The Best Day Ever

It was encouraging to see some confidence in Mariah's step as the smaller woman made her way to the ring, followed by her wife. Mariah was easily underestimated, surrounded as she was by such intimidating combatants, but she wasn't weak in any sense of the word, and she clearly didn't feel out of her depth as she stepped onto the apron aside the Nubian.

Good. Faheema wouldn't have to worry about hurting her. As long as she checked the worst of her street fighting tactics at the door, she would have ample opportunity to show Mariah how outmatched she was in this ring.

Faheema's smile only got broader as Bubbles described her vision for the match, her words alone arousing Faheema to the point where she couldn't sit still. She stood up on the apron, stretching her arms and spreading her legs to give Bubbles the most shameless eyeful of her exposed sex that she could manage.

“Or I could crush Mariah in the first five minutes and deny both of you,” Faheema cackled as she swung her body through the ropes to face Mariah in the ring, giving the beauty a smile that showed her fangs. Most of the threat was hollow, as Faheema couldn't justify leaving either Burste unsatisfied at the end of the day, but Faheema had just enough animus left for Mariah to enjoy the thought of her being forced to cry uncle in the first five minutes.

“I'm ready. You?” Faheema asked, hands on her hips as she waggled her eyebrows at the woman. As soon as the two combatants met for their first lockup, Faheema tried to assert her will almost immediately, wrestling to force Mariah into a side headlock. Before Mariah had much chance to enjoy the faceful of the Nubian's bare breast, she would twist her body sideways, trying to throw Mariah to the mat with a side headlock takedown. A simple maneuver, and a test to see if Mariah had the muscle to resist.

It was a little hard for Mariah to smile like a giggling idiot throughout all of this. Erase the fact that she was in her old outfit again, and it was nice to have that feel on her skin, the sensation of it creeping along her thighs with every step, the air flowing over her legs and stomach. Ignore that she’d always wanted to tag team with Bubbles, but never got the chance to, and this was a chance to finally tick that box off. Ignore that she was about to lock arms with this hot, carnal, naked black beauty of a woman, who’d collared her and claimed her and was currently looking at her like she was the sexiest thing on the planet.

Ignore all of that, and it was still just good to be in the ring again. She could almost hear the crowd cheering, the announcer’s shouting, and the referee calling out the rules.

It took her back, stoked her fires, and she found herself considering a real comeback. It wasn’t the first time she’d contemplated that idea, either…

She was brought back to reality by Faheema’s words, snapped right into attention. Faheema’s body was beautiful, but there was muscle on those bones, and her match with Bubbles showed what she could do with it. This was not a woman to be taken lightly, even in ‘sparring’. ”Oh, yeah.” Mariah licked her lips as they met in the middle for a lockup. ”More than ready.”

That turned out to not be 100% true, as she found herself in a deftly applied side headlock not long after the imaginary bell rang. Faheema was fast, and her grasp of the fundamentals shone through as she flipped Mariah over and sent her to the mat with a textbook takedown. Good stuff, and for a moment it was enough to keep her down.

But only a moment. After that moment passed, Mariah’s training came back to her. She raised her leg up, wrapped it around Faheema head, and attempted to yank her into a side scissorhold, aiming to get herself free of the headlock and turned the tables all at once.

Faheema was more than competent as a fighter, but she wasn't well versed in the common counters and reversals that most women learned as soon as they signed on to become professional wrestlers. She was used to fighting people with strictly improvisational approaches to combat. Street fighting, with no style. Without the training that Mariah had been through, she was taken by surprise when the tenacious woman used her flexibility to bring her legs up around the Nubian's neck and start dragging her head down to the mat. Stubborn as she was, Faheema tried to resist Mariah's maneuver, but betting her neck against Mariah's legs was a bad idea, and she knew it. With a groan, Faheema released the headlock and collapsed onto her back, gagging softly as Mariah's svelte thigh pressed into her windpipe.

A couple moments passed as the Nubian struggled, baring her teeth and kicking the canvas as she clawed at Mariah's legs. Despite the performance, Faheema was enjoying herself deep down, to an extent that she didn't effect an escape as quickly as she was probably capable of. She didn't have the context to understand it, being a relative novice to kink, but having her breath stolen by Mariah in the literal as well as figurative sense aroused her, and both of them deserved to enjoy it for a moment. Faheema's hands caressed Mariah's legs from her thighs down to the smooth leather of her boots, gauging the strength and appreciating the contours of the muscles that rippled beneath her skin. Understated, compared to her and Bubbles, but Mariah was in great shape for a wrestling retiree.

