“...let’s try a reverse headscissors.”

Quickly, the Champion releases you and flips herself over, locking in another scissorhold—a reverse headscissors. This one is just as tight as the last, but you have a bit of a consolation prize in the form of an amazing up-close view of her firm, sculpted ass. She’s holding herself off the ground with her arms, and as she tightens the hold, she starts doing push-ups with her thighs still firmly entwined around your neck.

“One! Two! Three! Four!” she counts, laughing as the crowd cheers her on.

Once she reaches ten, a new twist is added—each time she comes down, she plants a quick kiss on the tip of your penis, brushing her lips against {if Speedo removed = false}the top of the tent in your precum-stained Speedo.{elseif Speedo removed = true}its head.{endif} It’s not long before you’re going crazy with desire, frantically bridging your hips up each time she comes down, and you’re occasionally rewarded with a longer, sloppier kiss that leaves a red lipstick mark behind, or even a lick, a quick swipe of the tongue around the head that nearly drives you to orgasm each time.

She keeps a running count between kisses:

“Sixteen...”

“Twenty-seven...”

“Forty-four...”

And the whole time, the pressure of her thighs around your head is constant, letting enough air in for you to breathe so that she can keep toying with you, but locking you in place with no hope of escape. Once or twice, you try to wiggle out of the trap, but your only reward for your efforts is an even tighter squeeze that engages her massive glutes, a reminder that she’s not even coming close to using all her strength.

“Fifty!” she finishes, and hops off you. “How was that?” she asks with mock uncertainty. “Was my form okay? Sometimes I don’t remember to go down far enough.”

You groan again as you climb to your feet, but this time it’s more of a reaction to the pun than the pain.