On a sunny autumn day many years ago, I overheard some boys next door gathering outside my bedroom window. One of them exclaimed, "I saw her nipples through her shirt," and the group erupted into childish laughter.

Another chimed in confidently, "I can't wait to wrestle her again; I'm sure I'll get to feel them." Their conversation faded as they walked away, leaving me curious about whom they were talking about.

On another occasion, I noticed two boys sneaking into the neighbor's backyard, giggling as if they were hatching a secret plan. After a while, I heard the unmistakable sounds of rowdy play. About an hour later, they gathered outside my window once more.

"I did it," said one of them, and the other followed with, "I did it too."

It was clear they were up to no good, but I had no idea what they were referring to.

"Did you see me dry hump her when I had her pinned?" one asked.

"Yeah, but I got to feel her nipples," replied the other. It sounded like they were using wrestling as an excuse to feel up a girl. Both admitted that Terry was giving them a tough time, as her goal was to pin them down until they said, "Okay, you win"; Terry didn't seem to be playing the same game as the boys, and I wondered who this Terry was they were wrestling.

When I brought home my new Fiat X1/9 and marveled at its sleek design, I couldn't help but appreciate its Italian craftsmanship. The X1/9 was a two-seat sports car with a mid-mounted inline four engine, a removable hardtop that could be stowed under the hood, and a five-speed manual transmission. Though it looked and sounded fast, it couldn't compete with the American muscle cars of its time.

One day, as I began washing the X1/9, a neighbor kid from next door came over to admire my car.

"Oh, nice car, Mr. Truman. I'm Terry from next door," he said while running a hand over the roof and down the hood. Terry had a tanned face from spending time outdoors, and my initial impression was that Terry was a boy, despite having some feminine characteristics and a girl's voice. She had a lithe and muscular physique, not the bulky muscles of a boy but the well-toned muscles of an active young lady. Her long legs, flat waist, and round, tight rear suggested she was in excellent shape from wrestling with the boys. She looked like a tomboy with short hair and a small chest, resembling a boy in a white T-shirt with puffy nipples.

Terry proposed helping me wash the car in exchange for a ride, even though I could easily manage it on my own. For some reason, I found her intriguing and agreed. While washing, Terry "accidentally" rubbed her shirt against the car, making it increasingly transparent. To play along, I began spraying water on both her and the car simultaneously. Terry seemed to relish the attention, and before long, her shirt became completely see-through, revealing her hard nipples poking through the wet fabric. She laughed at my antics and continued washing the car.

After a playful water fight, Terry felt the cold. I could see her shivering. I said, “Terry, go into the garage, get out of the wind.” As she entered, I suggested, “You should go home and change into some dry clothes.”

She asked if she could use my dryer, explaining, "My mom would freak out if I came home soaking wet."

Before I could respond, Terry turned away from me and stripped down to her jockey shorts, revealing herself without hesitation. I offered her my old army fatigue jacket to cover up, and she took it, using it as a makeshift garment while removing her jockey shorts as well, hidden from view.

As Terry stood there, partially covered by the jacket, Dave the mailman pulled up to deliver a package to the garage, acknowledging Terry's presence. Without prompting, she reached out, taking the package from Dave, and as the jacket fell open, she briefly flashed him a glimpse of her naked body. I was certain.

Dave must have wondered why Terry was naked in my garage, but he simply shook his head and left.

Once inside, I placed all of Terry's wet clothes in the dryer and fetched a robe for myself. I added my own clothes to the dryer and struck up a conversation with her.

"So, Terry, what school do you go to?"

"I'm at the city university, and I'm on the varsity wrestling team, Mr. Truman," she replied, adding, "It's co-ed."

"You can call me Aubrey, Terry. Co-ed wrestling? That's something I've never heard of," I remarked. "As a matter of fact, that's how I'm going on an athletic scholarship," Terry explained.

"No kidding; I went to state university on a wrestling scholarship, some twenty-odd years ago," I shared.

Terry then asked if I'd like to wrestle her and maybe teach her some moves.

I hesitated. "I have reservations about this, Terry, primarily because you're an unclothed young lady."

"It's worth noting that ancient Greek Olympic wrestling was performed in the nude," she said in an all-knowing voice.

"However, we're not in ancient Greece, and this is far from the Olympics."

"Are you concerned that I might best you, old man?"

"No, I'm not afraid, but engaging in this, especially while unclothed, doesn't seem appropriate."

"I'll propose a wager: if I win, you let me take your car for a spin,"

"And what if I emerge victorious? What do I get?"

