surprised. Not only was her grip painful but there
was a fearful sensation in his belly. He eased the tension on the skin of her
arm, continuing to hold her wrist.

Now feeling herself in charge, she gave a further squeeze. "Let go."

"Be gentle."

"I'll be gentle if you let go." In that instant it was over. He dropped his
eyes and released her arm. She had won! She felt power flowing from her hand,
up her arm and through her body. She eased the pressure, but kept his balls
tightly under control. She pulled his manhood toward her, this time gently,
while at the same time pushing on his chest with her other hand. He had no
choice but lie back on the bed. Controlling his body, she moved him as she
wanted finally positioning him on his back in the middle of the mattress. It
was like having a steering wheel. She had but to move her hand and his body
followed. No, it was more like a joy stick or joy balls. Yes, that was it, joy
balls. She was in charge of the controls.

Keeping a firm grasp, she leaned down and kissed him on the lips. This was
heaven. Never had she felt better. She kissed him on the eyes and nose and
lips again. Next she explored his ears with her tongue while he just lay there
and squirmed. It was time for making love. She let go of his balls and rolled
on her back.

Sam had at first been concentrating mainly on keeping her from hurting him.
Wherever her hand led, his crotch followed. He understood what she was doing
and her satisfaction in controlling him, but discomfort and a strange
unpleasant feeling overcame any resistance or even any resentment. Her kissing
and working on his ears had aroused him although he had not kissed her back.
When she let him go, he covered his genitals with both hands, and curled
protectively into a fetal position.

"I'm ready." Her voice was soft and seductive. He realized she was aroused
waiting for him, expecting him to perform, unaware of his weakness and
discomfort. Well, if she were oblivious of the effect that she had had on him,
she should remain so. She would never know. Summoning all the strength and
passion that he could manage, he began to kiss and caress her. He was able to
perform, albeit mechanically, almost without feeling. The climax relaxed him,
but he still had a desire to cup his hands protectively around his balls.

Jenny felt totally relaxed and fulfilled. Wow! This was something new and very
exciting.

Jenny's realization that Sam was vulnerable and that she could actually
control him changed her life. Never before would she have dreamed of
challenging him. She could not have imagined that she could make him obey her
will. Now she walked a little straighter with more self-confidence. She began
to think of movies in which she had seen a woman knee a man in the balls. She
would not do that, but men really were vulnerable. She wondered if any of her
friends had done what she had done.

The next time Sam made love to her he did as he had always done, laid her
gently on her back and leaning over her kissed her and caressed her breasts.
For Jenny it was not the same as in the past. This time she felt hemmed in and
resented being on her back. There was no reason she could not be on top,
kissing him as she had done last time. At least she had these thoughts until
her rising passion blotted them out of her mind.

The next time she was ready. As he put his arm around her and kissed her, her
hand shot between his legs and found her target. For a moment Sam tried to
resist, but her tightening grip on his testicles soon overcame his resolve.
Holding him, she maneuvered his now unresisting body to the middle of the bed
and began kissing him over his face, his neck and his chest. When she judged
him properly aroused, she rolled over saying, "Come get me." Sam was again
able to perform despite an empty feeling in the pit of his abdomen.

Jenny did not challenge Sam for another month, but it was only a matter of
time. Her hand reached for his genitals, but he twisted away protecting
himself. She reached again, but he blocked her and roughly pushed her on to
the bed holding her so that she could neither escape nor reach his balls.
Holding her tightly, he began kissing her. Angered at being held down, Jenny
fought him, but he intensified his kissing, drove his knee between her legs
and mounted her. Her resistance melted away and she let him have his way with
her. He had never forced her like this, but their sex was fierce and intense.
Jenny was dreamy and satisfied afterwards; she hugged him to her. He certainly
could be strong and masterful.

But her fulfillment did not stop her from wanting to control him again. He
could be strong and masterful, but so could she. The thought of holding him
down and kissing him excited her. The next time when he tried to hold her off,
she spread his legs with her knees and throw her whole body between his pelvis,
her hands coming from both front and back both reached their mark. 
He struggled for a few seconds until she firmed up her grip. Then she was in control.

Over the next months many of their lovemaking sessions turned into wrestling
matches as each tried to be in control, to take the lead. They started pretty
evenly matched and remained so as their techniques improved and their bodies
became more conditioned to their matches. Sam's psychological advantage of
being a male were balanced by Jenny's physical condition and by the vulnerability 
of his testicles. The element of surprise was in her favor. He could never predict when, 
in the midst of lovemaking,Jenny would suddenly turn aggressive and grab his balls. 
He tried to protect them at all costs. Once, when things were not going well for him, 
Sam caught hold of Jenny's hair and holding it tight forced her away from his balls.
After that she, cut her hair very short, almost a buzz. She already have more body hair 
than a woman usually has and now her Short hair made her feel less, traditionally feminine. 
It was part of her fighting outfit. 
Sam, who had been ashamed of his hair pulling, felt doubly so now.
 
Sam was becoming increasingly unhappy and nervous. He began having nightmares
and awaking in a cold sweat. He felt more vulnerable than ever before in his
life and sometimes felt an urge to protect his crotch when near his wife. He
thought hard about how to stop her. The obvious way was a talk, but he was
reluctant to let her see what he considered his weakness, that is his
inability to cope with her tactics. Finally he overcame his reservations and
approached Jenny, "Honey, I don't think you should keep grabbing me by the
balls."

"I haven't hurt you have I?"

"No, but sometimes it's unpleasant."

"But I have to. It's my equalizer. Otherwise you'd win all the time. It
wouldn't be fair. Besides, you get hard, so I know it can't be too
unpleasant." With that she reached for his genitals. He countered and they
went at it. He reached for her with his right hand, leaving his left to cover
his crotch. She grabbed the fingers of his right hand with both her hands and
began to bend and twist them. She continued twisting his arm until she was
behind him. She hooked one of his legs with one of hers and tripped him so
that he fell forward. After that it was not too hard to get her arms around
his pelvis. With her right hand she pried loose his fingers from his genitals
and with the left came from behind to seize them. "See, that's my equalizer."

After they had made love, Sam tried to do some serious thinking. She don't had a
point. She was bigger and stronger so why she did need "an equalizer." 
 
Maybe if he just let her make love to him,
 
then she wouldn't go after his balls. He really didn't like her holding his
testicles. It made him feel, strange and out of control. One evening he said,
"Look, Jenny, if you want to make love to me instead of my making love to me,
go ahead. I won't try to stop you."

She answered, "That wouldn't be any fun. I want you to make love to me, if you
can." She laughed and continued, "It's just a woman thing. I want you to make
love to me, except when I want to make love to you and even then I want you to
try." Sam thought to himself, "A woman�s logic. What am I supposed to do?" He
couldn't just give in to her and admit that she had beaten him. He would just
have to watch himself and fight harder. He had been too gentle with her. One
of his problems was that she always started the fights by reaching for his
balls. That gave her an advantage.

Their struggles continued sporadically. Sometimes they went for two months or
more with Jenny playing the responsive wife and Sam in charge of the
lovemaking and them she would erupt and the battle would be on. Sam was more
inventive and kept ahead of Jenny in the tactical area as he thought up new
ways to fend her off or to hold her down, but Jenny quickly learned each new
tactic. Sam was elated when he won and distressed, nervous and unhappy when
she held him down. When the mood was on her, Jenny enjoyed the struggle. Win
or lose, it was a blast. Her confidence grew as she discovered she could more
than hold her own. Once she kept score for several months winning six of nine.

Sam's best strategy proved to stay alert. At the first hint that Jenny might
attack, he attacked. If upright, he bent forward and went for her legs. If in
bed, he would maneuver his body perpendicular to hers holding her with his
arms and upper trunk while keeping his crotch as far away as possible. When he
got it right, he would win.

Their marital relationship continued to evolve. Two events gave Jenny a new
perspective on what was happening and ushered in a new phase of their
marriage. The first happened on a weekend after they went for a long run in
the morning. They both came home sweaty, but Jenny being in better shape was
still fresh and stimulated by the exercise and the smell of Sam's sweat while
her husband was exhausted. Playfully she reached for his crotch. Sam evaded
her and grabbed for her. She laughed and ran into the kitchen with Sam in
pursuit. He grabbed for her again, but she slipped away. Sam chased her around
the house getting more out of breath. He cornered her in the bedroom between
the double bed and the wall. As she tried to leap across the bed, he caught
her ankle. She fell on the bed and turned into a sitting position as Sam began
to work his way up her legs. He got to her thighs and then his head pressing
against her abdomen. She put both hands into his armpits and began tickling
him. He tried to bring his elbows to his sides and when that did not help
turned over to catch her hands. Jenny noted that the back of his neck was in
her crotch and hooked her right leg around his neck and her right foot behind
her left knee. Relieved of the tickling, Sam found himself now trapped. He
tried with both hands to pull down on his leg. Jenny, watching his mounting
efforts, let her foot slide from behind her knee. She made him work hard for
every inch, but slowly let him pull her leg away from his neck. As Sam got her
right leg straightened, she shifted position slightly and brought her left leg
up bringing her calf against the front of his neck and catching her ankle with
her hands to tighten her leg grip.

