Match

Many thanks to RoyalBabyGirl for all the hard work editing and improving this story from a previous version. RoyalBabyGirl.

*

"I think we're probably pretty evenly matched," said Robin.

She was wearing a workout outfit and looking in the full length mirror in our bedroom. I was taking off my clothes after coming home from a late meeting, and she was about to hit the shower.

"What do you mean?" I asked her.

"I mean physically," she said.

Robin towered above me. I was maybe around 5 foot 8 but, compared to my 6 foot 3 wife, I looked small, especially when she wore heels.

We met as freshmen in college and I liked her a lot. She was in several of my Gen Ed classes and she was smart, good-natured and fun. Nobody else would have described her that way because she was the tallest woman on campus in those days with a voluptuous body that caught the eye of every male. Every woman hated her when she walked into a room. I appreciated her curves as much as the next guy but I didn't fantasize about her because she was way above me -- literally.

Then, she asked me out. I said thank you, that I was flattered, but she needed to pick on somebody her own size. But she wouldn't take no for an answer and I finally gave in after telling her that I was going to enjoy all the stares but that I'd wondered how she would handle them.

It was an uncomfortable evening because we went to a party where a lot of her friends, and some of my friends, made us the focus of attention all night.

When she called me up a week later and asked me out again, I said, "Didn't you have enough the first time?"

"I didn't realize you were so sensitive about your height," she said.

"I'm not sensitive," I said. "I do just fine. But you should ask yourself why you want to be seen in public with a man so much smaller than you. I don't mind but I'd rather enjoy your company the way I did before we went out. I'm sure you can find another smaller guy to work out your fantasies with."

"You know, Ned, you're a real asshole," she said and slammed down the phone.

The next time I saw her was at a party a couple of weeks later, and I went over to her. "I'm really sorry, Robin," I said. "I had no right to say that to you. I guess I must have been more sensitive than I thought. I'm sure you're just curious about smaller guys like I'm sometimes curious about bigger girls."

"You still don't get it, Ned," she said. "I've dated guys who are much taller than me, who are my height and who are shorter. I don't give a damn how big they are. The only reason I asked you out was because I thought you were a nice guy. I did think for a moment that it was too bad you were shorter than me. And then I thought how stupid that thought was. Anyway, that's the way I feel. If you ever get over the size thing and feel that way, too, you know my number." She got up and walked away.

That conversation did get me thinking and even fantasizing. I thought for three weeks and, when I did finally call her, she was surprised. "I gave up two weeks ago," she said.

"So, it's too late," I mumbled.

"Shut up," she snapped. "Yes, I'm free Saturday night."

During a nice dinner at a quiet place, we exchanged life stories, likes, dislikes, opinions on politics and music and hopes for the future.

When I took her back to the dorm, she said her roommate had gone home for the weekend and then asked if I would like to come up and talk. We spent the next four hours in a rut, bouncing off the walls, both beds, the floor and maybe the ceiling. I don't even know how many times I came, because it seemed like I was orgasming nonstop. There I was with this beautiful Amazon with an amazing body who seemed to be in even a bigger sexual frenzy than I was.

When I finally left, I was staggering, and I was out the minute my head hit the pillow. I slept like I was drugged until noon the next day. Her phone call woke me.

"Want to have some lunch?" she said.

At lunch, she was embarrassed. "I have a confession to make, Ned," she said. "When I accused you of being sensitive about your size, I could have been talking about me. I've been thinking about asking you out since the second week of school, but the size thing stopped me.

"It's a different kind of size thing, and I hope you don't get upset when I tell you this. See, I discovered sex in the second semester of my senior year in high school, and, well, you saw what happened last night.

"No, I'm not a slut. I've only done it with three guys before you. Two of them were good -- not as good as you -- and the other one was a dud. But I've found out that it's an important part for me, and, I don't know how to say this, but I was worried about you.

"A girlfriend told me to check out how big your feet were, and your shoes didn't look that large. I was concerned that we wouldn't be a good fit and neither of us would satisfy each other. I told myself I was being shallow and stupid, but I didn't want to lose you as a friend. So I wasn't sure if I wanted to take the chance of starting something that would lead to us being uncomfortable around each other because of the size thing, not the height thing.

