Veronica

For the first time Veronica Mitchell wanted to have sex with a young man before flattening him in a boxing match. When she saw Dave, a sharp thrill pierced Veronica. She talked to him for awhile at the gym and decided that, as much as she liked the young school teacher, she would follow her standard procedure: boxing victory first, then get laid.
Dave wanted to fight the 45 year old, red haired divorcee maybe more than he wanted to fuck her and Dave was aching to have sex with Veronica. She read both desires in Dave from the way he looked at her 36DD chest and powerful gams. Younger women would waste time leading on a boy who displayed that much yearning, but Veronica had learned the benefits that appreciating male horiness provided.

In the ring Veronica wore a tight, white athletic bra and dark blue foxy boxing trunks, intended to distract Dave. Walking languidly toward her opponent, who stood in the center of the ring, Veronica knew her ploy worked completely. Dave's blue eyes were fixed yearningly on her body and his boxing gloves, crossed self-consciously in front of his trunks, clearly shielded an erection.
"Hi Dave," Veronica purred, her eyes sharpening on him. "You know the rules, I assume?"
Veronica shifted her hips to provide Dave a fuller view of her bare legs.
"We box to a knockout," Dave answered absently. Veronica spoke with a sweet, mocking surprise: "Good boy...."
The pair were close enough to embrace, Veronica's rigid nipples brushing back and forth gently on Dave's shirtless chest. A kiss consumed them for a moment. Veronica felt fingers slip under the waistband of her trunks and glide caressingly down to her pussy.
Veronica's mouth fell open quietly as Dave stroked her vagina, until he found her clit.
"Dave...oh...you...ca..n't..."
Pleasure soared through her body.
BAP!!
Veronica's right fist impacted Dave's chin. He let out a sharp "Uuuufff!"
Multi-colored stars were dancing in Dave's eyes when Veronica called his name. He was seated in his corner where an affectionate Veronica was lacing up his boxing gloves.
"Trying to tire me out, honey stick?" Veronica asked as Dave wondered aloud what had happened. "Give Veronica a few orgasms so her timing will be off in the ring?"
Dave shook his vision clear. Clutching the ropes, he pulled himself up. "I'm ready!" he declared with slight unsteadiness.
"From the moment you saw me, Dave," Veronica said, strutting back to her corner.

When the buzzer screeched, Veronica strode out at Dave intently, the elbow of her right arm arching back.
Dave saw Veronica's face, beautiful and intent...
BAM!!!
Dave landed on on his back, stretched out on the canvas before Veronica. She looked adoringly at the slumbering young man who smiled at the erotic dreams flickering in his brain.

Dave spent the weekend after their short bout at Veronica's summer house, a prize from her divorce. They fucked until Veronica passed into satisfied slumber and Dave into exhausted contentment, his face resting between Veronica's yielding breasts.
Dave dreamt he was a mountain lion. He had just finished mating with an older she cat. As he rose to leave the conjugal cave, the she cat roared her objection. Dave asserted his freedom. The cries filled the wilderness until the she-cat felt a cold panic when Dave turned to leave. She slapped her paw down on Dave's tail.
When he turned back, the she-cat's fore paw smacked the male's jaw. The lights went out in his head and he flopped on his side unconscious.
As she had done to so many of her baby cubs, the she-cat maternally clasped the scruff of Dave's neck with her jaws and gently hauled him into the cave. He would give her many cubs.

Dave waited a few months before he fought Veronica again. He knew she would begin taking him for granted at some point. In the meantime, Veronica was fucking him so hard he was often to drained to speak. A few of the gym's twenty-something girls, that hated Veronica as a boyfriend poacher, came on to Dave, giving him easy access to blonds that would have been more trouble to bed down otherwise. And Dave finally admitted to himself that he was growing to like Veronica as more than a "fuck buddy," as he often heard other guys in the gym talk about their flings.
"Want to try again?" Veronica said as they touched gloves.
"I do," Dave said with an assurance of a groom at the altar that left Veronica uneasy. But when she looked at his cock, she got a thrilling rush that almost made her dizzy. He likes pussy too much, Veronica decided to herself as she felt a nudge at her shoulder.
When she turned, Dave's fist pounded her jaw.
Veronica staggered against the ropes, the the entire gym bouncing in thousands of directions at once. Dave's follow up right hook put Veronica on the canvas. Her eyes opened and closed rapidly as she felt that thrilling rush very briefly. Then her body relaxed and she was out cold against the ropes.
Dave counted her out and lifted Veronica in his arms. The unconscious cougar let out a soft purr and her face nestled on Dave's shoulder.

Miki's Rival

Ron felt a little nervous looking at Natalie standing in the corner of the ring opposite him. Miki rubbed his shoulders affectionately and assured Ron that he was going to knock the girl out with no effort. His female challenger, silently waiting for Miki to finish so the match could begin, allowed a coy smile to curl her red lips.
One week earlier, Ron and Natalie had met at a party. Both were already drunk and quickly got to sex, first in the host's spare bedroom and then overnight in Natalie's apartment. Two days later at the gym, Natalie thanked Ron for a great night of love making and challenged him to a bout. Miki didn't know about her boyfriend's cheating and Ron prayed Natalie would shut up about the matter.
"You two ready?" Miki asked, smacking Ron's bare back.
The combatants stepped forward, touching gloves in the center of the ring.
"What's this about Natalie?" Ron asked her in a low voice. The pair circled each other, eyes fixed on each other's movements.
"I like knocking out the men I fuck!" Natalie explained, widening her smile. "The more they pleased me the harder I hit them! And I plan on beating you senseless in front of your girlfriend."
Ron tagged her gut immediately. Natalie groaned without crouching and slugged Ron on the chin with a straight right.
Ron was seated on the canvas when he heard Natalie's laughter. Miki telling him to get up was mixed in with Natalie and the sound of bells. Ron pulled himself up and went at Natalie again.
For two minutes, leather flew between the couple. Ron worked Natalie's body, hoping to wear her down. The girl seemed to absorb all Ron threw at her. The moment one of his jabs missed her head, Natalie landed a pummeling 1-2 combination to Ron's chin.
WHAP!
POW!
The inside of Ron's skull rattled and suddenly it was silent in the ring. Ron lifted his right glove and began to paw Natalie's breasts lovingly, wondering when she was going to finish him off.
"Ron, who's your mama?"
Ron's befuddled brain jumbled the boxing reality with the memory of fucking Natalie. "You're my mama....."
"That's right!"
Natalie tilted Ron's drooping chin upright. His eyes were glassy and unfocused.
Ignoring Miki's curses, Natalie gave her opponent a long, very sexual kiss and fondled his bulging erection.
"Sweet dreams, Ron!"
The punch shot up between the faces of the two fighters and bashed Ron's chin. For a few seconds Ron swayed on his heels, listening to the chirping of the birds in his ears. Then he tumbled to the canvas flat on his back, his erection making a circus tent in his trunks.
Even as Natalie began the count, Miki leaped through the ropes to her boyfriend. This was the first time she'd seen Ron knocked out.
"Did you get off on that bitch?!" Miki yelled as she checked Ron.
"Hell, yeah!" Natalie answered, looking Miki over. Ron's loving punching bag was the nickname for Miki, Natalie recalled. All upset with him, too. How sweet.
Natalie continued. "I'm sorry, I've got this thing, I have to beat up the guys I've fucked!"
Miki fixed a vicious stare at her rival and then glanced back at Ron. The unconscious boxer gave Miki a sleepy and contented smile.
"He's dreaming about our time together," added Natalie.
"When?" Miki snarled.
Natalie let out a contemptuous laugh. "What are you, a masochist? We were at a party thrown by Max and Keisha!"
"He said he went to his sister's!"
Miki's voice was equal parts confused and enraged.
"Ron lied? Really? Me and Prince Valiant here got to talking and I liked his...his...build...I don't need to explain the rest?"
"No!" Miki let Ron drop from her hands. He hit the canvas with a loud "THUD." "You don't!"
Mike took two swings at Natalie which she dodged gracefully and shoved Miki. Miki tripped over Ron and hit the canvas squarely on her ass.
"No wonder Ron fucks around!" concluded Natalie, scornfully.
Miki cursed in Mandarin as she rose to her feet, rubbing her sore ass cheeks.
The two women traded punches quickly. Natalie shoved Miki a second time and before the confused girl could defend herself, Natalie pasted her with a cracking right to the jaw.
Reality accordioned and shimmered for Miki. She wanted to call Natalie a whore again, but the energy drained from her. Miki's body relaxed, knees buckling as she pitched forward.
Natalie thought the knocked out lovers looked very cute sprawled on the canvas next to each other. Miki's body writhed briefly as an orgasm shook her body.
Natalie laughed to herself.
Removing her boxing gloves, Natalie pulled down Ron's trunks, exposing his purple hard on. She worked the erection until Ron ejaculated.
In her profound knock out, Miki saw brilliant stars and exploding fireworks showered everywhere. "These Dreams" by Heart echoed in Miki's brain.

