Dan Boxer's blog

FICTION -- "April's Offer" (Part 4)

APRIL'S OFFER – PART FOUR
The timer gave a 10-second warning buzzer, and I took one more look at the stunning sights in both corners before …
DING, DING!
Carla bounced out of her corner, up on the balls of her feet in a classic stance – I couldn't help but notice how her red top and chest moved with every bounce. April stepped forward and established herself at mid-ring, moving but not bouncing, conserving energy – just like Duke, I thought. She's been watching … and learning.
Carla began popping out jabs just as she had in the locker room, but most came up short as she kept her distance and the others only lightly bounced off April's high-held gloves. This wasn't a normal fight between two women who aren't professional boxers, I thought … most times, women will flail their way out of control and throw roundhouse punches until they exhaust themselves in 15 seconds.
Not these two … they are serious about this.
Carla kept jabbing, and one split April's gloves and snapped her head back for a moment. Carla immediately followed up with a right that connected on April's forehead, and moments later she landed the same one-two combination two straight times. April felt every one of them and had backed up a step.
"You gonna try to hit me, blondie," Carla hissed through her mouthpiece, "or you want me to just go ahead and beat you up and get it over with?"
April just kept swaying, bobbing her head slightly.
Carla again jabbed at April's chin and again came over the top with another right hand. This time, though, April used her left hand to block, and pivoted around and planted a hard right cross directly under Carla's breastbone – her first punch of the fight, right in the solar plexus.
Carla took three big steps backwards and was struggling to regain the breath that was knocked out of her. April could have pressed her advantage, but instead stood there, gloves still high, under control just as she had been since the bell rang.
"Can't breathe, bitch?" April said. "There's a lot more of that coming."
It took Carla only a few seconds to recover, and she quickly went back to her plan of jabbing, jabbing, jabbing. She was much more careful when she tried to follow up with a right hand, but her left was keeping April at bay and was pushing April's gloves back into her face more and more often.
April began taking small steps forward, hoping to get inside those jabs, but mostly wound up eating some of those left hands aimed at her head. Carla was getting into a rhythm … bap, bap, bap … and she was now getting a little more daring with the follow-up right that clipped across April's chin more than once, twisting her head and causing sweat to fly.
A quick three-punch combination from Carla – another jab, a follow right and a left hook – all landed. April wasn't hurt, but she felt all three, and the last one shook her and she momentarily stumbled back.
"I'm going to pick you apart," Carla said, "and then I'm going to start hurting you." She continued to keep her distance, and continued to flick the jab at April's head.
For her part, April was unfazed, but she was also unable to close the gap between the two for most of the round. Still, she kept her cool despite the jabbing lesson, and had started slipping inside some of those jabs and answering with left jabs of her own when the timer sounded.
I went to check Carla's corner first, knowing that she was unmarked. I pulled her mouthpiece and gave her some water. She wasn't even breathing hard.
"You know I can keep doing this all night," Carla said. "I'm gonna keep jabbing her to death, and eventually she'll wear down and go down."
"Your jab's working well," was all I said as I toweled off what little sweat she'd raised.
"I have a lot of things that work well," Carla said, "and I'll show you as soon as I finish off the little bitch."
I walked across the ring to April, who wasn't marked but had some redness in a couple of places, the result of Carla's popping jab.
"Don't tell me … I know," she said as I knelt in front, washing off her mouthpiece and squirting water into her mouth. "I have to stop her jab. But I know what I'm doing … trust me."
"I already know never to question you," I said. "Just be careful."
April gave me a wink, and I popped the mouthpiece back in just as the warning buzzer sounded. Both women were off their stools well before the bell for Round 2.
Again, Carla bounded out and began circling, and April moved to mid-ring, and action picked up just as it left off, with Carla's jabbing in steady rhythm and April having some success in parrying and getting in jabs of her own. But if this continued for long, Carla was right … she would eventually wear April down.
Which made it surprising that, after a few exchanges, Carla waved April in, daring her to try to come close.
"C'mon, blondie," Carla yelled through the mouthpiece as she dared April. "C'mon in so I can cut you up some … maybe make you bleed out of that worn out cunt. As much as it gets used, I'm surprised any men would want it. C'mon, bring that worn out pussy in here, you whore."
Up until then, April had kept her cool, but Carla's last trash-talk finally set her off. Flush red with anger, April lunged forward and swung a murderous right hand at Carla's head. But Carla had expected that … planned for it, actually … and she easily ducked under April's wild swing that left her body totally unprotected.
Carla sunk a hard left hook just above the Everlast patch on April's low-riding waistband, and the "ooooffff" of air coming out of April's mouth was audible. As she bent over to cover, Carla snapped off a three-punch combination that would have been the envy of some pros … a quick right-left-right that had April's head flailing back and forth. The third of those punches, a solid right cross, sent April's mouthpiece flying as her butt found the canvas.
I hurriedly grabbed the mouthpiece, which had gone halfway across the ring, and when I turned around Carla was still standing over April. The spectacle of the two – one tall and toned, all in red and in a dominant position, the other blond and voluptuous, in white and down on the mat – was visually stunning, and I couldn't do anything but stare for a couple of seconds before moving in to separate them.
"I hope you get up," Carla said as I grabbed her arm and started pushing her toward a corner, "because I haven't even started to have fun with you yet."
I started counting, "1 … 2 … 3." It was obvious April wasn't hurt and was fully alert – probably got caught off balance more than anything else – but she had seen enough bouts to know to take the full mandatory eight-count. By the time I cleaned her gloves on my shirt and replaced her mouthpiece, she was already ready and nodded to me before I could ask if she was all right.