"Then I met this nice girl, and when I was talking to her, I found out you used to date her. After she told me you were a great guy, I steered the conversation to men and their size and then found a way to insert you into the topic. She told me that she thought you were almost a freak of nature, because your size was all out of proportion to your height and that she never told you she was sore each time the two of you had sex. Then I met another girl you dated, and she said the same thing. That's when I decided to call you."

I listened to her story and wondered whether or not she was laying it on thick. If she was, what was the motivation? She was already a legend as a freshman, and she had her choice of any athlete, rich fraternity guy or social superstar on campus. I was none of those.

I decided to let things take their course. She was a fantastic sexual athlete, and if the next time was only half as good as the first time, it would still be amazing. I resolved not to invest my feelings into something that had no future but to just enjoy being with her until she moved on.

Within a couple of months, I found out moving on was the last thing on her mind. Instead, she moved in, and we haven't been apart since our sophomore year. We got married after we graduated and are getting ready to start a family. The sex has continued to be amazing.

Robin was telling the truth about her sex drive. Mine is strong, but no match for hers. She was always thinking of ways to spice things up. So I figured this "evenly matched" statement was going to lead to some strange twist. But I didn't mind. When she got excited, I was the beneficiary.

"When you say physically, do you mean that you're much taller than me?" I asked. "I thought that didn't matter to you."

"Don't be silly," she said. "I'm just doing an evaluation. Yes, I'm taller, and I'm strong, because I work out. I can lift you up. But you also work out, and you're also strong. Plus, you're a man and your muscles develop more than a woman's. Even though I weigh more than you, you can also lift me up.

"I was thinking that my extra size and weight and training might match up against your male muscles, and we would be evenly matched."

"Evenly matched for what?" I asked, warily.

"A wrestling match," she laughed.

When we got to know each other, we found out that we had both been on our high school wrestling teams. Of course, among the girls, she was the league heavyweight champion, while I was just No. 2 on our team in the 145 class. "What brought this up?" I asked.

"You shouldn't have asked that, Ned, because now I'm going to tell you," she said. "It started because I was getting angry and jealous, and I was trying to figure out a way to get back at you."

"What are you talking about?"

"I've seen you with Darlene at the club, and also with Sheri and Madison." she said. "They are always all over you, touching, poking and rubbing. You seem to enjoy it."

"Are you accusing me of cheating? You don't sound angry enough for a wife who's been betrayed."

"I know you'd never cheat on me, and I hope you know that I wouldn't either. I'm not angry now, but when I see them buzzing around you like that, it does get me worked up. Don't you get enough attention from me?"

Darlene is the owner of the club and one of Robin's girlfriends. Sheri and Madison are also close friends of hers. She was right that they enjoyed teasing me and flirting. I couldn't figure out why but my guess was that Robin had bragged to them about our sex life. I joked with them at the club, but I never initiated any contact and I never saw them outside the club. Robin was right. She kept me so busy sexually that I was too exhausted to cheat even if I had the urge, which I didn't.

"You know I don't lead them on, so why are you mad at me instead of them?" I asked.

"I'm not really mad at you but there was one day when I was angry and jealous and I was thinking of how I could diminish you in their eyes. For some reason, wrestling came to my mind. I thought about my advantage in size and your male muscles and wondered what would happen if we actually had a match."

"How would that solve anything?" I said.

"Well, if I could humiliate you in front of them," she said, "it would make me feel a lot better. But you're right, it wouldn't solve anything. In fact, it might make you even more exciting to them.

"But the idea took on a life of its own. I can't explain it, but the thought of umiliating you in a wrestling match really excites me. Then, someone showed me a website where lesbians wrestle each other and the winner gets to humiliate and even rape the loser. I couldn't stop watching those matches and, when I watched, I imagined the two women were me and you and that I had won and humiliated you in front of my friends. The more I watched, the more I thought about it and, the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to do it.