"I'll be your housekeeper for a month; it looks like it could use some attention."

Before I could respond, she added, "I'll even give you an advantage and let you start on top, the superior position."

I recalled that this involved placing my hand under her chest and holding her forearm.

"Okay, you're on," I agreed, thinking that despite being years removed from my wrestling days, I could handle her easily.

Terry stood before me and gently removed my fatigue jacket, revealing her bare breasts. Her nipples resembling acorns beckoned to be touched. Her intimate area was adorned with delicate, fine, light brown hair that seemed meticulously groomed. It was clear why many boys were eager to engage in playful wrestling matches with her, just to experience the magic of touching her body.

I was in my boxer shorts, straddling her as she assumed an all-fours position. My arm grazed her small, puffy nipples as I attempted to secure her wrist.

When she said 'go ', I was promptly flipped onto my back, ensnared in a scissor hold. I was pinned before I could react, as Terry possessed more strength and agility than I had anticipated.

I conceded, saying, "Alright, let's try that again; I wasn't prepared." Once more, I found myself down, caught in a half nelson headlock.

"Okay," I declared, "next time, I'll get you."

Sometimes, it's crucial to recognize when to concede. I was flipped once more, my thigh ensnared in a scissor hold, and my arm extended. Terry maintained her grip, employing a rhythmic motion on my thigh. She ground her pelvis against my thigh until, I think, she experienced a minor orgasm, then she released her hold.

I don't believe she realized that I was aware of what had just transpired--she had essentially rubbed against my leg until she climaxed. She collapsed, panting, as though she had expended a significant amount of energy on that maneuver.

"I believe you've grasped the concept of coed wrestling; you want to continue?"

I had to decline; my body was already feeling the consequences of contorting unnaturally. I'm not sure if she employed the same tactic with her friends or just me, but it was clear that she derived pleasure from it.

"You win-- you can take my car for a spin." Quickly, I asked, "Can you drive a manual? It's not an automatic."

"No, but you'll have to teach me so I can drive."

The next day, she came over early for her first driving lesson. She sat in the driver's seat while I explained the shift pattern and showed her the clutch pedal. I had her practice going through the shift pattern, emphasizing the need to use the clutch each time she changed gears. That's where she got confused: the concept of using the clutch to shift.

I said, "I'll sit in the driver's seat, and you can sit on my lap. I'll guide you through it and help you. Position your feet on mine to feel when to use the clutch."

She sat in my lap, which was no small feat considering the confines of a sports car. We went through the movements of shifting while still in the garage. I was explaining the concept of slipping the clutch to do hill starts, while she was shifting around in my lap trying to mimic the action.

The movements were reminiscent of receiving a lap dance; the result was a noticeable dampness in my shorts. As her eyes fell upon my shorts, I found myself compelled to confess the effect she had on me. She couldn't hide her excitement at realizing that she possessed the allure to provoke such a quick and intense reaction from me.

I stammered out an embarrassed, "I think you're ready. It's a nice day, so we can drive topless out to the park outside of town," as I made a hasty retreat to change my wet shorts.

Returning, I removed the Targa top and stowed it in the hood. When we got into the car, she removed her top. "You did say topless." Terri interpreted it quite literally.

"Terry, I meant we would remove the car's top, not you remove your top."

"But Aubrey, I want to drive totally topless."

In reality, Terry's breasts were small, and from a distance, she could be mistaken for a shirtless boy. The only time we garnered any attention was when we stopped at a red light, and the boys in the car next to us kept staring, trying to figure out if she was a girl.

When we arrived at the park, Terry hugged and kissed me passionately. "That was the most fun I've ever had. Thank you."

With her still topless, we walked around the park to a secluded area. She displayed no worries whatsoever about anyone catching a glimpse of her acorn-like nipples. She took my hand and pulled it down her shorts.

"Feel my wetness."

She pulled me close and whispered, "Fuck me, I'm so horny."

"Here?"

"Yes, fuck me here in the park."

The idea of fucking her outside in a public place must have pushed her over the edge of sensations. She came almost as soon as I entered her wet pussy.

She wanted to drive back home topless, who was I to deny a girl's wish.

We had one more topless adventure driving out to the park again. She had the same reaction, as before. Having her small breasts on display, stoked a fire in her libido, which required more fucking to quell.

As autumn turned to winter, Terry became more involved with her studies and wrestling. In the spring I was offered a job in another state. I was torn, but it was clear that Terry and I had grown apart so she wasn't a factor in my decision to leave.