I first became aware of Lady Dymund through her web site. Some dozen photos showcased her extraordinary beauty. I was immediately hooked and e-mailed her. After several e-mail exchanges in which we gathered a sense of one another, we arranged a meeting. Dymund works out of a comfortable place in the west 30's, right off Fifth Avenue in New York City.
Inevitably, the reality behind the photo is never the same. Which is not the same as saying reality never matches the image. For in Dymund's case, the photos didn't truly do her justice. When she came into the room in her bikini top and bottom, I was momentarily thrown off. Standing just shy of 5'9" and weighing about 140 lbs, Dymund is truly a stunning African-American woman. She bills herself as the "Black Enchantress" on her web site, and is she ever.
We chatted briefly, and I learned that Dymund is earning her Master's in graduate school. I couldn't take my eyes off her. She is not overtly muscular, yet she is plainly in terrific shape. Long, leanly muscled legs, like a dancer, and a flat abdomen without being ripped. No fat anyplace, but no bulging muscles, either.
We squared off. I'm 6'3" and weigh 180 lbs. All the advantage (other than youth) would seem to be on my side. We both feinted, then gripped hands, trying to spin the other off center. We backed off again and this time I dove in, trying to grab Dymund around the waist. She twisted and I slipped behind to gain a full nelson. But she swivelled free and managed to get me in a headlock. Even as she applied pressure and bent me at the waist, I clamped my arms about her waist.
She locked her hands together and squeezed my head ever harder. I let go of her waist and worked to free my head. But she shoved down and brought me to my knees, flipping me onto my back. I was sure she'd go for a grapevine and prepared to counter it. But Dymund completely took me by surprise. Instead, she stood up, jammed her left foot atop my upper chest and yanked my left arm straight up and clamped it between her thighs.
I was flat on my back, her foot pressing down hard on my chest as she crushed and twisted my arm between her thighs. My chest ached and I thought she was going to break my arm. I submitted. Dymund immediately removed her foot from my chest and freed my arm from between her thighs. I remained on my back a moment, letting feeling return to my left arm.
Dymund casually rearranged the band in her hair, keeping the short pony tail in place. "Want to take a break, Will?" No, I didn't want to take a break! I popped up and she smiled, a big, bright and confident smile.
We started circling again. I was determined to be the aggressor. But before I could initiate a move, Dymund leaned down and grabbed my right thigh. She yanked and lifted my leg high off the floor. I grabbed her arm to free my leg, which left my upper body exposed. Dymund immediately took advantage and drove her elbow into my belly, hard, and I went flying against the wall. I gasped for air, all my defenses forgotten.
Dymund almost casually gripped me in a bearhug and carried me several feet before dropping me. She leapt on top of me, twisted me onto my back and settled herself on my face. She was facing down and grabbed both my legs and lifted them high before locking them under her arms.
Now, Dymund has a gorgeous rear end. And with my face firmly encased underneath her bikini-clad cheeks, I was only too aware of this. But I could not breathe. She was straddled full weight on my face, and I was bent double. I managed to babble out a sound which she thankfully took to be a submission.
Dymund gracefully arose and stood looking down at me, still flat on my back. I eyed her, rather surprised that she was having such an easy time of it. After all, I outweighed the woman by 40 lbs and was six inches taller. She reached down and gave me her hand. I took it and she effortlessly helpled me to my feet.
We took a break. I realized that I was sweating and she seemed as cool and refreshed as if she's just showered. Then it was back to combat. I managed to get a take down, but Dymund quickly reversed and I was again on my back. This time she trapped me in a brutal reverse head scissor. Where does her strength come from!
Rather than free me, she locked her her legs and now had me in a figure4 reverse head scissor. She arched her back and looked at my head clamped between her luscious ebony thighs. I thought tears would start, the pain was so wicked. Finally, she gave a last snap and released me.
This time, I refused the offer of Dymund's hand and just lay there. It would be a while before my head felt right. Dymund again fiddled with her hair band and reset her pony tail. The woman hadn't broken a sweat. She was relaxed, assured, totally in charge.
The rest of the match went no better for me. But I took longer and longer breaks. For her part, Dymund was neither smug nor surprised at the outcome. After the match, she told me that she has an extensive martial arts background. Thank God I didn't act the wise-ass and try to take her on in that.
Dymund had photos taken and they'll be appearing on her web site over the next few weeks. Depending which end of the spectrum you're looking at look, I'm either at my worst ... or best.