Here's another cool and Hot story . A piece of gold I found on my drive.
Credit goes to the Og author
Part 1:
The Groce family was the typical middle-bourgeois family. Carla, the mother, was a teacher. At 41 years old she could display an incredibly athletic body, carved by years of hard training with weights, swimming and other outdoor activities. Her height of 176 cm, combined with long, curly golden hair which slowly fell on her broad shoulders, gave her the look of a beautiful valkyrie.
Her husband John died the last winter of a car accident, and after the tragic occurrence she dedicated herself, body and soul, to her work (she was a teacher) and her main passion: sport. She kept telling her friends that it helped her to face her mourning, so she started a crossfit routine and even a brazilian jiujisu class. She was so excited about Bjj that she asked her 15 years old daughter to join her: Alexia, her younger child, inherited the athletic skills from her mother: at 15 she could already brag about her full trophy display cabinet, which was on display in the little dependence built in the park, not far from the house, and that the family used daily as a gym: it was completed by weights and bodybuilding machines of all sorts, treadmill, cyclette, a tatami which Carla used to her yoga sessions and martial arts training too. The older son, Mark, was always been jealous of his sister’s skills and trophies, as he considered her trophy case like an altar erected to her physical power, and he kept complaining to himself that he never took sport seriously, and at 20 was probably too late to reach his sister or his mother.
When his little sister accepted their mother’s invite to join her in her Bjj journey he started to get nervous: her trophy cabinet was full of medals and cups won in swimming, running and gymnastics competition, but she became too tall for gymnastic in the last 2 years (she inherited the genes from her mother after all) and, if she’d decide to put all her energies and dedication to a martial arts training, he would had soon become the weak ring of the family. He knew it well. Yes, he was strong. Yes, he gained a judo black belt. But he didn’t step on a tatami in 6 years, and his skills weren’t so shiny as the ones owned by the women of his family. He thought about the options he got: going back to the dojo and train hard? Too tiresome for the lazy guy he was at that point of his life. He decided to switch to another tactique, which fitted better with his persona: psychological demotivation. Yes! That would have been his main weapon…
One evening, after Carla and Alexia came back from the grappling training, the 3 were sitting at the dinner table, and Mark asked to his mother: “So, mom, how’s Alexia in grappling? Is she as good as she was in every sport she tried?” Carla was a smart woman and she obviously noticed the sarcasm in her son’s tone, yet, she decided to ignore it. “Even better, my dear”, she answered as she pat her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “She tapped a bigger guy today, and he was even a blue belt! She got him in an armbar and he had to submit. Well done, dear!”
“Well, maybe she could overpower a Bjj blue belt…Not a judo black belt”. Both Carla and Alexia stopped eating and looked Mark in his eyes. Was that a challenge? “I don’t think this sibling rivalry is a good idea, honey”, Carla said, “You should support each other in your activities instead of being enemies!”.
“Of course if she’s afraid I wouldn’t force her to have a match with me”, answered Mark with a smirky expression on his face. “After all it’s clear that women beat men just in the movies”.
“That’s ok mom” yelled Alexia. “I can handle it. If it’s a match between us that he wants, I’ll give it to him. May the best win!” and raised her glass as she pronunced this sentence.
“Good. I will brush up my black belt. Let’s decide a date…What about 6 months from now? This summer, we will meet in our gym in the dependence…Deal?” – “Deal!” said firmly Alexia while shaking her brother’s hand.
Mark quickly reached the stairs directed to his room. Carla remained immobile and stared at her daughter. What to do now? She was kept between two fires. If she remained on her daughter’s side (which was on the right side in her opinion, being provoked) showing feminine solidarity she would probably help her daughter in the development of personality and self esteem, but her son missed a male role model since his father was gone, and he was probably trying to cling to a male role-tough guy cliché which he needed to radicate his identity. On the other hand, justify his machismo and sexism just to protect his ego was not good for him either, on the long distance. She had to do like Pontius Pilate about this: washing her hands. “Ok, you will have this match” she whispered to her daughter. The blonde virago got up from the table and answered to her mom: “I will beat him, mom”, then she left the kitchen to reach her room.