But she was still plenty mad, maybe even madder now, and even Carla's well-thought-out plan hadn't counted on the fury of April scorned.
Throwing caution to the wind, April walked right into Carla and began swinging wild punches in bunches without any regard to defense. Most of them missed and Carla was able to parry or dodge most, but the longer April's attack continued, the more her punches began finding a spot on Carla's tall body. And since there was no pattern to April's attack, Carla was having more and more trouble defending.
A left split Carla's gloves and "THAPP" caught her square in the nose. A low right dug into her side and forced her elbow down, opening her head for April's follow-up right that bounced off her temple and rocked her back. A sweeping left hook pounded into the side of her right breast, bringing a cry of pain, and as she lowered her guard to her injured tit April caught her with a right hand to the jaw that pushed her back. Suddenly it was Carla that had her back against the ropes, and April was on top of her raining punches and Carla was answering with counters of her own when the timer went off. I had to step between them to stop the hammering from both women.
I went to April's corner first, grabbed the mouthpiece and water and kneeled in front of her. Her breath was coming in big gulps and she shook her arms at her sides.
"I was beginning to wonder if you were going to do anything but play punching bag," I said, and April had a half-smile while drinking heavily from the bottle. "Just don't punch yourself out … you'll use up all your energy."
"She hasn't seen punches yet," April said, her breathing only beginning to come under control.
"Just take it easy," I said as I finished toweling the heavy sweat off her face and shoulders. She had a growing mouse under her right eye – Carla's jabs were still taking a toll – but otherwise was no worse for wear.
I walked over to Carla's corner, and she was much different than she was following Round 1. Her breathing was much heavier, and she had red marks over both eyes and on one side where April's gloves had scraped across. She'd learned a lot of punching technique in those lessons, I thought, but there aren't any lessons on how to take a punch … that you learn in the heat of action, and she hadn't been in too many fights … maybe she'd never really been hit before in anything past a sparring session.
She also kept rubbing the side of her right breast where April had tagged her, and winced each her glove made contact with her red top.
"Damn little bitch," she said while I held her mouthpiece and gave her water. "I'm gonna make her pay for that tit shot."
"Keep your distance," I told her … while silently hoping she would wade back into a slugfest. She may be more polished, but this wasn't for style points. This was a FIGHT, and I'd take April over her in a brawl any day. Carla didn't say anything, just cast a mean look in my direction, and I wiped a towel over her face and shoulders as the warning buzzer sounded.
I could tell Carla was pissed as she stood up, banging her gloves together over and over until the bell sounded.
Both missed with jabs early before Carla feinted with a left and sent her right hand over the top and into April's forehead before a follow-up left caught the right side of April's face. Carla had abandoned her jab-and-move plan and was determined to slug it out … and even with her temporary success, that played into April's hands.
April came back fast and hard, keeping her left hand in Carla's face and starting to pound both of Carla's biceps with hooks. She's been around boxing long enough to know, I thought … those punches don't look and feel like they do damage, but the cumulative effect is that after being hit over and over on them, a fighter's arms weaken fast and eventually become almost useless. Carla, having not been around the fight game, won't even realize it until it's too late.
April follows one of those hooks to the bicep with a left hook to the jaw, and Carla was wobbled by its force and tried to clinch. While she was reaching, though, April snapped a quick right below Carla's navel, the glove hitting bare skin sounding like a whip cracking, and followed with an uppercut that cut through Carla's arms and clipped her right on the chin. This time, it was Carla's cute tush that was sitting on the canvas, April standing over her with her fists still cocked.
"Yeah, you like that?," April sneered as her mouthpiece peaked on her lips and I steered her toward a neutral corner.
I stepped in and started a count with Carla still sitting, and she quickly boosted herself with her gloves back to a standing position. As I wiped her gloves, I could see the confident look from the first two rounds gone and could tell she was already getting tired. It's not usually the punches, I was thinking, it's getting hit by the other guy's punches that eventually wear you down.
I had barely gotten out of the way before April snapped a jab between Carla's gloves that mashed her nose, and a trickle of blood began to drop out. April tries three more jabs and a hooking right, and Carla stepped back enough to avoid the right. But stepping back put her against the ropes again, and April waded in. Carla was doing a good job of covering her face with her gloves and much of her body with her arms and elbows, but those arms again became a target for April now that Carla wasn't punching back much.
When she finally worked her way off the ropes, Carla was backing up, shaking her arms to try to loosen them up and lessen the pain. But she underestimated April's speed, and while she had her arms at her sides April stepped within range and delivered a quick left-right, one each into those red-clad breasts. She followed with more of the same, knocking away Carla's efforts to block her punches and brutally pounding her chest over and over amid Carla's squeals of pain.
Eventually Carla forgot about protecting anything else and wrapped her breasts with both arms, leaving both her head and abs open – a killer combination, which is what April hit her with. Another left-right went into both eyes, rocking Carla's head back, and April followed with a volley of punches into Carla's reddening belly that backed her into a corner. She was bent halfway over and April was teeing off with wide swinging uppercuts to Carla's face and head when the timer went off.
I stepped in quickly as April spun around, almost dancing back to her corner. In contrast, I had to help Carla get her bearings, and when she straightened up I saw a cut over her left eye, blood running down the side of her face, and her nose now dripping blood much more quickly. She was also starting to swell around both eyes.
