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Nidia's Goddess Part 1: The Thong
by DVDynamo (wassupwidat@hotmail.com)

The leather seat of Nidia's truck clung to her skin as she clambered out of
the vehicle, leaving behind a thin layer of sweat on it's surface. It was
hot, real hot; the sun beat down on her as she crossed the gym's car park,
beads of perspiration breaking out on her forehead. She wiped her brow
absent-mindedly then sighed resignedly; she was going in to work out, so
sweating was pretty much unavoidable for her. Things weren't going well in
the WWE for her right now; her partnership with Jamie Noble was being
virtually ignored by management, and her hard-learnt wrestling skills were
going to waste against bimbos like Torrie and Sable. She hoped to turn
things around by hitting the exercise machines and toning up, but she didn't
hold out hope. Deep down she knew that her unconventional sex appeal and
cute little pot belly simply couldn't compete with the pneumatic physiques
of Vince's favourite girls. Never mind that she had a fantastic, all-natural
pair of DD breasts; she just didn't fit the bill. It was a fact that drove
her crazy.

She breezed through the gym's lobby and headed straight to the locker room,
nodding quickly at the tanned beauty that was manning the front desk.
Throwing her bag down, she stopped to admire herself in the full-length
mirrors that adorned the women's changing rooms. She looked good, damn good;
she was clad in a ridiculously tight pair of cut-off jeans, her round, full
buttocks peeking out in half-crescents just above her thick, solid thighs.
Her olive-skinned stomach was accentuated by a floral vest top, pulled tight
over her ample chest, her breasts pushed together in a teasing display of
cleavage. Her frizzy blonde hair framed her sultry face perfectly; her
prominent nose was an unusual quirk that added to her appeal. She let her
hands smooth down her body, lingering on her boobs and feeling her
oddly-stiffened nipples beneath her shirt. She stood contemplating her fine
assets, and briefly considered a short round of masturbation before heading
to the weights; fantasies flickered through her mind in a rush. She hadn't
had sex-with either gender-for a good month, thanks to an intensive road
schedule; she had intended to head to a strip joint the week before and
perhaps pick up a hooker, but an accidentally-booked early flight had put
a stop to that plan. She pulled her vest off quickly and admired her pert,
perky puppies, sitting proudly on her frame; they were olive-tanned, like
the rest of her body, with large, dark nipples that surrounded surprisingly
pink teats. She flicked her left nip absent-mindedly and felt a twang in her
crotch; the idea was tempting, but she was there to work. She yanked down
her daisy dukes and kicked off her cowgirl boots and, after another quick
glance over her naked body in the mirrors, turned to the shower for a
preliminary scrub-down. Something made her stop.

Sitting on a nearby bench was an open gym bag, strewn with oddly familiar
clothes; a black leather bra top was slung on a hook above it, and some
tight red hot pants lay on the floor. A luminous pink thong hung slightly
out of the bag. Nidia's mind raced as she tried to pinpoint the familiarity
of what she was looking at; something about those clothes was occupying her.
Then, with a jolt, the realisation hit her: She knew that outfit from her
bedroom. A poster, to be exact, one that hung at the foot of her bed to
greet her each morning and get her blood pumping. She found it customary to
finger-fuck herself each and every morning; it invigorated her, as well as
quieting her sexual needs for the first half of the day. And when doing so,
there was only one picture that got those dirty thoughts churning: The
full-length framed poster she had of Joanie “Chyna” Laurer, her role model
and so much more. Chyna had been the main reason that Nidia signed up for
WWF Tough Enough; the then-raven-haired Amazon had inspired her like other
before her, with her sculpted physique, don't-fuck-with-me attitude and raw
fuckable appeal. Nidia never considered herself a lesbian - she simply sought
out what turned her on and stuck to it. And Chyna had turned her on from the
moment she first clapped eyes on her. She was bitterly disappointed when,
having triumphed in the Tough Enough competition, she found that Chyna was
no longer employed by the company. Her dreams had gone unfulfilled.

