By the end of the summer term, Luna had left Britton High for a two months Spanish course in Chile. She was excited to finally meet in person her longtime pen-pal Gabriel. I was depressed with the prospect of losing our hand-play sessions, and depression gave me enough bravery to visit the new mega sex-shop recently opened in the Docklands area.

Might there be a female sumo section down there? The bouncer at the entrance gave me a contemptuous look behind the screens. I rushed in pretending I knew what I looked for and landed straight on the hard-gay section. Fortunately, the bouncer didn’t see me. As I wandered around the shelf displays, I suddenly spotted a photocopied announcement taped on a column.

‘First European amateur tekoki championship. Register for the final casting. Sponsored by HRP Horny Ram Productions.’

Underneath there was a list of cities and dates. Next Sunday would be at Santa Monica’s, reasonably close by. I grabbed my phone and pushed Luna’s contact number. Fortunately, she had it off, because it was about 6am in South America and she wasn’t exactly tolerant with my mistakes.

I walked home, locked into my room and played female sumo on the old VHS. This was better for slow-motion replays but nasty, shaky rubbish for stills.

Three soaked hankies latter I looked at the alarm clock, dressed up and had a fifty-minute long-distance call from mum’s phone with Luna.

Gabriel’s family was taking her out for hiking in the Pampa, ending up with a local dinner and some barn dances.

I tried to delete from my mind the image of Gabriel leading my curvaceous girlfriend in one of those Latin shuffles and told her about the contest. She had never heard of it but did know the mega sex-shop owner from her dedicated research on hand-job habits worldwide. The guy, she told me, had a distinctive sports car and lived at Gardenia Villages. It wouldn’t be hard to spot him around. ‘Tell him you’re a friend of the girl who subscribed to 'Handy Asians'. I don’t think he's forgotten that.’

The sports car was parked in front of number 169, one of the newest and most tasteless buildings at Gardenia Villages. The guy though was unexpectedly welcoming despite my unannounced visit and seemed sincerely delighted about my initiative.

He fixed me hot coffee and his lover, a drop-dead cutey in her late forties but definitely not the sharpest knife in the kitchen, pulled out some Brazilian delicacies. She wolfed down as much as I did.

She gave me all sort of details about the contest, she knew so well since her ‘husband’ was one of the sponsors, but she didn’t regard me as the kind of tough guy who could make it through those squashing machines. Then the guy cleared his throat and staring at the tablecloth muttered.

“Hmmm, perhaps our young friend wouldn’t mind a quick test.”

The gorgeous lady puffed out her incredible chest and crossed her legs. Her mighty thighs stretched the miniskirt like plastic film. Her amazon eyes were challenging.

“Uhhh. Of course not. I look forward to nothing else.”

The guy rattled the tea table whilst his formidable lady got rid of all the heavy rings from her muscular fingers, got up, gloriously immense on top of her marble legs and pointed her glistering nails to the room next door.

A long while later, her hair-do spoiled and perspiration on her upper lip, we were back in the lounge. I took a seat. She went straight to the bathroom.

“Seems I passed the test,” I grinned.

“With good marks,” he admitted pouring an icy beer in two glasses and pushing one to me. I hadn’t seen her pulling that face since Brazil was defeated at the world cup. Welcome aboard.

We toasted.

Since the Brazilian lady was married to the sex-shop guy and the contest was for couples, I still needed a partner. With Luna on a trip, I focused my lower belly needs on Betty, a gloomy just-divorced thirty-something that Luna herself had introduced me to on one of our rare nights out of our den.

She had been working for a while as a gym teacher at Luna’s brother's school, but eventually was expelled because of her lack of any formal degree.

Luna wanted my training not to be interrupted, and Betty was the most reliable option she could think of, provided she got her booze ration. Her tits had been mighty in a not so remote past, and she knew how to lend a hand, a dab hand indeed, and didn’t get emotionally involved, as long as I could stand the tales of misery she vividly related at the same time.

I walked the three miles distance to Betty’s and told her about my successful adventure. Her face lightened, she hugged me like a pro wrestler, picked the phone and ordered pizzas. She changed into a skimpier outfit and invited me to a one-night stand practice beginning now.

I called home with a miserable excuse and rushed to her spring mattress, leaving my jeans behind. Rules were that touching was forbidden from the waist up, but she was allowed to use any part of her body below the waist, this was against tekoki standards. Luna would disapprove of this but which I suggested to feel her incredible breasts against me. Still, the Grand Finale must be just using her hands.

