My Date with Cory


The price paid was the unexpected questioning of my sexual orientation. The reward however, was wild, and perversely erotic.

Days passed since my wrestling match with Cory, yet every other thought took me back to it as if it happened yesterday. My name is Stevie. My life was forever changed after my first encounter with Cory. This is the story of my first date with her and events leading up it.

SFW (Sex Fights for Women) is an exclusive, private club where Cory works. They hired me to wrestle her. Per signed agreement, there would be sexual consequences for the loser. That’s the premise for all their matches. The consequences would be at the whim of the winner, however deliberate infliction of pain would not be allowed. It’s a liability thing. The whole idea sounded crazy sexy so I signed the contract. The club uses various tactics to lure people, mostly men into grappling with staff wrestlers. They paid me a lot of money ($15K guaranteed) to take a risk I perceived as no risk at all. The only risk as I saw it, was whether or not I could defeat a slender woman who stood just over five foot tall. I was certain I’d get paid $15K for winning and having my way with Cory, which due to my exhibitionist nature, would have been wild in front of a bunch of women. I couldn’t lose, right? I ended up naked, three limbs tied to the ropes in the corner of a boxing ring, and commanded by Cory to suck another man’s cock while jerking myself off in front of approximately 100 very wealthy club members who cheered and applauded my demise. Giving a guy a blow job was a scenario I hadn’t considered. I probably wouldn’t have signed had I known I’d be obligated to engage in homosexual acts upon losing, though I had no doubt I’d win, so I still might have.

For the women at the club, money meant nothing. Staff wrestlers actively look for potential contestants. They’re authorized to offer a pre-determined amount of money to entice people like me into sex fighting. The amount is large enough to make it difficult to turn down. They especially like finding good looking straight guys who are adventurous and uninhibited, but they also have female vs female fights. Sometimes, they’ll even find a bi guy who’ll wrestle a bi staffer or another bi guy off the street. Apparently, those matches are rare, but they draw the biggest crowds due to the enthusiasm of the contestants. Occasionally, staff wrestlers lose and the members get to watch one of their own submit to the whims of a contracted fighter. Regardless of who wins or loses, that’s the show they want. They pay a lot of money for it. My contracted pay was not dependent upon victory. The only stipulation for getting paid was whether or not I performed the tasks Cory demanded if I lost. I lost…but I did get paid, and as it turned out, I added nearly $10K in tips. I couldn’t have known of Cory’s exceptional grappling skills, and I underestimated her strength and speed. To my surprise, she had little problem handling a man half again her size.

The mere thought of having a dick in my mouth was always disturbing for me, but by the time I realized what was happening, I’d already given up all control. I became exquisitely turned on by the teasing humiliation after losing in front of all those women. Then came the surprise. I’ve always known I’m a natural sub. I’d only fantasized about giving myself up to that extent, though rarely in a homosexual way. It was filthy and degrading, but once I let go of my inhibitions, it became more exciting than anything I’d ever done. I was their humiliated sex object – a slave to their desires. The memory of my shame and embarrassment has become my favored humiliation fantasy, and I find myself jerking off more often than before the match.

Of my two biggest memories about that night, one was what I just described that I play over and over in my head. The other was a mysterious woman who, after the match, propositioned me to wrestle her husband. She was gorgeous. Everything about her was elegant and meticulous. I wasn’t sure it was something I wanted to do, but because of her stunning looks, the thought of participating in any kind of sexual act with her, for her, or in her presence was at least…titillating. I still had her card.

Anyway, Cory and I seemed to like each other. No doubt, I’m in lust with her. Had I won the match, she and Margot agreed to have dinner with me with the likelihood of a threesome for dessert. Margot is another wrestler at the club I’d wrestled previously under different circumstances and she is the one who offered me the opportunity to wrestle Cory. You can learn more about Margot in “An Incredible Night at the Gym” – the first story in this series. Because of my loss to Cory, Margot declined dinner, but Cory still wanted to go.

I needed to call Cory to make plans. Dinner seemed blaze’ compared to wrestling her naked, but there was something about her that attracted me beyond her looks and sex. I think she felt the same way toward me. Certainly, it was lust, but it was more than that – gaziantep escortlar like we had a connection. I wanted to know her better.