Now, standing in the deserted locker room, eyes clamped on Chyna's discarded
clothing, Nidia's mind began to speed through possibilities again. Logically,
those clothes guaranteed that Chyna was in the building; all Nidia would need
to do is find her and tempt her into some after-gym activities. But then
there was no guarantee that Chyna was even interested in the pleasures of
girl-on-girl sex; Nidia clung to the hope, but she didn't want her hopes and
fantasies dashed by discovering her idol didn't dig pussy. No, she thought.
There's a much better way for me to get my kicks here.

Sliding breathlessly down next to the open gym bag, Nidia eyed the clothes
with a mix of apprehension and excitement. She was sweating profusely, a
combination of the heat and her intense sexual hunger that her discovery had
awoken within her. After a few moments of hesitation, she reached for the
hot pink thong. Clasping it in her hand she felt her pulse quicken even more,
and her bronzed, somewhat-hairy snatch began to drool. Feeling her own juices
wetting her clenched thighs she spread her short, sexy legs and slid one hand
down her fine frame. She paused just above her groin, pulling her short curls
of pubic hair gently and exciting her greatly. There was nothing for it now;
she went in for the kill.

Her hands moving simultaneously, She drove two thick fingers into her soaking
cunt and brought the dirty underwear up to her face. Her hole began spasming
almost immediately as she roughly drove her fingers in and out, brushing her
clit occasionally as they did so. Her attention was more focused on her nose,
however; inhaling deeply, her nips jumped to attention at the full-on stench
left behind by Chyna's obviously unwashed slit. She smiled to herself,
tilting her head back and pressing the stinking fabric hard onto her face,
her right hand now three fingers deep into her rapidly-loosening fuckhole.
She began pumping rhythmically, flicking her clit with her thumb as she did
so, her hips bucking up onto her own hand as she breathed in the scent of the
sexiest bitch she'd ever clapped eyes on. This was heaven; perhaps she should
push it further.

Spreading her legs even wider, she slowly, painfully, worked a fourth finger
into her gaping pussy. She'd never pushed herself this hard before-three
fingers was her usual limit-but this was, after all, a very special occasion.
She held her hand motionless and instead began twisting her crotch to and fro
on her fingers, sending tingles of ecstasy running up her spine and causing
her to shiver with each movement. With another quick movement she swabbed her
drenched box with her role model's thong, and brought it straight back to her
face. She sucked on the fabric, imagining her love juices mingling with those
of Joanie, her face grinding into Joanie's slick hole as the muscular Goddess
held her submissive head in place. She closed her eyes and, with one final
thrust onto her now-fist, felt her entire body clench. Her pussy was
unbelievably tight around her hand; the thong fell from her teeth as she
thrashed wildly in the throes of the most powerful orgasm she'd ever
experienced. She pushed one of her tanned titties to her lips and bit on it
as her cunt humped uncontrollably onto her fist, now buried wrist-deep inside
her. The thong lay on the floor, now soaked through with the Tough Enough
winner's girl goo. With one final bestial grunt of total pleasure, Nidia
began to come down for her high. She sank back to the bench, hair clinging to
her shoulders with sweat, her face shiny with her own love juice, her pussy
lips frothing with cum around her buried wrist. She pulled her hand free with
a dull plop and raised it to her mouth, licking it clean as her ravaged cunt
showered the tiled floor with her sloppy syrup. She sat totally still, the
only sound the pitter-patter of her spunk on the floor, her eyes glazed. Her
thoughts strayed to the image of her bronzed, muscular goddess working out
somewhere in the building, her massive mammaries glinting with sweat. Her
pussy began to slicken once again. Her mind was made up: She was going to
pleasure her idol, no matter what happened. She needed to taste that horny
hard-bodied bitch's hole. And she'd do anything to get it.

To Be Continued....

Questions/requests/comments? Mail me.


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