Kidnap

Sonia's fetish was to be abducted in public. Neil, her boyfriend, always let Sonia wander from store to store so she would never be sure when he'd strike.
The couple had played "Kidnap" a few of times before; Neil always sprung the snatch as a surprise. Afterward they'd have incredible sex because Sonia loved most the role of victim and Neil the attacker.
Sonia's back was to her stalker, a glossy fashion magazine open in her delicate hands. Neil saw she'd put on the black, calf length black suede boots and tight blue jeans that curved to her long legs and sculpted buttocks. Sonia had worn them a year ago when they first met. Curly shoulder length strawberry blond hair fell across her back as it did that day, also.
Before they commenced that afternoon's game of Kidnap, Neil told Sonia to expect anything.
Their first game ended when Neil slipped behind Sonia in a deserted ladies room. All Sonia remembered was the mirror image of Neil raising the sap behind her head. Then lightening struck. The floor slipped from under Sonia's feet and she collapsed into a deep well of blackness.
Neil carried the unconscious girl out the back of the department store and to their car, where he drove them home.
The second time Neil slipped behind the the counter of the coffee shop Sonia had entered and dosed her coffee with sodium pentothal. Neil watched with gratification as Sonia appeared to become unsteady, touching her finger to her swimming head. Finally the girl's eyelids were too heavy. Sonia beamed passively and slumped head first on the table.
Neil draped one of Sonia's languid arms over his shoulder and walked his sleeping beauty out of the cafe, his right arm securely (and lovingly) around her waist. On the drive home, Neil questioned Sonia on her sex life before they met.
Moving soundlessly up the aisle next to his victim, Neil tried to decide if he should use the sap or a judo chop to take out Sonia this time.
Sonia admitted a few days after the first session of Kidnap that the blow from the sap stung for a few seconds, but the deep unconsciousness she dropped into felt rapturous.
But Neil also knew a correctly placed judo chop would make his lover see stars, a vision he hadn't given her yet.
Moving toward her, Neil wanted to grab Sonia's ass before bestowing the knock out. Seeing Sonia leap and squeal in surprise always reved Neil up.
Instead he clasped Sonia's elegant shoulder and turned her to him. Sonia let out breathy gasp...
WHAP!!!
The straight right staggered Sonia, whose eyes widened even as darkness surged over her. The magazine tumbled on the floor, revealing a seductive blond in silk lingerie flat on a bed, her eyes closed and her head turned in post coital bliss.
The falling girl landed across Neil's shoulder. He shifted her for balance and walked out to their car in the large parking lot.
Setting her down in in the front passenger seat, Neil clicked on her seat belt and kissed Sonia's smooth cherry lips. A soft murmur poured like syrup from the girl.
She'll be coming around soon enough, Neil thought as he started the car. Better get her to bed!

No More

The deep purple crescent bruise under Desiree's right eye took more than a week to fade. The fight had gone six rounds and by its conclusion, had gotten pretty rough.
Alicia knew two things about Desiree as a fighter even before they stepped into the ring.
First, Desiree was easily excited (and then exhausted) when provoked by a female opponent she found attractive. Alicia wore tight, high cut trunks and a clingy top for their match, pressing Desiree into skintight clinches whenever possible.
And second, the result of all the over excitement was Desiree's inability to guard her head.
Alicia gave her adversary the black eye at the end of the fourth round, and kept up the assault for the next, flooring the weakened girl three times before putting Desiree to sleep with a pounding right hook to the jaw.
For the five minutes she slumbered, Desiree heard the voice of Peter, her trainer-boyfriend, and saw his handsome face and naked body as they made love. Vivid pleasure pulsed in Desiree's body, distorting her lover's voice as it dripped in her ears and transformed into honey. Buxom women with scorching red eyes joined Peter in thrusting into the unconscious girl. They kissed Desiree's thighs, caressed her breasts and licked her pussy.
When Desiree's eyes opened, she saw Peter and Emma the Ref leaning over her.
"Ouuuuhhhh..." Desiree mumbled, her vision focusing as her face started to throb. "Peter....don't stop!"

For the two weeks Desiree was missing from the Amazonia Boxing Club, she rested at home. She took medical leave from the accounting firm she worked at and read Claire Morgan's detective novels. The only interruptions were check-up calls from Peter, a trainer at the Amazonia.
She and Peter and become lovers soon after Desiree joined the Amazonia, desperate to learn how to box. She had a girlfriend, another fight trainer named Grace. Grace manipulated her lover into a bout she was unready for and had the joy of watching Desiree beaten senseless. The pair split soon after and though many women took Grace's place, Desiree's emotional bond to Peter strengthened. A few weeks after Grace vanished, student and trainer moved in together.

Akeisha joined the Amazonia from Blake Mitchell University. The school's budget problems caused the cancellation of the women's boxing program. The soon to graduate senior wanted to continue her boxing training and was assigned to Peter during the first week of Desiree's recuperation.
Building on Akeisha's considerable talent and trainging, instruction proceeded quickly, a pleasant surprise for Peter. The pretty black girl moved like liquid mercury during a match, her defenses always up, deploying punches and jabs with smooth determination. Peter studied her thighs and biceps as they flexed when Akeisha sparred or worked the heavy bag and remembered that Desiree possessed am identical physical intensity. Akeisha was built bigger than his girlfriend, which Peter found enticing.

Desiree was confused when she discovered Peter's infidelity.
The realization took a long time because the older man's physical eagerness for "his Dez," as Peter called her, never waned. Desiree would often glance at Peter, her bedroom eyes flaring. For a second Peter gazed at Desiree's black eye and grabbed the small girl lustily, kissing her warmly as he carried her into their bedroom. When they made love, Peter pretended the black eye was a gift to Desiree.
Desiree told herself Peter's affair would end quickly. When it didn't, she confronted Peter with the evidence: two hotel stays on the credit card bill and multiple rumors in the women's locker room.
Peter confessed immediately.
"I still love you Dez," he added, shamefully. "You know that!"
Desiree did know that. She also knew part of Peter's love for her was because she was the first women he'd been with since cancer had taken his wife.
"You do, don't you," was her pensive reply. Desiree mentally catalogued all the women she'd fucked since Grace left. Against those lust-fueled couplings she stacked Akeisha who Peter didn't love, but saw as desirable because Akeisha was a natural fighter like herself, in need of the same guidance that Peter had given Desiree.

The Saturday after her return to the Amazonia, Desiree waited for Peter to go to lunch with his friend's Wes and Katie, leaving Akeisha defenseless.
"We need to talk!" she said to Akeisha as her rival worked a speed bag. Desiree's voice was intent and emotionless. Akeisha turned carelessly to Desiree; knowing her reputation for impulsive behavior, Akeisha felt this was coming from her first night with Peter.
"What's up....Desiree, right?"
"You're fucking Peter!"
Akeisha looked at the smaller girl calmly, knowing the accusation was meant as a provocation.
"End it!" Desiree ordered.
"No," Akeisha replied, calmly removing her knuckle dusters, keeping her eyes on Desiree. "I like Peter. He's a good trainer and a good man. He's patient, he's certainly loved you all this time."
"Peter's spreading it where it shouldn't be!"
"Unlike you? Some girls call you lesbian peanut butter!"
"Outside!" Desiree barked.
Akeisha smiled at striking her rival's tender spot. Both girls walked into the alley way between the gym and Zappitelli's Italian Restaurant.
The pair traded insults as they circled each other, fists at their chins. Desiree faked at Akeisha's mid section and hooked a right to the chin. Akeisha's head rolled sideways and bounced back. Akeisha was unfazed by the punch.
The black girl fired back, connecting a left to Desiree's face, followed by right slipped between the shorter fighter's parted arms. Desiree cringed, but fired back
her own left-right combination to Akeisha's head.
Stepping into Keisha's downward spiral, Desiree slugged her hard in the gut.
A hot pain ripped into Akeisha. "Skinny whore!" she growled at Desiree. retreating, Akeisha straightened up and pitched two shots at Desiree, who ducked them and planted a right upper cut on Akeisha's chin.
The girl stumbled onto her ass, stretching out her arms to catch hold of the invisible ropes. Akeisha blinked twice, staring up in confusion at Desiree. After shaking her ehad clear, Akeisha stood quickly.
Barely moving from where they stood, both women began hammering each other. Akeisha threw the ten pounds she had on Desiree into every blow. Desiree was beginning to feel battered, the punches she was receiving grew faster and harder. A stinging upper cut put Desiree into the unyielding brick wall of the restaurant. The dazed girl felt her jaw fly sideways from the left hook and followed. She sagged, her legs beginning to buckle as she "oooohhh"ed in pain.
Akeisha blasted Desiree's mid section with right-left hits.
"Stop it!"
Peter was running down the alley, reaching to grab Akeisha's elbow as she cocked her arm back. He felt his body go cold as Akeisha's fist shot forward and impacted Desiree's jaw. The smaller girl sank to the group, completely unconscious.
Peter shoved Akeisha out of his way as he ran to his girlfriend.
"I knocked your Desiree out!" Akeisha announced. Peter sat the limp girl up, calling her name. He swiftly checked her pulse and then cracked her eyelids. Whites showed.
"Come on Desiree!" The panic in Peter's imploring surprised Akeisha. "I put that bitch to bed! Tell me what to do with my private life!"
Desiree moaned deeply and Peter began calling her name a second time, much louder. "Please, Dez, it's over....I swear!'
Akeisha was going to speak again, but stopped as she began to say "Peter..."
Aching disappointment speared through her.
"Christ Peter, why did you bother....get her out the ring, stop her fighting!" Akeisha shouted. "Look, this should be a lesson to you, Desiree isn't a good fighter. Get her pregnant, marry her, whatever, but get this whelp of the boxing ring!"
Peter heard every word Akeisha said, but stared at Desiree as she stirred, her lips moving.
"No.....mhore...." Desiree could still feel Akeisha's fists hitting her. She eased fully back into Peter's supporting arms. "Sta...pit....no...mhore...."
Akeisha turned away, saying she'd call an ambulance.
"No more, Dez, its over," Peter said. "I've got you now..."
Desiree's eyes opened completely and she looked blankly at Peter. The memory of who this man, who cradled her, was slowly seeping back into her head. In a minute she'd recall in detail why he was speaking so tenderly to her, but for now Desiree decided to rest.