I thought I might blow my chance if I didn’t call soon. I was apprehensive about it, but I finally pulled Cory’s card from my wallet and punched in her number. After the second ring, she answered the phone. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite cocksucker,” she says.

I almost hung up without saying a word. Crazy thoughts swirled through my head. I knew almost nothing about her. We’d barely talked. How did she know it was me calling? She just called me a cocksucker…but she called me her favorite, like that’s any consolation. She must’ve gotten my number from Margot and programmed it into her phone.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were going to call,” she said. “What took you so long? Are you afraid of me?”

I was speechless.

“So, where are you taking me for dinner?” she asks.

Her confidence reminded me of how she dominated me at the club. I was regaining my composure as she spoke, but her attitude was turning me on. She clearly had me at a disadvantage.

I said in an unsure tone, “Wha…what would you prefer…Italian, Ga…Greek… or m-maybe French?”

“Well, you might not get French,” she says. “You certainly won’t get Greek. Let’s do Italian.”

Was she talking about what I thought she was talking about? She took command from the moment she picked up the phone.

I said, “O…okay, Italian it is.”

I felt like a fool.


Driving the road in the hills above the city where Cory lives was new and exciting. I’d never been there before. The road more or less followed the ridgeline and was bordered by mature forest. A lot of distance separated driveways and I only caught a rare glimpse of a handful of extravagant homes tucked deeply into the woods along the way.

I was excited. Thoughts of having Cory were running through my head as I recalled the raw craziness of our match. I couldn’t wait to see her again and I anticipated an exciting romp after dinner.

I finally came to a wide turn-around at the end of the road and there was her mailbox. Looking down her gated driveway, I couldn’t see her house, but the gates were open so I drove in.

I was impressed. I thought, this place must be worth a fortune. I felt out of my league, but that didn’t stop me from feeling butterflies in anticipation of seeing Cory again.

Driving slowly down her driveway, I was drawn in by the old-growth mix of hardwoods and conifers. The terrain was rugged and steep in places. It looked like no one had ever set foot there before.

About three hundred yards or so down the winding drive, the woods opened up to her home. Surprisingly, it was a modest, but enchanting place with rough sawn siding and a cedar shake roof like you’d expect to see on a back woods cabin. The grounds were meticulously landscaped however, with flower beds extending from the house into the woods. The yard was contoured as part of the forest, flowing into the woods in some places, and widening out in others. I parked in front of the house. As I was getting out of my car, Cory opened the front door.

She was dressed in a short, slinky, little black dress, cut low enough to show some cleavage with about half-inch shoulder straps. My heart was racing. I walked up the steps of the wood deck and she came outside to greet me with a warm, sincere hug. We were smiling at each other. We both laughed when we said hello. When I wrapped my arms around her, I felt her bare back and an electric sensation ran through me. After a few seconds, she pulled away, grabbed my hand and turned to go inside. “Come on in,” she said. “I’ll show you my place.”

She was braless. I felt a twinge, watching her small breasts jiggle as she moved. Everything about her was delightfully petite and feminine. She’s short and slim – toned with long shapely legs. Her black heels showed off the muscle definition in her calves. Her shag-cut, blonde hair perfectly framed her face, and her pearlescent necklace and ear rings accented her blue eyes. She wore sparse makeup – a neutral shade of lipstick and a touch of mascara to accent her features. She’s a natural beauty with a twinkle in her sunrise eyes and a light-up-the-room smile.

Her three-bedroom home is spacious. The décor, uncluttered with a warm blend of earth tones. Her inspired wood furnishings wreak of rustic elegance. A field stone fireplace from floor to ceiling took up most of one wall in the living room. Even more impressive was the large bay window at the far end – like three sides of an octagon extending across the entire width of the room. It felt like we were still in the woods, but protected in a luxurious shelter.

She led me to the window. The unexpected view of the city sprawled below took my breath away. It’s no wonder why people want to live here. I couldn’t take my eyes away from the view for at least a couple of minutes until I started checking out the immediate surroundings. When I looked to the right, the three-season room off the back of the other end of the house seemed a perfect place to spend summer evenings. Her home was a piece of paradise in the woods. She said she owns 40 acres that butt up against the state forest. Because of that, she would never have neighbors any closer than they already are.