Less than half a minute passed in this way, but Faheema knew time was precious to her, so she resolved to attempt a maneuver that had just popped into her head. Stomping her boots into the canvas and raising her lower body, Faheema kicked her legs up and over her head, attempting to execute the motions of a reverse somersault. It was the kind of escape plan that suited a woman like her, since the crux of it involved using the rotation of her body to wrench her head free from Mariah's legs by force. Her eyes popped as it drew her neck tighter than ever against the curve of Mariah's thigh, but when it was over, Faheema would emerge free, in a kneeling position at Mariah's legs. An ideal position to get a little payback.

Faheema made a grab for both of Mariah's legs as she staggered to her feet, swinging her foot forward to soccer kick the back of Mariah's thigh for good measure. The Nubian wanted to experiment with the effect of strikes on various parts of the body, and the dull thud of her boot smacking her opponent's leg sounded like music to her ears.

More importantly, though, Faheema wanted to use the pain of that kick to distract Mariah's mind from what was coming next. Tucking both legs beneath her armpits, Faheema started falling backwards, trying to slingshot Mariah straight toward the corner of the ring opposite where Bubbles stood. A good vantage point for the Virgin Killer to watch her wife as she flew toward the corner post!

Got her.

Mariah couldn’t resist a triumphant smile as her legs clamped down on Faheema’s neck, securing the hold and successfully swinging things in her favor. It might’ve seemed like a small thing on the outside, a trifle, and she was sure it wouldn’t have looked like much to the non-existent observers. Just two women wrestling. One of them nude, but that wasn’t too weird in the AFW.

Inside, though - in Mariah’s head - things were different. A thrill went through her body as she pulled the move off, felt her foe struggling between her legs, flexed her muscles and hunkered down. It wasn’t just that wrestling Faheema was hot, though that was a large part of it. But another big part? Just being in the ring. Having this canvas beneath her. Having that smell in the air.

God, she’d missed this. So, so much.

She’d assumed the situation was well in hand, and indeed, that felt like the safest bet. Faheema was strong, sure, had a body that most wrestler’s would’ve loved to have as their own, the sort of physique that only came from hardened years - but she was inexperienced, and that wa a hard gap to jump over. It couldn’tbe that hard to work her over, especially now that control had been established.

A safe bet. A wrong bet. She learned just how wrong she was when Faheema actually pulled off a great escape, with what she’d originally thought was simply flailing. A twist there, a leap her, pulling up, and...she was free. And behind Mariah. Quite distressing.

”Shoot, no-” Mariah tried to scramble forward, hoping to get to her feet before Faheema could capitalize, but that simply was not going to happen. She pounced with all the speed of a jungle cat, striking Mariah’s leg. That kick kept her down, pinned her, and made it nigh impossible to avoid what came next.

With a solid grip on her leg, Faheema pulled off a deftly-executed slingshot, sending Mariah flying into the turnbuckle. She was able to get her arms up and keep her face from hitting too hard, but it did hit, and the effect was far from pleasant.

She took a moment to turn around and lean against the corner, shaking off the rust, though she wasn’t quite as haggard as she was trying to look. A little possum playing, as she waited for her foe to come in and take advantage of the situation.

Snapping up to her feet almost as quickly as she'd landed following her slingshot, Faheema spun around to see Mariah writhing in the corner, just where the Nubian had wanted her. That wrestling throw wasn't too complicated, but Faheema beamed with pride when she saw that she had pulled it off. If she was going to stay in Friction long-term as a wrestler, which she wanted more than anything, she needed to learn the fundamentals of the sport. Practice days were tough when women in the gyms seemed to avoid her so deliberately, and she was only just starting to get the hang of the wrestling throws and submissions.

Now, how did Faheema follow it up? Mariah looked pretty out of it, and Faheema was too conceited at the moment to consider that she might not be as hurt as she seemed. If this had been a normal match, Faheema probably would've opted to go in with her fists raised to beat Mariah's torso until it was as black as hers was, but this was a fun match, and it seemed like Mariah was really rusty, so her competition decided on something less practical, though no less capable of inflicting pain.

Walking leisurely up to the cornered woman, Faheema tilted forward and leaned into her, pressing her thigh into the hollow between her legs, and pressing a forearm into Mariah's neck to keep her from struggling too much as the Nubian casually pressed her into the corner with her body weight.