Sam was tiring fast. He tried to hold her right leg with his right hand and
use the left to pry her left leg loose. Jenny, realizing that Sam was too weak
to get free, relaxed her hold and let him pull free. Relieved, Sam turned on
the now unresisting Jenny, pushed her on her back, mounted her and brought
them both to a satisfying climax.

In the next few days Jenny thought a lot about what had happened. Why had she
let him go? She could have held him if she had tried. Was the reason that she
was the woman and he the man, that he was supposed to be the strong one, the
victor, and she the weak one unable to resist her male mate? She had gone
along with the stereotype. Why? Why had she just played the role of the
defenseless woman and let him play the male role? She was disappointed in
herself.

One episode from the summer when she was thirteen kept coming back to her.
Some boys were feeling rambunctious and pushing girls into the lake. Jerry
made for her. For a moment she fought him and started to push him toward the
lake, but then she thought better of it as she let him push her into the water
and dunk her. Why had she let him do that? Just because all of the boys were
pushing in all of the girls and the girls were just laughing as they were
pushed into the water. She had wanted to be one of the gang. Now she blushed
to think of what she had done as an adolescent. Her whole life had been living
by stereotypes. She could do better. She would do better. Next time she would
do her best. No more stereotypes for her.

The next time did not work out as she planned. She wanted to win without
holding his testicles. She was ready for a good tussle, but Sam came up behind
her, grabbing one breast firmly but gently with each hand, then kneading her
breasts. All thought of fighting him left her as her body, now soft and weak,
surrendered to this sexual stimulation. Her breathing deepened. A low moan
escaped her lips and Sam had his way with her. Their sex was deeply satisfying
to both.

It was two days before Jenny thought seriously about what had happened. It was
nice giving in like that, but she should not do that all the time. Then she
began to wonder about Sam's breasts. She had sometimes rubbed them and pinched
them and kissed them. He responded when she did that. Maybe she could do to
him what he had done to her, make him weak and soft and in a mood to
surrender. Yes, that was it, surrender to her.

After that she began to work his breasts. One night when she had him lying on
his back with his testicles firmly in her grip, she ran her tongue back and
forth over his nipple feeling it harden. Then she took it in her mouth and
began nibbling and then sucking his breast while she tongued his nipple. At
first nothing happened and then gradually he began to move under her until he
was writhing and moaning. Yes, it worked. He could possibly be hers as she had
been his.

Phase three began in earnest a Saturday afternoon they were having an intense
struggle. Jenny was on her back held down by Sam who was in the perfect
position, his body perpendicular to hers so that she could not reach his
balls. He had just started to kiss her breasts when the phone rang. Jenny
answered it without getting up because they were expecting a report on her
grandmother who had been sick. It was Jenny's mother who gave a good report
and then went on to tell her about some of the other relatives. Sam, tiring of
his position, rolled over on his back with his head against Jenny's abdomen.
Keeping his body forming a T with hers, he extended his arms fully lest she
hang up and suddenly reach for him. He settled back comfortably while she
talked on.

When he heard Jenny had put down the phone, Sam stiffened his arms thinking to
keep her in place and to prevent her from reaching his genitals. She closed
her legs around his left arm locking her ankles together and wrapped both her
arms around his right arm. When he did not react, she used one hand to play
with his ear. Sam beginning to turn away suddenly realized that she had
trapped him. Strain as he might, he could not free either of his arms. Sam's
straining excited Jenny. He was really trying and he could not get loose. She
giggled as he struggled; it was so easy to hold him. "Damn." she heard him say
angrily. "Let me go." He was now jerking and twisting, all to no avail. "I'll
get even with you when I get up." She tickled his ear some more and then
managed to reach down and pinch his breast, enjoying teasing him.

Finally she said, "Promise you won't try to get even and I'll let you up."
After he gave a few more jerks, she added, "Well, I'll just keep you hear
until the Patterson's come to pick us up for dinner."

"I'll promise truce for the next ten minutes."

"No. For a month." Continuing with both of her arms wrapped around he right
arm, she was able to reach one hand down and again pinch his nipple.

"Oh. For the rest of the day."

"For a week."

"Let the Patterson's come. I don't care."

Then she had an idea. Keeping her both her arms around his right arm and her
legs locked around his left, she reached her fingers into his right armpit and
began tickling.

"That's no fair. Stop!"

As she continued, Sam panicked. He could not stand being tickled and was
loosing control. His legs were kicking as if by themselves. "OK. OK. A week."
When she continued, he said, "You promised." Reluctantly she stopped.

"You promised to let go." Even more reluctantly she released his arms and
began stroking his hair. Sam understood; she was expecting him to perform. She
didn't seem to care at all about his state of mind. Well, it was just as well
that she couldn't read his mind. He did his job.

Afterwards when she got up, she stood by the bed and struck a double biceps
pose sticking out her tongue at him. Sam felt sick. What had happened to him?
Who did she think she was so proud and cocky?

Jenny's success had a profound effect on the couple. Sam was angry with
himself for being so stupid as to put himself into a position that allowed
Jenny to hold him down. He was just as angry at Jenny for taking advantage of
him. He could not erase from his mind the image of Jenny in a double biceps
pose sticking out her tongue at him. Damn it all. Damn her. He would have to
beat her decisively the next time. He would show her. Strategy was important.
Above all he had to keep his balls out of her reach. After much thought he
knew what he would do. He would approach her on his knees, tackle her around
the legs and work his way up her body. That would do it.

Jenny was excited. She had only just begun to dream that she could hold Sam
down without using her feminine advantage, but there he had been struggling
with all of his might against her. She was strong; she was in good shape; she
had held down a man; he really couldn't get up. She had thought all men were
invincible and now she wondered if she, a woman, could conquer her own
husband, a man in a fair fight without exploiting his weakness. She began to
imagine how she could beat him from scratch without ever touching his balls.
That would be a real blast. She had twisted his arm behind his back giving
herself some control when she went for his balls. Maybe she could do that, or
hold him with her legs. The thought of doing so was very exciting.

"Today's my day to get even," Sam announced.

Jenny, who was knew it was coming, assumed a ready stance. She was surprised
when Sam went to his knees and, walking on them, approached her. She backed
away and, when he pursued her, circled him, keeping out of the way because of
her greater mobility. For about a minute and a half Sam stalked her while she
studied him and planned her next move. It came suddenly. She circled rapidly
to her left. As soon as she was to his side, she threw herself at him,
knocking him off balance so that he fell to his left. She seized his right arm
with both of hers, twisting with all of her might. Oops. She was twisting the
wrong way. She reversed the twist and was gratified that she was able to get
his wrist behind his back and then force it up between his shoulders. As he,
still on his knees, was forced to bend forward she slid her legs around him
and locked her ankles. Now she had him, his right arm in a hammerlock and his
body trapped in her scissors hold. As he struggled, she began to apply
pressure.

Sam was alarmed. Damn it! This was not supposed to happen. He fought
desperately with the strength of his increasing despair but all to no avail.
Excited and very pleased with herself, Jenny straightened her legs putting
painful pressure on his abdomen. Then an idea occurred to her - the coup de
grace. She loosed her left hand from his wrist, using her leverage to keep up
the pressure with her right. With her free hand she reached between his legs
from behind. He pulled his legs together, but it was too late. Her hand was
between his legs, her fingers probing for his balls as he squirmed miserably
and ineffectively. This was terrible. More that anything else Sam wanted to
get free, away from this confining hold.

"Give up?" The question caught him at his most distraught.

"Yes." The answer had popped out before he had time to think. Surprised by the
anguish in his voice, Jenny immediately released his arm and unlocked her
ankles.

"No. I didn�t mean it. I don't want to give up. I didn't mean that...Go back
to where we were."

She pulled her legs from around him and climbed to her knees and then her
feet.

"Please, Jenny. I didn't mean it. It just popped out. Let's go back to where
we were."

"No. It's over."

"Jenny, please. It isn't fair. We weren't finished."

Her concern for him was turning to irritation. "Don't be a poor sport. I had
you."

"You did, but I didn't mean to give up. I was ready to go on."

Now he was trying to deprive her of her well-earned triumph. "You are just
trying to make me feel bad because I won. If you had won, I wouldn't have done
that to you."

That's different."

"It isn't different." She started to walk out of the room.

