Playground Games

Beneath her jeans, Amy was wearing faded yellow panties. They were cotton, comfortable; there was a picture of Minnie Mouse on them, and they were probably the oldest pair she owned. They were definitely not last-night-with-the-boyfriend-for-months underwear.

In her defense, though, she wasn't how she had planned things. On their last night together, Amy was going to wear a classy little two-piece lingerie set - royal blue, white lace trim, bra that hung by neck and back tie, very sexy. What she hadn’t counted on was exactly how often they would be fucking over the course of these past few weeks. It would start innocently enough- a hand on a thigh, a frank discussion on the latest Tension show. Then, as they did, one thing would lead to another, and Amy would realize that her panties were completely wet. They’d invariably engage in some lewd, adult fun, and, after taking a moment to bask in the afterglow, she’d change into something else, fully expecting that this pair would remain dry for the remainder of the night. And then the cycle would just start right over again. Amy blew her lacy blue two piece on a rainy evening that both Carmen and Felina were confirmed gone for, and it was totally worth it. But that’s why she was stuck with Minnie today- it was her last clean pair.

As Army pulled her down and broke her against his shoulders by way of her legs, Amy learned that that was no longer the case.

Amy wasn’t a masochist, despite this evidence to the contrary. Whenever Amy and Army experimented with kink, it wasn’t the pain that got her going, not directly, anyway. It was mostly the Army part, and maybe a little bit the domination part. She was more of a combat-sexual- she knew it wasn’t masochism because she could go on a full streak of dodged punches and clotheslines and Zangief Spins, and she’d still get the same thrills as when he whipped her with the cat o’nine tails, or kissed her tenderly on the neck. It wasn’t the pain; it was the danger, the fight, the struggle for supremacy- and how his thirst for competition was as intense as her own.

Army dropped down to a knee, and, apart from compounding the agony building in her back and abs, the impact also made her soaked panties all the more salient. Helpless, she cried out, shifting her legs on his shoulders. Her attempts at stopping his hand from pulling down on her chin weren’t having much of an effect, so her arms resorted to flailing about, grabbing the ropes of the bridge in an effort to hoist her weight off of Army’s brawny back. Just when she felt as though she could breath normally again, an adventurous hand danced roughly across, then pinched her (currently very sensitive) thighs, making her arch her back and gasp, which was the precise opposite of what you wanted to happen in this hold. Her arms began to wander again, reaching out, bending in, searching.

Steamy puffs of air escaped her mouth in response to his questions- choked laughter. “Oh, man,” she began. Her voice was low and quiet- muted by the strain on her lungs, the pain in her torso, and her growing lust- but it was delivered with a threatening lilt. Her hand floated close, still searching, until her wrist brushed up against a pair of cocky lips- jackpot. She gave his chin a quick caress. ”I am going to fuck you raw tonight; your dick's gonna need at least the next three months to get hard again.”

Then, having found her mark, Amy’s arm lifted high into the air. With all the force she could muster, she dropped her elbow straight down, destined for where she estimated Army’s face would be.

It was a weird thing think now, but Army considered what would happen if some passerby happened to get close right about now. They’d stroll on up, see the big, muscular Mexican (which he wasn’t, but it wasn't like people could tell the difference at a glance, so he rarely bothered to correct them) throwing around the tiny American, then they'd call the cops and there'd be so much weird explaining to do. It wouldn't be the first they'd gotten in a situation like that - in particular, he remembered one time when their fucking and fighting in the apartment made enough noise to wake the neighbors on both sides.

Calls were made, sirens were heard, and his sister’s intervention was all that kept the cuffs off him. Probably almost got him deported, and Carmen lectured his ears off for a solid hour. So worth it, though.

This time would be, too, and if he’d had any doubt about it, they were gone quickly when he smelled that funny little scent in the air. The air quality in Japan was much better than back home, and his nose could pick up things that it would have missed before. The fragrance of shampoo in Amy’s hair, the smell of burgers woven into her clothes, and, oh yea, that sweet, sweet scent coming up from her legs.

He had a dark chuckle as his fingers ran over her mound, feeling the wetness there, and her soft fingers danced along his cheek. ”Promises, promises.” He licked his lips and gave her a bounce. ”Keep talking like that and I might have to-”

And then he got elbowed in the face. Or, to be more specific, right on the nose.

It wasn’t so much the force behind the blow, though she could hit hard, no question. No, what sucked about the blow was that his nose could the exact edge of her elbow, where there was the least skin to pad the bone. A hard, sharp hit with an immediate effect - Army pitched forward, fell to his knees, and grasped his face, moaning from the pain. It was busted, he was sure of that. The blood hadn’t started up yet, but he’d had enough busted noses to know that it would be coming about ten seconds.

