I will not give my name for fear of reprisals, shame and death. I live in a small impoverished village in the South of India that has hardly changed for centuries. In the middle of nowhere, the soil is like a desert where women toil with crude hand tools under an unforgiving sun to grow a feeble crop while a nearby large coffee plantation provides poorly paid part-time back-breaking manual work. I spend much of my time sweating it out at the Akhada, bodybuilding. For generations, almost the entire adult male population gather here for two-hour workouts every morning and evening. The equipment is basic, stone lifting blocks, climbing ropes, doing a few hundred sit-ups and push-ups, and balancing our hands on bricks while the great muscle lord Mahishasura watches from inspirational wall paintings. We aren’t bulky and huge as meat is a luxury as are steroids. We exercise outside wearing nothing but a simple loincloth with our magnificent muscular bodies oiled down. Passing women stop and stare in open desire, although forbidden from the exercises. A few men do so too. A few have travelled to Mumbai for well paid work as bodyguards for crime-lords or sex toys for Westerners, but once you are over 30 such prospects dry up and most return home. I was now in my 40’s.

“A man your age should be married with children to look after us in our old age” my parents kept nagging. Most of the local women look like dogs, all the decent looking ones being married as young as 13, although the legal age is 18, to older relatives often living in the West. Then one evening during a religious festival a girl I had not noticed before caught my attention. She was depicting the Goddess Anahita’s defeat over Mahishasura in a traditional dance. In her late teens, she was stunningly beautiful, medium-slim and petite around 5 foot with long luxurious black hair which fell from high on her forehead, down past her shoulders framing a wide rounded face with high cheekbones. Fair of skin, there was a small beauty spot on her left cheek, while her nose was elegantly dainty and a full lipped mouth had me smiling when she did. Wearing little makeup, her skin was in good condition and unblemished. Large appealing eyes with deep brown irises and thick black lashes melted my soul whenever they looked in my direction. Heavy almost baggy lower eye-lids added a sultry sleepy look while above arced thin black eyebrows. Wearing a black sari with elaborate gold needlework that clung to a pleasing buxom figure, she scared the old folk because it signified danger and death, the dark destructive side of the Goddess. Everyone knows the Goddess fought naked and I would have liked to seen the young woman being historically accurate in that respect!

These dances normally bore me but the way her lithe body moved with sinuous grace and elegance entranced me. “Who is that?” I asked my parents “Nandra” my mother replied in a stony tone “You want nothing to do with her. Her father owns the coffee plantation. Brahmin (upper caste), above our station in life, so keep away” But I was captivated, unable to keep my eyes off the beautiful girl as the lights reflected from the black sari made her graceful figure sensual and shimmering. The way the silk thrust forward over her bust from a firm flat bare midriff and clung to a pert backside had me mesmerised. As she prowled around the stage as the vengeful Goddess, the hem rose to reveal not only that she was bare-footed and wore ankle bracelets, but possessed large shapely calve muscles. They were big and firm, glowing with healthy tone and whenever she went upon her toes to maintain a pose for extended periods, they became deep-edged hard clefted masses of shapely muscle. I had seen pictures of Western female bodybuilders and they had no appeal to me but Nandra’s hard balls of dancer’s muscle had given me an instant hard-on and I knew that I must have her.

Asking around, I discovered that the reason I hadn’t seen the girl before was that she had been sent away by her parents to get an education in the nearest city and was only back at their plantation for the long holidays. She occasionally came to the village looking enchanting in a sari, preferring black, rather than western fashion that most girls wore. I tried to charm her, but with her full mouth set in a sensual smile of promise and a captivating twinkle in her wide eyes, she spurned my advances in a soft husky seductive voice that left me drooling on her every word. “She thinks you are too old” the guys teased. I didn’t care, I wanted her to be mine before some other creep gets her. As she seemed a very traditional girl despite her fancy education, I approached her in front of her friends and formally declared my intent for us to be betrothed. “You are either very brave or very stupid” she told me to my face with no sign of mockery “I will only marry a man who defeats me in wrestling at the Akhada before the whole village”. This is not unusual as Indian women have traditionally wrestled, especially in rural areas, and often challenge suitors to publicly defeat them in the arena before agreeing to wed. I’ve watched many women wrestling each other to settle a feud or a suitor, because they wear only a loincloth leaving their big wobbly breasts bare. Generally they are older unattractive women, with a big chunky boyish build developed through hard manual work. Nandra wasn’t one of these heavyweight women but petite, slim and delicate. “Are you serious?” I exclaimed standing a good foot taller than her and puffing up my magnificent pecs and flexing my abs but she seemed unimpressed “I might not have big muscles but I have skill” she replied. I was besotted, every movement on her unblemished face was enchanting. No-one had ever seen her wrestle. How could a tiny girl like her take on a big muscle man like me? Maybe she just wanted to get to grips with my sexy body so I agreed. Mother wasn’t happy. “That family honours the dark Goddess and the girl has the mark” she told me pointing to her cheek. “Superstitious nonsense. That’s just a beauty spot. I will make her submit and marry me. End of subject” I replied.