"Jenny, wait. Let's start over again. Please. I'll be a good sport about what
happened, but I deserve another chance."

"No. It just makes you upset. If I had known you would get so upset, I
wouldn't have wrestled with you in the first place."

"How about tomorrow?"

"No. If you feel so bad, we�ll do it again now and I'll let you win."

"That's not what I mean."

"I'm not going to fight you again. Period." With that she walked out of the
room leaving Sam in despair. He had been stupid, trying to chase her on his
knees. He blushed with shame when he thought of his giving up, but he hadn't
meant it. It just came out when he wasn�t thinking. She should have given him
another chance. Damn her. It wasn't fair. The more he thought about it the
more miserable he became.

Jenny was still angry as she straightened up the kitchen. She had beaten him
fair and square and had every right to be proud and happy about it. He was a
bad sport, a typical man who couldn't stand it if a woman was better at
anything. Well, if that was the way he was, she knew she was better and didn't
need to prove it again. That was the end of it.

The weeks passed. Jenny had reverted to the traditional wife. She never
challenged Sam. She refused his overtures to tussle. She let him take the lead
in all affectionate encounters. As more time went by, however, her resolve
began to weaken. She chafed at the fact that he was always in charge of the
lovemaking. Why should that be? If she wanted, she could take the lead and he
would not be able to do anything about it. The fact that he seemed to take his
superior role for granted irritated her. The only reason she let him do it was
that he was such a bad sport. Sometimes she watched him as he moved about
their home. He looked so manly; yet she had beaten him. She had heard him give
up to her. He really had. The remembrance excited and pleased her. She was
very proud of what she had done...if only he was not such a poor sport about
it.

It happened two weeks before their fifth anniversary. She was on her back in
bed submitting to his kisses. She ran her fingers over his abdomen, down and
suddenly reached between his legs, seizing "her property." Pulling on his
testicles and pushing on his chest, she rolled him over on his back while she
turned on her side and raised up so that she was looking down at him. "There.
That's better." She leaned down and kissed him hard on the mouth and blew in
his ear. It felt so good to be in charge.

Sam did not resist. In fact, he was hopeful. Maybe the struggle was back. Now
he might have another chance to redeem himself, to defeat her. For the moment
he was happy to submit. He could wait.

In the next days Sam became increasingly excited. He planned to let her get
comfortable with their new relationship. She clutched his testicles and took
the lead in love making a couple of weeks later and then again three weeks
after that. Jenny easily held down her unresisting husband, enjoying her
control. Sam submitted tamely biding his time.

And the next time was different. Sam had positioned himself to make it hard
for her to reach his crotch. When she tried, he moved roughly and quickly,
grabbing her to hold her down, ramming his knee between her legs and
positioning himself on top. Surprised, she started to resist, but by then he
had already begun penetration. She struggled mildly rather enjoying his
fierceness.

The next six months were filled with struggles. Each used all the tactics and
tricks learned from earlier days plus new ones developed as they fought. Jenny
was exhilarated. She loved to be in charge, too kiss Sam and hold him, to
bring him to a high pitch of arousal before letting him make love to her. She
grew confident that, when she wanted to, she could beat him. He was so
vulnerable. But sometimes she didn't feel like winning and then he would be so
fierce that she would be carried away by his passion and his triumph.

Sam was much less happy. He too enjoyed his triumphs. That is the way it
should always be, but they were too infrequent. She had become adept at
arousing him, but it just did not feel right to be held down by his wife. And
he still did not like being manipulated by his balls. He began to resent her
victories. Besides the fights were unfair. She always had the advantage
because she always made the first move. If he tried to, she would say in a
cold tone, "Let me go. I don't want that." And that was that; he could not
force her against her will; that was not in his character.

Lovemaking was, however, not always fighting. Sometimes it was like the old
days, slow and gentle, the traditional husband making love to the traditional
wife. One night Sam put his arms around Jenny. They hugged and kissed and then
got ready for bed. Neither knew that they were entering phase four of the
marriage.

As Jenny settled into her pillow, Sam leaned over kissing her hair. Encouraged
by her acceptance, he kissed her lips and his right hand settled gently on her
left breast. But he had misjudged her mood. She put both her hands on top of
his and then simultaneously bent back his fingers and twisted. The pain from
his knuckles seemed to shoot directly into his now rotated shoulder. He turned
his body to the left trying to ease the discomfort so that he could pull away
his hand, but the move was a mistake. For now she gained the leverage to force
his hand behind his back. He tried to roll further, but it was too late. She
had him in a hammerlock.

Anger now welled within him; she had caught him off guard when he was only
being a loving husband. "Damn it, Jenny! I was being gentle." Fury fueled his
resistance and the violence of his thrashings, but those struggles only
increased his pain as she pushed his wrist further up between his shoulder
blades.

As his resistance began to wane she leaned close to his ear and licked it
whispering, "Give up?"

Through his anger came an idea. "On one condition."

"What?"

"That we start over again...even. And we fight fair."

She was wide-awake now. Intoxicated by her success and mounting sexual
excitement, she was ready for anything. "OK!"

He lay quietly for a moment. "OK, OK...All right...Well...let go."

"I haven't heard the magic words."

"I said OK."

She did not respond. He clenched his teeth together and muttered quietly, "OK,
I give up."

The words thrilled through her; she felt a swelling in her chest, but she
couldn't resist going further. "I can't hear you."

"OK. I GIVE UP."

Still, she wanted more, "I give up to my wife."

"Damn it! I give up to my wife."

"Don't swear. Say I give up to my wife and I love her.'"

Now all he wanted to get it over with. "I give up to my wife and I love her."

She released him. Gingerly he straightened his arm, rubbing it back toward
normal. As he got up from the bed he saw that she was waiting for him in a
half crouch with her arms extended ready to do battle. Already she was closing
on him. He felt his stomach tighten. "Wait! Wait! I'm not ready." He began
shaking his arm as he tried to collect his thoughts. "I have to go to the
bathroom."

He turned on the faucet to fill a glass of water. His hands felt cold. He
wasn't ready. He looked at himself in the mirror. The familiar face staring
back had surrendered and actually said, "I give up." He felt a sinking
feeling. He had to pull himself together. Yes, damn it, he would be ready. He
would be confident. Nothing was the matter with him. Beating Jenny would be a
snap.

Jenny, meanwhile, was looking forward to the contest. Win or loose, it would
be a blast. She had already heard the words, "I give up to my wife and I love
her." Who would think it? It was unbelievable. She flexed her biceps and felt
the firm swell under her soft skin. She had done it without taking advantage
of his male organs. Never underestimate the power of a woman.

They faced each other. He charged head down like a football player trying to
bring his opponent to the ground. She sidestepped, twisting, and wrapped her
arms around his head. His momentum brought then both down. She ended on her
knees, but with a firm front headlock. She tried to roll him onto his back,
but he slipped out of the hold before she could follow up on her advantage.

Again they faced each other. This time Sam was more cautious; he was breathing
heavily. They closed like two experienced wrestlers testing and feinting.
Sam's desire began to well in him as it had earlier in the night. He was
distracted for only an instant, but it was long enough. Jenny grabbed his leg
and lifted. Down he went with Jenny on top. He tried to escape, but she
maneuvered her body this way and that countering first one move and then
another. He fought with increasing desperation. Then he realized that her
thigh was pushed firmly into his crotch. He locked his legs around hers and
rolled. He almost succeeded in turning her onto her back, but her forearm
pushed painfully against the front of his neck and they broke.

They faced each other a third time. Jenny watched him, totally engrossed in
the battle, calculating the next move. Sam, on the other hand, was detached,
almost as if he were watching himself. He was breathing harder than ever. He
realized that his strength and his concentration were waning as sexual desire
kept trying to intrude into his consciousness. Then the thought formed in his
mind, "She's gotten too good. I'm going to loose."

Now Jenny was the aggressor with Sam defending himself as well as he could.
She achieved a side headlock and this time threw him over her hips on to the
rug. She pounced on him holding him on his back. He tried to get up but as he
tired she countered his efforts with increasing ease and confidence. He knew
he was becoming less effective. He fought down the thought that in the end he
would loose. He tried to concentrate, exerting all of the will he could
muster.

He seemed to be making progress when all of a sudden his body could not or
would not continue the fight. His body became weak as his resistance totally
collapsed. "Are you OK?" she asked, feeling his limpness and alarmed that she
might have injured him.

"Yeah. I'm OK."

"Did I hurt you?"

"No."

Then she knew. The fight had gone out of him. She had won. This was it. She
pulled herself up and then dropped on him, locking his wrists to the floor
with her hands and putting her knees on his shoulders. "I win."

He did not dispute her, but looked up at her with wide eyes.