“Next time you’re here, I’ll show you the pond at the base of the hill,” she said. “It’s spring fed and sometimes you can see trout feeding on the surface. Do you like to fish?”

“I love it,” I said.

She responded, “So do I.”

Next time I’m here? That’s a good sign, I thought. She was sweet and kind. She put me at ease.

I looked at her and couldn’t believe my luck. She looked back and smiled, then grabbed my hand again to lead me through the rest of the house. Every room was a continuation of rustic charm. Her property, inside and out, looked like it belonged in that breathtaking setting as if it grew there. When we got to her room, the large headboard on her king-sized bed stood out. The grain of the wood was gnarly like hickory with a simple, abstract pattern of different colored inlayed woods.

I said, “Your place is gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I bought it three years ago and I’ve put a lot into it. I love the seclusion.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I forgot to offer you something to drink. I remembered you ordered a beer after we wrestled so I thought I’d get you something special if you’d like to try it. I don’t drink beer so I asked the guy at the liquor store what I should buy. He said it’s his most popular German import. Wanna try it?”

“Of course,” I said. “I’d love to.”

“Would you like a glass?”

“Yes please.”

While she was getting our drinks, I looked around her bedroom – a hardwood floor with a large rug of mixed earth tones under the bed, a door leading into a bathroom, a couple of large, abstract paintings, custom log nightstands, horizontal blinds across most of one wall, and a big screen TV on the wall opposite the foot of the bed.

She came back and handed me my beer. She had a glass of wine.

Cory opened the vertical blinds and led me through a sliding glass door into the three-season room. The windows were off but it was screened – no bugs, and we still had that amazing view of the city.

It was a warm, clear evening with barely a wisp of a breeze. We sat on the couch and talked. Our senses of humor seemed cut from the same mold. We talked about fishing and discovered other things we both enjoy. She spoke of her family and I spoke of mine. We talked until we finished our drinks. We had a lot in common.

“We should probably go if we’re going to make our reservation,” I said.

She grabbed her purse and we headed out the door.


We had a wonderful dinner. We laughed. We shared samples of each other’s food. We flirted – words – body language. We teased each other and laughed some more. I was seducing her, or maybe she was seducing me. No doubt, we had a connection. After we finished eating and had an after-dinner drink, she said, “We should head back to my place. You’ve got to see the city after dark.”


We entered the house and she asked if I would like another beer.

“Yes, please,” I said. “That’s an excellent beer. I’ve never had it before. Thank you.”

She said, “You’re so polite.” Her demeanor became more sensuous. She said, “And Stevie…I already know you’re obedient. Thank you for the wonderful dinner.”

Hearing her say I was obedient in that sultry tone put the mood into perspective. I figured it was a subtle way of telling me where she stood. I caught my breath and said, “It was my pleasure.”

She said, “You like pleasing me don’t you.”

“Of course I do,” I responded.

She brought the beer and made herself a drink, then took my hand and we walked over to “the magic window.” The view was surreal. Gazing at city lights that extend well across the valley below while in a setting so remote and wild was dream-like. I couldn’t help smiling in awe with my mouth wide open. The city lights seemed to disappear into the horizon, then, as my eyes scanned higher in the sky, they reemerged as distant stars.

We stared at the view and talked some more. She was bright and enthusiastic. I liked listening to her. Touch seemed natural for her and she’d gently touch my arm occasionally when she was talking. I felt close to her, like I knew she wouldn’t harm me.

She took my beer from me and set the drinks on the window sill. She turned, put her arms around my neck, rose up on her tip toes and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around her and our tongues intertwined. I had a craving desire to make love to her and she knew it. She slid her hands down my sides and began teasing me, even gently rubbing inside my thighs.

“I wanna play,” she says. “Would you like to play with me?”

“Dumb question,” I responded.

“I like you Stevie,” she said. “I like being with you. I like looking at you, watching you, how you carry yourself and how you respond to things. I like how you respond to me.”

I was surprised I had that effect on her but I loved hearing it.

