Pro-Am Night by Stanley


Pro-Am Night by Stanley

I love my wife, she’s a little fireball. We met when I was stationed in Okinawa as a young sailor supporting the Marines there. She’s a Filipina, about five foot two, no more than 110 pounds soaking wet. When we met she taught dance at the rec center. She kept herself in awesome shape, still does after two kids.

Anyway, after we met and started dating she used to do something that turned me on. We would be fooling around, and my hand would always sneak over to her stomach. It was always so smooth and firm, but so soft; very tone but still supple, like a dancer’s body. Her navel was so cute, kind of a teardrop shape with a point at the top. I’ve always had a thing for women’s bellies so touching her stomach was always such a turn-on. I would creep over to her stomach, touch her belly button, which she always seemed to like, and she would say to me, “I know what you want…you want to punch me right.”

I remember the first time she said it, I didn’t know what to say. I think it shocked me, but she was right. I’d always wanted to, but never figured I would. Didn’t seem like the right thing to do.

“We pretend,” she said, “don’t hurt me.”

She took my hand, balled it into a fist, slowly push my fist into her stomach, and she would pretend to be punched. I couldn’t believe it!

“Now you try, don’t hurt me.”

I remember it like it was yesterday. We were lying on her couch, she was wearing a yellow blouse that I had pulled up to expose her belly, and a pair of jean shorts that stopped about an inch below her belly button. I balled my fist and pretended to punch her in slow motion between her rib cage and her navel. I went very slow, and she allowed my fist to sink deep into her belly.

I knew right then this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

We were married and had a wonderful time together. We didn’t do the punching thing every time we made love, but it was a thing we liked doing. I got out of the Navy two years later and went to school on the GI Bill down at the University of Florida. That’s when I found out my wife liked professional wrestling.

I had never been all that into it, but I came home from a night class and found her on the couch watching wrestling on TV. It turns out that after our first child was born, it had been a guilty pleasure of hers. I didn’t mind, I’d watch it with her sometimes. When I got us both tickets to go see one of the wrestling shows they show in Tallahassee live, she loved it. So every couple of months, we’d go see a show.

As time went on, we’d sometimes go to the lower-level matches they have at some of the high schools they weren’t as glitzy as some of the TV shows, but they were still fun. They also usually had a couple of pro-am matches that could be pretty good. Some up-and-coming local yokel would take on a professional and try to get onto the professional circuit, I guess you have to start somewhere.

My wife would especially love it when there was a female pro-am fight. Most of those amateur girls would just get squashed. It was painful and funny to watch. She would always comment, “That girl doesn’t know what she’s doing,” or “That’s not what I would do.” I didn’t want to encourage her. I’d hate to see her get squashed like those other girls. I think those pretend punching things we would do in our bedroom was a way for her to fantasize that she could take a punch and win a fight. Maybe I should have recognized she was steeling herself up for just one of those pro-am fights.

I’ll say this; it was a complete surprise when it happened. We had been married for years and had even stopped going to the fights that often because we had kids and jobs and whatever; maybe once every three or four months. The night she decided to fight started like any other night. She picked up the babysitter, we gave some final instructions and kissed our kids goodnight.

I should have noticed the little things; she was wearing some new black stretchy jeans and purple high-top sneakers. I just noticed they were new, and that she looked fabulous. She was also wearing her jean jacket, which wasn’t weird except that she kept it buttoned up. I thought she was just cold. She also seemed a little jittery, I couldn’t excuse that away. I remember asking why she was so jumpy, and she snapped back I’m not jumpy! I thought I’d just let the matter rest.

We got to the school kind of early, but we liked to get good seats. We picked some great ones in the bleacher just above the ring; we could see all the action. As people started filing in, I noticed a definite lack of banter from my wife; normally she could be a real chatterbox. I said the only thing I could think of to help her feel better, “You know baby, I Love You.” She gave me a big smile and a hug. I guess that calmed her down.

The wrestling got started and she seemed to warm up to the night. There was the usual pre-fight banter from the lower circuit professional wrestlers, and the almost preprogrammed boos and cheers from the crowd. About halfway through the night, she got up and said she had to go to the bathroom. I remember saying hurry back, they got girl’s pro-am tonight, and she said, “Oh I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Jeeze, that should have been my last clue.

Female Pro-Am usually comes nearly second to last in the evening; just before the ‘title fight’ since it usually has such a big draw. I looked at the program to see who was billed, they never used the amateur’s real name, just some made-up nickname that accentuated one of her prettier features. This one said, “Aunty Jane versus the Raging Asian.” I can remember thinking to myself, “Raging Asian, I wonder if she’s from the Philippines.” OK, that should have been my last clue. But Aunty Jane was nothing to sneeze about. She wrestled a lot in the pro-am match and she could be pretty vicious. It seemed like she made it her mission to send those girls home in humiliating pain.

