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Brandi demands Lisa come to her and the lowered jobber crawls over. Brandi tells Lisa she wants to cum too and Lisa immediately begins to oblige, rubbing and caressing and fondling with a passion her boyfriend would never experience. She was beside herself. Brandi then grabs the sex toy jobber and thrusts her gorgeous face into her wet, pink tights; her nose and soft lips pressing into the moist fabric. Lisa strives to pierce the veil with her tongue as she licks and salivates and groans and does everything her mindless diminished self is being allowed to do. Lisa hears the echoing laughs and cheers of the lascivious crowd. She feels the tight grip pulling her hair. She smells her spit and Brandi's thigh sweat and wet pussy. She presses her chin and lips into Brandi until she can taste her. Brandi moans. The crowd roars. On the way out Brandi allows the audience to lay their hands on the sweaty jobber's jiggling thighs and belly as she is led out by her hair.

Lisa allows it too.

Lisa laid on the mat - a rush of experiences clashing together as the post cum clarity met with the completed humiliation of losing just as the crowd roared and the bell rang, signaling her loss. Brandi kept pressing on Lisa's pussy causing little spurts to continue to issue forth. Brandi was breathing heavily - red in the face as she lecherously groped the downed challenger. Lisa fundamentally understood her place at that moment - she was in thrall. She had nothing further to offer in the way of defense, or so she thought...

It was in that instant - right when Lisa thought she could smash her way to success - that Brandi stuck her fingers deep into Lisa's vulnerable pussy and ass. Brandi could smell the sex oozing out of Lisa's trunks and took advantage when it cost Lisa the most. Her collapse was instant and complete, cumming uncontrollably. Brandi stuck her fingers deep into Lisa. She stuck her own face atop the fabric of the blue trunks and motorboated the jobbers fat ass as she involuntarily came over and over. After a moment, Lisa dropped to the mat. Brandi crawled over her to finish the job, driving her tongue past the side of the fabric to taste her sex in the ring. Lisa dropped her head to the mat with no intention of further defense.

Brandi yanks Lisa back from the ropes; the dazed jobber in blue once again totally acquiescent to Brandi's will allowing herself to be guided to the center of the ring where, under the gaze of the whole cheering crowd, she held her soft fleshy arms out and allowed herself be groped and fondled by her opponent. But as Brandi's strong hands began to lift her top, telegraphing disrobement, Lisa did something that shocked even her. She landed a move.

She elbowed that big bitch right under the chin and rung her barely literate bell. The stumbling Brandi backs into the corner, her own heavy form rippling and jiggling like an Aspen's leaves in the wind. Lisa stumbles beside her to the rope. Brandi is such a joke she's winded from winning - it only took a good bump to knock her off her pedetal and Lisa did it. Then Lisa did something else that shocked her. She landed a second move. She followed up and began laying into the soft mounds of tits, belly, and pussy that Brandi was so fond of fondling. Her black boot pressed into the soft creamy flesh. Her knee drove up into the warm crotch between her legs. She threw her whole self at the big haired heel and dropped finally her fat ass was on the mat. Then Lisa did something that shocked her even more - thought she could win.

Lisa stumbles out of the corner, weak in the knees as the pain from the hard shot to her belly and tits mixes like ink in water with this new alien lust inside her. Then she feels the hands of Brandi softly but with authority, like the velvet moss that overtakes a stone, take hold of her again. This time though, the fingers that had so recently been curled into a fist now found their way all over Lisa's body. Brandi slipped fingers inside the sweating ass crack of the brunette beauty which - even to Lisa's surprise later - prompted little more than a soft guttural moan. But Brandi didn't stop there. She slid her fingers, now with the musk of Lisa's thick ass, under her shiny blue top and along her tits, under her trunks and into her pussy, and all over her jiggling, trembling belly. And Lisa just let it all happen. Her muscles atrophied under the cool clammy hands of this big beer scented woman. The crowd's cheers at each new humiliation, the increasing dampness inside the unbreathing shiny fabric of her revealing trunks, the bright white lights shining on her glistening, exposed skin - she was overwhelmed in every possible way - and then Brandi pushed her tits right into the taut ring rope.

Then Brandi started kissing her fist And Lisa could do nothing but watch. She became entranced, in a way. She could feel herself drifting out of her body as the lascivious hoots and hollers of the audience echoed and bounced around her and the soft lips of this fat woman pressed again and again into her knuckles and fingers, essentially fellating her hand. Lisa watched with a perverse pleasure that was spinning up from a heretofore unknown space inside her.

She did nothing but watch as Brandi kissed and kissed her pale pink fist and then as a final touch, Lisa, undefended, tracking it with the innocent perseverance of total contextual naiveté, watched her blow a kiss to her and pull her arm back, preparing to drive that wet pink fist into Lisa's plump eager belly. And then - with her left hook drawn back - Brandi drove a right jab, totally unseen, deep into Lisa's big round middle. Lisa doubled over only to catch a shot to her chest for it. The pain flashed through the erotic sensation coursing her through like a bolt, fracturing the experience but not destroying it - changing it into both at once.

