"Fuck You..."
How crude. Are all Americans like that? This isn't something you have time to worry about, as Ashley launches herself in a rather pathetic facsimile of the Thesz Press. The problem is, of course, she doesn't have the weight behind her to make it work. The poor girl is thrown aside without a second thought. Her problem is that she's always in a hurry. Never stops to enjoy anything. Well, you know the best way to put that right: a side headlock when she gets up. Ashley has very little chance of shifting you, leaving her ample opportunity to appreciate the strength of your hold around her neck. Not to mention the full, smooth skin of your breast, very nearly crushing her head.
Eventually, you decide to let her feel like she's doing something, allowing her to inch towards the ropes, and pretend to shoot you off. As it is, you cross the ring with a stately jog, and she manages to catch her breath, and regain her composure, just in time for you to show her how that Lou Thesz Press should be done: legs firmly scissoring her petite waist, hands shoving her shoulders down and - inevitably - your cleavage engulfing her face.
The ref slides in for the count!
One!
Two!
... |