"You all right," I said as I sat her on the stool, squirted water on her face and tried to stop the blood flow from her eye and nose with a towel. Carla didn't say anything, and just held the towel over her eyes and nose.
I tried to pull her bikini top away from her bright-red breasts, and Carla shuddered.
"Hurts," she said. "Take it off." I reached around and unhooked the top before pulling it of her shoulders and away from her chest. I could already see large bruises forming.
I walked over to April, who was all smiles. She had her arms draped over the middle ropes and her knees spread wide on the stool, and was covered with enough sweat to look like she just stepped out of the shower. Her shorts and shirt were plastered to her skin. Damn, she looked sexy.
"That a little better?," she said as I wiped her face and dabbed the couple of places that Carla's blood had dripped (I wasn't about to towel off anything else … it looked too damn good).
"You got her now," I said. "Just don't do anything silly, and don't punch yourself out."
"She's the only thing that's getting punched out," she said as she suddenly leaned forward. "This thing's in my way," she said as she raised one arm and used a glove to pull her shirt over her head and throw it outside the ring.
She caught me staring right at her chest, her nipples hard as rocks and poking out close to a full inch, and asked for the water bottle which I put into one of her gloves. But instead of drinking from it, she squirted some across the top of her chest, the water running down over her gorgeous orbs. She then pulled her waistband out from her tummy and squirted the rest of the bottle down her trunks.
"Needed to cool off some," she laughed. Maybe she was cool, but I was on fire, and when I stood up my erection was obvious to anybody who might have been looking. Carla wasn't in any condition to notice, even when I walked back across just before the buzzer to give her water and check on her once more.
When the bell went off, April almost sprinted across the ring, trapping Carla in her own corner almost before she got off the stool. She began the breast maul once again, this time alternating her punches with turning her gloves and raking the laces across the reddened flesh. Large welts began appearing across her breasts, and some began bleeding as the leather from April's gloves ripped across.
The breast attack was a ploy to get Carla to wrap her arms on her chest again, and when she did April planted her left forearm under Carla's chin and pushed backwards against the corner. She then used her right to rain big punches into Carla's unprotected abdomen, one of which forced enough air out to shoot Carla's mouthpiece out to mid-ring.
I collected the mouthpiece but didn't try to break up the action as April continued to pound away, her punches going lower and lower until Carla's thong was her only target. With Carla pinned in the corner and unable to defend herself, April continued the abuse until Carla was leaning limply back against the turnbuckle, all but unconscious.
"Who's having fun now," April yelled through her mouthpiece. "I am going to fuck you up so bad … and then I'm going to fuck you."
April still held her arm against Carla's windpipe, holding her in place in the corner, and used the thumb of her other glove to jerk Carla's thong down and expose her cleanly-shaved pussy. Now with a clear target, April's right hand became a punching machine, pistoning hard punches directly into Carla's clit as she screamed with every impact.
A combination of blood, piss and pussy juice began running down Carla's legs as her vaginal muscles collapsed under April's abuse. Almost on cue, April stopped the pussy punching, but instead of allowing Carla to slip to the canvas, she hung her arms over the top ropes in the corner, leaving the semi-conscious fighter sitting on a lower rope and wide open for more abuse.
The timer went off to supposedly end the round, but April paid no attention, and I only leaned against the ropes and watched.
"You think that's going to save you," she hissed before spitting out her mouthpiece. "The only time that's up is yours."
April started slowly punching Carla's face, lightly at first and gradually increasing in power and frequency until she was punishing Carla's eyes. Blood flowed from the old cut in a gusher and April's punches opened a new cut over the other eye before Carla's arm slipped off the ropes and she crashed to the canvas face-first.
April grabbed Carla's feet and pulled her to mid-ring before flipping her on her back and standing over her, her boots on either side of Carla's horrifically swollen and disfigured chest.
"Damn, I am so fucking wet," April said, as she tore off her soaked trunks and dropped with her knees on both sides of Carla's head. "I need you to get my rocks off right now."
April lowered her soaking-wet pussy over Carla's mouth and nose and began to grind away, rhythmically rubbing herself back and forth with her gloved hands at her hips – almost appearing to push her body further into Carla's face. She began biting her lip and moaning as her thrusts became more intense, before April let out a scream and grabbed Carla's head and held it tight to her clit as she reveled in a thunderous orgasm.
Still not satisfied, April turned around and spread Carla's legs, and used the thumbs of both her gloves to begin rubbing between both of their legs. Eventually, those thumbs were inside both women as April masturbated herself and finger-fucked her now-unconscious opponent.
"Mmmmmm, sooooo goooooood," April moaned as she withdrew both thumbs and began pushing even more of her glove up Carla's snatch. Eventually all of the four-finger part of the glove was inside and ramming deep as April was virtually beating Carla from the inside out.
Soon, her punch-fucking finished, April stood up in all her naked glory and raised her arms in the air, her gloves still on her wrists, as she walked over to where I was standing.
"I am so goddamned turned on right now," she said, one leg snaking around mine and holding me against the ropes as she deep-kissed me, her tongue almost raping my throat. She started tearing my clothes away and began manhandling my hugely-erect cock before I could fully shed my pants and boxers, before grabbing my arms, pulling me to the canvas and rolling quickly on top of me.
"I want you inside me NOW," she groaned, and roughly began rubbing her throbbing clit against my throbbing member. Suddenly she raised her hips and pushed down, taking my cock inside her with one incredible stroke, and began thrusting like a machine.
