The Simpsons: Bart

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***

I could tell everything about Bron Ricksteiner, my opponent for the finals, from one look at his face, which was shaped like a concrete block. Bron gives the impression of a man capable of killing me with almost every part of his body, his forehead alone is wider than my palm.

And the advice I left in today's written will: if anyone ever decides to fight against Ricksteiner, I do not recommend watching his fights. You can only see what a monster he is.

- Ready? - the referee addressed us. I nodded. Bronn let out an incomprehensible growl.

The timer lit up, and we clung to each other's shoulders. Ricksteiner started pushing me down, not giving me a chance to get a proper foothold.

Coming almost to the edge, I unhook my arms, Bron moves slightly forward, I grab him by the neck, trying to throw him over my hip.

Worse than nothing. Ricksteiner tenses his knees, and almost straightens his back, with me almost on his shoulders. One more effort and he would have made the winning throw. I had the power to push Bron back down.

For just a couple more seconds, I diligently kept my opponent in a headlock, successfully changing hands and positions. Two points. I let go of Ricksteiner's head, jumping to the opposite end of the mat.

A minute and a half has passed, and there's still a minute and a half left. Bron doesn't rush to attack, he's probing the ground with arm swings and clashes, except for his fingers.

By deception, he forced me to shift my attention to the defence of the body, getting a leg himself, which earned him a point. There was nothing to do, and before I would be in a painful position for myself, I throw myself onto the floor with my back.

Bron takes the bait, throwing himself after me. Pushing off with my elbows, I duck under him, taking a knee to the head. A forbidden move, but obviously accidental, because I slammed into him myself.

I manage to get up, sharply dizzy, but I can live. An attempt to grab Ricksteiner's back fails, but instead he grabs my arm.

On my escape from control, the timer sounded - the first round had come to an end.

During the break, the doctor checked me over, making sure I didn't have a concussion. Seemed fine, I was cleared to continue. Thirty seconds had never gone by so fast.

The next round started with me straddling Bron's back. Which took about ten to fifteen seconds to break free. He used his broad torso, and by shifting his weight from one leg to the other, he was pulling my arms back in parallel.

He stood up abruptly and swung at me with force. My heart sank, but my hands reflexively clutched at his. And we locked shoulders, trying with all our might to dislodge the other.

The situation was not on my side, for I needed more strength to hold my ground. But I was not going to surrender to his pressure, for the prospects of surrender were not in my favour.

We spent half a minute in maximum tension. Bodies have their limits, and wrestling matches have time limits. So Bron took a step back, suggesting we separate.

I let go and bounced like a rabbit backwards. Ricksteiner didn't seek to attack, instead drawing a circle around the decking in my company.

To be honest, even circling the planking with sharp movements was not so easy for me, and my body felt a deep fatigue.

Ricksteiner noticed that, darting in my direction like a mad rhinoceros. Like Foley he managed to lift me up, and the scoreboard lit up with a two.

However, I managed to prevent the throw from happening, wrapping my arms around his head and my legs around his torso. Pressing down on his neck and pulling my own body down, I lowered Bron to his knees.

Abruptly Ricksteiner swings away from my hold, shoving his body forward with his legs, assuming a full control position from above, the countdown for the hold is lit...

Two, lashing out with such force that I flip Bron onto his side, I'm still in the match. The second round of which ended in a clumsy exchange of trying to scramble from half-sitting positions.

- Haaaa... Haaaa... - second break, I gulped greedily for air.

I've managed to get Bron through to the third round, I can even see that I'm tiring a bit. But I'm in a much less enviable position in the matter of stamina. What clashing, what wrenching, I didn't concern myself with the future at all. Surely there must have been options I hadn't noticed.

After wetting my throat, I go in for round three. I sit on my arse with my back to Bron. The referee gives the instructions. Ricksteiner's heavy and large arms wrap around my back. The buzzer sounds to start the third round....

Without any fiddling, Bron immediately tries to go for a German suplex. This comes as a surprise to me, both in terms of the build up of the fight and the amount of power he has left, as if it's not a man but a machine against me.

Twenty centimetres above the ground, I barely manage to get my shin around Bron's knee. He keeps trying to throw me, and I keep trying, putting the weight on my right shin and spending the rest of the time using my hands to break his grip.

Eventually, Ricksteiner throws me off to the side. He tries to take my back a second time.

But I manage to duck out of the way and get my own back. Bron tries to get behind my leg, but he makes a mistake.

