Magic Man flew in. Lucha Libre turned around. She looked at him. He admired her. She was enormous for a woman. Easily 6’9 or 6’10. She was bigger and outweighed him by at least 100 pounds. He couldn’t come up with a decent plan to wrestle her. With her blatant size advantage, Mark knew it wouldn’t take long for her to overwhelm him and win this match.
He had to act now, before she had a chance to put her guard up. Taking a big risk, Magic Man rushed at her a jumped in the air towards her in hopes of knocking her down and pinning her before she knew what hit her.
Unfortunately, she was expecting this.
A dull, fleshy thud rings through the air as he collided with her. His attempt to take her down was not nearly as successful as he’d hoped. Magic Man had come to a crashing halt against her, her bigger body not budging in the slightest. It was like Mark was the crash test dummy, and Lucha Libre wasthe wall, a soft, sturdy, feminine wall.
Lucha laughs at your pathetic attempt to topple her. “Ha! That’s it!? That’s your big opening move? Haha, you couldn’t even get past these babies, let alone take me down with that,” She taunts while wiggling her chest. “But now it’s my turn!”
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