Never in any of our erotic moments over the previous three weeks had April been so physical, so raw, so … violent and dominating. I came in a huge volume way too quickly, but April kept her forceful thrusting, producing orgasm after orgasm from both of us before I went totally limp.
I couldn't move a muscle. But April? She stayed astride me … and hadn't even bothered to take off her gloves and boots.
"That all you got, pussy?," she said, but instead of the anger she'd directed at Carla, she had a big grin on her flushed-red face. "Thought you were a champion … a stud."
She raised her arms in a double-bicep pose, her gloves pointed toward the ceiling. "Guess there's a new unbeaten champ now … until you're ready for a rematch."
I felt a familiar stirring in my crotch, which was still held firmly in place by her soaking-wet womanhood.
"Ooooooo, I feel a challenge to the champ," April cooed. "Guess someone's in for another beating."

++++++

I had called in sick for another work Monday – the second time in three weeks, I thought, this isn't like me – and quickly fell back asleep. April never stirred when I got up and went to the phone, and that didn't surprise me after her levels of exertion on Sunday. Not only had she won a brutal boxing match, but she had experienced – no, she had controlled – hours worth of erotic domination and incredible lovemaking.
After her fight with Carla, she had been insatiable … in the ring, and then again later when we got home. I had made sure Carla was able to walk and had put her in a cab before we left the gym in the middle of the night. She had all but raped me in the ring, and it wasn't much different when we finally crawled into bed well after the rest of the world had closed down.
I had never seen her that way. There was no other way to describe it – over and over she would fuck me to an orgasm, milk me dry, then work me back hard and start all over. She was like a machine … an erotic, perpetual-orgasm machine, and she went for hours. The times that I couldn't get back "up" and satisfy her, she fingered herself until her entire body would nearly convulse. She would stop for a few minutes, catch her breath, and then it was back on me, until she finally passed out from total exhaustion.
I figured she wouldn't wake up until mid-afternoon, but when I got back into bed she was half-awake and rolled over toward me.
"Hey, by the way, I set up another fight for you and Duke," she sleepily said. "Friday night, same rules, same everything …," before she fell back asleep.

++++++

April eventually gave me all the details. We were going to meet at her gym late Friday night – after 9 p.m. when the gym closed to the public. Same setup as last time … just the three of us, two-minute rounds and she would check both corners in the two-minute breaks. The bout ends only by knockout … and if one fighter quits, the other can continue until there is a knockout.
April was almost licking her lips as she ticked off each little bit of information.
"Why so soon," I asked when she finished. "Have I treated you OK? Have I … well … satisfied you?"
She put her arms around my waist. "I am very happy … and, yes, very satisfied, as if you have to ask. It's just that I get so turned on watching you fight … and Duke fight … and when I see both of you in the ring, pounding on each other trying to prove who is the best man, both of your bodies, both of you getting hard inside your trunks …"
She probably didn't even realize she had slid over a few inches and was slowly rubbing the crotch of her jeans against my leg. She did realize it when she put her hand down her jeans.
"Ohhhhh, god, I get so wet just thinking about it."
She quickly ran to the bathroom, and I could hear her moaning in there moments later. So much the better that she didn't need me to get her off this time, I thought … after last night, I'm not sure how much I'd be able to pleasure her, and besides, my mind was racing elsewhere. I again had to go up against a guy that's a lot bigger and stronger than me, and I'd pretty much emptied my bag of tricks the last time. What could I possibly do to give me some kind of advantage this time?
I thought about that all week, and by Friday afternoon I still hadn't come up with many answers. But I was pretty sure Duke had some for me, especially after he watched my fight with Spider Johnson at the old gym. I may have won, but I didn't exactly cover myself with glory … and Spider was handing my head to me in the first part of that fight. Duke must have been licking his chops watching that.
Duke had probably been thinking rematch for the last four weeks, ever since he was out, flat on his back after our first bout, April's knee on his chest while she gave me a mind-blowing hummer … before she and I left him lying there and went back to the locker room for more erotic gymnastics. He knew what he'd lost, and had a good idea of what had been happening between April and I since then, so I figured he'd been the most motivated person on the planet for the past month.
All these thoughts were still going through my head when I started getting my gear together early Friday afternoon, figuring I'd nap a while before the night … fight night, especially since we didn't have the gym until nine. I was trying on a new set of white trunks I'd bought – between the Duke and Spider fights, the blood stains were too much for my old favorites – when April walked out of the bathroom. She had just showered and dried her hair, and was wearing a short white terry robe tied at the waist to accentuate her lovely curves. It didn't take long to figure out that she had nothing on underneath since the bottom of her butt was peeking out.
"God, you look so good in those," she said as she started running both hands over the bright white satin. "Ooooo, and nothing underneath … just like I like it."
My brain was screaming no, I was likely in for the fight of my life that night and I needed all the energy I could muster. But the brain was no match for the libido … just like my cock was no match for April's hands, and I had a huge erection and was leaking pre-cum before she jerked my trunks down.
I pushed her back on the bed, where she landed on her back, and I jerked the terry-cloth belt on her robe to open it up and expose her in all her glory. Even after being with her for most of a month, I was still mesmerized by her body … breasts that were almost too perfect, her toned abs and wonderfully-rounded butt, stunning legs. Her blond hair was tousled and spread on the bed. I could not imagine a sexier creature ever existed.
"You are so damned incredible," was all I could say before diving in and letting April lock those legs around me. This time, it was my turn to be almost insatiable, since I somehow found inner reserves of orgasmic ability and stayed hard enough, long enough to make her scream out several times.