Sabrina

Greg's biggest flaw was being a breast man. He had concluded that a C cup was an entrance requirement for females enrolling at the Justice League of America Academy. Avenger Girl, Power Princess, Lady Puma, Atomic Girl...all graduates with well endowed chests.
Super heroines and female crime fighters were the reason Greg joined the Amazonia Boxing Club. Almost all the city's female justice fighters, as they called themselves, worked out there.
Greg had been one of five guys who took on Drusila, Wonder Woman's younger sister, in his first week at the Amazonia. At the start of their third round, Greg absently took in Drusila's ample breasts jiggle as she threw a combo at him and got knocked out. When he woke in the recovery room, Greg asked Emma the Ref if she wanted to go make out now that the junior prom was over
He learned that super heroines were just as kinky as women in the civilian population. Lady Puma challenged Greg to a private wrestling match. After a long struggle, Greg maneuvered the Nordic blond into a sleeper hold.
Lady Puma, who had smashed so many of the city's drug, gambling and prostitution rings, found being subdued and put to sleep very pleasurable. She relished being imprisoned in the iron bands of Greg's arms, relaxing into unconsciousness as an orgasm wrenched her body. For a year after their match, Greg and Lady Puma were lovers. After the relationship ended, Lady Puma would still call Greg for a one-nighter, especially after defeating male criminals in front of a cheering crowd and recording television cameras.
The introduction to Sabrina, known as The Silver Vixen, was brief. instead of her clingy crime fighting uniform, Silver Vixen wore an orange-red top and shorts. Sabrina rapidly punched and kicked a heavy bag that jerked back and forth in front of her.
"Ms. Fox? Hey..." Greg was using his "thrilled to meet a super heroine" voice, that more often than not worked on a subject. "You have great technique and coordination!"
Sabrina peered up at Greg, her narrowed eyes piercing him like those of her namesake. Greg felt her foot smack him in the head. There was a white flash and the lights in Greg's brain went out instantly. Greg lay on the wrestling mats that broke his fall. Sabrina the Silver Vixen went back to her work out.

"Not exactly starving for male attention," admitted Greg as he adjusted the ice pack Emma the Ref had placed on the bruise where Sabrina had kicked him. Greg lay sore and spent on the a bed in the club's recovery room.
"Probably heard about you," Emma declared. "Heard you go for crime fighter chicks and didn't want to be another notch on your bed post."
"That's funny...ohhhh...Emma!" Greg winced from the ice pack rubbing his bruise. "How am I going to nail this girl?!"
Emma rolled her eyes at Greg's total lack of subtlety. She quietly thanked heaven for her settled relationship with Wes and Katie. "Wes told me you defeated Lady Puma in the wrestling ring and she couldn't stop fucking you for months after, right?"
Greg smiled at the resurrected memory. "Yeah...."
"So try it with Silver Vixen," Emma suggested. "All the super heroine crime fighters have to act fierce and independent so the public will take them seriously. But deep inside, they're as insecure and unhappy as everyone else. I bet Silver Vixen is dying for a man."
Emma never realized she had so many cliches at her command, but Greg's forlorn condition appealed to the caring, maternal aspects of her nature.
"She kicked me in the head!"
"Just try it!"

Sabrina the Silver Vixen waited in the corner farthest from Greg as he stepped through the ropes. To his pleasant surprise, she wore her tight yellow and brown body suit, minus her whiskered eye mask.
As always, Greg was distracted by Silver Vixen's chest, large portions of which were displayed by the "V" cut in the front of her outfit.
"I'm not apologizing for kicking you." Silver Vixen asserted.
"I wasn't expecting one," Greg answered, moving at Silver Vixen warily. She extended her arms, hands ready to grasp the man in front of her. Greg swung his arms slowly before Sabrina, taunting her to catch them.
Sabrina clasped his wrists and tugged hard, flinging him into the ropes. As he stumbled forward, very confused, Greg felt Silver Vixen's fist plunge into his mid section, elicting a loud "OOOFFF!!"
instantly Silver Vixen jerked her arm into Greg's chin, pitching him backward. She swiftly placed her foot behind Greg's Achilles tendon, sending him to the canvas, arms flailing wildly.
Bending her extended elbow, Silver Vixen drove the point into Greg's stomach, producing another screech of pain.
"We had to do this a second time, Greg!"
Again Silver Vixen dropped next to the gasping Greg, battering him with her leg.
Greg comically doubled up into a "V" and Silver Vixen slugged him in the jaw, hoping he'd be knocked out a second time.
Greg flipped over, landing on his face. He struggled to organise his rattling brain and reality focused just as Silver Vixen's bare foot shot down at his thigh. Greg whirled out of the way and then spun his body back, his hands catching hold of Silver Vixen's ankle. Giving one sharp tug, Greg sent Sabrina to the cavass, painfully landing her on her ass.
Silver Vixen squealed loudly when Greg grabbed her lower leg and pulled the girl to him. Lurching forward as he got to his feet, Greg threw himself behind the confused female crime fighter and clamped a sleeper hold around her neck.
"Get off me!" blurted Sabrina. "What are you trying to do, creep?"
"Help you to sleep, Silver Vixen!" Greg answered, trying to sound like one of the evil masterminds Silver Vixen regularly defeated on the news programs. He pulled his arms tighter, ignoring Sabrina's fingers tearing at his biceps.
Silver Vixen's breathing became louder and slower.
"Nooooo.....noooo...." Silver Vixen spluttered as she felt lightness creep over her. "Gonn...ah...de...des...oy...u..."
The urge to sleep squeezed harder than Greg's limbs. Silver Vixen breathed shallow gulps. The ring became dark and Greg's voice lower until she comprehended nothing. Greg jerked at her neck and Sabrina went completely to sleep.
Greg settled her on the canvas and pinned Silver Fox for a three count.

The Skinny Girl

Concern was the word Will would have used to describe his feelings about the skinny girl. "Worry" and "anxious" were too strong. The match would end with Nadia out cold on the canvas. But past experience had taught Will not to be careless in the ring with skinny girls, who were faster and stronger than their bodies showed. Will could also not stop looking at Nadia's piercing eyes that seemed to shift between light blue and gray.
They had agreed to fight to a knockout at Nadia's request. That worked for Will, he had four inches on the girl.
Will watched Nadia's thin but well developed body as she probed , waiting for Will's reaction to her verbal taunting and an offer of a hand job.
There was little. Will blocked a few punches, absorbed a few others, but did not hit her back. Instead he looked over her body, studying how she held her arms in defense. A hand job would be nice, he considered, watching Nadia's dove-like breasts sway beneath her top. Will liked women to have a fuller chest, but Nadia's were cute and feminine.
Will faked a left to Nadia's head. Her fist jumped higher instantly. Will's fist hit her stomach with lighting and for a moment he regretted the pain that strained Nadia's face.
WHAP!
The left upper cut finished Nadia, staggering the girl as the lights in her brain rattled and flickered.
"Uhhhh....ohhhhh..." Nadia warbled, starting to stumble. An ecstatic lassitude drank Nadia and the canvas raced up to catch her plummeting body.
Will started the count, but quickly stopped. Admiring Nadia's compact ass, Will gave it a loving slap and rolled the girl on her back.
"Just a little rag doll, sweetie?" Will asked, taking off his gloves. He checked her pulse and gently caressed Nadia's cheeks. "You sleeping, aren't you?"
Will gave her a few slaps on the face. Nadia's eyes slowly fluttered open.
"There you go..." Will stood and collected his gear. With aching lethargy, Nadia's head cleared and she sat up.
"Asshole!" she shouted at Will like a snake spewing venom. "I'll get you!"
"Whenever you are ready, honey!"
Before she was completely on her feet, Will was gone from the ring.