A sense of power and control such as she had never before known flooded
through her. She slid down and kissed him. He was passive and drained. Her
tongue probed then entered his mouth, exploring deeper and deeper. She wanted
him and he was hers. Never had she been so ecstatic. Desire overpowered her.
She undressed him, fondled him, kissed his face, his breasts, his body. He was
hers as in the early days of marriage she had been his. He tried to clasp her
breast. "Stop! She pushed his hands away. Don't move, not unless I tell you
to." He obeyed.

Then slowly she took him inside her, repeating, "Don't move. Don't move." She
slid down on him and began rhythmically to thrust herself against him, again
and again, harder and harder. Sam lay quietly, not moving a muscle, unwilling
to cooperate in being ravished. He forced his mind to ignore what was
happening to his body. He counted the objects in the room and then began
naming all of the parts of a nearby lamp, anything to distract himself from
what she was doing to him. As long as he could keep his mind occupied, he
might keep his sexual arousal in check. But it became more difficult to hold
his concentration. As he lost it, he imagined himself on a desert island. A
tidal wave was sweeping over it, the water now pressing against him.
Desperately he clutched at a palm tree as the wave began to lift him. He would
not be swept away. He would not. But the wave was strong. As he lost his grip
he gave himself to its power. Swept away by her passion his body jerked and
bucked. Now he wanted to be on top. With all his strength he tried to roll
their locked bodies, but she spread her legs further and held her position,
almost instantly regaining her rhythm. With a cry he gave himself totally to
sexual passion. His surrender brought her climax to a hitherto unrealized
peak.

Afterwards she hugged him and kissed him and crooned to him. He hugged her and
kissed her back, for now he needed her strength and her reassurance. Never in
his life had he been so naked, so vulnerable, so helpless before another. His
body, his emotions, even his will were no longer his but hers. Never in her
life had she felt so powerful, so totally in charge, so satisfied. A radiant
smile lit her face. She leaned and kissed him. "Oh, I love you so."

He clung to her wanting her to stay close, to hold him, to fend off the sense
of defeat. "Stay with me; don't leave me." She understood his need and cradled
him in her arms.

The next day seemed surprisingly normal. Jenny put on her favorite dress and a
little more eye makeup than usual. She looked at herself in the mirror and was
totally satisfied. There she was feminine, perhaps not beautiful but good
looking with a great body, a body that was strong as well as pretty, dominant
(yes, that was the word) dominant and feminine. She felt invincible. Every
time she thought of the preceding night she was flooded with a happy
satisfaction.

Sam looked at his body in the mirror also. What had happened to him last
night? He would think about it tomorrow.

Two nights later Jenny led Sam to bed, undressed him and laid him gently on
his back. Then not knowing what to do she turned off the bedside light. She
could still see him lying there. It was now up to her. Actually without
knowing it he was her role model. She did to him what he used to do to her.
She kissed him on the eyes, the face, the ears and then the lips. Her tongue
entered his mouth and probed. She liked the feeling of entering him. When his
tongue pressed forward passing her teeth, she bit it so that he withdrew. She
took hold of his genitals and then moved her lips down to his chest. She
kissed his breasts, licked them and then took his left breast into her mouth.
As she sucked she felt him gasp; his breathing became heavier.

Sam had felt cold as he lay naked on the bed waiting for Jean to finish
fooling with the light. He trembled in his vulnerability, not knowing what to
expect. It felt weird, passively accepting her probing tongue. He tried to get
into the game, but he got a painful bite in return. He felt her hand seeking
his balls and then closing around them; it was arousing, but he felt
uncomfortable, weak and very vulnerable. He wished he were in charge. Then she
was working on his breasts. He had never thought much about his breasts
before, but her sucking was doing something to him. He felt his stomach knot
up. He was breathing hard. She was getting to him. Soon he realized that he
was loosing control over his body. He wanted her to go on and on, to arouse
him further. She possessed him. He was not thinking of resistance or of
pleasuring her, but only of what she was doing to him and of how he loved it.
The thought, "Was made for this?" flashed through his mind. He moaned as his
body began to writhe under her ministrations.

Jenny's excitement matched Sam's. She had crossed another barrier. There was
nothing that he could do that she could not do and do it better. She pulled up
looking down at him. "Oh, honey," he moaned. He was in her hands; she could do
anything to him. What? She shifted her mouth to his other breast and stroked
the inside of his thighs, then his scrotum, then his erection. Excited beyond
measure, she took him inside her, lay still and then slowly began her pelvic
thrusts, increasing in force and tempo until they climaxed.

The next ten months were happy ones. The struggles were behind them. Their
relationship was mutually satisfying. Outside of the bedroom Jenny was the
traditional wife, catering to the wishes and needs of her busy and frequently
tired husband, but inside the double bed the story was different. Jenny liked
being in charge. Sam was almost always ready when she felt like making love.
She watched him with amusement when he would kiss her gently or snuggle up to
her hoping she would make love to him. She liked to satisfy him, but sometimes
she ignored him just to build up his desire.

Surprisingly Sam adapted equally well. He was glad that their fights were
over. He had learned that it was pleasurable when Jenny took the lead. There
was no need to perform, for she decided when to make the first move and when
to couple their bodies together. In fact, she did all the work. When too much
time passed, he would long for her to take over his body and bring him to
arousal.

Jenny played the role traditional for the male. She would kiss and stroke his
body until he was in a high state of arousal and then spread his legs and mount him and bring them
both to a climax. She liked the feeling of power and of control.

She began to concentrate on his breasts, first kissing them and then taking
one in her mouth and sucking hard while her tongue played over his nipple.
Playing with his breasts pleased her very much. It was such a masculine thing
to do and after the first few times he responded in a very satisfactory way by
moaning and writhing. She sometimes thought of the early days of their
marriage when her resistance would melt away as he played with her breasts and
then she would be all his. She knew what she was now doing to him and she
liked it.

One night when she had him quite aroused, she pulled up from sucking his
breasts, and said, "Your breasts are kind of dull."

"Ohhhh," he said, pulling her head down on his breast, "Not to me."

She pulled up higher. "They are to me. Look at these breasts." She pushed her
breasts down into his eyes and then rubbed them back and forth over his face.
He responded by kissing her breasts and taking one in his mouth and sucking.
"See what I mean." As he reached up, she added, "Keep your hands off."

Thus her breasts became an important part of their love making as were his.
Sometime later she lowered her chest into his face and with her hands pushed
her breasts over his nose and mouth. "I'm going to smother you." It was hard
to breathe and soon he felt as if he really might smoother. He struggled to
free himself, but she held on tightly. He tapped her as a sign that she should
let her up and made a muffled noise. She pulled up. "Give up to my breasts."

"No. I won't give up to your breasts."

"Admit they are more interesting than yours."

"I admit that."

"But you won't give up to them."

"Not tonight. I am ready for you."

She mounted him and gently brought him to climax.

The next morning Sam watched her as she dressed. What a woman! She was
beautiful and so graceful. He was lucky. What if she was the one who led the
lovemaking. He smiled to himself as he thought, "Give up to my breasts." How
foolish. What self confidence. He was satisfied and at peace. He almost called
her to come love him, but it was too late and he had to get dressed himself.

The idyllic relationship was bound to run into rough weather. That was the
fifth phase of this marriage. About ten months after it started, Sam was
assigned a new junior resident, Amanda Wright. She was bright and competent as
expected of anyone in that role. She was about 5 feet 8 inches, slim with a
somewhat aquiline face, not really pretty, but not bad looking. The first
patient she was assigned was a two and a half-year-old girl who looked very
ill.

"Something bad is going on," Amanda reported. "I think she may have a brain
tumor. She is obtunded with abnormal reflexes and I believe papilledema."

Sam examined the child briefly, "What about lead poisoning?"

"Oh, I never thought of that. I should have."

It turned out that the child had lead poisoning. That episode established
their relationship. Amanda was impressed with Sam's clinical skills and from
then on looked up to him as her senior physician and teacher. She began to
rely on him for advice not only in the professional arenas but also asked his
advice on how to find an apartment and how to approach the chief of service
for changes in her schedule. Sam was very gratified by this unstinted
admiration from a talented young woman.

His leadership relationship with Amanda was so different from his passive
relationship with Jenny. Increasingly his marriage seemed uncomfortable and
finally perverse. "What," he thought to himself, "If Amanda knew my
relationship with Jenny? Would she still respect me?" He answered that
question for himself in the negative.

Sam began to feel that no self-respecting man would have surrendered all the
initiatives in love making to his wife. He sometimes thought of Amanda when
Jenny made love to him. With Amanda it would be different; he would be in
charge. Finally he said to Jenny, "Don't you think that sometimes I should be
making love to you?"

"Don't you like my lovemaking?"

"Yes, but you might like mine, too."