"Don't ask me how do I reconcile this with me loving you. One has nothing to do with the other. I love you and I want to do this, which is completely opposite from love. There's no way to explain it."

"Why would I want to participate?" I said. "If I won, I would be the male bully and, if I lost, you're right, I'd be humiliated in front of your friends."

"That's where I'm stuck," she said. "You don't have this strange fascination with the idea that I have. You're more normal. What would it take for you to participate? I could ask you as a favor, but that's a cop-out. I was thinking of offering you a fivesome with me and the girls if you won."

"What?" I said, finally a little shocked by where this was going.

"In your dreams," she said. "I don't share you with anyone. I'm only kidding. But there's got to be something that would get you into a kinky contest involving extreme exhibitionism and sexual humiliation. If we're going to do it, we may as well go all out."

"Who's going to watch this match?" I asked.

"Just my three girlfriends," she said. "They would also record it for us to watch later. No, I don't plan to sell it on the Internet."

"Well, it's a fascinating idea," I said. "You're right that I'm not interested in the slightest. Let me know if you come up with a reason to for me to change my mind. I can't think of anything."

"I'll think of something," said Robin, smiling confidently. "You know I don't give up easily."

I hoped she would give up on the whole strange thing but, instead, she did think of a way to manipulate me into a match using probably the only thing in the world that would work. It was called Robin sex.

At first, I had no idea what was going on. She just acted like she wasn't as interested and that one day a week or so was fine with her. I didn't understand at first - especially since that one day was still amazing. But I had become accustomed to three or four days, and after her disinterest lasted more than three weeks, I asked her if she was feeling all right.

"I'm fine," she said. "Why do you ask?"

"Because we used to be a lot more active in the bedroom than we are now, and I was wondering why," I said.

"Would you like to have sex more frequently?" she asked innocently.

"Wouldn't you?" I replied.

"That wasn't the question," she said. "The question is, would YOU like to have sex more often?"

"Yes is the answer," I said.

"What would you be willing to give for more sex?"

"Is this your new thing?" I said. "I have to pay for sex. Does that excite you, to be paid for sex?"

"Don't be stupid, Ned. I don't want money but I do want a match. Do you think that would be worth more sex?"

"So that's what this is all about. Forget it. I know you miss the sex more than I do."

"You're right, Ned. I'm very frustrated and I'm asking you in advance to forgive me if I get short with you and act irritable. I do miss our wonderful times in bed. But to accomplish something you really want to do, it sometimes takes sacrifice."

"Suit yourself," I said. I had had enough of the whole thing.

But after a couple more weeks, I had to hand it to Robin. I could tell she was wound up tight and little things set her off. She never failed to apologize for her occasional outbursts and she never brought up the reason behind them. She just stewed and, because she stewed, I stewed.

I broke first. "OK," I said to her one day after a tough day at work when all I had to look forward to at home was an evening of boring TV. "Tell me more about this match. It can't be worse than what you're putting us through now. I feel like calling up someone to shoot us and put us out of our misery."

She had been listless when I came home, but as soon as I said those words, she was animated, and there was a gleam in her eyes. "Oh Ned," she said, "I'm so glad you've agreed. It means so much to me."

"Wait a minute," I said. "I haven't agreed yet. I just want to know what sick thing you've got planned. Then I'll think about it and decide."

Sick was the right word for what she was proposing. During the weeks of deprivation, she must have been thinking about the match constantly and spicing it up in all sorts of ways. I could hardly believe her words.

"Well, first of all," she said, "it wouldn't be wrestling the way we did in high school. I've been checking on those clubs where women wrestle in oil while the men watch, and that's a lot more exciting.

"I'd wear my bikini, and you'd wear a speed-o. One of the things the winner would have to do is get the loser naked. Anything would be allowed, except for something that would hurt the opponent on purpose. For instance, you couldn't twist my breasts, and I couldn't squeeze your balls."

My mouth dropped. What was she talking about?

"Are you ready for my really crazy twist? With all that oil, it's going to be almost impossible to pin somebody, so I thought of something that would also be hard to do but still could be done from several positions. The first person to put a hand up the other one's ass is the winner.