Lisa was in trouble.

Brandi could smell Lisa as soon as she walked in. She was like a big lumbering wolf encountering a lone fat calf right right before her. She wasted no time walking up and rubbing her round exposed stomach as the crowd murmured and chuckled. She ran her fingers in and out of her belly button. Slid her fingers under the seam of her blue shiny top. Lightly dug her nails into the soft malleable fat. Lisa was caught off guard but could instantly tell something was off. She felt hot and this old lady was not playing fair and she could feel the flush running up and inside her and well...she was honestly fucking horny

Brandi Starr vs Lisa Daniels Lisa is 28 years old and taking courses toward her criminal justice degree from the local community college and saw an ad for Jobbers and Heels. Brandi Star is an old pro who has a penchant for demoralizing fresh meat like snooty college girls.

Ursula ground and slid her big ass all over the warm mound of Janet's pussy. She unconsciously groaned in pleasure as the milk soft body of Ursula drew from her a new sexual ghost that would haunt her forever.

Janet - like all good jobbers - thought she had this one. But just like all good jobbers - she didn't. She was just another fleshy footnote in Ursula's conquest of the Jobbers and Heels roster.

Janet knew what would happen from here. She watched Ursula move into her space. She could see the pores of her skin she was so close.

She could smell her - that same scent that had so recently been a bouquet of victory and ascent, was now a choking fume of defeat. She withered in front of it.

Ursula grabbed her Janet's brown loose locks and Janet let her. And then Ursula finished her. She stuffed her pretty fat face directly into her big soft tits.

Janet closed her eyes and breathed deeply before taking the plunge - her nose and mouth filling with the body scent of Ursula. Her pillow soft tits enveloping the entirety of Janet's existence at that moment.

The big white girl could still hear the echoing laughs and cheers of the crowd. She could taste her opponents sweat and lotion mingled with her own spit and breath as Ursula mercilessly smeared her face across her fleshy breasts. Her nose flicking from fabric to flesh as the creeping tendrils of unconsciousness rapidly invaded through the cracks and fissures in her weary countenance and began to choke the will from her.

It wasn't long until Janet, unable to continue, slid down to her knees. Ursula, continuing to punish the jobber with her fabulous assets, slid her face along her glorious belly. Janet, gasping, drifted into unconsciousness on a cloud.

The big girl was done. Beaten soundly. Whipped.

Finished.

Janet slides one of her big thick thighs up between Ursula's velvet thighs, pressing against the damp purple fabric of her trunks. She feels the wetness of her pussy on her leg and inadvertently pushes her up a bit, causing Ursula to rouse slightly. She couldn't help it. She slid a hand onto Ursula's breast, softly caressing the obscured and erect nipple under the fabric of her top. Janet got weak in the knees as the rush of victory overtook her.

Regina the Ref slid in to slap the mat for the 3 count. She heard the first quickly followed by the second but before the third, she felt it.

Janet couldn't believe it. Ursula kicked out?! This KO'd jobber heel bitch with the oatmeal ass KICKED OUT?! No. She couldn't have.

The crowd was going absolutely wild.

Janet's thoughts of her victory stance, her proud exit, the rush of sitting on the bench in the locker room with a win under the band of her briefs vanished like smoke on the wind.

Ok - if this bitch wants to fight back, well, Janet figured, she'll end her whole career too. She bent and picked up the heavy silver boots of Ursula. Janet's mind was racing, disassociating. She was going to bend these thick mocha legs until they snapped off if she wanted it. She would take that soft creamy body and break it. Take that fleshy, soft, inviting form and utterly obliterate it.

And that's when she felt it again.

Ursula, using what felt like her last breath, tucked her knees and used her boots to absolutely blast the protruding belly of Janet right out through the back of her.

Janet, undefended and surprised, didn't defend at all against the kick and is completely devastated. She went from winning to reeling in a single second and everything that she had in her before wilted as the crowd roared, Ursula stood, and she capitulated.

What could she even do? How could she stop this unstoppable force?

She couldn't. She knew it then. She knew that the crowd had been right and she was utterly wrong. She felt the flush drop through her and wash over her completing the internal ritual she went through in every loss. Her feet slid out from under her as her big ass bounced to the mat. The crowd, which was roaring before, went into ecstatic ululations.

Janet watched Ursula turn toward her. Her arms turned to jello. Her legs wouldn't stand. Her muscles could hold no weight. She could merely watch and wait.

Janet wastes no time in attacking the heel's vulnerable midsection. With her arms thrown back, Ursula is basically inviting Janet to dig her fingers into the soft caramel skin of her exposed belly. Janet's fingers slip in and out of the fleshy folds as she massages and claws the acquiescent heel. Her nails scratching and collecting the combined sweat and oil and lotion under them as the shocked crowd roars in disapproval.

Janet sits back and looks at the groggy wrestler. Ursula, nearly finished, hangs her head down and looks down at her unworked core as the crowd implores her to fight back.

But Janet's had enough.