"I like to make love to you. You used to be in charge and now it�s my turn.
Besides I know that I can arouse you quicker than you could ever arouse me."
With that she began rubbing his penis.

"But, Jenny, I'm the man and I have rights."

"But, Sam, I'm the woman and I have rights."

"At least we should take turns," he said, his voice growing testy.

She took his balls in her hand and began to play with them. "Do you really
want to challenge me?"

"Not when you're holding my balls."

"Your strength and your weakness. Lie back and stop complaining."

He did.

A week later Sam tried another approach. "Jenny, I am a man. I was raised a
man and have a man�s natural pride. I want to be the man of the family. I mean
I want to take the lead at least some of the time."

He could not have picked a better way to irritate Jenny. Hearing him claim
special rights just because he was a man seemed to her to be a put down of all
she had accomplished and stood for, of the role that she had earned for
herself. "You had your turn and now it is mine," she snapped.

"Look, it all started that night when I stopped fighting you. I don't feel
that way any more."

"Well."

"I feel like I really should be the one to wear the pants in the family. I'm
ready to fight for it if that is what it takes."

There it was again that masculine thing. He wanted to take away what she had
earned. "Oh, come on. Who cares who �wears the pants in the family.� I wear a
skirt. Does that give me any special rights?"

"You know what I mean. I just want to be the man in the family, the
traditional man for a change."

Jenny almost lost her cool, but she restrained herself. Nonetheless she could
not resist rubbing in her superiority. "Come over here and sit on my lap and
I'll make you forget all that nonsense."

"Jenny, please. Wait. I want to talk."

"You talk to much. Come over here." She rose, reached out, encircled him with
her arms and pulled him toward her.

Sam tried to pull away, but she tightened her grip. "Stop resisting me." She
sat down pulling him onto her lap. Both her hands sought his breasts; her
fingers began rubbing his nipples. She'd teach him to be a male chauvinist.

"Jenny, don't. Please. I want to talk." But his voice was weaker. The months
had conditioned Sam; his resistance began to melt away. Jenny knew she had
him. She massaged his nipples between her thumbs and forefingers. She liked
the way his nipples hardened under her manipulations. When he began to writhe
and moan, she felt excitement and pleasure, for she knew he was now hers just
as she wanted, just as he deserved to be. His head flopped back on her
shoulder; she blew in his ear, never stopping working his breasts.

"Now forget about who wears the pants or who's supposed to do this or that;
you just want me to make love to you. You can't stop me anyway. You don't have
to admit anything. Just relax."

Sam just lay back accepting her dominance. He was getting very aroused. Now he
wanted her to take him, but she kept working on his breasts. As his excitement
increased he began to worry that she might bring him to ejaculation just
through his breasts. "Jenny, I'm ready." Jenny was now carried away by her
power to reduce him through his breasts. The stimulation continued. "Jenny,
please...please. I don't know if I can hold on. Oh, Jenny, please before it is
too late."

When she finally led him to bed, he welcomed her mounting him and her strong
pelvic thrusts. He wrapped his leg on her hips and respond vigorously matching her
 rhythm, willingly, even
joyously, surrendering his semen to her. Afterwards he lay in her arms,
drained and weak. Jenny was strong and fulfilled. This man was hers. She knew
it and she knew he knew it.

Sam remained in a passive state for a week, but gradually, especially after he
had been with Amanda, the need to assert himself resurfaced. What was the
matter with him? He had absolutely caved in. Jenny had not even taken him
seriously. She was treating him as if she thought he was her sexual plaything
that she could turn on and off as she wished. She hadn�t even listened to him.
She had just gone after his breasts as if he were a woman. Enough of that.

"Jenny, I have something I really want to say. I want you to listen to me and
take what I say seriously. Will you please just listen to me?" She started
toward him. "Jenny, please, I don�t want sex now. I just want to talk. I want
you to take me seriously. Please. It is very important to me."

Jenny sat down, "Go ahead."

"Jenny all this is really getting to me. I love you very much. I love it when
you make love to me. You are wonderful at it. It is just that I want to make
love to you sometime."

"So...What�s stopping you?" She arched her eyebrows; her face took on an
inviting look.

"Well, you have just been taking charge."

"Well?" It was a challenge.

"Well, it all started..." Sam tailed off not having expected this response.
Certainly he did not want to challenge her now. He was in terrible shape and
she was always in top condition. Damn it! He wanted to but not now. "Well, it
all started," he repeated himself, "when I didn�t feel like battling you and I
just haven�t since, and...well, I don�t know I just thought we should talk
about it."

She caught his hesitancy and knew she had the upper hand. "We are talking
about it. Whenever you want to take charge, you just let me know and give it a
try. We'll see who, what did you say, who wears the pants. Now, unless you
want to try right now, come over here and sit on my lap."

Sam realized what was happening; he was just caving in. He also knew what
would happen next. He was almost disgusted with himself as he felt his member
stiffen. He moved over and sat on her lap. Any remaining resolve faded as her
hands ran over his body.

Jenny was a bit disappointed at the ease of her triumph. She had expected him
to challenge her. She sensed that he would be unhappy with himself over
backing down so readily. Besides she had not told him that she had been taking
a self-defense course. It would be fun to try out some of the things she had
learned. Well, someday he wouldn�t back down and she would be ready. Now she
would make sure he was totally hers.

The next day Sam took stock. Once again his wife had dominated him
psychologically, as much as physically and sexually. He had to assert himself;
his self-respect demanded it, but first he had to ready himself. He had to get
himself in shape. He vowed that everyday he would go to the hospital gym and
work out for at least an hour. Sam was surprised at how out-of-shape he was,
but he kept at it and soon began to notice the difference.

In addition to her workouts, Jenny's self-defense course had given her added
confidence. She had learned how knee a man in the groin, grab his testicles,
and poke her fingers in his eyes, but she kept after Ellen, the instructor, to
teach less violent techniques. Finally Ellen agreed to set up a class to teach
judo and wrestling throws and holds if enough people would sign up. Jenny
talked three of her friends into it. They all liked their slim 28-year-old
instructor and had some laughs as they went through their paces. From time to
time she brought a man into the class to bring realism into the practice of
self-defense.

Jenny�s first man was a young strapping fellow about twenty. She was tentative
when he attacked and tried a hip throw, but he grabbed her and brought her to
the floor. It was a bit exciting, wrestling unsuccessfully against a strong
man, but she promised herself not to make the same mistake. Against the second
man Jenny executed the hip throw perfectly and, keeping hold of his arm, ended
up sitting on top of him with a hammerlock. The excitement of holding a man
helpless under her was totally different from that she had experienced with
her first opponent. From then on she looked forward to the days when she could
try her skills against a man. Only occasionally did the man get the better of
her.

Jenny knew that Sam was in training and could feel the hardening of his
muscles. Knowing that he was getting ready to challenge her, Jenny went out of
her way to dominate him sexually. She brushed away any attempts of his to be
active. Sam had learned to accept her lead. He was used to it now and knew
that, if he resisted, Jenny would go for his balls or his breasts and quickly
bring him under her control. She teased him by blowing in his ears and aroused
him by rubbing the inside of his thighs and his organs, but the most effective
way weaken him and take away the last shadow of resistance was to suck on his
breasts until his body writhed uncontrolably. Then she could mount his totally
passive body, take his member inside her and begin rhythmic pelvic thrusts. It
pleased her to dominate him physically and sexually, to take his strength and
his semen into herself.

Sam was aware of what was happening. The problem was he did not know what to
do about it. He was not yet ready to challenge Jenny and his body and his will
just collapsed before her. It came to the point where once she touched him, he
was feable and helpless. One look from her could make him weak in the knees.
He worried a lot. He had to be mentally strong as well as physically strong to
challenge her and then there was his weak point, his balls. He thought of
buying a protector, but he never did. Somehow it seemed unmanly.

The day came when Sam felt he was physically ready to challenge Jenny. For the
next couple of weeks he steeled himself mentally and emotionally. It took more
courage that he would have dreamed. "Jenny, tonight I am going to make love to
you." He got it out. There it was.

"No, not tonight. I don�t feel like it. Maybe tomorrow."

"But, Jenny, I am ready tonight."

She smiled sweetly and said in her most feminine way, "I�ll still be here
tomorrow."

Sam felt defeated again, but steeled himself. When the time came, he would be
ready. Jenny was not ready on the next night, Friday. Saturday night they had
dinner with another couple. After they had undressed and gotten ready for bed,
Jenny sat on a chair. "Come sit on my lap."

"You come sit on my lap."

Jenny smiled sweetly looking as provocative as she knew how. "No, you will
just have to sit there and I will sit here."

"Jenny, it�s time to make love and I want to make love to you. I love you. But
I don't intend to let you out-wrestle me again. I am in good shape now. And I
won't collapse again the way I did once."

