Patrice

I don't know how long I was out cold. Emma, the ref, said Patrice had put me to sleep for five minutes. Waking up was like surfacing from being under water; all the blackness simply washed away. I was seated in my corner of the ring, Emma's reviving hands massaging blood back to my brain. Katie, Emma's friend, was asking me questions that took minutes for me to answer because I was only semi-conscious. The sensation was like floating on your back in a pool, your ears partially submerged, so that what you heard was murky.
I was also watching Patrice strutting around the wrestling ring, her hands clinched to the ceiling in victory. I could care less that I had been humiliated in front of nearly every female member of the Amazonia Boxing and Wrestling Club, most of whom were cheering my defeat. I was hooked on Patrice, the tall, athletic, full chested member of the women's team. A gorgeous black woman, she had legs that rose to a crest at her toned ass and supple hips. But it was her muscular arms she used to sleeper me, wrapped securely around my neck like iron bars. Our wrestling match lasted less than a round.
"He's still sleeping Emma," Patrice said, crouching down in front of me, smiling. Her amber eyes glittered and I savored a long glimpse of her large, flawless breasts. "You still dreaming, Will?"
I wanted to fuck her right there, looking at the tits that had been my pillows.
"No," I said vaguely, reality beginning to focus. Katie and Emma helped me up and slowly out of the ring. Patrice followed, walking in front of me, her pretty face aglow with satisfaction.
"Hey Will, before you went out..know what I asked you?" Patrice asked me.
"What?" I responded, finally taking how completely I had been conquered.
"I asked you who your momma was as you drifted away, you said 'You're my momma!'"
Patrice repeated the last three words in perfect imitation of my sleepy voice. The moment, just before I went under in Patrice's arms, resurfaced in my memory. I was tucked close to her chest, those lovely dark arms pulling tight on my throat. Patrice's breathy voice asking me that question and my answer, completely direct, ran from lips like honey and blackness poured over me.
As the girls sat me down on a recovery room bed, I realized I enjoyed the release of being knocked out by Patrice.

"I hope you're not mad about the ko on Wednesday?"
Patrice's apology sounded more like flirting.
"If bigger guys than me got clobbered, I should have expected it," I answered.
Patrice had had seven mixed ko wrestling matches in the last two months. All her opponents were carried out of the ring.
Running her hand on my shoulder, Patrice wondered if she made me look bad in the ring.
"Only in front of most of the women in the club, a few of whom I've slept with."
"Those were the ones cheering!" Patrice suggested. She pulled her arm away slightly when I stared at her. "Let me buy you a drink," asked Patrice. "To make it up to you..."

By the end of our fourth beer, Patrice and I were making out in the parking lot of the bar. I hadn't done that since college, but I got the same thrill putting my hands down her pants, caressing her firm ass.
By ten we were back at my townhouse and making love in my bedroom. I don't know when in the night I fell for Patrice. We had orgasm after orgasm, screaming as each one climaxed. When I woke from exhausted but pleasant sleep, Patrice was dressing.
"Don't leave now!" I begged, laughing.
"Why not?"
"I'll make breakfast. It's Saturday morning, we don't have to work."
Patrice looked at me coyly. "You want more, Will?"
"Of course!"
"I like you Will and I like you even more this morning. You're a nice guy, but..." Patrice's expression went from apologetic to comprehension. "If you can knock me out like I did to you, Will, I think we can have something. Okay?"
We embraced in a long kiss near my bed. "Okay?"
Yeah, fine with me, I told myself.
Patrice stopped my right in mid air, our forearms crossing against each other. I saw her free arm swing up and then I was flat on the bed, looking at Patrice through a hazy field of stars.
"Will, I expected more brains from you," Patrice said with good humored disappointment. "'Like I beat you' I said..in the ring Will!"
Lights began to fade. Patrice was vanishing. "See you there, Will!" was all I heard before I blacked out.

Like any woman on a date, Patrice made me stand around five minutes, waiting for our bout to start. When i challenged her to another ko wrestling match, Patrice's body language told me she was hungry for another victory, even as she verbally debated if I was worth taking on again. She agreed with one stipulation: we grapple alone in one of the club's private rings.
"After all, honey stick, when you wake up, you'll be by yourself! I'll be gone!" Patrice hummed in my ear.
Patrice finally strutted into the ring, wearing the same silver one piece bathing suit she wore at our first meeting. For a few seconds we moved in a closing circle, our arms grasping at each other. I seized Patrice's wrist and spun her toward me, her entire body bending around my extended fist.
Seeing Patrice's face convulse with agony, I swung her outward, bouncing her off the ropes. An elbow welcomed the oncoming chin, knocking the mocha beauty groggy on her feet. Leaping behind Patrice, I snaked my arms around the dazed girl's throat.
"Rock-a-bye-baby..." I started singing in her ear. Patrice discovered what I was about to do and tore at my encircled arms.
Elbows hammered my torso, but I held onto Patrice, telling her she was a good Amazon for resisting me, but the lights had to go out.
"You...bast...ard!..." The anger in her voice was arousing.
Patrice went on fighting as I constricted my hold. A stream of short grunts flowed as Patrice's wide eyes fought to stay focused. I could feel her body relax, the tension of her struggle against my sleeper draining from her limbs.
The grunts became softer. Patrice's grasp on my arms became tenuous, fingers sliding on and off my biceps. Her eyes fluttered, filling with glassy dreaminess.
Patric murmured, "No..I..."
"Yes, Patrice!" I whispered endearingly in her ear. I got a rush watching the labored writhing of her long, silky legs. I could hear Patrice's respiration slow. Words barely formed on her lips, before evaporating on her breath.
"Gon...na...nock...me...awt..." Patrice sounded like a sleepy young girl.
"Going to knock you out cold!" I told her. "Sleep tight, Patrice."
A delicate "ooohhhh" seeped from Patrice's inert lips and she slumped against me, hands resting on her thighs.
Releasing my grip, I cradled the sleeping girl in my arms, counting to ten aloud. Patrice was lovely, knocked out and dreaming. After saying "Ten" in her ear, I kissed Patrice on the cheek.
Carefully, I eased Patrice to the canvas, resting her head on a folded up towel. I was going to leave her on the canvas to wake up alone, like she said I would, but I found I liked Patrice.
"Come on, Patrice, rise and shine!" I said rubbing her firm thighs and then gently slapping her face. Patrice's eyes opened, brimming with confused fascination.