Amy tumbled from his shoulders and landed hard, face down, on the panels of the bridge. She pulled herself up to her elbows, then stayed like that for a bit, reveling in the lingering sensation of his fingers, delicately tracing his touch with her own. She gave a tiny gasp. She had never been so wet as to soak through denim before- yet another sexual record etched with Army’s name.

As she felt her distressed spine ease back into its rightful position, she turned her head to look at her recent tormentor. Army was down on all fours, moaning, his head low to the floor, and hands up to his nose- a familiar scene, Amy could proudly say. She wondered how Army would react to a quick timeout- not long, maybe 30 seconds or so, just enough so that they could make out for a bit. He would probably be down. The challenge would be deciding when those 30 seconds were over. That was the trouble with having combat and arousal on the same gradient. Her drive to destroy him had to compete with her pressing need to be filled; a lot of their fights dissolved into dirty sex before a clear winner could emerge.

Then she saw it: mate in two.

It played out in her mind- Amy would saunter over, straddling his neck and trapping his head from behind with her legs. She’d twist them violently around; she’d take a sitting position while he’d get put on his back. Army is strong; he’d try to get his legs underneath him again, just like last time. But they’re in a cage of ropes. Holding onto them for a hold would be illegal in the ring… but they aren’t fighting in a ring.

Amy would grasp the cords on either side, and Army would fight desperately for leverage that just wasn't there. His struggles would gradually lose their vigor as the blood in his brain decayed until, finally, they’d stop altogether. From there, it’d be a simple matter of crossing the bridge, climbing to the roof, then claiming her prize- the fry, the bragging rights, and the body of her conquered boyfriend.

Amy breathed. Fuck. Let’s get started.

Amy stood up (slowly, as to avoid aggravating the lion in her abs), then walked over and mounted his back. Then a thought struck her, and she stopped, suddenly engrossed by something on her knuckles. “Hey, Army,” She yanked back on his hair so that he could see them. “Is that… huh. That IS Carmen.” Then she swung her fist in a wide arc and exploded it across his chin. “What’s she doing there?”

Cackling, she kept going toward his neck. She just gave the game away, she knew that. But, even if it turned out that this lost her the opportunity for the headscissors knockout, given the chance again, Amy would choose to punch Army in the face every time. It was her favorite.

Yeah, that was it, that brought back memories. The iron smell.

It always started out faint at first, like the scent of ozone you get on a Summer’s day as the rain comes in. You feel a little wetness, and you just think your nose is runny, no big deal. But it doesn't stop running. It keeps going. Soon, it's streaming, and your nose is filled with the rich scent of fresh blood. Drip, drip, drip.

He snorted and spat and rubbed it away as best as he could. He hadn't forgotten the real threat, but the pain was clouding his mind, making it a little hard to think about his next move. He needed to stand up, he was sure of that, but before he had an chance, he felt a familiar weight come down on his back, and familiar fingers yanked his head back in a familiar way.

...ah. There she was. And there was her fist.

Her punch rocked his chin, but he supposed he couldn't complain too much. She could've hit his nose, easy, and broken it instead of just busting it, which would've taken more than some tissue to damn up and cost them the night. Just one little thought, and nothing compared to the realization that his sister was there.

With glassy eyes, he tried to focus on the area Amy had indicated. Why would Carmen be here? She was so busy all the time now that she'd gotten the belt, it didn't make much sense. She could've been tracking his phone. There was a scary thought…

...there was no one there. ”Fuck!”

Army realized his mistake far too late, as his favorite pair of thighs wrapped around his head and clamped. He struggled, of course, pulled left and right and forward and backward, but it like a silky smooth noose was around his neck, and everything he did just made it tighter.

”Ha…” He grunted, squeezing out a few words. ”Enjoying yourself?”

Army couldn’t see, but Amy wore the grin of the happiest girl in Kyoto. She wanted to remember every detail of these last few moments- the way he squinted through swimmy eyes, like he’d just woken up, at where Carmen should have been; the dread in his expletive when he realized that she wasn’t there at all. The vigorous thrashing, like a fish on the line, that she nearly got rope burn from riding down. Even the pattern his blood made on her jeans.

She couldn’t seal the deal just yet; until she could get him on his back, she couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn't be able escape from the choke. Getting from point A to B needed to be timed just right- it couldn’t happen while he was flailing for freedom, for instance, since she probably wouldn’t be able to overpower that- and it needed to happen fast- her thighs may have cut circulation from his brain, but panic could generate ideas just as well as blood flow, and, the longer she waited, the more likely that was to happen.

A cool breeze meandered lazily through the gaps in the bridge, blowing stray hairs across her face.