"Ohhhhh, yesssssss," more than once. "Give it to me, champ … harder, HARDER …. God, don't you dare stop … ohhh, fuck yeahhh."
Maybe both of us knew that a big night was ahead, because what turned out to be our final intimate session was comparatively short – intense, but not nearly the marathons that we'd enjoyed. Both of us pretty much napped the rest of the day before getting ready to head to the gym.
I was finishing packing up when April walked out in the red velvet dress that she wore so magnificently when I first saw Duke fight and first saw her ringside, and the heels she called her "fuck me pumps." To say she was stunning was an understatement, even though she wasn't having to impress anybody tonight. It would only be the three of us this time.
We got to the gym a little after 8, and it was pretty deserted … the manager and maybe two other boxers working out. He told us the others would be leaving soon, as would he, and he gave April the front-door key.
"Duke's already in the back," he said. "He's been here for a while."
April walked toward the locker rooms. I walked over to the ring for a second, just looking around, before I headed down the hallway. When I got to the hallway, I saw signs once again on the locker room doors – one reading "Champion" and one "Challenger."
Guess I've got the champ's one this time, I thought, and walked in with my equipment bag.
There was nothing unusual inside, except for a note on the training table. "Remember, nothing under the trunks," it said.
I had finished putting on my boots and trunks when April walked in and immediately grabbed the wraps and tape and started wrapping my hands.
"You been over there?," I asked, nodding toward the other locker room.
"Oh, yeah," April said. "He's ready … now."
I wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but neither one of us said anything else while she finished wrapping me. She then dug in my bag, pushed the safer 10-ounce gloves aside and pulled the white 8-ounce ones out. After holding them to the bare skin above her breasts and breathing in heavily for a few seconds, she deftly slipped them on my hands and I held them against her chest as she laced and taped them up.
"You ready, champ?," she said. "Come out when you hear the timer." She quickly walked out, I assumed to help Duke finish getting ready. I tried to walk around and finish limbering up, shadow boxing and shaking out my arms to try to get rid of the nervousness that was making it hard to breathe. I remember being nervous the last time, but it wasn't like this. Now I had something I didn't want to lose … but the nerves were still there when I heard the timer go off.
I walked out to the ring, and saw April standing at ringside as I climbed through the ropes. She hit the timer again, and while I was trying to stay loose I saw Duke come walking from the locker room.
His trunks and gloves were bright red, and the bright color made him look even bigger than he was – and he was already plenty big. More than that, though, was the look on his face – total focus and determination.
And, in contrast to our first bout, when he said a total of four words the whole time we were in the ring, Duke started talking as soon as we met at mid-ring.
"I'm going to beat you up bad, little man," he said. "You caught me off guard last time … hope you enjoyed these last few weeks, because you won't be around her any more after this. You won't be much good to anybody once I finish with you."
"If you think you can, big man, bring it on," I said as we stepped close together … before April put her hands in between and moved us back.
"OK, boys, same as last time," she said. "Two-minute rounds with two minutes in between, and only a knockout can end it. I don't see either one of you quitting, but if you do the other can continue until there's a knockout. Best man wins…so shake and come out fighting."
"I'm coming out fighting," Duke said as he hammered down on my gloves, "and someone's going to have to carry you out of here."
He turned and went to his corner, while I stepped backward and kept watching. Why all the talk now … did April tell him something about how much the trash talk distracted me when she watched me fight Spider Johnson? Or is he just trying to intimidate me?
At this point it didn't matter, as April had already slipped through the ropes – how she walked so easily on the canvas in heels like that, I didn't know – and set the timer, taking her spot next to the apron and grabbing, almost caressing the bottom rope.
DING, DING!

+++++++++

I still didn't have a plan even when I stepped out toward mid-ring, but I figured that Duke would start out the way he'd started our last fight – patient, working the middle of the ring and conserving energy. I was right there, as he stepped out in a classic stance and almost appeared to be waiting for me with a malevolent look on his face.
This was not the time to get into a slugfest, so I began slowly circling left and flicking out jabs toward Duke's highly-held gloves. He still had some scarring above his right eye where he'd been sliced open in our first meeting, and he kept his right high and firmly planted against his temple.
My jabs weren't having much effect … about all they were doing is making noise when they hissed off Duke's own leather. But I had also been able to stay away from his early head attack, slipping the jab and blocking his right hand with my left.
That was before he quickly dropped down with a straight left that split my elbows and landed hard on my waistband with a dull "thud." It caught me by surprise – everything until then had been aimed at my head – and also caused a quick flinch since it didn't hit far above my still-hard member, a by-product of being around April pre-bout.
I stepped back and Duke came right at me, and we clinched just off the ropes. Actually, it was less a clinch than me bent halfway over and grabbing the big guy almost around the waist. I was more stunned than I originally thought, a dull feeling in the pit of my stomach, and it didn't help that Duke was raining lefts and rights on my head and shoulders as I hung on.
Eventually I was able to move up and pin his arms in a vice grip, and we wrestled for a few seconds as he tried to push me off.
"One in the gut and you're done, huh?," Duke said during the clinch. "You must've gotten soft the last few weeks."
"Nah…pretty much hard the whole time," I came back. "Just ask her."