The Akhada is an outdoors circular area about 14 feet across, although there are no rules stopping wrestlers going outside it. In fact there were few rules at all where only admission of defeat or serious injury decided the victor. Raked clear of stones and pebbles, buttermilk, oil and red ochre were sprinkled on top making the dirt red. Every few days this was watered to keep it soft enough to fall upon yet hard enough for grappling. Around this, the whole village gathered for entertainment. I just wore my traditional loincloth and looked forward to seeing Nandra likewise topless and disappointed to see her in a black sari. “You’re not going to wrestle in that” I said. Smiling, she began to unwind the garment and I saw that her bare arms beneath were slim but taut with hints of lightly toned muscle as they worked. In fact I also saw brief hints of light muscle around her triceps and biceps “Rural women are very hard working and strong” she remarked seeing my attention. Underneath she wore a black choli, a short bodice that kept the mid-riff bare and cupped her breasts into arousing contoured mounds of desire with a cleavage that got my pulse racing. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on those puppies on our wedding night! Her legs were covered by a ghagra, also black. As she worked to remove the petticoat, I stared at her exposed mid-riff. Although the sides were fairly boyish rather than an hour-glass figure, her belly was taut with a firm-looking central section. As I watched, she took a breath and I was astonished to see it harden into 6 slabs paired vertically either side of a central groove that rose from her belly button which itself sat at top of another raised area of hardness. I was mesmerised as those hard slabs disappeared back into the overall smooth firm mass in the centre of her stomach then rose once more into a light yet unmistakable grid-work of solid muscle. They were not as defined as mine but the girl had a ripped 6-pack which rose and fell in a sensual motion with every breath that called to my groin.

Light muscularity on a woman was not unknown due to low body-fat, a meagre diet and hard manual work. Many an old women had wiry vascularity due to a lifetime of repetitive physical work. However Nandra came from a privileged family, well-fed and far from skinny. It must be something to do with her dancing and on her pleasant-sized body, looked all the sexier for it. The petticoat removed, revealed lovely smooth short firm legs that were sturdy and nicely proportioned with a hint of hardness in the thighs and the large well-defined calves I had seen when she danced.

The stunning young woman faced me looking confident in just a black bodice and white briefs although she was tiny compared to me. She looked at my powerful muscled body towering over her with apprehension. “Admit defeat now. No-one will think less of you for it. You can then grapple with this magnificent body in the bedroom” I told her but she shook her head firmly. Very well, if she wants a public humiliation that’s what she’ll get “That is not traditional attire” I complain to the referee staring pointedly at her chest. “I don’t want to have an unfair advantage of distracting you with my breasts” she told me in that seductive soft husky voice that went straight to my loins. Fortunately the dirty old man was also staring at her wonderfully cupped bust and agreed. “Men!” she tutted then reached around behind to untie the choli and remove it to the cheers of the men, who had never seen such a beauty in the ring. Great Mahisha, she had truly sensational breasts, naturally big and youthfully firm that they didn’t need a bra for support. My manhood stirred at the sight. Standing there naked apart from her panties, her entire body was perfect, free of blemish or scars and I wanted her all the more.

Following ritual, we both grabbed a few handfuls of the red dirt and threw it on ourselves and each other in blessing. Nandra then faced me in a wide-legged grappling stance with arms apart and a confident smile on her sweet face. Hunching slightly forwards, her boobs dangled and jiggled in a delightful manner “Keep staring at my tits and I’ll soon beat you” she said out aloud causing raucous laughter from the watching villagers. I couldn’t stop looking, they were perfect and beautiful and would soon be mine. Suddenly they were bouncing and lurching towards me. I looked up, alarmed to see her almost on top of me with her arms reaching out for my head. Cursing my inattention, I threw up my forearms to block her arms then grabbed her wrists and found myself in trial of strength with the petite hot-bodied beauty.