Two afternoons later, Will was stowing his gear in the trunk of his car in the gym parking lot. As he brought down the lid, a small hand firmly clutched his shoulder and spun him ninety degrees.
He saw Nadia and was transfixed by her luminous blue eyes and then her fist.
WHAM!
Will slumped loudly against the trunk. As he blacked out, he slipped sideways, landing on the pavement.
"Jerk!" declared Nadia.

A week later concern was replaced by determination in Will's mind. When he woke on the black top where Nadia had left him, he was sorry he took the crazy female's challenge in the first place.
As days went by, he became set on flattening Nadia again, because the girl was not rational. A koed opponent should know she's been knocked out.
"Face still throbbing?" Nadia asked when they were facing each other. "I wouldn't miss seeing your face!"
There was a red bruise where Nadia's punch had impacted. Will knew she'd strike there again, to inflict a painful reminder of their last encounter.
When the bell rang, Will delivered an upper cut to Nadia's chin.
Nadia halted in her tracks, eyes crossed. Will was about to follow up with a right hook, but Nadia's knees buckled one at a time. The skinny girl spun as she hurtled to the canvas, eyes closing, thinking of a playground from her childhood.
Will counted out the unconscious girl boxer and gathered her in his arms. Gently he placed her in the stool that sat in her corner and eased her against the turnbuckle.

Luisa the Rough

Luisa knew Jon was a "Gentle" by the way he looked over her breasts: with a longing that combined sexual arousal and submission. She had dealt with men like Jon before and knew what he was after.
Like all Gentles, Jon was attracted to women who would beat him unconscious in a fight. Luisa was a Rough, the aggressive half of Jon's sexual equation. Her greatest sexual gratification came from knocking Gentles like Jon out cold.
They talked for a long time when they met at a pool party. Luisa wore a skimpy white bikini that contrasted vividly with her dark brown skin. She twisted her hips in his direction as she laughed at his jokes, making sure Jon noticed her eyes playing over the front of his bathing suit.
"Ever box, Jon?" Luisa asked him, when they changed the topic of conversation from music to working out. Already she was imagining Jon in his boxing trunks, sprawled out on his back, slumbering at her feet.
"Yeah, I train at Peter's gym."
Peter was Jon's friend and Luisa's trainer and the host of the party. He had introduced the couple a few minutes earlier.
Jon was wondering where in the big house he could screw Luisa. Jon offered her a second glass of wine.
"No thank you," Luisa said, easing the glass from Jon's hand. "Wine makes me act stupid."
She took a long, slow swallow and smiled at Jon. "Ever fight a girl?"
"Yes, a few.."
"How did it go?" she asked after her second swallow.
"Great!" Jon's voice was so loud it made them both laugh. "I got clobb...I did okay. I'm always hesitant to hit a girl at the start of each fight."
"I bet you do."

Jon arrived at Luisa's house late on a Saturday, carrying only a back pack loaded with his boxing gear and a change of cloths, as Luisa instructed him.
Luisa lead him by the arm down a long hallway to the entrance of her basement gym. Jon's attention shifted from Luisa, who wore black speedos and a dark grey T-shirt adorned with images of Batgirl, Wonder Woman and Supergirl, to the framed pictures of male fighters, prone on the boxing ring canvas. In the lower corner of almost all the portraits was a red Valentine sticker.
"Who are they?"
"Men I've boxed!"
"They're all on their backs." noted Jon.
"I knock every guy out."
Jon felt a rush. "Those heart stickers?"
Luisa tugged him down the steps. "They performed very well."

Luisa was already in her corner when Jon entered the ring from the changing room.
"Tie up my gloves Jon!"
Luisa pulled off her T-shirt as Jon approached, revealing her smooth brown shoulder and arms. As Jon slowly laced her boxing gloves, he looked down Luisa's athletic top, adoring the roll of Luisa's breasts as they surged out at him.
"Good job, Jon!" She punched him in the shoulder. "Let's go!"
Luisa liked that Jon gave her a good fight, unlike many Gentles who exposed their head, egar for her to dispatch them to dreamland.
Jon clearly liked the physical contact fighting a woman entailed. A few times he pinned Luisa against the ropes or on the turnbuckle and worked her body. The punches didn't hurt her much and she always fought herself free of his assault.
As they boxed, Luisa kept calling "a good, sexy little Gentle"; that she knocked guys like him out before breakfast. By the the third round, she could see Jon was waring out; some of his punches missed and he kept pulling her into clinches after a barrage of devastating punches.
"You ready, Jon?" Luisa taunted, slugging her opponents twice, with brutal precision in the midsection, followed by a devastating right hook. Jon staggered a few paces, arms barely raised. Jon searched with groggy desperation for the female voice he'd heard before lighting struck him.
"You're ready...."
Luisa pasted a left on Jon's chin. Jon saw a second flash of painful white light and stood flat footed in front of Luisa, blabbering incoherently.
"Three punches and its all over, honey stick!" Luisa kissed the dazed male and tilted his head straight.
"The first punch makes you stupid!" she purred at the vulnerable gentle.
WHAP!!!
The leather of her glove smacked Jon's right jaw. Luisa was now a goddess to Jon: a virgin-warrior-seductress.
"The second punch makes you sleepy!"
POW!!
Darkness seeped into Jon's brain and he sagged onto the ropes, knees bent and eyes just slits of white.
Laughing joyously, Luisa pulled Jon back on his feet.
"The last punch....Jon sweetie...knocks you out!"
BAM!!
The savage upper cut popped Jon's head back, putting him instantly to sleep. He stood swaying for a few seconds as river seemed to gush through his body. Jon thudded to the canvas, unmoving, in a deep slumber.

Jon came to naked on Luisa's bed. Luisa was wearing nothing but red lace panties.
"Did your dreams come true, Gentle?" she whispered, brushing the hair from his face.
"Yeee..sss..." Jon felt weary and satisfied from the beating Luisa had administered. Looking at her full tits, with their purple aureoles, sexual love stirred in him again.
They spent the afternoon making love. Jon felt consumed by Luisa's body and the pleasure he received from it. Kissing her thighs and arms, giving her cunnilingus, penetrating her multiple times, Jon exhausted himself with adoration for Luisa.
The sun had almost set when Jon woke a second time. Luisa was brushing her hair in front of her mirror, having added a red bra to her panties.
She walked over to Jon, who stood and embraced her in long kiss.
"I always get the best sex from men I've obliterated in the ring," Luisa remarked.
"Luisa, there's something I want to do before I go."
"Sure, Gentle, what is it?" Luisa was happy not to have to chase Jon out. She wanted to hit the clubs alone tonight.
"Just this."
WHAP!!!
Jon's right hook jerked Luisa around 180 degrees. Her eyes wide with shock, quickly shut and Luisa's body fell against Jon's bare chest, her cheek on his shoulder.
He grabbed her waist and tilted the girl backward slightly. Her head went back, revealing a jaw slack in utter unconsciousness.
Jon sat Luisa on the bed, where she let out a wayward moan and dropped on her back. Jon lifted her feet onto the sheets and pulled the inert girl boxer onto the pillow. Luisa was serenely asleep.
After dressing, Jon placed a thorn less rose he'd retrieved from his back pack by Luisa's head. He quickly scribbled his number on a slip of paper and put it under the rose. Kissing his lover, Jon closed the bedroom door quietly as he left.