Duke tried to pull his arms away again. "You little shit … I am going to beat you up bad…"
I finally broke the hold, and Duke tried a right hand over the top that I ducked under. That left his right side open, and I pivoted and landed a solid left hook just below his rib cage. It was the same punch that I'd hurt him with late in our last fight, and I felt it dig in again and felt the "woosh" of air that came out around Duke's mouthpiece.
This time, it was his turn to step back. But instead of pressing in, I stayed away and smiled.
"How'd that feel," I said. All Duke did was return to his boxing stance at mid-ring, put the scowl back on his face and flexed his left glove, waving me in like a dare. Not right now, I thought, and I kept a distance between us until the timer went off.
I swung out the stool in my corner and sat down, and April was right behind me with a towel. I realized that I was sweating up a storm, with sweat running down my face and chest before she toweled it off. My trunks were already soaked and the flesh color was easily visible on – and between – my legs. That's probably why April kneeled down close.
"Doing good, baby," she said. "Don't get in a hurry … do what you do and you'll be okay."
I still felt a dull ache in my lower abs from Duke's punch, but otherwise I did feel okay considering that he landed a lot more bigger shots than I did in the first round. But I knew I didn't want to keep exchanging with him, and I thought about changes as I watched April walk across the ring.
When she got to Duke's corner, I realized for the first time that her red velvet dress matched Duke's trunks and gloves almost exactly. Coincidence? I quit associating anything April did with coincidence a while ago. She was kneeling in front of him, and instead of watching me like he usually did he was listening intently to what April was saying.
When the bell rang for round 2, I came out southpaw, with my right shoulder pointed at my opponent to try to throw him off. It had worked well in our first fight, and I figured changing back and forth was a good strategy. That would negate his jab some, but I would have to be careful of his big right hand.
Still, the ability to throw lead rights from a short distance helped, and I started peppering Duke's head with those rights and stepping back out of range. Every time he would cock his left to jab, I was able to get there first with the right, and they either pushed his glove back into his face or split them and hit my target.
Bap … bap … bap … my lead right kept hitting home. One flattened Duke's nose and a couple landed on his cheekbones, causing him to blink, and when he tried to counter I had time to either lean back or block with my left. I could tell Duke was frustrated, and was hoping that frustration would lead to a mistake … which happened more quickly than I figured.
I had just snapped off another right that hissed off Duke's left cheekbone, and I saw him start to lean forward and throw the right, which I leaned away from as it whistled by my jaw and left an opening. I stepped forward and threw a left hook, and with Duke leaning in it clipped him square on the jaw and sent spit and sweat flying.
Duke was stunned and his legs went rubbery for a moment as I moved in, throwing wide-swinging lefts and rights at his head to try to take advantage. Duke had his gloves high, but some of those shots got through, as did quick uppercuts from each side that got below his guard and snapped his head up.
Shocked with my good fortune, with every punch I threw seemed to be making good contact, I kept up the attack as Duke stumbled back into a neutral corner. I stood right in front, punching for all I was worth, and every punch in my barrage echoed around the gym. For the first time I heard April banging on the ring apron and yelling, "Yeah, yeah, get him…get him!"
A few more lefts and rights finally forced Duke to roll off the ropes and land on his hip on the canvas. I had put the big man down again, and it was only the second round.
"Who's beating who up now," I hissed as I stepped back … but only a step or two, since I'd learned from the first fight that without a referee, going all the way to a neutral corner wasn't the smartest thing. "Get up, chump … I'm just gettin' started beating on you."
Duke was quickly up on one knee and covered up as he rose. I tried to continue the attack, but he tied me up with his arms and all I could manage were some short choppy blows to his sides that did no damage. But I did see a couple of blood drops come from Duke's nose and some redness around his eyes. I was still trying to work out of the bearhug when the timer went off.
It was just as well … my arms were dead from all the punching and I needed the break as much as Duke did. I went back to my corner and tried to shake my arms out while watching April tend to Duke, but in a second I leaned back against the ropes – and I didn't even see April walk across the ring until she had straddled one of my legs and sat down on my knee.
"God, you get me so hot when you start firing all those shots," she said as she toweled off my face and chest. "Just watching you hit someone, hurting them and putting them down … mmmmmm … keep it going, champ."
She was rubbing her crotch against my knee and leg as she talked, and I knew watching the first two rounds had given her pussy plenty of opportunities to get wet and wild. She kept rubbing until the warning buzzer, when she quickly rose and high-heeled her way through the ropes without saying another word.
I moved out quickly at the bell for Round 3, but Duke was back to his battle plan, taking mid-ring and cutting off the ring. He looked none the worse for wear despite the punishment from Round 2 except for redness above and below his right eye, and he held his guard high. Strong son of a bitch, I thought, because I'd hit him with everything I had.
In fact, it was now Duke that started snapping out quick jabs, getting off before I had a chance to react with my lead right and popping into the right side of my face and right eye. One went flush in the eye socket and caused me to see stars and back up, circling left again.
So much for me being the aggressor, at least for a while, as each of us sized up the other and waited for a chance to do damage. Duke was beginning to slowly press forward, but I kept shooting out the lead right and pushing his gloves and head backwards while keeping my left high – a good thing, since a couple of his strong right crosses thudded into my left glove instead of my temple, but still had enough on them to turn me almost sideways.
I blocked another of those rights and countered with a straight right that got above his left glove and hammered home square in Duke's face, and I could feel his nose in my glove and could tell the punch did some damage. I followed with a left uppercut to the body and quickly doubled up, but Duke quickly stepped back and covered up as blood began flowing from his nose and down into his mouth.