Carla sat again on one of the chairs, thinking. “Yes, dear” she finally spoke to herself. “Do it, he deserves a lesson”. Then she got up and left the room, shutting the light off.
The day of the match came: July 12, 2007. Carla was the first to enter the gym: she prepared the tatami for the match, opened the windows to let the light enter the place and throwed a look at her daughter’s trophy case. It was impressive. After few minutes Alexia entered the room: she just had a pair of black shorts and a black bra, her incredibly toned and sculpted body with abs made of steel was exalted in that outfit. She threw away her flip flops and stepped barefoot on the tatami to do stretching, legs first, and while stretching she asked to her mother: “Mark is late, as always. He will be the last to enter, and the last to exit…Horizontally! Ahahahah”.
Carla couldn’t avoid laughing at her daughter’s joke about a possibile K.O., and was amused by her confidence. In that very moment Mark entered too. He saw that they were laughing and, as paranoid as he was, he thought they were mocking him. “Laughs best who laughs last” he said with a bitter tone in his voice. He presented himself bare chested, with gi pants and his black belt around the pants to remember her his grade. He stepped on the tatami too, facing his sister.
“Ok, you know the rules”, started Carla, “You come from different but similar disciplines, in some ways: no striking allowed, the one who immobilizes the opponent forcing him to submit will win a round. After 3 submissions will be declared the winner. Remember to tap out, otherwise you will take a nap. A K.O. will be considered a victory, just like a submission. Is everything clear?”. They both nodded their head yes. “Ok then…Fight!”.
The 16 years old girl and her 21 years old brother started to circle around each other, trying to study every little movement to understand the best moment to attack; Alexia looked firm and self-confident, moving like a feline hunting her prey, while Mark had a fast breath, almost on the threshold of hyperventilation due to anxiety. He decided to attack as suddenly lauched himself on his sister, which put herself on the ground to have a more efficient defense against him: with her legs she kept her guard, as he tried to find a hole to sneak in and submit her. But her leg game was just too good for his relflexes and his skills. He kept circling around her searching the right space but she followed him, circling on her butt keeping her guard up like a praying mantis surrounded and attacked. He decided to back off because he knew that if he tried he’d probably end in a triangle choke. Carla smiled. “Wise move, son” said as she winkled her eye to Mark. The boy tried to close his distance once again but this time was Alexia who took initiative: when he was close enough she sweeped him off his feet with her legs and, as he feel on his knees, she locked her ankles behind his back, holding him firmly while applying pressure on his ribs with her adductor muscles, holding his right arm with an armlock. Suddenly he was in panick. He didn’t know how to move, and as he tried to regain his rationality to study a counterattack he found his sister adjusting her position, sneaking behind him without letting his arm: at this point she had his back, and she executed a rear naked choke suddenly switching from the previous joint lock, and as she took him on the ground she took control of his waist with a body traingle. Carla was in shock and awe witnessing her daughter’s ability on the grappling mat after just one year of training. She looked at her son: he was desperately trying to sneak out of that hold, but he didn’t know how: his hands kept switching from his sister’s arms locked around his neck, to her muscular gymnast legs which held his body immobilized to the ground, and viceversa. Alexia kept increasing the pressure, as he didn’t give a sign of giving up, she seemed like a python mercylessy squeezing her prey. Carla, worried by the fact that Mark’s face started to look like a blueberry, said to him “Tap out!”. Mark obeyed, he tapped his hand 3 times on the ground. Alexia released her hold, and with a single movement she stood up again. Mark slowly reached the sitting position, massaging his throat. Carla took the red marker from the white board on the wall where they used to sign their training routines, and wrote the points: Alexia: 1 – Mark: 0. “It’s 1-0 for Alexia. Take your time and get ready for the next round”. Mark looked on the white board and saw the written proof of his failure. He slowly got up and shook his head trying to get away that dizzy feeling he felt, then told to his mom and sister: “Ok, I am ready”.