An Older Woman

Peyton watched her friend Desiree being carried from the boxing ring. The girl boxer was limp and unconscious in the supportive arms of her trainer-boyfriend Peter and Emma the Ref. In the fourth round, Desiree took two gut shots and then a hay maker to her right temple and the lights were out.
Peyton witnessed the final round and again decided Desiree was out of her mind. Desiree chose opponents by how sexually attractive she found them. Infrequently, she would find a new female lover, but most of the time she wound up stretched out on the canvas. The only sensible choice Dez ever made in her life, Peyton thought, was Peter, who as easing the girl on to a gurney.
"She's in a deep slumber!" Peter said, pulling back Desiree's eye lids, revealing solid whites. "Get the salt!" Peter ordered and began massaging Desiree's neck. A contented smile broke on the koed girl's face, subconsciously recognizing the caress of her lover's finger.
Retrieving the smelling salts, Peyton glanced at Veronica Mitchell who she would be fighting in a few minutes. Veronica seemed proud that she had just punched out a younger girl and stared back at Peyton as if she had the same plans for her.
Peyton handed the capsule of salts to Peter, who cracked the small tube beneath Desiree's pert nose.
"Dez, come on, wake up!" Peter planted gentle slaps on his girl's cheeks. Desiree groaned into consciousness.
"You okay, Dez?" Peyton asked. Slowly the prone girl's eyes opened into consciousness.
"Yeah...." Desiree murmured weakly, partially sitting up. "Did I lose Peter?"
"Badly. Lay back down." As Peter and Emma untied Desiree's gloves, Peyton looked over her friend's bare thighs. Peyton felt she understood what Peter saw in Desiree: A lunatic sexual energy that drew men and women alike to her. Desiree actually believed she could seduce the older woman in a boxing match and got knocked out cold for her assumption.
"Your turn, sweetheart!" Veronica declared to Peyton, her gold colored boxing gloves clasping the ropes. Peter and Emma had rolled Desiree to the recovery room. "Its just us girls now."
Peyton climbed between the ropes and pulled on her pale pink boxing gloves, the pair that had been so lucky for her in previous fights. Veronica flashed an approving smirk. "You're better looking than that scrawny brat girl-friend of yours."
"That so?" Their gloves smacked loudly. "You like taller girls, Veronica?"
"I like knocking them out on their cute little asses!"
Veronica moved toward her adversary languidly, gold gloves at chest level. Peyton watched Veronica's violet eyes and her lips purse seductively and...
BAM!!
Leather smacked the side of Peyton's face. The young woman staggered and then swayed in place, her face blank and her vision nebulous. Peyton was a girl again, playing on the school ground. Then Veronica was giggling loudly at her.
"Come on, bitch!" Peyton raised her gloves.
"Sure, Punching Bag Peyton!"
Veronica threw more punches at the side of Peyton's face. Peyton blocked most, but caught a nasty sting on the lower jaw. Peyton stumbled again, shocked by the older woman's strength.
In the second round, Veronica moved in circles around Peyton, fainting back from the pink fists, forcing Peyton to keep after her.
Patiently, Veronica let the young girl take three swings, most not connecting, before reciprocating with punches that grew harder and harder as Peyton's became slower.The young challenger found concentrating harder as the rounds followed. Veronica slipped around the ring and then shifted back at Peyton, fists hammering past her defenses. Veronica would press against Peyton when the pair were brawling on the ropes or in a corner.
"They're 36 D, honey!" Veronica whispered when she saw Peyton peeking at her massive tits.
The gold gloves flashed abruptly in Peyton's face. Veronica was a million miles away and the entire ring floated upward to the ceiling with a syrupy slowness.
Peyton saw Veronica's thighs, shapely and full, and wanted to kiss them.
Peyton was out cold on the canvas, flat on her belly, arms at her side, wrists up, a blissful smile on her face.

Peyton woke in a listless fashion, her head cradled in Veronica's lap. Until her vision focused, Peyton wasn't sure she hadn't had sex with Veronica.
"Hey sleepy, how do you feel?" Veronica's voice was flirtatious and oddly maternal. "You get knocked out?"
"Ohhhh....yeaaahh..." Peyton sighed. Veronica helped her sit up, still using her body to support the young girl. With the help of a neck rub, Peyton's head gradually cleared.
"How long..."
"Were you out? Five minutes. I took some digital pics of you sprawled on the canvas. I'll show them to you later."
"Later? Why later?"
"When you come around again."
"Again...uch...hey!...."
Veronica's arms snaked effortlessly around Peyton's throat and pressed below her ear.
"Hey! The fuck....!?" Peyton's weakened arms barely scraped at Veronica's clinching biceps.
"You look so pretty asleep, Peyton. I just can't help myself. Go to sleep!"
Heavy lids drooping downward, Peyton gave up struggling. The drifting sensation induced by the sleeper hold was a sweet feeling. The young woman's eyes fluttered twice and her head tilted against the bend of Veronica's elbow. There was only warm sleep.

Peyton regained consciousness on a large, comfortable bed. Instead of boxing gear, she wore nothing but pink panties.
"Where am I?" she whispered to Veronica, who wore a golden silk negligee.
"My place. I drove you home while you rested up from the sleeper."
Peyton raised her right hand and removed the thin strap from Veronica's shoulder. Part of the negligee fell away from the woman's chest.
"You knocked me out..."
"I clobbered you, Peyton."
The pair kissed and Veronica removed the other strap from her shoulder.

Two Encounters

Tom knew Sonia was a member of the Amazon Sisterhood. The Sisterhood's rules were clear: an Amazon could only be mated to a man who defeated her in battle. Tom wasn't thinking that long term, but he was sure of what he wanted from Sonia in the short term: the female fighter on her back.
Tom was a pretty good boxer who fought only mixed fights. Most of his opponents finished the fight asleep. But Sonia was a different matter. She was bigger and certainly stronger than all the guys at the club, the results of her people's centuries long effort to build a race of powerful female warriors. To go against Sonia without concealed advantages would surely land Tom in a hospital bed.
It occured to Tom that he could cheat with loaded gloves. He owned a pair; some of the horse hair padding had been removedfrom the right glove and replaced with sand. The gloves were rarely used since Tom was strong enough to floor most of his challengers.
The bout was private at Tom's request, which was fine with the gold haired Sonia who told the other women in the club she'd personally carry the unconscious Tom out of the ring to the recovery room.
Sonia had left Amazon Island for the Cities of Men with the intention of finding a mate. Tom reminded her of why her ancestors killed their male lovers after they got pregnant. He was tall, handsomely built and Sonia recognized how much he enjoyed defeating women in the ring. The Amazons had long ago stopped killing mates and the their population had grown. But that would not restrain Sonia from beating Tom senseless.

They spoke to each other very little. Sonia read lust in Tom's eyes and mouth, but his desire held nothing erotic. Sonia kept mobile, forcing Tom to pursue her. Often she'd double back, slamming Tom's head and body with hits. He'd grunt louder with every punch and kept after the Amazon.
Tom insulted Sonia with every name he could conjure. From the age of 11, when her boxing training began, Sonia was taught to treat male taunting as unworthy of response. But she despised the word "slut" to the core of her soul and when Tom spat it at Sonia, coupled with the word "blond," she swung fiercely at his head.
Tom slipped down and then pounded his right, the loaded glove, flush on Sonia's jaw.
The explosion inside her skull seemed to take hours. Sonia went backward, her body going stiff against the ropes. Her dreamy eyes were as wide as saucers. Sonia ordered her body to move, but it collapsed inward, buckling at the knees and hips. Sonia flung her arms out into the liquid darkness that consumed her, hoping to grab the ropes, but she instantly fell asleep.
"Sweet dreams, Amazon!" Tom growled, pulling off his gloves and giving the unconscious girl an wolf-like smile. "Never saw it coming your way!"

The next night Sonia and Tom spent in her bedroom. The Amazon gave herself to her conqueror by the rules of the Amazons. Tom was more of a gentleman than Sonia expected, but she watched him constantly for unexpected aggression.
"You liked it, some of it anyway. Right?" Tom announced in his relaxed tone, pulling on his cloths.
"I had a few orgasms."
Sonia glanced at Tom from where she lay on her bed. Tom let out a short, guttural laugh. "That's good!" he added and vanished from the apartment.
In a small notebook on her bedstead, Sonia had written the names of four men she'd met in the last year. Resting her head on the pillow, Sonia recalled why she moved to the Cities of Men. Those men had proven themselves worthy in both the boxing ring and the bed, but something held Sonia from choosing one and returning to Amazon Island to start the family she more and more desired. Getting knocked out by a male and then laying with him enraged and depressed Sonia and she looked those names over again.

A week later Sonia challenged Tom to a KO wrestling match.
"The bout's not over till one of us is out cold?" Tom asked, remembering how turned on he got by the unconscious and vulnerable Sonia. "Sounds great!"
Sonia shook her head in agreement and they both climbed in the ring.
Sonia wasted little time with Tom. Grabbing his arm, she spun him into the ropes and clotheslining him as he fumbled forward. Dazed, Tom land flat on his back on the canvas.
"Get up!!" Sonia shouted and hauled the befuddled Tom to his feet and slugged him in the stomach. Doubled over in pain, Tom didn't recognize Sonia's arms locking around his neck. Not until the solid biceps clinched his throat, did Tom yell in surprise.
"Hey bitch what is this!" Tom sputtered.
"Me knocking you out, Tom." Sonia replied calmly.
Tom pulled at Sonia's arms with effect at all. Sleepiness moved over him rapidly, making his arms heavy and legs loose and limp. He snarled a few insults at Sonia and she pulled her arms closer together.
One of Tom's arms fell on Sonia's thigh. His face was blank, eyes expressionless and glassy. A fleck of drool seeps over his drooping lips.
"Time for sleep Tom," Sonia whispered in his ear. Horiness flickered in Tom's brain and he was able to give passing thought to the lovely softness of Sonia's bare breasts before his eyes began to close.
She's...winning...big tited....bitch, floated in Tom's draining consciousness. A brief visual of Sonia's bare thighs and pussy flashed in Tom's head. He smiled and blacked out.
Sonia dropped him on the floor and didn't bother with a pin or a count. She wanted to sock Tom while he was down and leave a bruise he'd remember for the rest of his life. But she thought of the names in her notebook and exited the ring for home.