Then Army spoke- opportunity. Was she enjoying herself? She gave his hair an affectionate tug, and her voice was bright and earnest. “I’m having a blast. Best…” she cut herself off with a sudden grunt, twisting her hips and throwing herself backwards onto the ground without warning. If all went well, her calf would slide in neatly underneath his chin and her ankle would lock in behind her knee to complete the figure-four, he’d be flat on his back and well on his way to unconsciousness, and she’d have a comfortable seat from which to watch it all happen. “Best date ever.”

Army didn’t really have to look up to know that Amy was smiling. Without even taking the current situation into account, it was a safe bet in any given situation that, unless Amy was in severe pain - and sometimes, even if she was - there was a smile on her face. She liked to smile a lot, he noticed, and with good reason. She had a bright face, and the world seemed to light up when she did. Or it could darken when she had that mischievous smile, when she was about to do something a little crazy. And then there was that hazy smile she’d get during sex sometimes, always a good sign…

Without warning, the world flipped around, as Amy jerked back and pulled him along for the ride. He reached out, trying to grab something, anything, but there was nothing to stop it - down he went, right on his back, as Amy’s legs switched up into a figure-four and breathing became much, much more difficult

It hadn’t been easy before, sure, but this headlock was far worse than the straight scissors. Instead of just coming at the sides, it crushed from all around him, like a rope of flesh and fabric. Her legs weren’t that big, but that was the whole problem. Bigger legs wouldn’t have fit well around his throat, but hers were just the right size…

He thrashed and pounded and bucked and squirmed, but it didn’t do much good, if any , and even more just wasted more and more of his precious energy. He was moving slower, growing weaker, his eyes were dimming, his body growing more and more still...

Army fought like an animal. Even with her hands anchored to the ropes on either of side of her, his writhing tossed her up, down, side to side. He twisted and turned, pulled at her legs, even got his feet underneath him for a moment before she dragged him backwards and slammed him back to earth. The rope bridge swayed with each wave of escape attempts, and Amy’s abs started to ache from the effort of keeping him planted.

It took a while, but, eventually, Army’s considerable strength began to wane. He was breathing harder, his face was redder, his eyes lost that sparkling clarity that he had at the beginning of their fight. He was docile enough that she felt safe using a hand to wipe the sweat from her eyes. Her chief concern was no longer whether or not he would break free with brute force, but whether or not he would tap before he went out. On the one hand, a submission between the two of them was a rare treat. On the other, this wouldn’t really count- it was a submission to avoid unconsciousness, a dignified acknowledgement of defeat. The only submissions she wanted were howling cries for mercy, which, again, this wouldn’t be.

But Army was Army, and she trusted him to fight for as long as there was the scent of a chance at winning. Sure enough, Army spent up to what seemed like the very last of his energy trying to break free. He made a few more valiant, if futile, attempts at freedom before he seemed to run completely out of gas. His breaths sounded like they were coming through a straw from a paper bag, and his eyes were cloudy slits- she wondered if there were still cogent thoughts firing in the synapses behind them. His hand still pulled vainly at the calf around his throat, but he lacked the strength to even get a proper grip. A fighter to the end. She felt like she should say something.

Amy brushed the hair out of his eyes so she could see the moment they rolled back in his head.

Army was going to sleep. He was sure of that. He could be sure, because he knew Amy well and knew what he’d be doing in this situation...or a similar situation, since he couldn’t see himself ever trying to choke her with his legs, funny as that would look.

If he had her in a sleeperhold, he wouldn’t let up. Partly because he wouldn’t want to, and partly because he knew Amy would chew him out if he did. They didn’t hold back, whether it be sex, fighting, videogames, or anything mixed in between. Amy had asked him to avoid the face, but everything else was fine. If she wasn’t okay with, she would’ve said so.

With that in mind, he had no shame drifting off, as his struggles amounted to nothing. Since was going out and anyway, he decided he might as well be constructive. Army spent his last waking moments caressing her thighs, squeezing and stroking as he pleased, while he swiveled his head around and worked the back of his head into that damp spot between her legs. He couldn’t say anything, but some things didn’t need to be said.

It happened soon enough. All movement stopped, his eyes rolled back, drool began to dribble down his lips. There were little shudders, spasms of activity, but they were few and far between. Army was out.

In the moments just before he went out, Army’s strategy changed. His hands stopped pulling at her legs, and instead started going on the offensive, touching, rubbing, groping at the thighs slowly putting him under. He even got the back of his head in on the fun, which, believe it or not, didn’t even break the top five strangest things he’d ever used to stimulate her. Well, that answers her question about his cogency.  Amy laughed softly. “Slut.”

Her hand stayed perched on his forehead to keep the hairs from impeding on her line of sight with his eyes until he departed the land of the conscious. Amy released her hold just as his limbs first started to twitch. She moved her hand to just over his nose and mouth- breathing normalized, green across the board. Army was out.

Amy sat back for a quiet moment. She got to her feet, walked to where he lay, and stepped over his legs. She placed her hands on her hips and stared down at Army’s unconscious form from above.