The moment his foot is off the floor, I push with my whole body and put Ricksteiner on the floor. That's how I score some points.

I try to get a final hold on his back, but Bron's knee is in the way, and I'm too weak to pass.

Ricksteiner lets go, and I'm back in the far corner, catching my breath. Time is running out, and I'm surely behind. My thoughts begin to swarm haphazardly.

I try to take risks, to earn points with grabs and taking control of certain parts of my body. At first I succeed, however....

In an instant Bron catches me, right when we were face to face, and instead of passing, or loading me up with a takedown, he takes me for a suplex in one motion...

Almost. Because it takes me a second to react, wrapping my leg around his knee again. However, Bron keeps trying, exerting the force with which my tights are capable of tearing, and eventually it's over...

- The winner. - with the scoreboard lighting up with five points for the shot.

- Khaaah! Khaaah! - I could hardly breathe, my whole body ached like I'd been hit by a train.

- ...Bartholomew Simpson. - and at the announcement of my name, I actually forgot how to breathe for a few seconds.

After giving Bron a few hard pulls, on the next move, I let go of his leg, as if I'd stuck it in the deck, and then I gave up the last of my strength and delivered a suplex. A move that I had only ever done in practice, and never in sparring.

That's how I won my second wrestling tournament.

.....

Then I was given ten minutes of rest, and after that I was interviewed by several journalists, there were also cameras. I was asked about my plans, about my training and to whom I owe my success.

Coach Engle answered for me about my plans, saying that I will continue to go to different tournaments and take part in ranking matches, and then my goal will be to qualify for the Olympics.

We answered about the experience together, because I told about how I was preparing for the matches, while the coach actively advertised his school.

Well, I expressed my gratitude independently, I expressed it to the coach. Strangely enough, I remembered about my family only after the journalist reminded me, so thanking them was a bit awkward.

In the evening I had a phone call from my mum, Terry and Millhouse, calling to see how I'd done and if I was injured. When they heard I had won, they congratulated me profusely, and Terry promised to do me a favour on my return. Given my two weeks of abstinence, I really hope it's not the female version of nice, which involves going somewhere I have to spend money....

.....

It wasn't.

- Is that good?

- Can you squeeze harder?

- Is that it?

- Ay caramba! Are you trying to leave me with no dignity, woman?!

Neither my parents nor Sherry were home today, so I went to Terry's house to visit. As promised, she offered to do something nice for me. Of course, it wasn't about sex. I couldn't even convince her to strip down to her bra. But she did offer something close.

- How do you do it, Bart?! - looking me in the eye, sitting right next to me, Terry turned to me irritably.

- How do I know? It's always come out on its own..... - feeling the tension myself, I averted my eyes. I'm a virgin myself!

- Then maybe you shouldn't let me- - Terri excitedly began to unclench her fingers.

- No, stop! - so I hurried to put my hand over hers. - How about this?

- Bart, what are you doing?! - Terry groaned as I held her hand and began to move it up and down.

- Mm-hmm. Good. - her hand felt strange, but not in a bad way, just new, and so soft.

- Bart, aren't you going too fast? - As I sped up, red-faced Terry couldn't take her eyes off the spot where I was holding her hand.

- No, good, so good. - With so much time without unloading, I was on edge.

- Bart, are you okay? Are you breathing so hard? - Without realising it herself, Terri's other hand reached for the site of my voluptuous desires, cupping my chest so greedily.

- Uggh... I can't! - I jumped up from my seat, followed by my free hand to stop Terry from getting out of bed or trying to remove her hand.

- Bart, what are you--? - cum on my chest, the sight of which just shattered me.

.....

- Sorry, a little out of control. - As I handed Terry the tissues, I couldn't help but feel guilty at her hurt look.

- That's what I'm afraid of, you know? - not really, but I'll nod to de-escalate the conflict.

As Terri spent napkin after napkin, wiping off my face, running it under my bra, inside my hollow, touching my beautiful body, I began to swell again.

- You know what would be sexy? - Unable to fight my desires, I spoke in a particularly dry voice.

- А?.. - which forced Terry to stop with the self-cleansing.

- If you could taste it.

- Bart, what are you doing? - Terry glanced at me. But my gaze didn't change, it exuded animal desire, and it didn't take Terry long to get a taste of it. She picked up the white liquid from the top of her right breast with her fingers, so much that her index and middle fingers were covered in it like honey. Then warily brought it up to her face, inhaled the scent, crinkled her face, and at the end Terry.... - Ummm...