"You don�t like my lovemaking?"

"Of course, I do, but now it's my turn. I am the man of the family."

There was that "man" thing again. He just could not let go of it. Jenny got
up, walked to the bed and sat on it, looking for all the world like a sweet,
innocent girl. Sam loved that look, her slim, well-formed legs, her beautiful
neck, the shape of her head, her hair that she had re-grown. Sam smiled to
himself. Well, this was it. "Jenny, I am going to make love to you tonight. If
you try to resist, you will have to out-wrestle me."

"Come over here first and give me a kiss. Then we'll talk about wrestling."

As he leaned over to kiss her, her hand darted into his crotch. The flimsy
pajamas offered no protection. She closed around his balls. Sam was stunned at
being caught so off guard. Both his hands closed on her forearm, but there was
nothing he could do. She stood up and looking into his eyes said, "I accept
your challenge. Let's wrestle."

"But we can't start like this."

"Why not?"

"Because you have the advantage."

"I guess you are going to say this isn't fair."

"It isn't."

"All's fair in love and war and this is both...Well, I'm ready." She moved
quickly around him causing him to turn so that his back was to the bed. She
shoved his chest with her right hand while pulling down on his balls with her
left and maneuvered him on his back in the center of the bed. She lay
crosswise and took his left breast in her mouth. "Do I win?"

"I am not fighting."

"You challenged me. I did not challenge you." Her thumb locked around his
penis and began moving up and down. She went to work on his breasts. As he
began to writhe and moan, she added, "I win." His body was still tense trying
to resist her. She kept her grip on his genitals, but stopped massaging them
to concentrate on his breasts. Her free hand worked on one nipple and her
mouth on the other breast.

Sam felt fooled, trapped and resentful. There was nothing he could do now, but
the next time would be different. He tried to keep that in mind, but it kept
slipping away as she worked his breasts. "Dammit. Dammit." He said to himself.
And then suddenly as if she had turned a key in his chest, he gave in. He was
hers again, all hers. She felt his body relax and knew that he had come under
her control. She toyed with him a while, enjoying her dominance and then, "Are
you ready for me to claim my victory?"

"OK." His words conveyed both acceptance and resentment.

She mounted him and began her thrusts, stronger and more arousing than ever.
They climaxed together.

Sam was in a state of shock for two days. He went through the motions of
living as if he were a zombie. It was in the gym that he first began to sort
out what had happened. All his hard conditioning and all his resolve had
gained him nothing. She had tricked him. It was unfair. The more he thought
about it, the angrier he became. Dammit. His balls had done him in again. And
then she had rubbed it in. She had treated him as if he were the woman,
working his breasts until he was weak and helpless, claiming victory before
she fucked him. And worst of all he had given in. He had said he was ready. He
had been as aroused as she. He had loved it. He was now on the track running
faster and faster as if to run away from her, as if to catch her and show her
who was the boss. Oh, what was he doing anyway.

The days went by. Ned did not challenge Jenny. On Thursday he knew she wanted
to make love. He flirted a little and then gave himself to her. And so life
went on for another two months. He continued to work out. He continued to tell
himself that he should challenge her again but kept putting it off.

Finally he plunged ahead. He had worked out his speech in advance. "Jenny, may
I talk to you...I want you to sit over there and I will sit here until we have
finished talking. Jenny, please do this for me. Is that OK?"

"OK."

"Jenny, I want something very badly and I want you to help me. It is hard for
me to say it, but I want to wrestle with you, starting from scratch with no
surprises, fair and square. Jenny, you have to give me a chance. I don't want
you to make love to me or to grab my balls before we start. I want to start
equal. Please give me that chance."

"Why?"

"I've tried to explain to you. The last time we wrestled something happened to
me. I don't know what it was, but I couldn't go on. So you won and took charge
of our lovemaking. I just want another chance. Please."

"You want me to let you win?"

"No. No. I want you to do your best. I just want an even chance."

"If I win, you will say it wasn't fair."

"No. You don't understand. If it is fair, I will say it was fair," he
protested knowing in his heart that she had a point.

"You'll be mad if I win and I'll be mad if you win. Why should we wrestle?"

"Jenny, I will not be mad if you win."

Jenny was enjoying the conversation and his earnestness. "If I won, you
wouldn't admit it anyway."

"Yes I would."

"That would be the day. I have beaten you a lot of times and you've never
admitted it."

"I would this time. Please, Jenny."

"You shouldn't wrestle with me because, when I win, you'll just be more
unhappy."

Ned did not miss the "when," but he plunged on. "I couldn't be more unhappy
than I am now."

"Come over here and I'll make you happy."

"No, Jen. Please. Don't start that. We have to finish this conversation."

"And then will you come over and sit on my lap?"

"When we finish."

"OK. I'm finished."

"Jenny, I am not. Please wrestle with me."

Jenny had gotten increasingly excited. She really wanted to wrestle, to try
out some of her holds on him, to show off a little.

"I'll wrestle with you, but I will pick the time."

"When?"

"I don't know."

"I have to know."

"Well, sometime in the next three weeks."

"OK. One more thing. Will you promise not to surprise me? I mean will you let
me know ahead of time so that I can be ready?"

"I'll let you know at least a day ahead of time so that you can think about
it. Now be quiet and come over here. We'll see how strong you are when I
finish with you."

"Tomorrow is Saturday. We'll have our match at 4:30 p.m. We'll start even.
Neither of us will have any excuses and you won't be able to say anything was
unfair. Understand?"

"Yes. OK."

"And if I win, you will admit it. OK?"

"OK."

Sam was in his shorts, his feet and chest bare. He had hardly slept the night
before. Jenny was in a one-piece bathing suit looking and feeling fresh. What
a lark, she thought. He looks strong. Maybe he will win, but we'll see.

They stood facing each other. Sam moved forward tentatively. They locked arms,
tugging and pulling, seeking an advantage. Jenny pulled him to the right and
as Sam crossed his legs to keep his balance, she ducked, grabbed him under the
left knee and lifted. Sam tried to hop on his right leg to keep his balance,
but Jenny twisted and lifted. Down he went on his right side with Jenny now
holding his lower leg. He rolled onto his stomach, but Jenny now had his foot
under her armpit putting pressure on him while her other arm looped around his
neck. He put his arm back to try to push her away. That was a mistake.
Releasing his leg, she caught his wrist, pushing it between his shoulder
blades. Soon Sam was face down with Jenny sitting on the small of his back
holding him with a painful hammerlock. "Give up?"

"No."

"I've got you."

"But I won't give up."

"Admit I've got you and you can't get up." She put more pressure on his
shoulder.

"I'll admit that."

"Admit I've beaten you fair and I'll give you another chance."

"OK."

"Say it."

"You have beaten me fair this time." Jenny was satisfied. That was a first.
She released him, stood up and pulled back her hair. She had forgotten to cut
it and hoped he would not try to pull it. Well, even if he did, it wouldn't
matter; she had gotten so much better than he.

By the time Sam got to his feet Jenny was already in a wrestler's crouch.
Again they closed, pulling and tugging. Sam decided to try for a headlock.
When he moved in, Jenny moved into him and executed a near-perfect arm thrown.
Sam went over on his back hard. Before he could recover, Jenny was on top of
him. She caught him in an arm-bar and rolled her weight on to his shoulders.
Sam was trapped, his shoulders on the floor.

"You're pinned."

"OK."

"Fair?"

"Fair."

Jenny released him, got to her feet and assumed her crouch.

"Wait. Let me get my breath. You're pretty good." Sam could hardly believe she
had put him down twice so quickly. He had expected a challenge but not this,
not to be totally outclassed in two bouts. He thought back to the early days
of their marriage when he had easily dominated her physically. What had
happened? Some of it must be psychological. He steeled himself for the third
go. "I'm ready."

The start was the same except that Sam was more cautious, waiting for Jenny to
make a move, hoping for an opening. She moved in as though for another
arm-throw. As he pulled in his arm, she slid behind him. First, she lifted so
that his weight was not fully on his feet. Then she let him down, hooking his
right leg with hers. Down he went, face to the ground. She slid around him,
achieved a half nelson and began to turn him. Sam struggled against her weight
and her leverage. It was exhausting. Suddenly he reversed and went with her,
but he ended on his back with Jenny across him her left arm around his neck.
Her right went through his crotch and hooked around his left leg. Sam was
again trapped. It was only a matter of time before his exhausted shoulders
were down.

"You're pinned."

"OK."

"Still fair?"

"Yes, fair."

They rested a moment. Sam could not believe how good she was, much better than
he even though he had gone into training. What should he do now? He would give
it another go. Jenny was almost as surprised. It was easier than she had even
hoped. Well, he was having his chance. At least he had not collapsed.

