Amazons International # 43 ************************** Contents: Spinner: Bio Dan W.: Bio Pete: Plug for Muscular Women Admirers Patrick: Amazonian Passion (erotic story) Date of Transmission: 17.06.94 ************************************************************** Date: Thu, 09 Jun 94 09:06:16 mest From: Spinner Subject: Bio Hi! It seems to be a trend that people introduce themselves after reading AI for a while. Poor little sheep that I am, the time has come for me to identify myself as well. I'm Spinner. Student of media in all its wonderful forms and mutations, I really feel at home reading AI. Excellent, Thomas! The reason I'm writing now is that hopefully I can get some answers to some questions I have: 1) Are there any other women out there who get loads of bullshit from men who are scared of women with brains and attitude? Apart from ignoring them, or having a sneering "Go ahead, make my day" attitude after all other efforts of communication have failed, is there anything one can do to avoid situations like this in the future? 2) It seems to me a lot of women have a certain fear of technology, i.e., computers. Do I hang out with the wrong people, or is this a common trait amongst a lot of people? (This isn't really a question, more musing...) The background for these questions are some recent experiences. I run a small, Norwegian magazine which has existed for 21 years. I'm their first female editor, and the amount of bullshit I get is just incredible. It's not that I'm whining or looking for a shoulder to cry on, it's just that it just gets so fucking boring and tiring after a while. I would welcome anwers/tips/whatever. Anyway, back to the intro I never started properly: I'm a medium tall, physically reactivated (got sick, got out of training, got restarted) copywriter turned mediastudent, freelancing my way through life and studies. I used to bodybuild uptil a couple of years ago, but alas I lost interest, mainly due to the fact that I got terribly bored with the whole thing. So now I swim, go horseriding, walk and run, shoot with crossbow, and have recently developed a taste for kendo. The great thing about getting physical again is just the wonderful feeling (ok, endorphins) you get by doing something with your body. After two years as a couch potato, I feel on top of the world again. I would also like to know if there are any good books around on archery and kendo, with a strong preference for books, if there are any, on archery in all its forms on horseback. I can see it sounds a bit like a BIG cliche, but these are some of the things I enjoy doing most, and I'd like to combine them, cause right now my shooting on horseback really sucks. Spinner ************************************************************** Date: Fri, 13 May 1994 17:12:15 -0500 From: dan@cmr.com (Dan Whitty) Subject: Re: Bio Hello, My interest in Amazons started way back in my high school days (20 years ago), when I saw two of our high school cheerleaders wrestling on the stage during a play practice. It started out as simple tomfoolery, but then it got serious and the two had to find out who was the better wrestler. That same year, I collaborated with a girl and we wrote a one-act play about a woman boxing a man in a title fight, to complete a class assignment about doing a play on current political issues. Women's Liberation was a big thing in the U.S. during the early 70s. Anyways, I wound up being the male boxer and Wanda, my co-author was the female boxer. Wanda was an independent, free-spirit, no-nonsense girl I really had a crush on. Wanda didn't care much for me though, in fact she insisted that she'd be the woman boxer just so she could beat me up. Her cousin Faye was also in the play and she wanted to be the boxer too. Faye was not quite as dominant as Wanda, but she had Amazon qualities none the less. The two settled the dispute during a practice session after school by boxing each other to see who was the better fighter. Still in their school clothes, I laced the 10oz gloves on them and they squared off. Faye looked kinda silly wearing the gloves since she wore a white angora sweater and black skirt that day. Wanda looked better since she wore a brown pullover sweater and jeans. It wasn't much of a fight though, Wanda attacked, Faye freaked out and covered up and Wanda knocked Faye silly in short order. For the play I was supposed to lose the match against Wanda. During practices Wanda rang my bell and knocked me on my butt several times. I spent the majority of my time trying to block her punches and didn't do a very good job of that. Come time for the actual play. Wanda's defeat of me looked pretty realistic. Actually it wasn't very far from the truth. I even got a black eye out of the deal. From that point on I followed women wrestling and boxing closely. During my single days I always was attracted to and dated the strong-willed, independent, and assertive women most guys shyed away from. Eventually, I married an Amazon and I've been happy ever since. She may not wrestle or box other women, but she is one the most assertive and independent person I've ever met. But I still enjoy discussing and watching women's boxing