“And I’ve noticed how you look at me,” she continued. “You’re already my fantasy, and if I had to guess, I’d bet you’ve thought about me in that way too.”

“Oh yeah, I have.”

“I tell you what. How ’bout…let me be part of your wildest fantasy. That’s something I already know I can do for you. Then, you be my wild, fantasy guy. You take care of my fantasy, and I’ll take care of yours. We’ll combine fantasies and role play for each other. Sound like fun?”

I said, “I like that idea a lot. What would you like me to do?”

“Let’s go to my room.”

When we got to her room, I turned to face her with my back to the bed. She gently pushed me back until I sat down. She kept pushing until I was lying down, feet still on the floor. She hiked up her dress and straddled me, slowly shimmying forward until she was sitting on my stomach.

“You like when I tell you what to do?” she asked.

“I guess I do, yes,” I responded.

Do you prefer dominant women?

“I’ve never really been with a dominant woman, but I’m almost always dominated in my fantasies.”

She said, “I figured that. I think of you often. I think about our wrestling match. I know you wanted to win, but I’m a trained martial artist. You couldn’t have known that going in. There was no way you could’ve won. I could’ve beaten you sooner, but I had so much fun playing with you. I think about what you did in front of all those women, how turned on you were by it. I loved making you gay. The members were really into you too.”

Cory was smiling with a wanton expression on her face. She giggled a little and said, “You like hearing me talk about it don’t you.”

I never think of myself as gay, but I loved that she got off on it. “Yeah…I’m…I love…what it does for you,” I stuttered.

“And you loved that women watched when you were most helpless.”

“I guess I did.”

She said, “I think about it all the time – how surprised you were, blindfolded with Charlie’s cock entering your mouth. God, that was hot! After sucking that dildo for us, you kind of panicked when you suddenly realized it had been replaced with the real thing, but you couldn’t do much about it. You were so sexy all tied up.”

I was getting excited as she recalled that night.

“Seeing you like that made me wet – soaked,” she said. “Watching you suck another man’s cock while jerking off for me was over the top. Maybe that’s just the effect you have on me Stevie. I’ve seen it before, but you’re different. Maybe it’s because it was foreign to you, but you did it anyway – and you did it for me. There was nothing you could’ve done to stop it really – not if you wanted to get paid, but it wasn’t about the money was it? You were so caught up in the moment, you embraced your submission and gave me everything I asked for. That was just raw!”

She grabbed my wrists and pulled them over my head, leaned forward and kissed me. I got a nice shot down the front of her dress. She stayed there purposely so I could get a good look as she gently shimmied above my chest. She asked, “Do you like when I tease you?”

“Isn’t that obvious?”

She chuckled. “Yeah, it’s pretty obvious Stevie. You turn me on. You must like that.”

“Of course.”

“What would you say if I asked you to do it again?”

“I’d say no,” I told her.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not gay. I’m not even bi.”

“But now…you’ve already done it, and you seemed to love it. I sure loved it. So, why were you so turned on by it?”

“That’s why, I guess…because you were so turned on by it. I don’t know,” I said. “Everyone wanted it. It’s hard to describe. Of course, I had to do it in order to get paid, but it was being under your control after I lost the match. I became your conquered slave. I was willing to shame myself in order to please you. I’m a natural sub so there’s a high level of eroticism in that for me. Plus, I’m an exhibitionist. You ordered me to do it. I was your willing servant. That meant more than the money. Once I understood the predicament I was in, I felt I had no choice but to let everything go. The humiliation of it – submitting to that level for you, to say nothing of all those women was crazy. I was the center of attention whether I wanted to be or not. I was the one – well, me and Charlie, who were turning all of you on. My orgasm came from being a degraded sex object, satisfying the perverted desires of you and all those women. That’s what took me over the top…but I don’t want to do it again. Frankly, I’m embarrassed by it. I wouldn’t want any of my friends to know. They’d think I was gay, and I’m not.”

She said, “I know you’re not gay Stevie. That’s what made it so exciting – putting you into a position where you became so perversely aroused by your submission, that you’d suck another man’s cock on my command. There’s tremendous erotic power in that for me.”

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