I'm a pole dancer. He's a wrestler. He thinks he can take me in a fight because he's got the skills and he's twice my mass, and mostly hulking muscle. He's wrong. Why? I'm so glad you asked. You see, I am a ballbusting bitch. There, I admitted it. Have I got your attention? This is the story about how I tricked Brad Houser, star wrestler at my university, into getting me off, again and again, receiving nothing in return except for pain in his poor, delicate, defenseless testicles. He thought he could beat be in a no-rules wrestling match. He should have thought twice. Then again, I'm glad he didn't!Don't get me wrong; I'm very fond of Brad. I think I might even grow to love him. But I think I'm most fond of him when he's squirming and under me, under my complete control. And maybe, at the end of the night, if he's really good, I'll make it up to him. Disclaimer: This is an erotic short story. It contains adult themes and is intended for a mature audience. The story contains BDSM themes, including bondage, domination and submission. All characters in this story are over 18 years of age, and all sexual activity depicted herein is safe, enthusiastic and consensual. Book Length: 7,400 WordsKeywords: Erotica, BDSM, Bondage, Ballbusting, Dominant Female, Alpha Male, Coed Wrestling, Oral Sex, Penis Gag Sex, F/m, HFN Ending