I tried to press my advantage and aimed another uppercut at the bloody nose, but Duke turned his head and … BAM! A thunderous right hand dug into the left side of my body under the rib cage. Duke had pivoted after my miss and put all his weight into the right, and it felt like it went all the way to my backbone. My "unnnhhhh" now echoed off the walls.
I halfway bent over and instinctively pulled my left arm down, and Duke expected that and bounced a quick right-left combination flush on both sides of my face as I stumbled backward against the ropes. The gym's loose ropes acted like a trampoline and propelled me forward as Duke landed a powerful left hook on my forehead that spun my head to the side – where a right cross awaited and landed flush on my chin, literally lifting me off the canvas.
I didn't realize I was going down until I landed flat on my back, looking up at the light bulbs strung above the ring and trying to get my bearings. In an instant, some of those bulbs were blocked out as Duke's outline came into focus. I could see him looking down at me and his fists ready at his waist, waiting for me to get up, and with my back on the canvas I could feel a pounding noise and knew it was April, beating the canvas with her hands and rubbing herself against the edge of the ring apron, getting herself off once again at the sight of one of her fighters putting the other one down.
"Stay there if you don't want to get hurt," I heard Duke say right as the bell sounded ending the round. He walked away, and I hadn't even thought about getting up until April grabbed one of my gloves and began pulling me up. I grabbed her and the ropes and between the two started slowly making my way toward my corner, and April pulled the stool out and guided me down.
She saw I was still dazed, and began squirting water on my face and down my back, and as I started focusing my eyes on her she grabbed my waistband and squirted more down into my crotch. The cold did help me revive a little.
"Hey … hey … HEY," she said as she lightly slapped my face. "Look at me, right here," as she pointed to her own eyes. "You gotta snap out of this. Breathe and focus … "
Slowly the haze began to lift, but with it came pain from a big welt above my right eye, courtesy of Duke's left hook in the one-two that put me on my back. I could feel it already swelling as April toweled off my face and held the water bottle against it.
"You gotta protect yourself this round … give you some time to recover," she said as she stood up and doused me one more time before walking across the ring.
It didn't seem like two minutes had passed when the timer went off, but I slowly rose and waited for the bell. Stay away, was all I could think, and grab and hold on for a while.
Duke certainly knew that was my plan, and he came out quickly at the bell and cut the ring off as he pressed forward, already throwing wide lefts and rights as I covered up. But he was too anxious and I was able to block most of his punches while connecting with a couple of jabs to thwart his charges.
The first time Duke bored his way in, I was able to wrap him up as he pushed me back against the ropes and I slipped away. I should have done the same thing the second time, but I tried to blunt his attack with a combo of my own that he blocked with his left, and out of nowhere he tagged me with another brutal right hand just below my navel, right on the soaking-wet waistband.
The blow all but paralyzed me and I quickly covered in almost a standing fetal position against the ropes. Duke knew he had hurt me several times with body shots and we were still early in the fourth round, and that's where he began hammering with both hands, knowing that I was in no condition to counter or punch back. Most of his biggest shots bounced off my arms and elbows that were tightly tucked in, but several pounded into my kidney areas, and I could feel Duke gradually beating all the wind out of me.
It was as if Duke was saving my head for his later enjoyment, as all of his punches rained in at my body and chest. My ab muscles were weakening against Duke's onslaught and my chest throbbed as his gloves hissed across my nipples. I felt more blood on my arm and realized one of Duke's gloves had ripped across one nipple, slicing it open.
Duke was bending low, one of his knees almost on the canvas, as he dug into my lower abs. Finally he doubled up on uppercuts to my bent-over body and I went crashing down again, my head landing just in front of his red boots.
I don't know how long I stayed in that position, both knees folded against my chest on the mat and my forehead on the canvas, my arms wrapped around my sore body, but Duke never moved his feet. I couldn't see him, but I could picture him standing and waiting for me, in no hurry now that he was fully in control. And I could hear April screaming, "Yes, yes … more, more … get him, baby!"
Eventually I came up onto my knees, still instinctively keeping my arms near my body, and staring straight ahead into Duke's crotch. He was sweating as heavily as I was, from the exertion of his punch-fest, and his hard manhood was straining against his soaked trunks. He's enjoying this, my subconscious mind thought, and if I didn't do something soon he was going to enjoy it even more.
As I stood I tried to grab Duke around his arms and waist, but I only collared his right arm. His left was free, and using his own chest to pin me, he pounded the right side of my face with repeated chopping lefts. None of them covered much more than six inches, but in the position my head was in they all hit home.
I felt the welt over my right eye rip open against the leather of Duke's glove and blood began rolling down into my eye and down the side of my face. He must have hit me a dozen times in the same spot before I was able to get my gloves up to cover my face and stagger backwards into my own corner.
Duke had me helpless there, almost sitting on the middle rope, but before he could take even more advantage the timer went off to end the fourth round. But instead of backing off, Duke stood there, admiring his handiwork.
"Don't stand up again, or I will fuck you up bad," he taunted. "You think it hurts now … you come back out here and I'll beat you within an inch of your life."
April finally stepped in between and pushed Duke back, cradled me against her and managed to maneuver my butt off the ropes and onto the metal stool that she swung out. She immediately jammed the towel against my eye, and when she pulled back it was soaked with blood – a lot of it – and I felt it instantly pour down my face and into my eye again.
"Hang on, baby," was all she said as she jammed an ice pack against my head. "Hold this here as long as you can."