The two siblings faced each other once again, with a confident look Alexia, more disheartened Mark. “Ready? Wrestle!” Shouted Carla. This time Mark seemed more cautios, waiting for his opponent’s first move. After some seconds of stall Alexia lashed out against him, but he managed to intercept her arm and nailed a perfect executed ippon, throwing her to the ground. She felt the impact, and as she tried to recollect her senses he locked her in a sankaku; this time the girl was in serious trouble, as she uselessly tried to get free from her brother’s legs. The mother witnessed the scene tring not to betray any emotion on her face, but she was clearly rooting for her daughter to win. After a pair of failed attempts Alexia decided to try something adventurous: since Mark’s technique was not one of the bests, he didn’t lock the sankaku in the proper way. Yet, from that position if was hard to get out. But she could try something unusual…Thanks to her gymnast flexibility she planted her feet down and, with a backward momentum she threw herself in a perpendicular position, upside down, and at that point she had just slid away from her brother’s mediocre sankaku. Without giving him time to understand what was going on, she sat on his back and with a very rapid movement she got him in a lotus lock, which was like a full nelson performed with legs instead of arms. Carla was astonished: that was probably the most humiliating way to nail a grappling round that she ever witnessed. Alexia was womanhalndling her older brother like she could never imagine, without making any discount in her display of dominance. She grabbed her brother’s head from his air with her right hand, adjusting her legs to make the hold more effective. His arms were completeley trapped and immobilized, like he was crucifixed; if he tried to sneak out from that hold, a little movement from his sister’s legs would had bring him in great pain and suffering. With her hands she reached his ankles and bented his legs, forcing his ankles under her armpits like a reverse boston crab. A mouffled scream was buried on the ground, since Alexia had her feet crossed at the back of his neck, forcing his face on the floor. He couldn’t tap with his arms, which were blocked by his sister’s legs, he couldn’t tap with his legs, which were immobilized too, he couldn’t reclaim his submission with his voice either. Carla didn’t know what to do. “Do you submit?” She asked, but only a muffled word came out of his mouth and neither the daughter or the mother could guess what it meant. She decided to wait a response, a movement, but from that position Mark couldn’t do anything, so he kept laying there at his sister’s mercy. Carla looked at her clock: 5 minutes were passed since Alexia locked him in that hold, 5 minutes which must have been like an eternity for him; she was moved by maternal mercy and decided to put an end to his shameful, neverending humiliation. “Ok, I am the ref, I decide”, she said as she took the red marker again to write on the white board the points: Alexia: 2 – Mark: 0. “Alexia wins the second round. Let him go”. The girl unlocked her legs from his arms, let his ankles free from her arms and stood up, looking down at him.
Mark rolled himself on his back started to massage his sore arms trying to get some relief. Alexia slapped his face with her foot twice before reaching again the center of the tatami. Very slowly, still massaging his sore arms, Mark did the same. “Are you ready for the third bout?” Carla asked. The siblings both nodded yes. “Mark, if you lose this one you lose the match. But don’t undervalue the consequences…If you are stuck in a unescapable hold, please give up. Ok?” Her son nodded yes again, he was looking on the floor, his moral was under his feet.
“Ready?...FIGHT!” Their mother shouted for the third and last time. Alexia, fueled by the 2 previous wins, immediately rushed against him, taking him to the ground with a sweep, she went on him on mount position, but he was too demoralized both in the body and spirit to fight back, so she switched to work on his arm and performed an armbar on him. She got his right arm nailed…He tried to lift his head to see what he could do, but her legs got his neck and closed it in a very tight headscissor. “NOO!” he yelled, almost breaking in tears, when he understood it was over for him. “Tap out, son, she won” said Carla with a sweet but firm tone.
