Keep at it

I don't know why I'm so keen on fighting this guy. I struggle to find a rational explanation, but the only one that I come up with is totally unacceptable. The only thing that I'm sure about is my determination to change his arrogant behavior. But I know I don't have the means to achieve this goal yet. Fortunately, my sensei is indulgent and allows (only) me to train with my male mates. The solid justification that we give is that I've become too good for the pink side of the class and, in order to improve, I need to confront the blue one. I approach my male companions comfortably, maybe a bit too much; the first time that I train with Mike - a bald man in his 50s and 3 inches taller than me - I get swiped on the floor like nothing. And for the first time in my life, I discover how weak I am compared to the men doing my same discipline. Neither as a young judo athlete nor in the years after the pregnancy, when I started Vietnamese martial arts, I never had the real chance to fight the other gender. And grappling against someone determined to win a contest is not comparable with my beloved fetishist brawls. Yes, I am stronger than some men, those who are flaccid and untrained like my husband, or people clueless about combat sports, but against stronger male opponents, even the difference in strength is frightening. I train harder than ever, combining weightlifting with vovinam classes and staging randori (sparring sessions) with everyone at any time, even outside the gym. As a result, even the erotic games with my husband have become rougher. My body shape changes according to my new routine, and in the following months, I grow both in mass and athleticism. More importantly, I begin to outperform my sparring partners.

At the same time, I came to know Jonathan better. He talks with me several times, and I get to know many things about him, starting with the premature departure of his father. I learn how that experience helped him to mature faster but also compelled the young man to adopt a traditional form of masculinity, vaguely old-fashioned and mildly sexist, at least according to today's standards. This explains a lot about the man's character. I learn even other things from him, like the lingering injury on his elbow - which confirmed my previous guesses - and his state of dissatisfaction with his life. Besides that, I understand that he is a lovely guy, always ready to help or make me laugh. The better I know him, the more confident I am the shortening the physical distance between us. Fortunately, he only meets my husband on rare occasions, and Anna is so happy to see us together that she refuses to see the truth. One day tough, my daughter comes to ask me if Jonathan could stay for dinner again. I knew that my husband Mathias was on his way back home, but don't see anything wrong in a family dinner of 4 people. At 7.30 pm everything is ready. Jonathan is smartly dressed, with a green cardigan recalling his eyes. Mathias is in a blue suit, while Anna is clothed in a wonderful cream pullover white cream. I wear a tight violet rollneck tucked under the jeans which highlights my breasts and all my solid curves. We could be a wonderful family if I didn't have something throbbing in my chest.