JiminQueens2's blog

His left hand shoots up and grasps my left forearm. I know what’s coming, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. He squeezes my forearm, moves on, squeezes elsewhere, moves on.

And the third time is the charm. He presses two points just above the bend in my elbow, and my arms fly apart as if they have minds of their own. I have never been able to get as good with pressure points as he is.

Dad rolls away from me and completes the move to get back to his feet; rubbing my elbow, I get up a little more cautiously. We circle briefly, and then lunge at each other and lock up in a classic collar and elbow. Once more I’m astonished at the sheer power in this man’s muscles; I’m no slouch, but sometimes I think Dad could out-bench Captain America. The Steve Rogers version.

The wrestling match becomes more of a dance, with Dad leading. He pushes and pulls me all over the mat pretty much at his whim, sometimes twisting his body suddenly so that my feet leave the mat. I’m not going to overpower him, so I need to take him by surprise. When Dad spins me around and his grip loosens for a second, I immediately drop down into a squat and then drive my body into his while my hands collapse his legs behind the knee. Dad goes down, ass over teakettle, and lands flat on his back.

I quickly grab one of his feet and begin to twist it, keeping him pinned with my leg. Dad grunts with every twist, grunts that turn into cries after a while. “You ready to quit, geezer?” I ask him as I twist.

“No fucking way,” he growls back.

“Suit yourself.” I adjust my body so that most of my weight is on him, still holding onto his leg. With his thigh in easy reach, I release his foot, but get my arm around his knee to keep the leg immobilized and begin to dig my elbow into the fleshy part of his thigh. Now his cries become howls, but my triumph is definitely short-lived.

Because I’m inside Dad’s thighs. And he quickly takes advantage of the situation. He brings his other leg around and locks his ankles tightly, trapping me between his massive legs. And then he begins to Squeeze.

Now it’s my turn to grunt, and my grunts’ turns to turn into cries. Dad pours on the pressure and rolls us across the mat so that we’re both face down. With his legs controlling my midsection, he grabs me by the hair and pushes my head down to the mat, adding insult to injury by rubbing my face into the foam rubber.

I’m in trouble!