“How are you holding up?” Faheema asked, no more than a few inches separating their faces. “There was this exciting chest slap that your wife introduced me to in our match last night. I do love a good slap, and I'd like to learn that one, so be polite and let me practice on you, yes?”

Removing her body from Mariah's, Faheema stood back and pushed Mariah's head back against the turnbuckle pad with one hand. Working off of memory as best as she could, Faheema positioned herself and pulled back an arm, intending to swing her open palm across Mariah's chest in her attempt at replicating the simple strike known in wrestling as the knife-edge chop. Faheema had opted not to punch a black bruise into Mariah's chest, so the red color produced from a stinging slap would have to suffice!

There was a confidence to the way Faheema moved, Mariah couldn’t help but notice. It was on full display as she waited in the corner, reeling from the slingshot, and her foe came padding her way over. You would think that being naked - unclothed, vulnerable, wide open - would instill some caution in her movements, and that would’ve been the case for most people, even Mariah herself. But when Faheema strode forward, there was an air of power to her. A huntress, closing in her prey.

She was just starting to move out of the corner when Faheema came in and pushed her back, using her size and weight advantage to the fullest. There was no keeping in the moan that escaped as that toned, tanned leg slid between her own, fitting in like it was made for that purpose.

That, and the hot breath heating up her face with every word she spoke.

And the sizzling touches where their skin met.

And that dominant, hungry look in her eyes.

God, this woman was sexy, and she kept showing how well she knew it. But there was an aggression there, too, and as Faheema stepped back and wound her arm into a familiar position, Mariah knew what was coming from it next.

Faheema’s chop hit dead on, right in the middle of Mariah’s chest, and the impact rang out across the room. Even Bubbles had to recoil at that one - Faheema might not have had the best form for the move, but what she lacked in skill, she made up for in intensity. Her wife’s agonized cry was proof enough of that, as she stepped to the side with wide, bulging eyes and hissing teeth.

But that didn’t mean she was done, however.

”It’s called a ‘chop’.” She threw a wild glare back at Faheema from the corner of her eye. ”And this is how you do it.”

That was the only warning Mariah gave before she wheeled around, leaped at Faheema, and threw it all into a knife-edge chop, one aimed right at the peak of Faheema’s succulent breast. She didn’t have the strength of Bubbles’ blow to offer, but Mariah was the who taught her that move in the first place. Her chop was crisper. Cleaner. Quicker. Meaner. Like a bullwhip extending from her arm, guaranteed to blaze a trail on Faheema’s skin.

Earlier in the day, when the idea for this spar had been conceived, Faheema had initially wanted to take it somewhat seriously. Being a castoff from her homeland had left the Nubian clinging to whatever scraps of pride she still had, and her proficiency in hand-to-hand was the most prominent. Mariah's insinuation the prior night that she could keep up with Faheema in the ring due to her understanding of the sport's mental component had made her wonder if Mariah thought she was dumb. Probably not what she had intended, but Faheema was insecure about her lack of any real education, and the possibility of some coddled American lording their intelligence over her had stung at the time. Putting Mariah in her place had been an ulterior motive for her agreeing to come here.

That bruise on her ego had dissipated quickly, however, forgotten thanks to everything else Mariah and Bubbles had done for, and to, the young woman since. Both of them had allayed her suspicions to the point that her desire had flipped entirely by the time they had actually stepped into the ring together. All she wanted now was to have the most fun that she could, even if it meant that she would never have the chance to conclusively prove her superiority over Mariah. As long as she got her licks in, she felt no urgency to wear the woman down, happy to just toy with her even though it would mean letting her run out the clock until she got reinforcements from her wife.

Faheema grinned broadly as her hefty chop echoed off of the walls around them, Mariah recoiling in pain. When she started to move sideways, Faheema caught her by the arm and shoved her roughly back into the corner, slapping her over the head to discipline her for thinking that she could stumble out of her compromising position in the corner. Still, when Mariah threw her a defiant glance and pulled her arm back to return fire, the Nubian decided not to defend herself, even taking a small step back to give her a little space. She knew Mariah might make her regret that choice, but her decision to whip Faheema directly across her breast still caught her by surprise, Mariah's arm sailing forward with the speed of a cobra and hitting with the force of a leather strap.

“Aiiiee!” Faheema squealed, jumping in place as her whole chest rippled from the impact. It was her turn to stumble away from the place where she had been struck, inadvertently giving Bubbles an enticing performance as she moaned softly and massaged her sore breast, trying to make the blistering heat recede from it. Left to her own devices, Mariah was free to escape the corner, and press her advantage on the distracted African.