Daniella the Destroyer

Alan had never fought a muscle girl like Daniella before that evening. All his other matches at the Amazonia Boxing Club were with big chested gym bunnies: some he knocked out and some put him on the canvas. Down to the last woman, the bunnies who floored him all welcomed him into their beds.
I wonder what kind of fuck Daniella is?, Alan speculated as the tall powerfully built Amazon of East European ancestry climbed into the ring. That she wore skimpy shorts and not regular trunks kept Alan's eyes on her body. A tattooed tiger leaped from the top of her shorts, paws brandishing boxing gloves. Alan wondered what the rest of the tat looked like when he should have been figuring out Daniella's weak spots.
"Hello Alan," Daniella purred at him softly, her eyes focusing sharply on her foe's chest and arms. "You know what my nick name is?"
Alan knew well. "Daniella the Destroyer."
"Very good!" Daniella exclaimed and Alan recognized her accent: Russian. He'd heard it on different women from the gym. "And I destroy you!"
Alan was never given such a direct threat from a female...at least not in the boxing ring. he didn't feel intimidated, but pleased as if Daniella were going to have sex with him right there and then make his favorite dish for dinner.
"Promises, promises!" Alan taunted as the couple touched gloves. The idea of fucking Daniella kept buzzing noisily in Alan's skull. For an interminable moment, Alan watched her strut back to her corner, slowly, her thighs rubbing each other with seductive purpose.
At the opening buzzer, Daniella came out smiling at Alan, ducking his punches, retaliating with jabs.
Is the bitch toying with me? he asked himself. Am I a joke to her?
Daniella had decided to knock Alan unconscious soon because she got an enormous rush from punching out males. And she was dying to see Alan flat on his back! Yet Daniella liked Alan and his trim body and blue eyes, enjoyed having their bodies pressed tightly against each other in cascade of exchanged blows.
The women in the gym had praised Alan's sexual prowess and Daniella could see how massively excited Alan was to be fighting at close quarters with her. After stroking her bare thigh the length of Alan's erection, she determined his time had come. With the mostly female crowd of spectators chanting in support, Daniella stepped forward and hammered home a gut shot, bending Alan's' face into her breasts. A right upper cut stretched him out completely, pitching Alan's chin to the ceiling.
Alan had brief seconds to groan out his agony as the universe shattered into a billion radiant point of light. A double left-right combination impacted his head.
Alan was still, eyes half open, knees passively bent. Daniella's left upper cut swept directly into Alan's chin, vibrating his skull. A straight right pummelled Alan's lower jaw and he crumpled instantly to the canvas.
As the ref counted him out, flashes of reality stabbed into the blackness swarming over Alan's brain. He heard numbers being called out and felt Daniella fondling his giant erection. There was an urge to orgasm and Alan was asleep.
"Wake up!" a voice called. "Alan are you with us?"
Alan startled awake, seated in his corner's folding chair. Emma, the ref, and his second, Desiree, were talking at him. They were silent despite the repeated movement of their lips. Then their voices and the shouting of the spectators crashed onto Alan.
"Yeah! Yeah! I'm back..." he muttered at Desiree, staring listlessly into the girl's fiery eyes, using them as as point of focus. "What just happened?"
"Daniella knocked you cold," Emma answered.
Alan looked past his seconds and saw Daniella standing in her corner, smiling at him as she raised her arms in response to the crowd's adulation. Pushing Emma and Desiree aside, Alan lurched to his feet and walked deliberately at his opponent.
"What are you smiling at?!" he demanded. The muscular brunette pouted in false compassion, irritating Alan even more.
"I put you out for the count and jerked you off in front of everyone!" Daniella bubbled. "That was funny!"
Alan's left flew at Daniella's face. She sank backwards, evading the fist. Spring back up, her gloved fist slammed on the top of Alan's head.
An explosion followed Daniella's laughter and Alan's entire body relaxed at once. He began to sway quickly , like the second hand of watch. Alan thought how odd that was since the ring was spinning counter-clockwise.
THUD!!! sounded in the darkness when Alan struck the canvas a second time.
A pounding erotic dream of a three way with Jennifer Lopez and the girl in Alan's office who resembled Lopez, except her name was Amy, flicked on in Alan's sleeping brain. The dream women quickly fused into one and Alan fucked her so hard she screamed in pleasure.
"Awaken again, lover?" Daniella's voice asked. "That's good for both of us!"
Alan was in the passenger seat of Daniella's sedan as it pulled into a decent hotel.
"Where are we going?" asked Alan.
"To find out what kind of fuck I am, silly!"

Lisa

Lisa wanted a man to knock her out in a boxing match. In her fantasies, she had the scenario worked out. Lisa was in the ring with a bare-chested, dark haired opponent, his intent eyes staring through her. The stadium they fought in was filled with screaming crowds as this was the World Inter Gender Boxing Championship Bout and Lisa was the challenger.
The Champ and Lisa had a good match and Lisa fought to the best of her ability. But since the sixth round, The Champ had control of the match and was working Lisa over against the ropes with a cascade of head shots and body blows. The start of the ninth and final round found Lisa blocking the torrent of The Champ's punches until one fist slipped through her raised gloves.
BAM!!
All Lisa saw was The Champs sexy smile and the stinging SMACK of a leather boxing glove impacting her face. Then Lisa was flat on the canvas on her back, out cold for the count. The Champ stood over the slumbering challenger as Lisa is counted out by the ref. An unconscious Lisa, grinning happily amid the flashing cameras and whirling vid recorders, is loaded on a stretcher and carried out of the ring.
In reality, Lisa was slow to make her dreams come true. Only recently she started boxing lessons, which disappointed her. All the training and sparring sessions were done with women, with whom Lisa had very little interest in fighting. There were a lot of men at the gym, but they seemed more interested in sex with Lisa than boxing with her. Lisa gave into their advances a few times to relieve the frustration of not getting what she wanted. Often she watched the men in the ring and wondered when it would be her turn.
Ron saw Lisa while he was talking on his cell phone to his girlfriend Miki. Lisa was working the speed bag, concentrating so hard she missed Ron looking her over. As he told Miki when he'd be home and what he'd make for dinner, he studied Lisa's legs in her red shorts and how her athletic top highlighted her developed shoulders and full chest.
Ron and Miki were juniors at Blake Mitchell University, respective members of the school's mens and womens boxing teams. Their relationship was a year and half old and Ron loved Miki, but he joined the same gym as Lisa because he needed a variety of women for boxing and sex. Lisa's toned legs fascinated ron and he pictured her spread out on his bed and on the canvas of a boxing ring.

"Who are you training with?" Ron asked Lisa.
Lisa looked away from the speed bag and her eyes flashed at Ron's curly black hair.
"Donna ...Donna Sloan..I'm Lisa..."
"I'm Ron," Ron answered. "Donna's good, but she holds back her pupils too much. She doesn't think you're ready for a fight, I bet?"
"Yeah, but I feel ready."
Lisa's pretty face glowed at Ron. "How long have you been training?" Ron asked.
"Seven months."
"okay..." Ron studied Lisa's chin and jaw for weaknesses.
"I'm ready...really!" Lisa almost pleaded.
"Yeah you are." said Ron.

Outside the gym Ron and Lisa met a few times. the discussions centered why each had taken up boxing. Lisa was eleven when she saw her first fight and loved to watch big strong men fight each other. She wanted to feel their strength personally.
"I only fight women." Ron said.

They quickly cleared a space in Ron's living room, moving chairs and tables into the kitchen. Lisa kept her eyes on Ron in his gym shorts and ignored the framed pictures of Miki, who was at a sea shore resort where Ron was going the next day.
Finally getting to fight a male unsettled Lisa. Looking at Ron's arms, chest and eyes told Lisa he was stronger than her. What would it feel like? When would the punch that puts her to sleep arrive and how would it feel?
The pair circled, ducking each others punches and then firing back. Ron got closer to Lisa, their lips just touching when he worked her belly. Lisa saw Ron's face tight with determination. With thinking, Lisa backed away from Ron in a joy full terror.
"Where you going Lisa?" Ron strode in pursuit of the staggering girl. "Besides to Dreamland!"
The last three words jolted Lisa and her arms fell in surprise.
WAP!
Ron left upper cut bashed Lisa on the chin. The floor spun up from under her and Lisa heard birds singing. Ron followed through with a left right combo to Lisa's face and a hard gutshot. Agony and shock coiled through the girl's body as her vision began to dim. With massive effort, Lisa raised her arms again, but they seemed listless and limp.
"From the moment I saw you, I knew!" she heard Ron say through her daze as he pushed her arms aside. "What you were looking for!"
The right hook smashed reality in bits for Lisa. Things were getting dar. It's finally happening.....she thought.
WHAM!
Ron repeated his left to the chin and Lisa's head jerked back and then lolled forward. She swayed happily, arms swinging by her waist, her legs transforming into jelly.
Ron's last punch, which put out Lisa's lights, planted her on the couch. She lay there, slumped in dream filled slumber, her entire being content.