and wrestling. Paula (my wife) enjoys the discussions too. And that's about it, unless you include this 33" 16 month old girl who'll probably be close to 6' as an adult. (I'm 6'3", Paula's 5'8".) Little squirt is already leader of the one-year old pack at daycare. (Takes right after her mother!) Dan ************************************************************** Date: Fri, 17 Jun 1994 19:55:04 +0200 From: p.j.suters@sunserver1.bath.ac.uk Subject: Plug for Muscular Women Admirers mailing list I'd like to introduce my new-started mailing list: ============================================================== M U S C U L A R W O M E N A D M I R E R S ============================================================== the mailing list for admirers of hardcore bodybuilding women ______________________________________________________________ Are you a fan of Female Bodybuilders? Are you a fan of the bigger variety of Bodybuilder? Are you a bodybuilding woman yourself? If so, Muscular Women Admirers is the mailing list for you. MWA has been set up as a mailing list for those of us who are fans of hardcore bodybuilding women. What we are talking about is not fitness competitors, or the less muscular women on the competition circuit, but women athletes who have built themselves up to a huge muscularity. Women such as Denise Rutkovski, Shelley Beattie, Lenda Murray, Marie Mahabir, Raye Hollitt, Sandy Riddell, Karla Nelson, to name a few. Our aim is to allow a frank and free flow of information about all aspects of female bodybuilding. If you want to participate in an atmosphere of privacy and mutual support, join MWA. Send E-mail to: p.j.suters@sunserver1.bath.ac.uk ************************************************************** Date: 09 Apr 94 17:43:09 EDT From: Paul Robinson <72162.261@CompuServe.COM> Subject: Amazonian Passion (erotic story) [THE FOLLOWING STORY CONTAINS SEXUALLY EXPLICIT MATERIAL. TO AVOID THAT, STOP READING RIGHT HERE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. -- Ed.] AMAZONIAN PASSION Catherine stood in front of the mirror, studying her reflection with a critical eye. She was half-turned, looking at herself over one bare shoulder, examining the way the black silk cocktail dress was stretched around her deeply tanned body. The huge dinner that she had just consumed had not seemed to have added an ounce to her sleekly contoured figure, at least she was glad to see that the dress didn't reveal even the tiniest of errant bulges. One finger reached up to wipe away a smudge of lightly applied lipstick from one corner of her full lower lip. The face that stared back at her wasn't classically beautiful, but it was striking . . . even handsome, one might say. She had high cheekbones and a thin-bridged nose with slightly flairing nostrils. Her eyes were pure cobalt blue and sparkled with intelligence. They were set just a trifle too wide apart for the narrow oval of her face, but the broad forehead balanced it all out. Thick honey blonde hair cascaded down across the surprising width of her shoulders, wild and tousled, as if she'd been tussling with a midnight lover. She wasn't particularly tall, perhaps five-six at the most. But she projected the sense of occupying a much larger personal space. It had something to do with the way in which she carried herself, in the set of those wide and sinewy shoulders, the well-balanced stance of a martial artist, the over-all ultra fitness of her body. Hers was an athlete's body; sleek-sinewed, supple, and perfectly conditioned from years of exercise. When Catherine moved, well-toned musculature rippled and played smoothly as a cats' just beneath the taut padding of her skin. Even so, she was still satin-soft and curvy in all the right places. I was watching Catherine out of the corner of my eye, as I thanked the restaurant's maitre'd for our perfect dinner. Catherine and I had first met right here in this restaurant almost a month ago today, so it was an anniversary of sorts. But the dinner was also the payoff of a bet, a wager that I'd lost to Catherine the night before! I gave a rueful smile and a deep sigh at the memory of that slightly bizarre evening only twenty-four hours ago. In my mind's eye, I saw the two of us there in her apartment last night. Actually we were in her bedroom. We can skip over the preliminaries, including how I happened to be invited into her bedroom in the first place. Let's just say that she was a woman who knew what she wanted, and she wanted me! But it was a bit more involved than that. What happened? Well here's how it went: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . She was kneeling astride me, the lithe-muscled vise of her legs keeping me from rolling away. I arched up, twisting and turning, digging my toes into the rumpled bedsheets as I tried to topple Catherine off me by bridging upward. But that proved to be the wrong move! Her long legs snaked through the open space between my upraised hips and the bed itself, and her powerful thighs scissored tightly around my waist. The hard-flexed calves were clasped tightly into place across my lower back, pulling me into a locked position against her magnificently muscled body. A