I am positively gleeful about today’s guest blog, team – it’s a gloriously sexy celebration of power and strength and softness and grappling sexily until your opponent submits. Courtesy of the fabulous Bunny Harper, who is here to talk about erotic wrestling, and how a sport she had once been pushed out of became something she reclaimed with eroticism and power. I adore this piece, and I know many of you will too – check out Bunny’s blog here and read her amazing piece on erotic wrestling below!
Erotic wrestling, and the joy of taking up space
Growing up, wrestling was an inaccessible world of raw power and thrills—a world I found myself pushed out of, quite literally. During the height of Stone Cold Steve Austin’s fame, my older brother and a gaggle of boy cousins would huddle together around the TV set to watch WWE, laughing and grappling, while I was unceremoniously shoved from the room. Boy stuff. No girls alowed. Wrestling was camp, loud, and physical—a stage where strength and bravado were celebrated, and dominance was cheered. Yet for me, it existed behind a closed door, imbued with a spirited, masculine energy I wasn’t invited to access.
It wasn’t until much later, while working as a plus-sized sex worker, that I discovered the charged allure of erotic wrestling. Straddling a squirming sub beneath the weight of my powerful thighs, holding his wrists firmly in place, I felt a surge of power—a thrilling realisation of my own physical dominance. In turn, I saw the intoxicated look in his eyes, completely captivated by the unexpected vulnerability of being taken hostage like this. It was a mutual discovery, unspoken boundaries being tested and savoured. Wrestling became more than a game—it was a primal, embodied way to inhabit my body as a force to be reckoned with. A dynamic interplay of tension and release, dominance and surrender—a heady dance where my heft wasn’t an obstacle but a formidable weapon.
There’s something electric about how wrestling pulls you out of your head and into your body. Grappling with an opponent, feeling their resistance, sensing their breath quicken—it’s a pure, physical connection, stripped of pretence. Every press of skin, every shift of weight demands presence. As a plus-sized woman, wrestling became a celebration of the space I take up. My body, so often judged or diminished in other settings, becomes my greatest asset. My thighs pin my opponents; my hips anchor me, unyielding. When I tease, smother, or overwhelm my opponent with my curves—my large bosom, plump belly and soft buttocks enveloping them—it’s a reminder of my capacity to dominate and seduce simultaneously.
As a child, wrestling felt distinctly masculine—a spectacle of brute force and machismo I was told didn’t belong to me. Now, when I wrestle, I rewrite those rules. I wield my curves and femininity as tools of power, using them to smother, pin, and tease my opponents into submission. Though, erotic wrestling doesn’t have to conform to traditional ideals of masculinity or femininity; it exists in a space that blends the two. It’s raw, physical, and instinctual—but also playful, sensual, and teasing. After all, masculine and feminine, dominant and submissive—these are just costumes we put on and take off again. What matters is the moment when your bodies align in some unspoken rhythm.
The eroticism of this unspoken rhythm lies in the tension it creates. Every match is a charged game of push-and-pull where the stakes feel primal. Every movement heightens the anticipation. There’s such a potent charge in building tension, in holding an opponent in place, teasing them with your strength, only to release them and start again. It’s a foreplay that unfolds move by move, each manoeuvre deepening the connection between our bodies and the energy shared. And then there’s the moment when the tension snaps—when the match reaches its climax, and one of us finally concedes. It’s not just a victory; it’s a release, a shared exhalation that feels so deeply satisfying.
What I love most about my rediscovery of wrestling is realising that it’s not about chasing an idealised form of beauty or strength. It’s about revelling in the body you have. Wrestling teaches you to embrace your unique ability to overpower, overwhelm, and out-manoeuvre your opponent—a reminder that power isn’t reserved for just the lean, athletic types. It thrives in the soft, the supple, and the sturdy. And with that, erotic wrestling has given me an invaluable gift: the ability to reclaim my body as a source of strength and pleasure. Growing up, I was told—implicitly and explicitly—that my body should be smaller, quieter, less. But in the ring, there is no shrinking. There is only presence. Through wrestling, I’ve learned to celebrate every inch of myself, to use my curves, my weight, and my softness to my advantage. It’s a reclamation of power, a joyful reminder that my body is not something to apologise for but something to wield and savour.
So, to my future opponents: step into the ring with me. Let’s wrestle, tease, and play with the tension between control and release. Let’s see who comes out on top—and, more importantly, let’s revel in the energy we create together.