Miki on Vacation

"I'm here for the week," said Miki as she sipped her drink and ate lunch with Gary at the beach side bar. "My boyfriend Ron arrives tomorrow afternoon."
Gary's mental filters blocked Miki's second statement, as it was unimportant.
Gary first glimpsed Miki as she checked into the Cielo Nueve Resort. They looked each other over. Gary turned his head to examine Miki's well toned ass and legs as she passed, guessing the girl was a boxer.
"I'm starting my senior year at Blake Mitchell University," explained Miki when Gary began talking to her at the bar. "i love to box because I like to hit people...all the physical contact."
Gary returned Miki's broad smile. "Me, too. I've been fighting since high school. Almost 30 years now."
Miki felt a rush: an older man! She noticed his powerful arms. When Miki finished her fourth martini, unsteadily placing it next to her empty plate, Gary asked about her plans for the afternoon.
"None..." Miki answered, carefully waiting for Gary's proposal. Her eyes brightened at his suggestion of sparring in her or his hotel room. Miki remained cool, stating she was unsure since they had only just met. Gary was persuasive and well built. Miki finally agreed, picturing a shirtless Gary by her bed.

Miki was a girl whose beauty was magnified by her boxing gear. Gary wanted her more when he saw her in the outfit she wore for her boyfriend Ron: a clingy yellow T-shirt and red gym shorts. They squared off in Miki's bedroom.
"Who taught you to fight?" asked Gary.
"My father, when I was a young girl."
"Well, he did a good job!" Gary said. "Say goodnight to papa!"
"What?" Miki blurted.
WHAP!!
The right hook sucker punch threw Miki's brain into chaos. As her skull lolled sideways, it looked like Miki might recover. Then Miki smiled and collapsed unconscious on the bed.
A wave of vague guilt came over Gary for the sucker punch, but he ignored it. He felt a stronger lust for the prone Miki and an intense thrill at knock the girl out for the count. With gusto, he slapped Miki's backside and rolled her face up. Clasping her jaw, Gary rocked Miki's head back and forth until her eyes fluttered open. She smiled up at her conqueror.
"I win!" declared Gary.
"I lose.." purred Mike.

Miki woke in an empty bed. First she assumed Ron was making breakfast. Then the throbbing in he jaw reminded her she'd spent the afternoon fucking Gary.
Remembering his knockout punch, Miki dressed quickly and found Gary at the bar.
They only glanced at each other and scrambled back to Miki's room. The pair made love for an hour.
"Let's wrestle to a knockout?" suggested Gary.
"Yes!" Miki shouted wildly, pouncing on her bed partner. The pair rolled violently on the bed, until Gary dazed Miki with an elbow to her chin. He slipped behind the dizzy girl and snaked his arms around her neck.
"You're a great ride!" Miki heard in her ear as she pulled at Gary's arms. "I know you want this!"
Miki felt wave after wave of sleepiness roll over her, filling her weakened body with the potent desire to slumber and have sex. Rapidly her arms became heavy and her breathing slower. Miki was enraptured in the joyful anticipation of her knockout. She sagged against Gary, sound asleep.
Gary put her on the bed and gave her a kiss.

Five minutes later Miki was emerging from vivid dreams. She was in love with Gary.
As she sprinted down the hallway to the bar, a hand clasped Miki's shoulder and spun her. A fist sailed in Miki's face, followed by an explosion of stars.
Gary carried the limp girl boxer over his shoulder to her bedroom.

Miki was never so aroused. She and Gary had volcanic sex, drinking down each other's bodies long into the night.
"I have something for you, Gary said the next morning. He had one hand behind his back.
"What?!" Miki asked lustily.
WHAM!!!
Gary's loaded glove flew from behind his back and popped MIki on the chin. She fell backward, eyes wide, against the wall.
"Do you love me ...?" she asked, groggy.
"No." Gary answered.
"Gooooooo...dddd...."
Miki sank to the floor, out cold.
Gary patted her head and walked out.

By the time Miki was conscious and able to move, Gary was gone. The desk clerk told her that Gary had checked out an hour ago, no forwarding address.
"But this box came for you," he told the forlorn Miki. It was a large square box and when Miki read the note attached, her heart leaped. It was from Ron!
She ran with back to her room and read his note.
"I'll be there soon! Here's a little present to show how much I love you! Love, Ron!"
As Miki hastily removed the lid, a red boxing glove on the end of metal spring shot up, socking her under the chin.
Miki staggered drunkenly and dropped the box. A harsh orgasm rattled her body and she flopped backward onto the couch. She lay there, out cold, for two hours. Her head was full of erotic dreams of Ron and Gary and "Sugarwalls" by Sheena Easton played in her sleeping brain.

Mina's Fall

When she was a young girl, Mina loved to fist fight. Lana, her slightly older sister, would arrange matches with kids from their neighborhood. Most of Mina's opponents were boys, close to Mina's age of 13.
The bouts were bare knuckled and took place after school in one of the out-of-the way fields at the recreation center. The boys limped away, bruised and completely defeated. The secret to Mina's triumphs was her unexpected aggression. The small, thin girl charged at the boys when Lana rang the improvised bell and clobbered her startled foes.
Erik asked to fight Mina on a sunny Saturday afternoon. Mina knew Erik from her English class and thought he was handsome and smart. At the clang of the bell, Mina threw herself at Erik, who stepped aside from her. Erik leaped back into Mina's path after her small fist flew past his head and slugged the girl on the jaw.
The punch stilled Mina instantly. She swayed on her feet, eyes wide and expressionless, mouth sagging open. She wondered what Erik and the spectators were gawking at. Mina's body relaxed to the consistency of a rubber band. Tilting forward, Mina felt the impact of her body striking the ground in darkness.
"Mina....say something..."
The blackness parted and Mina saw the blue sky filled by the looming faces of Lana and Erik, who sat her upright.
"Are you with us Mina?" Mina responded to Erik's deep voice and looked him over, trying to recall what happened.
"Knocked me out...." Mina sighed as she stood on her feet. Lana and Erik carried the young teen, her arms over their shoulders, back to the girl's dressing room. Mina tried to remember the events of the last ten minutes, but she was still very groggy.

For a long time after the match with Erik, Mina stopped fighting. It was not fear, but confusion that stilled her fists. Mina could not comprehend how the knock out happened: she was fighting like always and then she was asleep. She felt herself drift off and then slumber on the ground. When she woke, Mina did not feel defeated or humiliated, but immensely changed. An intense openness burst inside her in the darkness and Mina saw the world, and men, differently afterwards.
At Mitchell University, Mina joined the women's boxing team and fought again. Training was done between women, but Mina often fought members of the men's team. Mina had grown from a merely pretty adolescent into a lean, sexually inviting young woman, whose beauty and fighting skill made her welcome among the male fighters.
Dion was pleasantly confused when Mina asked for a fight. They had slept together twice, each time after parties at the two-room English department of Mitchell University. Both encounters were immensely satisfying for both and nothing more was expected, at least as far as Dion was concerned. So when the girl challenged him, Dion was perplexed, as if the girl wanted more from him than sex.
"I've got a few inches on you, Mina," he told her.
"Just a few!" Mina peered into Dion's eyes, slyly smiling, canines flashing, as if she was aware of something he was not.
"You want to get hurt? Is that it?"
Dion's last three bouts with women were at the school's Oring Gymnasium. All three ended with the women knocked out cold. Dion reminded Mina of that fact.
"I know, I saw the last one," Mina purred. "You flattened my cousin Mikki Huang in two rounds. But I know you wouldn't hurt me. I know that already."
Dion resolved to finish Mina early.
For a moment they simply looked at each other and Mina walked away.