Many things about Betty were a mystery to me. What was her real name? How did such a slim girl bear those fantastic boobs? All the juice lacking in her sinewy body seemed to be concentrated in those impressive knockers that could have easily made the cover in one of those girly magazines. The stories about her past as an athlete. Could she run with those breasts swinging around? What sort of exercises were compatible with that chest?

She wasn’t particularly fit either but, I must admit, sported fantastic hand strength. I saw her beating Luna at arm-wrestling, and I knew firsthand how tough Luna could be. She never talked openly about it, about anything else either. For instance, how had she become so good at it? Apparently, her former husband didn’t want anything else. Was it my imagination or was there a secret life of Betty? I never knew.

But all that fake former gym instructor line was none of my business. She was really good at it, that’s all that mattered. I had to keep my eyes wide open to make sure it was vulgar Betty and not a Thai pro who was handling my cock. She provided a variety of moves, grips and tricks I had to put up with.

Sometimes she climaxed while pumping me but didn’t stop. She shrugged her shoulders, swallowed a few times and went on till I ejaculated. She sometimes stimulated herself with her free hand for both of us to get to the climax together. I believe that when I fell asleep, she was still jerking me off.

As I fell asleep, I could picture us. Me being pumped by master jerk off women and Betty doing her worst against those women's partners. Slowly I fell into a deep sleep which was filled with dreams of the events to come;

We began winning contests. Bouts were agreed on or for three or five cums, and with Betty inspired we could win. I wrote Luna, scared about what her reaction would be, but she was understanding and replied she was proud of me and requested tapes of the contests. That’s my Luna!

But as we grew more and more popular in the circuit of masturbators, we started facing really competitive couples. Brutal pumping machines expert in unimaginable techniques of stimulation. In a few weeks, my prick experienced inverted grips, doubles, tube-like, hoods, racks, in combo with twisting, spinning, tilting and vibrating techniques.

By the hand of Betty –literally- and the videos we downloaded from Thai, Malaysian and Hindu sites I got initiated in the Far Eastern techniques of male stimulation based either on just nail work, nibbling and picking in search of the ultimate pinch. That with sheer hand strength banging at my penis with incredible light speed was my training regimen.

The fierce Asian milkmaid, facing you without blinking with her whole bag of tricks and her collection of finishing techniques wanking you till you stare her down. You finally break her like the little girl she actually is. That is the most fabulous pleasure a human body may ever experience. The minute she peels her teeth and breaks into a sweat and her refined techniques seem tame. You remain unvanquished like a centenary oak tree while the girl merely becomes dominated and gives up. No matter how fabulous, how dreadful she thought she was before; your unflinching will has reduced this wild sex fighter to a sheepish worshiper of your male-hood.

As reigning champions, we faced the Chinese teens with innocent looks and iron hands and still hold onto our title. But Milamar, a tender Philippine that tags up with her little brother whose ivory penis comes in and out Betty’s fist undaunted, topples us. Her pointed fingers grip my dick’s head, and she’s got me, and she knows it. It’s just a matter of time. She reads it from my pulsing nostrils, my labored breathing and the sheen of sweat coating me. She's trapped me against the ropes.

She doesn’t take herself seriously. She just plays with those huge cocks. That’s why no man can take her. That’s her key to success. I hold my breath to no avail and burst with a roar. She releases a throaty giggle, showing her two rows of little teeth, but doesn’t stop. Then she hides her little mouth behind her incredibly large hand and shrugs her shoulders, as apologizing from creaming me so hard.

Milamar then defends the title against a plastic-boobed western blonde with purple painted long nails tagging up with an exceptionally gifted bodybuilder. But sex fighting is an endurance challenge, and top fighters resemble sinewy marathon runners. Bulky cocks show plenty of target spots for a skillful milkmaid. Milamar and her brother lose the title in an endless match to the best of five against a pair of Japanese hermaphrodites that masturbate before the bout to prove their funny penises sprouting out of their vulvas are fully functional and both can abundantly cum.

I wake up wounded in a soaked duvet. Long minutes later I realize I’m at Betty’s, daylight filters through the Venetian screens she sweetly kept down to protect my rest, she’s fixed two steaming cups of aromatic, and nauseating, Ceylon tea she brought her last trip five years ago. With a grin that reveals the uneven teeth of a smoker as she cocks her head and invites me to get up and join her for breakfast. “Morning my young ace, tea is ready.”

I wish Luna were back as soon as possible, but her two months stay in Chile has just begun.