Janet surveys the mostly beaten heel. It's time to finish her. The crowd senses the impending finisher as Janet determinedly rises to her feet and grasps the rich hair on Ursula's head. Ursula hears the echoing crowd deep within her as she allows herself to be led out of the corner on her knees, her thighs and midsection jiggling and wobbling gelatinously.

Janet pulls the punch drunk Ursula up and she acquiesces again - showing no more fight. The crowd sees her for what she really is now - just a jobber in heel's clothing. They can see her sexualized antics for what they were - show. They see their hero falling.

They see that the woman they had assumed was weaker based on her cheap underwear gear and unassuming physical presence is the better wrestler.

They see that the woman they thought would win based on her audacious style and flashy gear was belying a jobber's presence.

Janet positions Ursula so her ass is facing the crowd, shaking and jiggling in a way that both excites and angers the crowd. Each stumbling step further indication of her collapse in front of a sympathetic crowd; a step further from victory and closer to the disappointment of her fans.

Janet holds Ursula and grins cruelly at the hostile audience. She is making eye contact with the men and women who wanted to see her lose to this jiggling pathetic bitch. This fancy, sexy heel in her tight purple bikini. They wanted to see her face in her tits. They wanted to see her lose - and she is about to knock this jobber out.

Janet is absolutely soaring as she drops down and does her finisher DDT, feeling the hard connection of Ursula against the mat.

Ursula hits the mat so hard she pops up loosely. She wavers for a second in front of the grinning Janet before toppling over like a loosely collected pile of parts, unconsciously throwing her arms and legs apart and revealing her pussy to the crowd.

Janet stands, resolute. Ursula lies supine, eyes closed.

Janet faces the inconsolable and angry crowd. They are clawing at their faces as Ursula lays splayed out for everyone to see. Her legs spread out. Her thick thighs nearly obscuring the purple strip of fabric that is now deeply inside her sticky slit. She twitches slightly, an unconscious movement of her hips, as the white boots of her opponent steps beside her, preparing to pin her for the upset.

Ursula grabs the big white girl and lifts, exposing her soft white belly to the appreciative audience, now howling with perverse pleasure as the heel begins down a punishing path the tired jobber may not be able to traverse.

Ursula pulls Janet up into a tight sleeper. Her moisturized dark skin of sliding across Janet's sweat streaked chest and throat. Her soft breasts nestled in their shiny purple bikini cup tousling Janet's loose brown curls, pressing against her head and neck. She smells Ursula's scent - moisturizer, shampoo, sweat, and the very faintest...other scent. The animal scent.

Janet feels the energy leaving her. She feels the sweat running in rivulets into the deep folds of her soft midsection. She feels the prickle of humiliation starting to take root prior to its ascent from deep inside her as the firm arm squeezes her soft jowls. She paws at the sinewy forearm, accepting now that she won't escape and that she's lost again. The bright hot lights stinging, the white creeping into the borders of her vision. The multi-colored curlicues dancing like the sparks of a fire before her. Then...

Ursula couldn't - no - she WOULDN'T let the fading white girl out before finishing the job, would she? Would she be so cocky as to quit the job in the final moment? Would she begin boasting too early? Would the rush of victory be too enticing to the boastful heel?

Janet felt the sweetly scented arm loosen. She felt the heavy breast lift from between her shoulder and neck. She felt a rush in her sweaty belly, sucking in and out with the deep breaths of exertion, turn into adrenaline.

She heard the crowd telling Ursula it was too early. And she felt Ursula miss the message and further loosen her grip.

Her soft, moisturized hands merely present against Janet's jawline. Her finger tip gently stroking the curve of her jaw. Her upper body twisting away from the hold, losing precious leverage, to engage with the crowd.

Janet drove her elbow back, striking Ursula's soft midsection with devastating force.

Janet crawls toward the slumped Ursula in the corner. Her arms slung back over the middle rope, opening her body up to the grasping hands of the lumbering challenger. Ursula soft midsection folds spilling over onto the shiny purple fabric of her tight wrestling gear an oasis to the thirsty Janet. Janet's midsection swings pendulously beneath her, wrinkling her briefs, jiggling as she descends upon the vulnerable heel in the turnbuckle.

You see Ursula isn't the only one who knows how these women operate. She knows that her own midsection is a target - so she knows Ursula's is too.

Just because she fancies herself a heel doesn't mean she doesn't have a soft doughy center.

And just because she thinks she's tough, doesn't mean that if Janet pulled Ursula's purple top off and dropped those soft little titties on the mat that this match wouldn't be hers.

But again - Ursula wasn't ready for that...

Ursula is the kind of heel who uses humiliation and the crowd to defeat her opponents - and boy, does it work. Janet's the kind of girl who'll do whatever it takes to win in front of her hometown audience.

But this tough townie is just a type - big but just a big creampuff - and Ursula knows it. And she knew how to cut right to the quick on big girls like her. Two big belly shots into her undefended breadbox confirmed what Ursula thought - no muscle; just an enticing and jiggling target begging for her hands. And it's so helpful when they don't JUST have a doughy belly but a glorious fat ass, too.