curved bicep pressed against my throat in a head lock, as she squeezed me within that prison of satiny female strength. I lay there, gasping for breath, locked within the sweat-slippery clasp of her naked thighs and strangling arms. I should NEVER have let Catherine slide those clenching, python-powerful legs up along my ribs. Hmm-mm, my ribs; that was how it had all begun -- the bizarre, erotic story that I'm about to tell: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Her fingers had been scampering up and down my ribs; prodding and tickling until all the nerve-endings were jangling, arousing within me peals of nearly hysterical laughter. She had been laughing too. But sometimes it sounded more like a growl, rumbling and chuckling deep down in her throat. But there was a feeling of playfulness in our struggles. We were romping and rolling like two children, tussling more than wrestling, straining against one another in erotic combat. But somewhere along the line, as our movements became more frenzied and our grips and holds more strongly applied -- somewhere during that struggle I sensed a changing mood which enveloped us both. Our breathless laughter had trailed off slowly, and soon harsh panting from between clenched teeth was the only sound that could be heard in that steamy, midnight-dark bedroom. We had somehow taken a step beyond playfulness into a bizarre contest of strength. The two of us were now engaged in a battle for mastery; an all-out ritual contest, male against female! At first I was astonished and strangely thrilled by her Amazonish strength. We had never wrestled before, and so I was completely unprepared for the steel-tempered resilience of her silken-smooth, tautly flexed sinews. It seemed as if everywhere I grabbed I felt warm, damp, muscular flesh. At that point she was holding me pinned beneath her, my wrists imprisoned by her hands, my arms stretched straight out to the side, her sleek weight holding me captive. I lurched and heaved, and finally managed to roll us over until I was on top. Her sweat-slippery body exploded, and it was as if I was trying to ride an untamed mare . . . bareback! Then we began to roll back and forth across the rumpled surface of the bed, slowly, with first one on top and then the other. There was no way in which I could judge the amount of time that we strained in that frenzy of all-out effort. But, suddenly, as if from a long distance away I heard her cry out. That cry brought me back to my senses. I opened my eyes and glanced down at her upturned face. Her expression stunned me! Her gleaming white teeth were bared in a snarling grimace. Her eyes were clenched shut, and glistening tears sparkled on her long lashes. She seemed to be whimpering; not in pain, but in frustration! With a startled gasp, I quickly released my holds and twisted to one side, lifting my weight from off the sweat-lathered sleekness of her naked body. For a moment Catherine merely lay there, her lithe-muscled body shuddering and trembling there beside me. Then, slowly, she crawled up to her hands and knees, facing me across the bed. Her firm, satiny breasts were heaving with tautly swollen nipples, aroused by the slithering contact of sweat-filmed flesh . . . hers and mine. Then, suddenly, I looked back up to find her eyes waiting for me. They were bright with a strange glow of excitement, AND challenge! That look of outright challenge was the last thing I expected. It appeared that our brief, erotic contest of strength had unleashed an almost primeval emotion within her. Some mysterious force was at work, an instinctual stirring that reached back through countless ages to a time of a different relationship between men and women. She would yield no easy victory to the man who sought her as his mate. She had to be won by submission, or vanquished by a strength as powerful as her own. And that initial flurry of action upon the king-sized bed, in THIS here and now, had seemingly whetted her appitite for more nude-muscled erotic combat between the two of us. By now we were both on our feet, standing unsteadily upon the mattress. She began to move toward me, one slow step at a time, with the hot flame of excitement burning brightly in her eyes. Involuntarily I began to give ground. She gave a low, deep-throated chuckle and padded after me like a tawny lioness. Her curvy, athletic body was rippling with lazy strength. And right now that female strength was about to be matched with mine. Although I was almost shivering with excitement, I was also quite wary of what was happening to the two of us. "Come on now, Catherine, let's cut it out," I protested. "This is getting a bit out of hand. Someone's going to get hurt playing around like this." But my words had come too late . . . she had already leaped for me. She came at me in a rush, the unsteady mattress making each step appear as if she were bouncing on a trampoline. Our two bodies came together with a meaty THUNK of overheated, naked flesh. Suddenly, we were locked together again, straining back and forth until we tumbled back down onto the twisted bedsheets. And there we wrestled each other with increasing passion, strength and wild abandon. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . That was how it had all begun. And now, in what seemed like hours later, I found myself crushed between the scissoring columns of Catherine's naked thighs, trying frantically to keep her from squeezing me into submission! I tried to remind myself that those sinewy limbs entwined around me were just the limbs of a woman; that the raging strength surging against my imprisoned body was merely a woman's strength. I kept telling myself that she was FEMALE, and therefore "supposed" to be compliant and yielding. However, it seemed that noone had told HER that! And so she wrestled me with a wild energy and sensual delight. We slithered and squirmed in each other's embrace, tight-locked and entwined, our overheated bodies glistening with a sheen of sweat. Finally, for a brief moment at least, I found myself able to apply a couple of holds that seemed to leave her pinned and seemingly helpless. I heard her give a laugh, a kind of triumphant, joyous laugh. It sounded exactly as if she was urging me on, silently applauding my efforts to subdue her incredible strength. But that didn't mean that she slackened her grips around me, or that she wrestled me with any less explosive strength or skill. And all-too-soon she fought free of me, rolling away across the rumpled bed. Back together we came, wrapping our slick, naked bodies around each other in a series of slow-motion, straining holds that kept our two bodies interlocked. We heaved and rolled and slithered across the bed for what seemed like hours on end. We were caught up in a swirling, pounding vortex of emotion, trapped in a whirlpool of sexual desire. At some point, now long forgotten, our erotic wrestling match had been somehow transformed into something different . . . . A step beyond! We had finally coupled together and were now one. But the question was; were our slow-motion movements those of lovers, or were they of two antagonists caught up in a battle for supremacy? Believe me, it was hard to tell. I was once again captured within the scissoring grasp of her muscular thighs, that velvety vise of female strength. We strained there amidst the tangled, sweat-soaked bedsheets; naked breast against bare chest, belly to flat belly, loins locked, hips thrusting. It couldn't last much longer! At least I couldn't last for more than another few seconds. Then, in that frenzied split-second before she screamed out a welcome to her onrushing orgasm, she managed somehow to arch upward and roll over as she grappled my body beneath her smooth, slippery weight. She was now in the dominant position atop me. Her muscular hips churned up and down, riding my throbbing cock. Her sculptured arms tightened around me as she held me against her, squeezing me against her thrusting hard-nippled breasts. Then, just as a shuddering sexual explosion shook us both, her magnificent female strength wrestled from me my seed of life. We lay there among the tangled bedsheets, wrapped in each other's still-entwined arms and legs, both of us trying to catch our breath. Our hearts were thudding from the explosion of our orgasms, and sweat continued to pour from our over-heated bodies. I moved my head until I could look at her face. Her eyes were still wide open and staring, but there was a smile on her lips. I found myself wondering what "movie" she was watching there on the fantasy screen in her mind. Probably something similar to the one that I'd been watching just before the final wave of passion engulfed me. We continued to hold one another, the two of us remaining joined as one. Then, slowly, in the soft-quiet backwash of our extended passion we returned with languid steps from a place unknown to either of us before this night, returned from that one step beyond! My mouth moved to the solid curve of her shoulder, my lips nibbling at the hot, firm flesh as my tongue tasted the saltiness of her perspiration. Then my lips found hers, and our tongues grappled in slow-motion. She gave a moan, and squeezed me with her muscular thighs. My body came alive within that softly applied scissors, and my drowzy penis regained its strength. "So-oooo, do ya wanna try for best two out of three?" I whispered into her ear. All I got for my attempt at humor was a playful punch in the ribs, and a hearty laugh from the young Amazon in my arms. "No, you already owe me a dinner for my 'victory' and I want to collect tomorrow evening," she replied with a smile. I didn't remember any wager being agreed upon, but then why should I complain. After all, we had both "won", hadn't we? And so this is the story I promised you at the beginning, the story of how we happened to be standing there in that restaurant where we had first met. Oh, how did we actually meet . . . well, let's save THAT story for some other time. ---------=======*****=======--------- ********************************************************** * Amazons International * * Thomas Gramstad, editor: thomas@smaug.uio.no * * Administravia: amazons-request@math.uio.no * * Submissions: amazons@math.uio.no * ********************************************************** "A Hard Woman is Good to Find" -- The Valkyries