It was fun watching her big bare boobs bounce around while putting up a surprising amount of resistance against my big powerful arms. The smoulderingly sexy girl put up a spirited struggle that had me laughing at her cute determination while her breasts thrust and wobbled as she struggled in vain. I noticed her slender toned arms flexed, gaining thickness with a hard upper ridge of low-lying muscle as they pushed against me in a futile effort. They were quite dense despite not being very peaked or intimidating but those gentle low hills were very feminine and pleasing to look at, rock hard and quite brawny as they worked against me. Those small biceps were surprisingly difficult to overcome and I realised with strange excitement that stiffened my rod that my future bride could probably overpower a weaker man. I exerted more strength and watched the expression of despair as she felt the power of real muscle. “Time to submit, little one and become my bride” I tell her as I begin to power her down to one knee.

Suddenly Nandra fiercely brought the heel of a foot down upon my right toes. As I yelped in surprise she raised my arms above her head and twisted around, breaking my grip. Her right arm pistoned back and I groaned as a hard pointed elbow drove right into my unprepared belly. I spilt my breath and couldn’t stop creasing forwards. Moving slightly to one side, the semi-bare girl raised her right arm to hook it around the right side of my neck then clamped a hand around the back. Her other arm rose to slap a hand on the back of my head on the left side. My neck was now wedged between her forearms as both hands held the back of it. All of a sudden she brought her arms down fast whipping my head in a forward arc while leaning forward. In total shock, the Akhada spun around me so fast it made me dizzy and had to close my eyes as I flipped into the air. The next instant, I cried out in surprise as I crashed heavily upon my back raising a small cloud of dust to a noisy roar from the crowd.

I laid on my back stunned that the little girl had actually thrown me! I’d never expected that and was trying to get my head around it when the short but lovely legs of my bride-to-be appeared about a foot away. Naked apart from her briefs, I watched in amazement as the firm-bodied young woman threw herself forward into a handstand causing her breasts to swing as they dangled down. Twisting her body towards me, I watched in astonishment as it dropped like a stone. “WOARRGH!” I wailed as she belly-flopped across my stomach blasting more breath from my lips. My head and legs shot up from the ground with the impact then crashed back down again. The crowd went crazy, thrilled to see a big he-man getting beat up by a mere slip of a girl. I lay there stunned and winded as the topless beauty sprang to her feet and ran off. Her large well-defined calves flexed and waned as she danced away to the adoring crowd and I tried to imagine what they would look like if she wore high heels. I’d bet they would make most men stop and stare with longing wondering who the lucky guy was that had married her. She’s mine I would say with pride.

A rising volume of anticipation from the crowd woke me from my daydream to see Nandra running across the arena with her unrestrained breasts bouncing and sleek outer thighs pumping. She was heading towards me with a determined focussed look. I watched with incredulity as she threw herself into a clean walkover handstand with her short but lovely legs rising steadily overhead. It was a beautiful sight to behold and I couldn’t help adoring her well-formed figure until it began toppling towards me. Her belly dropped from a height to slam right across mine once more, pounding out my breath again “I might be small and not have big muscles but I make up for it in skill” she taunted, not even sounding puffed, as she lay across my stunned form. The crowd loved it and my face flushed with embarrassment and rage.

“Ready to admit defeat to a woman?” the girl asked as she rose and stood over me with hands upon her hips. The women in the crowd laughed loudly while the guys groaned, their disappointment shaming me that I’d let a much smaller girl get the upper hand. “Agility and skill are more important than strength” she boldly lectured then placed the bare sole of a foot on my face. The grit and dirt irritated my skin as she ground it in my face. “No, I won’t be marrying you” she told me with arrogance. I tried to push her foot off but it slid onto my throat and began pressing down. “Urrrk!” she was choking me, I grabbed the calves to lift the foot away but all I could feel was a solid mass of clefted muscle bulging with power while my head swam. I couldn’t even get my hands around it! “Thus did the Goddess Anahita stomp the Demon Lord into defeat” she declared which made the womenfolk cheer. Fading fast, I needed to use my strength and weight advantage to get her down and make her submit fast. Moving my hands from her thick unyielding calves, I clutched the slender ankle with both hands and girding myself while trying to block out the choking sensation, I focussed my angry energy into my arms. With a focussed surge of power from my mighty arms Nandra’s dainty foot flew away. Both of her legs went up into the air as she fell, giving me a nice view along the insides of her lovely thighs spread wide to underside of her panties tightly moulded to her crotch. She landed upon her back with a thud raising a small cloud of dust and a cute squeak of indignation to the cries of disappointment from the women and sighs of relief from the guys.