"I thought at first you could go for my vagina, but that wouldn't be fair, because it might be easier for you -- or harder -- but it wouldn't be the same as for me.

"Anyway, that's the match. It's going to be really exciting. Think of how humiliating it will be for the loser. And I don't intend to be the loser.

"Oh, I forgot one thing. During the match, we both have to talk trash. We have to call each other names and talk about all sorts of filthy things that we're going to do to each other. What do you think, Ned?"

"I think that I will never be able to understand how you can come up with such bizarre ideas. Won't the loser get hurt?"

"That's where all that oil comes in. It will help protect the loser. The loser will be sore for a few days, but that should be all."

"It sounds like you've thought of everything, Robin, but I still can't get my head around this. I think of us as pretty open about sex, and we've had fun experimenting and getting a little wild. But we've never done anything remotely close to this. I don't know if I'll ever be ready for it."

"That's too bad, Ned," she said, coming over and stroking my face softly with her beautiful hands and giving me a familiar look. "Because I'm ready for something right now that I think you would like a lot."

Her amazing mouth locked with mine, and her tongue plunged into me with weeks of pent-up frustration driving it. My body trembled and I could feel myself hardening.

Breaking our clinch, she backed away as we both gasped for air. When she was able to talk, she began stroking my face as she spoke. "You know, Ned," she said, "sometimes you can over think something and all it does is make you miserable. What part are you going to think about next week that you can't think about right now. I've told you pretty much everything. You just need to trust me that this is going to be one of the most memorable nights of our lives and go with the flow."

She began to unbutton my clothes and smiled as she saw me trembling. I didn't resist. She stopped for a moment, but she already knew the answer when she asked, "So are you going to do it, Ned?"

For a few days after that, I didn't hear anything further about the match and she kept me so busy in bed that I barely got to work in the morning. She was so ravenous that I wondered whether or not I could have cracked her if I had held out a few more days but it was too late now.

The first mention came from Darlene. "Do you have any idea how expensive baby oil is?" she said to me when she saw me at the club. She had made a beeline to me to tell me that. She was smiling broadly but it wasn't a friendly smile. Lascivious and/or depraved maybe, but not friendly. I felt as though I were standing in front of her naked while she was licking her lips at what she was about to do to me.

"Are we paying?" I asked, trying to keep it light.

She patted my ass as she said, "Don't worry. Robin and I have worked it all out. I have some connections to get good discounts on everything we need. We're all set." Then she reached around in front and stroked me over my shorts. She had never done that before, and I was glad that Robin wasn't there, because I could imagine her getting angry enough to think up something even more bizarre for the match. I had to run into a stall in the men's locker room until my protrusion went down.

"It's a week from tomorrow," Robin told me that night. "We picked a Friday night, because that way we don't have to go to work the next day. The club closes at 10, and by 11, everything should be set up. I'll be there working on it with the girls, so you can just show up at 11."

I worked out at the club three times in the following week and each time either Sheri, Madison or Darlene were there. And they were much bolder with me than ever before.

"I've been watching videos of women fisting men online," Madison said one night as she got me in a corner. She was standing in front of me and actually reached down and began fondling me outside my shorts. "They really turn me on. I hope I can keep from jumping in and piling on."

On another night, I was lying on my stomach on the leg lift machine recovering from a heavy set, when I felt someone approach from behind. I almost jumped out of my skin as a hand slid up one leg of my shorts and a finger tried to squeeze between my cheeks.

I looked up and it was Darlene with a grin on her face. "Have you been practicing inserting stuff?" she asked me, "like dildos or maybe a big thick cucumber. Robin's got a pretty good sized fist for a girl." She laughed and withdrew her hand.

The worst was Sheri. She followed me to my car one night but I didn't see her behind me until I felt her reach around and plunge her hand into my shorts, grabbing my penis and starting to pump it before I pushed her away. "I see you're sensitive there," she said with a huge laugh. "You better be careful Friday, or Robin's going to play you."