“Ooh, you'll pay for that, Mariah,” Faheema groaned, beginning to turn back towards Mariah if she failed to strike while the iron was hot, or chose not to.

Chopping was a lost art, in Mariah’s opinion. So many wrestlers used the move these days, true, but few of them really knew how to make the flesh sing with their strikes. That sort of skill didn’t come easy - Mariah spent years working it up, chopping away at doors, numbing her hand, getting the technique just right. It was more than pure power - timing, precision, aim, all of it played a crucial role. Even still, she messed it up from time to time.

But this wasn’t one of those misses. She judged the distance just right, landed the blow strong, and filled the room with both the sound of her chop and Faheema’s shriek.

So, so satisfying.

Bubbles whistled once more and shivered, loving to watch her wife work and getting more than a few pleasant memories. Mariah had used her own chest to demonstrate chopping technique quite often, and it was one of the sparks that let them know they had more going on than a manager/wrestler relationship. Oh, and the sight of Faheema massaging her chest, running her hands along those tenderized breasts? Yeah. Suddenly, Bubbles found herself wishing she’d kicked this off herself.

But Mariah was still in, and only just getting her steam back. Faheema’s moment of pain was a great window to slip through, and the only question was what she’d be bringing along for the ride. There were a lot of moves she could’ve tried...but, frankly, she wasn’t too confident how well they would work with her ring rust. Best to keep it nice and simple.

Mariah hopped up on to the middle of rope in the corner, taking a moment to balance herself out as Faheeam reeled. When the nubian turned her way, she leaped out, tucked her legs in, and shot them out towards her foe’s chest, looking to hit her with a missile dropkick. Basic, but potent when done right, and she used to do them right all the time.

Mariah was definitely the most technically minded person Faheema had fought in her life, though that badge of honor didn't have stiff competition. Just a lot of street brawls in the Nubian's past, plus the more recent match with Bubbles – a woman that wasn't simple by any means, but who had the sheer size needed to ragdoll opponents without too much planning needed. Her wife had to think harder about how to make her strength count, and she was really impressing with her grasp on the tricks that wrestlers used to get extra leverage out of their strikes.

Now, whether she wanted it or not, Faheema was going to get her practice taking one of the bigger strikes that Mariah was capable of. She had never seen an opponent fly before, and hadn't really known to expect such a thing. Not for a lack of trying; Faheema had tried to learn more about pro wrestling by watching Friction matches and watching other women practice, but aerial moves were so rare in this division that she had never been lucky enough to see a woman throw herself from the ropes with such grace...until she turned and saw Mariah rocketing towards her with her feet thrust forward.

“Huh?!!” Faheema yelped with surprise just before Mariah blasted her in the chest with a kick that launched her straight backward. The Nubian had almost made a grab for her, trying to snatch the woman out of mid-air, but Mariah's chosen attack was smart, leaving too little of her body in reach for Faheema to make the counter work. The best she could do was roll backwards as she landed, hitting the canvas on her back without much extra pain compounding the dull ache in her chest from the impact of Mariah's boots.

Lying on her back, Faheema tried to catch her breath, running a hand down her sore abdomen. She hadn't taken Mariah to be so capable, but she was smart, quick-witted, and she could fight. It was a scintillating combination, as the rising temperature between the Nubian's legs could attest.

Rolling onto her stomach, Faheema worked her way back onto her feet and went to confront Mariah again. There was no time to let lust get the better of her. Five minutes was her time limit, and it would be Bubbles' turn any second now.

Bubbles felt like she was locked in a time warp as she saw Mariah fly through the air. She was back in her twenties all of the sudden, her wife didn’t have the injury, she was looking on as her wife did what she loved more than anything in the world - wrestling. The thing that she loved so much that she stayed around the ring and learned an entirely new skillset. Bubbles was Mariah’s second love, wrestling was her first, and seeing them reunited was enough to bring tears to Bubbles eyes.

Granted, it didn’t in this case, but that was mostly because Bubbles was so horny right now. If she weren’t? Tears. Definitely tears

Mariah was about at the same level of thinking, as she went hurtling through the air. It was all coming back to her, like riding a bike. A rusty bike, sure, one that needed a lot of grease and maybe a new handlebar, but she could’ve done a lot worse. Her kick didn’t hit quite as high as she would’ve liked - it was meant for Faheema’s pretty face - but the chest would do.

The landing sucked, of course, and Mariah had to admit, she almost forgot how much it would. She came down hard her side, the wind knocked out of her, and she needed a crucial moment to get back to her feet.