“This should be good,” I thought, “where is my wife?”

Now, these pro-am bouts don’t tend to have lots of pre-match banter since, quite frankly, the amateurs are not good at it. Nope, the announcer usually just makes the introductions and the fighters, bounce down from the locker room to the ring. He always starts with the amateur.

“Tonight’s amateur appearing in the professional-amateur bout, weighing in at five foot two and 120 lbs, straight from the mysteries of the orient, the Raging Asian!”

My jaw must have dropped straight to the floor as I saw my wife bound out of the locker room doors and into the ring. I will say this, she did look hot. The stretchy black jeans hugged her body like a second skin. She had left the jacket in her locker room and was wearing a deep purple crop t-shirt top with a sparkly star on her chest. The top ended about halfway up her rib cage and left her whole abdomen exposed down to about two inches below her belly button. Her long black hair was tied in the back into a ponytail. She looked HOT! I will say this, the crowd loved her. She bounced into the ring, strutted to the center, flexed her biceps, and then kissed each arm. The crowd went wild. She looked fit and trim, my wife works out and still teaches dance, but there was no way she weighed more than a buck o five that night…what had she gotten herself into!

“Tonight’s professional, weighing in at five-six and 140 pounds, is the one and only, Aunty Jane!”

My wife stood there with her hands on her hips as Aunty Jane came lumbering to the ring. She was a full head taller than my wife, with what looked like a longer reach. She was also older, easily in her forties, wearing a one-piece blue leotard and wrestling boots. She had short dirty blond hair and a no-nonsense face. She looked every bit the professional wrestler.

The crowd’s reaction was mixed; some people booed, others cheered, and others shouted helpful suggestions to both my wife and Jane. I think all I wanted to do was just pull her out of there before she got hurt.

The referee brought both women to the center for instructions, which I couldn’t hear. Aunty Jane didn’t glare at my wife so much as just sized her up intently. My wife returned her gaze evenly, even taking it up a notch to an intimidating stare. I give my wife this much, she seemed really confident like she knew what she was doing. Most amateurs at this point look like they want to get the fight over with and leave.

The ref sent both women back to their corners and sounded the bell. My heart leaped into my mouth. I should have run down there and dragged my wife out of there. But there she was running towards a professional wrestler, a third larger than her.

Both women ran towards the center of the ring. Jane reached to grapple grabbed thin air, my wife ducked under Jane’s arms, darted behind, and side kicked Jane in the small of the back. Jane fell to her hands and knees off balance. The crowd went wild. It was mostly Jane’s momentum, but my wife looked quick and agile…she might have a chance at this.

My wife was a little slow to capitalize on Jane’s position, so Jane was able to get up, turn and face my wife. Both women circled each other around the center of the ring looking for an opening. Jane shot in again seeking to lock my wife up in a grapple or test of strength, but my wife darted underneath her hands again, aimed a kick at the back of Jane’s knees, then jumped on Jane’s back and put her head into a sleeper hold. Jane went down to one knee and grabbed at the arm trying to block her windpipe, the left arm windmilling for a couple of seconds.

I couldn’t believe this, my wife’s grip was too strong and Jane couldn’t break the hold. Jane struggled to her feet and staggered backward across the ring towards a turnbuckle. My wife seemed to sense where Jane was heading and let up on the chokehold in preparation for jumping off her back. Jane gasped air and rushed backward, smashing my wife’s back into the turnbuckle. She winced but tried to tighten her grip. Jane smashed backward twice more, then reached back and flipped my wife off her back.

My wife rolled through the flip and landed in a very low crouch near the center of the ring, her left leg straight like she was ready for a foot sweep, her right leg bent, coiled for a quick leap. It looked so cat-like, so graceful, the crowd started shouting her name, “Raging Asian, Raging Asian.” She stayed in that crouch while Jane recovered and went into her own wrestler's crouch. She began to circle my wife, who stayed in her foot sweep mode and slowly turned to stay facing Jane. Jane kept moving until my wife’s back was to the turnbuckle. I realized what she was doing, she was trying to back my wife into the corner and reduce her maneuver room. I tried to shout a warning, but couldn’t be heard over the crowd.

Jane aimed a low kick at my wife’s face. My wife’s coiled leg sprung her back, but not far enough, both hands came up and blocked the kick down, but now my wife was almost to the corner, she briefly looked left and right, noticed she was being boxed in and tried to duck past Jane’s outstretched arms. Jane was ready for her, she cocked her right arm into a low close uppercut that was too low to duck and punched up into her stomach as she tried to sprint by.

The crowd went, “Oooh,” as one, as my wife staggered to a stop. All the wind seemed to go out of my wife’s sails as Jane held the punch in my wife’s stomach, then released her. My wife stayed half doubled over, one hand clutching her belly, the other held straight out and down as if she was afraid she would fall. Her mouth was shaped like a big O as she tried to **** air into her emptied lungs. She hadn’t been ready for that punch. This hadn’t been us playing in the bedroom.