At that point it was an exertion just to hold a glove up to my head and keep pressure on the ice pack, but I did that until well after the warning buzzer sounded. I threw it out of the ring as the Round 5 bell sounded, and had just gotten off my stool when Duke appeared right in front of me.
I didn't see the left hook that thundered against my eye, causing blood to spurt out and leave a trail across Duke's chest … or the follow-up right that crashed off my jaw and bounced me back down on the swinging metal stool before I fell off and landed face-down, my face falling on one of my formerly-white gloves that were now almost entirely a sticky maroon.
A pool of blood formed under my eye as I tried to push myself up to get my head off the canvas. By chance, I was looking right at April … but she wasn't looking my way. Instead, she was looking up at Duke, who was still towering over me, and was obviously enjoying the view since she had one hand firmly between her legs, rubbing away.
"Fuck him up more, champ," she said. "Oooohhhh, god … fuck him up for me."
I figured I was done, not getting up this time, and was starting to feel light-headed maybe from the blood loss. But Duke, almost on cue, stepped in front of me, grabbed me under both arms with his gloves and stood me up, leaning me against the corner pad and draping my arms over the top ropes.
"I told you not to get up," he said …. "you brought this on yourself."
Since I was completely unprotected, Duke could have sent me back to the canvas out cold with one more big punch. Instead, he took a fighter's stance right in front of me – I could see the streak of blood from my eye still across his chest – and proceeded to start throwing half-effort punches to my body and head. It was the type of punches that a fighter would use when warming up on the heavy bag and working on technique more than power – not hard enough to put me down, but hard enough to hurt when they made contact.
He wanted to abuse me … drag out the pain as long as possible.
Pop … pop … pop … jabs to the forehead. Hooks to the body that landed with a "thump, thump" … crosses from both sides that knocked my head back and forth … and straight rights and lefts right to my chest, literally beating the air out of my lungs.
"Unhhhhh …. Unhhhh … no more, no more, pleeeeease," I strained to get out, and looked up. That's when I saw April standing in the middle of the ring, a few feet behind Duke's massive back.
"Too late for begging," Duke said. "You should have thought of that when you were sticking it to her …"
On cue, April stepped in and jerked my trunks down to my ankles. That's when Duke began moved his punches lower, eventually to the point where he was knocking my cock and balls back and forth like a miniature speed bag – again, not hard enough to incapacitate, but hard enough to make pain soar through my crotch and abdomen every time his glove made contact. It didn't help that I was somehow fully erect despite this abuse.
"Don't ever think about using this on her again," he hissed as he continued his crotch mauling until hot milky liquid squirted out with every punch. Duke had quite literally beaten the piss and cum out of me.
He stepped back for a second with his hands on hips and April standing right behind, her reaching around and caressing his chest with one hand and stroking his crotch with the other. But the respite only lasted a second, as Duke stepped forward again and began pistoning lefts and rights into my abdomen like a machine. They started like his most recent punches, at about half-effort, but gradually increased in strength as the dull sounds of leather hitting skin bounced around the gym walls. I could almost feel Duke's knuckles inside those 8-ounce gloves, the knuckle points pounding into my internal organs as I retched onto the canvas and started to slide off the ropes.
Duke again caught me under the arms and re-hung my limp body on the top ropes.
"Time for you to get knocked out," he said, and repeated his piston-like attack on my face – again continually increasing in tempo and strength. Blood was spurting out of both my eye and nose and my eyes were swollen to the point that I only saw slits … enough to see the next punch coming, and little else. I didn't see the last four punches … a combination of lefts and rights that knocked me sideways and the last one sending me bouncing off the ropes and pitching toward the middle of the ring, landing flat on my back out cold….
I don't know how long it was, but when I began to come around I could tell that Duke was still standing there, but in the haze it seemed like he had removed one of his gloves and his arm was hanging down. But as consciousness came back, I could make out two gloves still hanging at Duke's sides and was trying to figure out how he had a third arm.
But as things got clearer, I realized it wasn't an arm. April had removed Duke's trunks and was in the middle of a hand job that had swelled his manhood to monster proportions, and I realized she had one knee on my chest … the same position she'd taken over Duke after our first fight.
"Wake up, baby," she said as I blinked to clear my eyes. "You were fun for a while. But by now you realize that I needed something a little … bigger."
She laughed as she looked up at Duke, and began caressing his log-like member with her lips. As she did, she pushed down with her knee on my beaten-up chest and ground one of her heels into my flaccid crotch. She laughed as I passed out again from the new-found pain, my eyes swollen shut.
The last thing I heard was that laugh … and then a moan … and then one phrase – "mmmmm, you're so big, champ" … and one last moan …

END PART FOUR

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Last edited on 10/08/2021 7:52 PM by Dan Boxer
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GINGERMAN (3) 10/09/2021 12:14 AM

You know, before Eve arrived on the scene, Adam would engage in made up games. What developed though was not a competitive spirit. Why? Well, you see when he won he also lost.

Now, let's see, what was our hero's problem. Well, unlike Adam he did develop a competitive spirit. However, his spirit was fortified by an appendage that is rightfully called The Dumb Stick. His. In addition, his competitive spirit led him to think that sexually he could meet or exceed April's capacity to handle him. And, clearly he was in error. As our author has so effectively indicated in this story of his.

Readers! Take note! This is more than a story. This is a lesson. Take heed that you don't make the same mistake. Clearly, before our hero stepped into the ring to please sweet April, he was already whipped. Pussy whipped. Am I right or am I right.

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