The next bout was a long one. Jenny brought Sam down with a side headlock
which she held as they rolled around the floor controlling him. She decided
just to hold on without trying either to shift to a better hold for pinning or
to get him in a more controlling grip. She could tell that he was tiring fast
as he struggled to get loose while she had a fairly easy time of just holding
on. She let him get to his feet several times and then just put him down
again. Sam was breathing very hard and they were both sweating profusely. When
he would try to rest, she would pull him up and then put him down again.
Another five minutes and Sam thought his lungs would burst. He could hardly
move his arms or legs.

When she judged he was at the end, Jenny threw him on his back, loosed her
headlock and sat on his chest. She locked his wrists to the ground over his
head and put her knees on his biceps. "Pinned again. Fair?"

"OK," Sam gasped out.

"I want to hear you admit that I beat you fair and square."

"You beat me fair and square."

"No excuses?"

"No excuses."

Jenny brought her thighs together close around his face. "Now, who wears the
pants in the family?"

"I don't know."

"I thought you were going to be a good sport."

"In that sense, you do."

"What do you mean 'in that sense?'"

"Symbolically."

"And what do you wear, symbolically?"

"What do you mean.?"

"If I wear the pants in the family, what do you wear?"

"I see what you are driving at."

"Well?"

"The dress."

"You said you wanted to be the man in the family. Are you?"

"Oh, Jenny, please."

"Are you?"

"Not in that sense."

"What do you mean, 'in that sense?'"

"In the sense of being in charge, I guess."

"You guess. Who do you guess is, in that sense?"

"You are."

"And what are you, in that sense?"

"Oh, Jenny. Please. Enough."

"Come on. You said that you were going to admit things."

"The woman." The words were hardly audible.

"I can't hear you."

"On, Jenny. You've got what you want, the woman."

"And there is nothing wrong with that. I just wanted hear you admit and accept
for once that I won and that I am in charge of lovemaking. A woman has rights
and in this family it's the one who wears the actual skirt, not the symbolic
skirt, that is in charge. That's the way it is. You're the man and I'm the
woman, but that doesn't mean you can make me do what you want. When it comes
down to it, it is just the opposite. OK?"

"OK, Jenny."

"Now, are you ready to accept your fate and have your wife make love to you?"

"Yes, Jenny."

"Are you really ready?"

He nodded.

Getting off him, she said, "Stand up."

They faced each other. Jenny looked directly into her husband's eyes. "Do you
really accept the fact that your wife beat you in a fair fight?"

It was a moment of truth for Sam. He stared back into the eyes of his wife,
the woman who had just shown that she could dominate him physically. "Yes,
Jenny. I told you I would admit it and I have."

"I know you admit it. Do you accept it?"

He looked into her eyes and then looked into his own inner psyche. He knew the
answer. "Yes."

"And do you accept the fact that I am going to make love to you and you are
going to lie there and love it?"

"Yes."

She led him to the bed, laid him on his back and began sucking one breast
while she played with another. Sam's exhaustion faded as the sensations from
his beasts began to permeate his body. Soon he was floating. His body began to
writhe as if of its own volition. He heard himself moan.

Jenny took her mouth from his breast. "Tell me you want me to take your juices
and I will."

"I'm ready, Jenny."

"Say 'please.'"

"Please."

She mounted him, took him inside her and lay very still except for contracting
her vagina. Sam started to thrust from the bottom.

"Stop that. I'm in charge."

She held him and then suddenly and fiercely began her pelvic thrusts. Sam was
at first slow to respond, but then matched her rhythm. They climaxed together.
Afterwards, as Jenny held him she said, "I'll tell you two secrets."

"What?"

"I like wrestling with you. Maybe I'll give you another chance."

"What's the other secret?"

"I've stopped taking my birth control pills."

Epilogue

Several days later, --Sam and Amanda were talking together. She looked
feminine and very frail. She would be no match for Jenny. He could never
imagine Amanda sucking his breasts or mounting him and bringing him to climax.
His desire to be the one in control, to be the one who does the mounting
seemed like a long ago dream that had power to move him no longer. He wondered
how he could ever have thought of Amanda romantically or how she could have
influenced his thoughts about Jenny. Just thinking about Jenny mounting him
stiffened his member so that he had to sit down to hide it. What a woman!
 
source: http://www.thevalkyrie.com/stories/counselor/jenny.txt 

Friday 14 August 2015

A Brahmin Widow


A Brahmin Widow

the story is taken from a blog  http://www.indiansexstories.biz/Thread-A-Brahmin-Widow

All credit goes to original writer

I am narrating my experience twenty-five years back. I was aged twenty- eight and was married seven years prior to that. We belong to the orthodox south Indian Brahmin family. My married life was disappointing, as my husband could not satisfy me sexually. He was not impotent but less active. As a result we did not have children. The elders in the family naturally blamed me for this and sent me to some local country quacks for treatment. This treatment did not have any impact on me getting pregnant. However, they increased my libido and sexual desire that remained unsatisfied due my husband’s inadequacy.

Within few years, my husband was involved in a road accident and died immediately. Then only I realized what happens to a widow in a traditional orthodox south Indian Brahmin family. There were elaborate rituals for ten days and each day I used to be dressed in the finest sari, all jewellery, flowers on my long hair and a big dot of vermilion on my forehead, a typical bridal make-up. On the tenth day night, all these turned into a nightmare and I was subjected to the worst form of humiliation.

 A group of women from among our relatives, who were also widows, pounced on me and took me to the backyard of our house. There they stripped me of my make up like vermilion dot on my forehead, flowers and my jewels. My sari, blouse, brassiere and panties were also removed and I was made totally nude. Then I was told that as per custom and tradition I must wear only a beige colored sari with out blouse and was given one to wear. I withstood all this and the slept for the night.

I did not realize what was in store for me the next morning and had a good sleep. I was woken up next morning around sunrise by the same group of widows and asked to brush my teeth and finish other toilet routines. I complied and when I was coming out of the toilet, I noticed our family barber sitting at the backyard and sharpening his straight edged razor. There was a wooden plank placed on the floor in front of him for some one to take the seat and get shaved. 

I was given my morning cup of coffee and then instructed to take a bowl of hot water, go and sit on the wooden plank in front of the barber. When I questioned why, I was shouted at and advised not to ask such impertinent questions. 

As a Brahmin widow, I need to comply with the customs and traditions that dictate I get my head clean shaved. I was in tears and burst out crying conveying my reluctance. At that time, my husband’s aunt came towards and advised there is no point in crying and protesting. This shaving has to happen and all that you can do is to bear and enjoy the experience. She added that she also had to undergo such an experience, which she did not like the but ha, accepted and enjoying it. 

She suggested that sitting for shaving with the sari is not as per custom. I have to remove it and the sit wearing a small bath towel around my waist and bare breasted. When I expressed my reluctance, she said that shyness is initially only but as widow I am supposed to be without a sense of shame and should consider myself not as woman.

I saw the writing on the wall and then quietly removed my sari and wrapped a bath towel around my waist. My buttocks being fairly large and rounded, the towel size was just adequate to go around. Then I took a bowl of hot water on an earthen bowl and sat in front of the barber, on the plank cross-legged. Our family barber is a middle-aged person who is a regular visitor to our home to shave our men in the family.

 He simply looked at my bare breast and me. He had already opened his steel box containing the shaving implements like few straight edged razors, shaving brush and a tube of shaving cream. He looked to other women for instructions how to proceed. My aunt instructed him to shave the head clean and smooth. The head should be as smooth as ensure that a bird sitting on it will slip and fall down.

I had a long and thick hair extending up to my buttocks, which I normally used to braid into long pigtail. But after the previous nights experience of removing my bridal makeup, I had tied and knotted as a bun on top of my head. Barber undid the knotted bun and my long tresses of hair extended freely on my back right up to my buttocks. Looking at that beautiful hair, barber requested if he can shave it straight way with the razor instead of sniping it with scissors and then shaving it clean. He said this would help him to make good money by selling my long black hair for wig makers. He added that I may have a discomfort for a day the shaven head will have a burning sensation due to the repeated use of the straight razor over and over the head. 

I agreed as I felt it necessary to help him and did not realize how it would help me in subsequent days to come. Barber happily commenced his task by wetting my hair with warm water from the supplied bowl. The bowl had to be replenished thrice as he used sufficient water to drench my hair from the roots. He also gave smooth massage of my head whilst doing so. 

