Nice first person account. I'd like to read a story like that, with me in a street scene as the punchee, one who deserves a beating. It'd be even more intriguing if some of these other guys were there too. Anyone's welcome to add to it, or even "tag team."
Here is a story I wrote several years ago. It is *not* a true story. I'm not a punchee, but I thought it might be interesting to write a story from a punchee's point of view.
The thrust of his shirtless body against mine and the power of his fists propelled me backward. He aggressively punched me back into the corner of the ring, toward the padded turnbuckle. An uppercut to my chin knocked me back against it and dazed me a little. Once I was backed up against it, he seized my limp arms and threw them over and behind the top ropes on either side. I slid down until the ropes under my armpits stopped me, and I hung there, my torso thrust out toward him like a hood ornament. Using both fists, he drove punch after solid punch into my washboard stomach, first targeting my navel and then switching to uppercuts in my solar plexus, his gloved fists sinking into my belly, punching the breath out of me. I hung there limply, my eyes glassy, my mouth hanging open, and my midsection rising and falling as I tried to get my wind back. He waited until he saw it rise, then punched me in the belly, his gloved fist connecting with my "outie" navel and sinking into my defenseless stomach muscles. "Oooooff . . .," I whooshed as the mouthpiece shot out of my mouth and landed on the other side of the ring. I could feel his bare fist through the glove. Finally he pulled my arms back onto his side of the ropes to see what would happen. My arms hung straight down as I stared dully ahead, breathing heavily, my shoulders slightly hunched forward. He could see that not only was I punch-drunk but he'd worked me over so hard that I could no longer tighten my abs.
I did not even put up a fight, I was so weak. I knew he was going to beat me up, and I could tell he was going to enjoy it. First he peeled off and dropped the gloves, then with his bare fist punched me in the eye, then drove a barefisted left and then a quick right into my belly that produced another "Oooofff . . ." and doubled me over. He pushed me back into a standing position, gripped my right shoulder with his left hand, and again punched me in the stomach, targeting my hot "outie" navel. "Ooooff . . .," I whooshed as his bare fist, buried in my belly, drove the wind out of me, bending forward just slightly at the waist. This time he didn't bother to straighten me up but just drove five hard punches straight up into my folded-over stomach. After he delivered the fifth punch into my once-muscular belly, I fell back to the canvas, sitting down hard. He knelt down and sat me up so my back was against the ropes, my stomach rolling up slightly at my waist. He lifted my arms high and, using the laces on my gloves, tied my wrists to the middle rope, my arms bent at the elbows. Then he drove a hard right directly into my navel, just above the waistband of my trunks, right where my stomach was rolling up slightly. My eyes widened and I whooshed, "Oooooff . . ." as the punch sank in, straining forward slightly, my arms still high over my head. He drew back his fist again, this time as far as he could. He drilled his strongest punch directly into my belly button, this time putting his whole body into the punch. He held the punch for several seconds, his fist buried deep in my stomach, as deep as it could possibly go without coming out the other side. At this last punch, I passed out.
slimp (0)
5/13/2022 4:41 AMNice first person account. I'd like to read a story like that, with me in a street scene as the punchee, one who deserves a beating. It'd be even more intriguing if some of these other guys were there too. Anyone's welcome to add to it, or even "tag team."
big belly art (0)
5/11/2022 11:39 AMsuper cool sounds lke a lot of fun
marquis419 (0)
5/11/2022 1:15 AMHere is a story I wrote several years ago. It is *not* a true story. I'm not a punchee, but I thought it might be interesting to write a story from a punchee's point of view.
The thrust of his shirtless body against mine and the power of his fists propelled me backward. He aggressively punched me back into the corner of the ring, toward the padded turnbuckle. An uppercut to my chin knocked me back against it and dazed me a little. Once I was backed up against it, he seized my limp arms and threw them over and behind the top ropes on either side. I slid down until the ropes under my armpits stopped me, and I hung there, my torso thrust out toward him like a hood ornament. Using both fists, he drove punch after solid punch into my washboard stomach, first targeting my navel and then switching to uppercuts in my solar plexus, his gloved fists sinking into my belly, punching the breath out of me. I hung there limply, my eyes glassy, my mouth hanging open, and my midsection rising and falling as I tried to get my wind back. He waited until he saw it rise, then punched me in the belly, his gloved fist connecting with my "outie" navel and sinking into my defenseless stomach muscles. "Oooooff . . .," I whooshed as the mouthpiece shot out of my mouth and landed on the other side of the ring. I could feel his bare fist through the glove. Finally he pulled my arms back onto his side of the ropes to see what would happen. My arms hung straight down as I stared dully ahead, breathing heavily, my shoulders slightly hunched forward. He could see that not only was I punch-drunk but he'd worked me over so hard that I could no longer tighten my abs.
I did not even put up a fight, I was so weak. I knew he was going to beat me up, and I could tell he was going to enjoy it. First he peeled off and dropped the gloves, then with his bare fist punched me in the eye, then drove a barefisted left and then a quick right into my belly that produced another "Oooofff . . ." and doubled me over. He pushed me back into a standing position, gripped my right shoulder with his left hand, and again punched me in the stomach, targeting my hot "outie" navel. "Ooooff . . .," I whooshed as his bare fist, buried in my belly, drove the wind out of me, bending forward just slightly at the waist. This time he didn't bother to straighten me up but just drove five hard punches straight up into my folded-over stomach. After he delivered the fifth punch into my once-muscular belly, I fell back to the canvas, sitting down hard. He knelt down and sat me up so my back was against the ropes, my stomach rolling up slightly at my waist. He lifted my arms high and, using the laces on my gloves, tied my wrists to the middle rope, my arms bent at the elbows. Then he drove a hard right directly into my navel, just above the waistband of my trunks, right where my stomach was rolling up slightly. My eyes widened and I whooshed, "Oooooff . . ." as the punch sank in, straining forward slightly, my arms still high over my head. He drew back his fist again, this time as far as he could. He drilled his strongest punch directly into my belly button, this time putting his whole body into the punch. He held the punch for several seconds, his fist buried deep in my stomach, as deep as it could possibly go without coming out the other side. At this last punch, I passed out.
Robin-hearts (3)
5/12/2022 5:02 AM(In reply to this)
Love your story! You're great at describing, felt like I was there, wish I could have been a spectator 😏
Jcanthony (9 )
5/11/2022 10:04 AM(In reply to this)
That was super hot. Perfect beatdown for a punchee.
stomachpunch (5)
5/11/2022 6:22 AM(In reply to this)
I almost ejaculated, your story is very exciting.