Then she breathed in, and a sense of triumph rushed in like a flash flood. Her heart beat like a marching band, steam rose from her shoulders, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Army, the epitome of male fitness, felled by her bare hands. Army turned her on no matter what he was doing- he was a good match for her that way. But she was most drawn to him in moments like these, moments in which he made her feel sexy too. And, right now, she was divine, glowing, majestic. She was a gladiatrix, and he, her conquered rival; she, the amazon, he, her prisoner of war. Amy, never lacking for self-confidence, leaned over and spoke. “You are so goddamned lucky to have me.” She could barely speak for the red-hot emotions swirling in her chest, but it wasn’t like he could hear her, anyway.  

She stood there posed like Wonder Woman for a while, steeped in her feelings, even though the person she most wanted to share in her victory was asleep at her feet. And he was magnificent even in defeat. His t-shirt stretched tight across his chest, tighter still with every labored breath. Sweat beaded at his forehead, gleamed from his neck, highlighting the sinews that put him together. His arms, even dormant like this at his sides, were powerful and imposing; she couldn’t help but be reminded of how easily he could lift her onto his shoulders, or press her against a wall... Amy bit her lip. She wished she had her phone.

...Oh, maybe he had his.

She knelt down and gently patted his pockets. No luck. Ah well.

Amy straightened back up with a tiny groan and started making her way across the bridge. She hadn’t won yet- according to their rules, the winner was the first to the highest point of the playground or the first to pull a submission, and she hadn’t done either of those yet. But she wanted to be sure that, when he woke up, the first thing he would see was her at the finish line.

When she reached the edge of the tallest platform, she stepped onto the handrail of the rope bridge and began to hoist herself up. It was harder than it looked, especially with her body as achy as it was. She realized that it was a good thing the fight ended when it did. Even if she had managed to knock him out later on, she wasn’t sure if she’d have the core strength left to make it to the end.

The roof had a spiral top, so there wasn’t a whole lot of space for a grown woman; she had to lean against the yellow plastic to keep her balance and avoid falling off of the edge. And it was breezier up here- the sun was setting through the trees, and it was getting cold.

Amy looked back down at Army, but he was still asleep. “Army!” she called, impatient. She didn’t want to come down until he saw her up here. “Hey, Army! Arrrrmyyyy~! Arrr-” Then Amy was seized by a sudden, indomitable feeling. Before good sense could make its case, Amy was already polishing her elbow, her field of vision narrowed on the Tension logo on his shirt. She took a deep breath.

She pushed off of the spiral rooftop.

Then she leapt into space.

Army wished he could say he had some amazing dream of Amy while he was knocked out, but that wouldn’t be quite true. He dreamed of her, yes, like he typically did, but this dream was basically just a recap of everything that had just happened to him in the past five or so minutes. The jokes, the food, the fight, the blatant sexual overtones. Maybe that didn’t mean anything, to dream like this.

Maybe that just meant his life couldn’t get much better than this, even in his random imagination.

It was hard to be really retrospective as he came back into the waking world, sucking in big gulps of air into his lungs. His mind restarted, and he was immediately struck with this strange pride. It wasn’t the first time a woman beat him, but nobody could do it like Amy did it. Nobody could be so cute and pretty yet simultaneously dangerous and sexy. She wasn’t the perfect woman, but she was the perfect woman for him. Billions of ladies on the Earth, and he’d lucked up enough to find her.

He might have told her some of that, too, but as he slowly came back to consciousness, but she wasn’t nearby. Not to his left or right, not anywhere close on the bridge. Instead, he looked up and saw her above him. Flying. Dropping towards him. Getting closer.

For a split-second, he thought he was dreaming, until he realized nothing this crazy could’ve come out of his own head. She was really above him, she was really coming down on him, and they were really going to crash.

”No-”

Was all he had time to squeak out before she hit and drove her elbow into his chest like a spear. He could feel his bones bending at the impact, but that wasn’t the only thing giving way. The bridge was made to support children. Fifty, sixty pound children. Together, Amy and Army had to be over four hundred pounds, and that weight was crashing down into the bridge. It was simply not meant to take this kind of pressure, so it did the only thing it could do - it gave.

Down they fell with, Army hitting the floor and Amy coming down on top of him. It wasn’t that far too fall, thankfully, and the wood chips were made for falling on. They jabbed into his body, sure, but it was far better than landing on concrete. He crashed there, spread-eagled, his mouth wide open with his girlfriend right on top of him. For a moment, he didn’t move, as the pain caught up with his brain. A low moan rumbled out of his throat, and he craned his neck up enough to look her way.

And smile. ”That...that was the sexiest thing...you’ve ever done.” He let his head flop back and sighed. ”I think I’m going crazy.”