Whilst doing he came closer to myself and I could feel the sweat smell from his armpits as he raised his hand whilst applying water. Further, a masculine touch started to turn me on. After this, he took out his razor and started to sharpen before the application on my head. At that time I really trembled as I realized my days of long hair are only few seconds away from its death. I felt like a condemned prisoner about to have the noose knotted after a black hood covered his face. Barber slowly pulled my head forward almost close to him to have a good reach for his razor to play. He lowered it and parted the thick hair on the middle of the head to place his razor. All that I felt was the razor moving over my head with “tshk, tshk” noise and this continued for few seconds. Also I felt the gush of fresh air on to my head over the portions on which the razor moved. After few minutes there was thud on my right shoulder and I saw the fall of thick bunch of hair. Barber let loose my head from his grasp and commenced sharpening his hair for further pass over my head. This application of razor all over my head continued till the entire area over the head is covered, of course with few interruptions to sharpen the razor. I had closed my eyes during the entire process after the fall of first bunch of hair as I did not like to see my hairs falling but I felt their fall at various parts of my upper body.

After the tonsure was completed, barber wetted my head again with warm water and this time took another razor to sharpen. He sharpened it for few minutes on his sharpening stone. I had already started feeling the burning sensation by the rude movement of razor that left a number of small nicks. He rubbed my head again with water and started shaving it closer with small steps at a time. After few minutes and covering the whole head, he rubbed off the head with his hand and certified as smooth and clean. Then my aunt rubbed her hand over my head and felt that it can be made smoother by applying a load of shaving cream and shaving it clean. Barber obliged and stated brushing my already smooth head with cream. The razor again had its play leaving entire head shining. I opened my eyes and was pained to see my long tresses lying all around me. Barber coolly and gladly collected them together and packed them in a cover as his prized possession. Then he took out an old mirror from his box, thrust on to my hand and suggested to have a look. Also he asked me to feel the head to see whether it is smooth enough. I was shocked to see my self completely bald and added to the removal of earrings and nose rings. I could not identify myself. I cried for few minutes and then composed myself. In the mean time.

I noticed in the mirror, my facial hair the side burns, a perceptible growth of black hair on the upper lip and few strands at the lower chin were prominently visible especially after my head was at shining best.

Next I felt the brush on my chin and found the barber moving the shaving brush with lather on my face just as he would handle his male clientele. I was holding the mirror as this was going on and found myself a bit funny to be covered with lather over my upper lip. He slowly got another razor from his box. He seemed to have different set of razors for each area of the body. He commenced from top of my face close to my ears and ran down the razor fluently and cleaned my complete face leaving it shining smooth. His pinching my nose and turning it to each side to ensure smooth and safe passage of razor over my upper lip was funny.

Another application of brush and lather followed by running of razor over on my entire face saw my face head as one shining lot. At this stage my aunt, came closer, turned my face and seemed to be satisfied with the barber’s work. But she said it is not good to leave the eyebrows as it is and ordered him to remove it. Barber complied with the same treatment as face and cleaned it smooth. On the mirror I could see my self totally smooth from neck and above and felt odd.

Barber’s eyes ran over my chest, my bare breast and the shoulder area. My thick underarm hair was sprouting out, as it was customary in orthodox families not to trim or shave any part of female body till then. My aunt told the barber to ensure that not trace of hair to be left unshaved and left the place along with others leaving our family barber and myself alone. As told this barber was middle aged and was full of life. He understood my aunt’s order well and started to implement in all seriousness. He asked me to relax by leaning back and resting on my hands at the back thereby throwing my chest forward. 

There were few patches of hair around my breast nipples, middle of chest between breasts and on my tummy around the belly button. He took handful of water and started to apply on my chest allover including the breasts. My breasts were large like a coconut and handled them with both hands to increase the coverage area. I was getting turned on quickly and my nipples hardened. He took out the razor and ran all over my chest carefully ensuring all the hairs are removed smoothly. A further examination of smoothness by massaging the area especially the breasts left me excited. He recognized my condition and slowly bent and started caressing my breast and getting his face closer to it. I understood his intent and readily thrust my left breast into his mouth and he was glad to suck it vigorously. I got further turned and the effect on my lower half hidden by bath towel was violent. After sucking my both the breast and leaving the nipple hard, he asked me to lift my hands to show my underarms that were covered with thick hair growth. A quick water application and razor treatment got my both armpits smooth and shining despite a black patch of discoloration. Next my both hands were cleaned of the normal hair growth that got me shining from the hip and above.

Then came the climax. I was expecting an invitation from him to stand up to help him to continue his work below the hip and he readily obliged. He asked whether I have any hair to be shaved. I replied by standing up and he understood me well. He simply undid the knot on the towel and that exposed my remaining parts of anatomy. My genitals and area around from stomach was covered with thick bush of hair. He wondered how I could manage all these days with this bush. No wonder there was staunch sweat smell. He started rubbing the whole area with water and I got further excited. As wetted this area repeatedly, he started putting his finger also inside my vagina to get me further excited. He suggested that he would get me in to a complete orgasm before putting the razor in this area for shaving as any inadvertent movement could leave me nicked badly in a sensitive area. I agreed and he started rubbing my vagina, mount and inner lips with both hands and I stated excreting my juice. I had my orgasm and he seemed to be a bit concerned. I could sense his problem and asked whether he is also excited. He answered in affirmative and I knew what he wanted. Our family barber is a professional as per caste system in India. 

He is used to dress very simply with just a lungi around his waist with a loincloth underneath supporting his genitals, scrotum and testis. He never wears an upper garment except for towel that dangles on his shoulders when he walks. Otherwise during work he is always bare-chested with thick patch of hair covering his upper body. Knowing this, I undid the knot of his lungi that dropped down on the floor exposing his loincloth that was getting stressed by his genitals. As he was breathing heavily due excitement, his prick must be pushing his loincloth further and further. I made him turn around and from the partition of his buttocks unearthed the edge of his loincloth and loosened it further, prior to totally removing it. What I saw beneath was a wonder to me. A tough and long shaft, ten inches long and one inch in diameter, with the foreskin totally withdrawn. My late husband did not have even half the size of this. Barbers prick was clean-shaven and smooth all over. He said that he knew of his job for the day with me and had expected such an experience. Hence, he came prepared by getting shaved below his navel and he said I could take on from here. I was excited by his words and though I badly wanted to have him fuck me I decided to try other modes. I held his long shaft with both my hands and fondled it vigorously.

I saw him getting further turned on and he held my smooth shaved head in both hands and started kissing over it. After some time I started squeezing his big testicles and he seemed to be in some pain but enjoyed. In few seconds, I sat down whilst he was standing and his shaft was right near my face. He slowly brought it closer to my mouth and started thrusting inside. I could not resist getting it inside my mouth and in few minutes I was sucking it actively as he was pushing it in and out like the steam engine piston rod. I was getting equally excited and enjoyed it despite the offensive smell emanating from his genital area as well his anus. After few minutes, I had his strong grunt and his shout to stop. But I continued, as I could not stop immediately. He let go his jet of cum on to mouth and the jet spurted three four times before his shaft got totally soft. I had to swallow some of the cum but retained a lot in my mouth which I spat on a small bowl that forms part of barbers kit for keeping water. In my case, a bigger bowl was needed as my hair was long and it needed deep wetting. I could fill around half the bowl. Barber became totally tired and sat down and continued sharpen his razor to proceed with shaving my genitals. A fresh bout of water application and the placing of razor below the navel was followed by the “tshk,tshk” noise as the razor ran past the thick hair growth. He tried to be careful whilst coming closer to the flaps of the vagina and handled them well. During this process he repeatedly inserted his fingers into my vagina and exciting my mount. With in a few moments my bottom was smooth as that of child. Next a quick movement of razor over my thighs and legs got my entire front bottom shining.

Next the barber asked is there any hair left or he can start the final finish. I remembered I have few patches in my buttocks especially near the asshole. I turned my back and requested him to shave my entire buttocks. Barber readily agreed and did the same treatment with only difference that he asked me to spread my buttocks so that hair around the asshole could be shaved clean. This left me totally smooth and free of ant traces of hair on my body from head to toe. By this time I got adequately turned on and I needed his help. This time I asked him play with my buttocks and he quickly started kissing it and slowly moved his tongue closer my asshole. I spread my buttocks with my hand to get to anus easily. He played on to my anus with his tongue plunging it deep into my hole. This made me reach orgasm.

I sat down after that and he said that he would empty the bowl in which I had put his cum but he preferred to rub on to my head and shaved body as an after shave lotion. I enjoyed again his vigorous massaging of the head, face, breast, genitals, buttocks and the anal area with this cum lotion. The smell of it was exciting. Thus ended my first experience with the barber. The entire episode took about an hour and my aunt came back to wind up the show and pay the barber his fee. Looking at the exalted status of both of us, she smiled and said that I should not allow my hair to grow for more than a fortnight. She told the barber to visit every fifteen days to shave my head and repeat the experience. I thanked her profusely for this suggestion. I remembered her words at the beginning that I need not cry but enjoy the experience, which I did.