Unfortunately, Jane was now in her element. She knew that most amateurs didn’t have the staying power of a pro; it generally took only one or two blows to finish the fight, then the squashing would begin. Jane was now going to enjoy herself.

Jane roughly spun my wife around by her shoulders, grabbed the back of her head, and pulled my wife’s head down to Jane’s knee. My wife’s head snapped back up. I could clearly see her face, dazed and practically cross-eyed. Jane then grabbed my wife by her left arm and whipped her into the closest corner. It was a classic move. I knew what was coming next. My wife’s back smacked into the turnbuckle again and both arms reflexively reached out to grab onto the ropes. Jane stepped closer, placed her left arm across my wife’s chest at just about the collar bone, pushed her back to further expose her abdomen, and gave my wife a deep belly punch.

How can I describe it? I was both horrified and excited at the same time. My wife was bent backward over the turnbuckle, her feet just barely touching the ground, her arms trying to pull Jane’s armbar from off her collar bone. Jane’s left arm holding her in place, right arm cocked and fist planted deep in my wife’s belly. Jane was taking her time, holding the punch, entertaining the crowd. They came to see a pretty girl get squashed and they weren’t being disappointed. She pulled back her fist and punched again, right above the navel and below the rib cage, her fist sinking halfway into my wife’s stomach. She held it for just a second then punched her one more time before the ref intervened and Jane released my wife. My wife practically crumbled to the floor.

Jane looked around at the crowd, which was now cheering her insanely, turned back to my wife and pulled her up by her hair. My wife stood, one hand trying to relieve the pressure on her hair, and the other holding her poor punched belly. Jane snap-mared her to the other side of the ring and into the ropes. She stood there, her back facing the inside of the ring. Grasping the ropes with one hand while holding her belly with the other. Jane approached her from behind, wrapped her left arm around my wife’s neck in a reverse headlock, turned her around so her back was against the ropes, then bent her backward over the ropes.

Jane made a big production of what came next. With my wife bent over backward, belly stretched to the sky, Jane took her free hand and started to make am x over my wife’s navel. The crowd howled in anticipation, I was dumbstruck. My wife seemed to know what was coming because she struggled against Jane’s headlock. Jane just hovered a thick finger just over her navel and whispered into her ear. My wife stopped struggling for a moment, and Jane plowed her fist right into my wife’s outstretched belly button. The crowd went wild. I got up. I had had enough. Jane held that punch for more than a few seconds, slowly grinding her fist into my wife’s belly. She brought her fist out, made another slow x over her navel, then plowed another grinding slow punch into her belly button.

I missed the rest, I was running down to the ring. Security intercepted me before I could get close. By the time I could see again, my wife was no longer being held up on the ropes, but I could hear an awful pounding up on the ring. I couldn’t see what was going on, but I heard the bell ring. I saw Jane exit the stage to the roar of the crowd. My wife left a minute later with the assistance of a trainer.

Security let me go to the locker room after both ladies had left the ring. They seem to be expecting me and directed me to my wife’s changing room. She was in there smiling when I came in…I was shocked! She was rubbing her belly with one hand but beckoning me to come over with the other hand. A trainer was asking her questions. When I was next to them, the trainer turned to me and said, “your wife’s really got talent,” and walked out.

My wife was beaming, “You like?”

“I don’t’ know,” I said, “You’re not hurt?”

“No, not really, she hit me, but not too hard. It takes practice.”

I really was astonished. My wife had been practicing this? When did she find the time? She continued, “The easiest part was when she had me on the ground. She kicked me twice in the belly and twice in the ribs, but no contact. It was all show. I rolled around and pretend to be hurt. Then she foot stomp me, then elbow drop, then one last belly punch while I lie on the mat. That one knocks me out for the pin.”

While she was explaining, Aunty Jane came into the changing room, I barely heard her enter so was a little startled when she spoke up. “Your wife did great! Not like most amateurs. With a little more conditioning she could go pro.”

Again I was dumbstruck. Not ten minutes ago I thought Jane was a brute intent on destroying my wife, now she was hugging like sorority sisters. They spoke a little, and Jane gave my wife a number for a trainer. I watched her go then turned to my wife, “Is that what you want, to turn pro?”

She smiled and looked at me, “I don’t know, I don’t think so. T was fun to try once, but it’s mostly just a performance with a lot of hitting. I’d have to work out more and I don’t know if I want all that muscle. I think I just do this once.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness, I didn’t want the stress of worrying about her in the ring, tonight was bad enough. She was still holding her belly and smiling a wicked smile towards me, “But you and I can still have fun practicing if you want.”

I love that woman, I really do.

April 5, 2022 2:54 PM