“F…Fuck you, BITCHES!” he screamed with all the anger he had inside for the frustration and humiliation he had to bear. “Ok, bro, you asked for it, goodnight!” whispered his sister, as she squeezed her legs with all her power. His face started to turn purple as guttural sounds came our from his mouth. A big bulge took form in his pants as he started to lose consciousness. Convultions shaked his legs as any resistance faded: he was out. Carla bent near them as Alexia still mantained the hold. She took her son’s arm and let it fall 3 times on the ground. “He is K.O. Congratulations, dear, you won” told to her daughter with a big smile on her face. Alexia couldn’t hide the happines inside of her, she rolled his lifeless brother off her and got up, arms raised in the air as she started to perform a victory dance around her defeated brother. Carla took Mark’s ankles and raised his legs up, trying to make sure that blood and oxygen could reach again his brain, but almost a minute passed before he opened his eyes again. In the meantime, Alexia had just finished to write the points on their white board: Alexia: 3 – Mark: 0. “Are you ok?” Carla asked her son, but he didn’t answer. Alexia came near to her brother, she bent on him, untied his judo black belt whispering in his ear “You don’t deserve this”. Then she raised it aloft, like a trophy from the battle to the small crowd which was represented only by their mother. She placed her foot on his chest in a victory pose and, with the belt up in the air and a V victory sign with her other hand, she asked their mother to frame the moment with a picture. Carla smiled, but she thought that, after all, her daughter had the right to celebrate her victory as she wanted. So she raised her digital camera. Alexia placed her foot on her brother’s face and turned it to face the camera: “Look into the camera lens! So we’ll have the proof it’s really you!” then she placed her foot back on his chest; drops of sweat poured all down Alexia’s leg and hit Mark’s exposed chest. A camera flash lit up the room. The picture was taken, the final humiliation was framed. Alexia went to her trophy display case, she opened it, and put the black belt, rolled up, inside of it, between medals and cups won in the competitions, then she closed the glass wall with her key. She took the red marker from the board and, reaching her brother who was still on the ground recovering, trying to catch his breath, she performed a split victory pose on him, writing on his bare chest the points which were already framed on the white board: 3-0. Mantaining the split on his abdomen, she performed a double flex victory pose and asked Carla to take a second picture. Another flash filled the room.
“Now, listen me well big bro: I just framed the female victory. You are doomed to see any day the proofs of your defeat exposed in my trophy case. Now you have two options: you can break the glass and take the belt and the pictures back, pictures which I will expose after we’ll print them, but if you do this, the pictures will be posted online for anyone to see on social networks. But at least you won’t have to face these shameful proofs in my trophy cabinet anyday. Otherwise your defeat will remain a family affair, but you will be forever linked to your humiliating defeat, and everytime you will pass near the trophy case you will recall this day, even if no one else will know…Anyway, whatever you chose, you are with your back against the wall. I totally owned you, and that’s a fact. So you will remember if women can beat men just in the movies, as you said some months ago. Your belt will forever remain my favorite trophy, because it is a nice reminder for me too, that nobody should tell a woman what she can do and what she can’t do”.
Her speech was over. Carla was watching the scene with her arms folded. When Alexia stood up she placed one hand on her shoulder as she said “Honey, I am so proud of you”. Then, raising her right arm up, she pronounced: “As the ref, I declare Alexia Groce the winner of this sibling match, with 3 rounds won out of 3. Flawless victory!”. After this formality, Mark tried to stand up but he still had that dizzy, confused feeling in his head, and he did not realise that, without the belt, his gi pants fell down to his ankles, he lost balance and fell on the ground again, exposing his erect penis as he wasn’t wearing any underwear; Alexia started to laugh like a crazy and could not stop herself. Carla bent on her son, and whispered in his ear: “Are you ok?” but Mark was catathonic, and he didn’t answer, not even with his head. His rock-hard exposed dick kept pulsating in the dim light of the room; “Not so wise to go commando to a grappling match!” she said with an amused smile on her face, and then added “See…You wanted to show who wear the pants inside the family, but without the belt the pants don’t stay up!” At this point Alexia was on her knees, hands on her abs cause her laughs started to hurt her. “Just leave him alone” Carla told to her daughter, and they both moved to leave the gym. As Mark turned his face, he could see the back of those two beautiful valkyries reaching the exit, as their laughter filled the air in the distance, then they opened the door, and he was suddenly alone with his defeat
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Will post part 2 soon...