Keeping his resolution, Dion had Mina asleep on the canvas by round two. He watched her glide around the ring, admiring her technique and punching strength, adoring Mina's long legs and round face. Dion was a lover waiting for the perfect moment to take his beloved.
Dion allowed his opponent time to perform for the audience of mostly women. In the moments before he laid into Mina, Dion wondered how let down her team members would be when he put Mina out? Considering how women actually feel toward each other, Dion decided, stinging Mina's cheek with a right, they'll cheer when she's carried out of the ring.
Mina stumbled a few steps. Automatically, she pulled her fists together as she regained her footing. Then Mina counterattacked Dion and furious punches flew between them.
Dion hammered the girl harshly. Mina punched back hard, right to Dion's face, lefts to his torso, but each shot Dion landed throbbed through her body and drained Mina more and more each time.
Mina felt exhaustion creep through her and backed away from Dion. Dion surged forward, smacking a right upper cut to Mina's chin. The girl tumbled back, in a semi-crouched position, with her arms falling from their defensive position. Swerving to the left, Dion punished Mina's face with a brutal left-right combination. A gutshot bent the girl over, widening her eyes in agony.
"Night Mina!" was the faltering girl's last conscious memory. A comet exploded in her head and Mina dropped loudly onto the canvas.
As he caught his breath, Dion surveyed his work, enjoying the sight of Mina's wide open legs in the tight pink shorts.
Mina's sleeping brain swirled with brilliant lights and exploding pleasure, jumbled together with images and voices. Abby, the women's team captain, counted her friend out slowly giving her every chance to recover. That was futile: Mina settled into a deep knock out.
Mina came out of her slumber five minutes later in her dressing room. She was groggy and babbled about "Erik" when she could speak. Dion laughed to himself as he stood over Mina, assuming she had dreamt of a lover.

Roxana

Roxana was merciless in the boxing ring. She only fought mixed matches and every guy that tangled with her got carried out between the ropes, bruised and unconscious.
Will was no different.
His body shots to Roxana's carmel-brown midsection yielded nothing but a right cross that put Will into a galaxy of shinny stars. Thoroughly dazed, Will sat on his ass on the canvas, leering at Roxana's bare, muscular thighs and wanting to fuck her badly.
But the stars had so many bright colors....
Roxana saw clearly how groggy and horny Will was, so she slipped her gloved fists under his arms and lifted him up.
"William, our fight is over," she whispered in his ear. The bruised boxer barely comprehended what she said. "I hope you're a better fucker than a fighter!"
Will's dwindling attention shifted from Roxana's retracting right fist and to her blood red lips, high cheek bones and scarlet hair.
BAM!!!
Will heard an explosion. The force of Roxana's punch pitched Will across the ring, landing him under the ropes, the top of his head and arms dangling of the apron.
He wanted to slap Roxana's well toned ass and equally defined thighs and went to sleep.

They didn't carry Will out between the ropes. Emma and Adrienne, Will's seconds, moved him back to his corner. When his eyes opened, Will saw both girl's faces. Emma asked him his name.
"William," he said. Will was dizzy and fascinated with the girl's chests, especially Adrienne's.
"What time is it?" Emma asked.
"Story time...?" he answered.
"No, William!"
William shifted to Adrienne.
"Why Adrienne...what big breasts you have!"
Adrienne examined her full chest and she and Emma laughed. They pulled Will's arms over their shoulders and got him to his feet.
The ref was raising Roxana's right fist in a declaration of victory. She flashed her bedroom eyes at Will when he was carried past.

Will found Roxana a few days after their fight working a speed bag at the gym. He was two days recovering from the knockout, nursed attentively by Adrienne. The younger girl's attention was appealing, Will wanted sex with Roxana badly.
Roxana could see Will looking her body over as they talked, nodding slyly when he asked her out to dinner.
"You should be just right," Roxana said, grabbing Will's arm and maneuvering him into an empty dressing room. Will glanced at the large rubdown table.
"Want to get going already?" he asked.
"Can't wait sugar!"
POW!!
WAP!!
SOCK!!
Only two punches were required to knock Will out on his feet. As he swayed back and forth, eyes shut, lips curled in dreamy pleasure, Roxana's third blow was a shot in the eye. She liked giving men black eyes.
Roxana carried the unconscious Will in her arms the length of the gym, where everyone watched. Near the exit, Emma asked had happened.
"I asked Will out on our first date," Roxana approvingly took in the devastaed male she held. "And he accepted."

Roxana fucked Will so hard he fell in love with her. When he woke the next morning in his own bed, he knew he was meant to be with her forever.
"Oh...I see.. you've fallen for me, right Will?" Roxana said when Will got her alone at the gym.
"Yes...I can't stop thinking about you!" Will's eyes were on fire. Roxana knew what she had to do.
"Will, do you know what I do to guys who fall for me?" Roxana asked seductively, extending her bare right arm.
"What?" he answered happily staring at her bicep muscle.
"Kiss it Will!" Roxana ordered, flexing her bicep. Will pressed his lips to her muscle, loving the firm smoothness of her skin.
"Will?"
"Yes!?" he said, looking up. A clinched fist came at him. The explosion hurled Will across the room and into the wall. Will began dreaming of his night with Roxana as he slumped to the floor.

"Hey Will wake up!"
The voice was familiar, sweet and light, so he opened his eyes. Adrienne was looking down at him. "Looks like someone took another ko!"
"Yeah..Roxana..clobbered me.."
"I know...she told me.." Adrienne slowly helped Will to his feet. Giving him a loving kiss, she said: "Will, you need a new playmate!"

A Day at the Beach

Simon walked down to the beach with a pack of cigarettes and a copy of The Long Goodbye, a novel he'd been meaning to finish for weeks. Three girls walked up to him slowly, giving Simon ample time to take in their bikini clad bodies. The girl in the middle wore a green bikini and had curly brown hair and seemed to stare directly at Simon. The girl on the right seemed mean looking, eyeing Simon for a false move, which would lead to a devastating counter move by the female. To the left, a few paces ahead of the others was the oldest of the trio, grinning at Simon like a panther.
"Hola," said the pantheress, with perfect politeness.
Simon was already on his feet, brushing sand from his jeans. Simon always stood for a woman, even if she appeared younger than his 30 years.
The group moved closer to Simon, forming a semicircle around him.
"I'm Donna," the girl continued.
"I'm Simon," Simon countered, wondering why the girls were crowding him, but not overly concerned.
Donna took another step toward Simon. "You like girls?"
Jesus!, Simon thought. This is too good to be happening!"Well..yeah!..sure!"
"You look like one of those guys who likes getting beaten by a woman. Right?"
Lust turned to perplexity on Simon's face.
The mean girl slipped behind Simon. "He does, don't you Popi?" she said. "I'm Carly."
Donna glanced questioningly at the girl in the green bikini. The curly haired girl gave Donna a smile and a quick nod.
"Good night, Simon!" Donna said, launching a right hook to the man's jaw. Simon sprawled into Carly's arms, which instantly pushed forward, directly into Donna's fist.
A storm of punches fell on Simon from all directions. Agony and confusion rattled Simon. His few coherent thoughts among the blows were variants on "What the hell is happening?!"
Carly's left collided with Simon's chin.
Simon's vision dimmed and he had trouble comprehending what the girls were saying to each other. It was Spanish and a woman speaking Spanish turned Simon on. He swayed back and forth, his feet slipping in and out of the sand.
WHAP!!
Donna's fist hammered his chin and Simon drifted deeper into a daze, his eyes glassy and half open.
"Okay Rosie, finish him! You chose him, you finish him!"
Simon only stared mindlessly at the girl identified as Rosie as she tentatively moved at him. Her fist went back carefully, aiming precisely, leaving time for Simon to watch the fist come his way.
POW!!
Simon landed on the sand with a soft "THUD," making Rosie smile. She never told Donna or Carly that her favorite thing, even more than sex, was finishing off a male.
Rapidly, Donna and Carly lifted the knocked out Simon and carried him, like a defeated pugilist, to their nearby minivan. They deposited Simon on the couch-like back seat, while Rosie climbed in behind them, siting in a chair that gave her a clear view of the victim.

The engine humming was the first thing Simon heard when he came around. Then the cool, afternoon breeze buffeted him gently from the mini van's open windows.
"Huh...wha...the hell...?" he asked thickly. His opening eyes saw Rosie's tender expression, the wind throwing her hair in different directions.
Still staring lovingly at Simon, Rosie said: "Hey, he's awake!"
"Well, you know what to do!" Carly's voice counseled.
"Oh, I can't..."
"Can't do what?" Simon asked blankly.
"You've proven you can, Rosie."
Simon gawked in confusion as a lovely brown fist sailed at his face.
BAP!!
He fell back, sound asleep, in the same position the girls had dumped him on the couch. Simon dreamt of being a teenager at the shore and nailing Annie Sakura.
"The gym work is paying off, Rosie!" Donna commented.

Simon woke the second time on a soft bed. Windows in the paneled room were open, letting in the summer sea air. Donna was standing over him.
"Hello Simon," she laughed. "How are you feeling? A little worn out?"
Simon, with an immense effort, sat up.
"I feel like shit! What the fuck is going on?"
He would have used more profanity, but his head was still swimming.
"We brought you here to be a trial boyfriend for my cousin Rosie, I think she likes you."
"Rosie?"
"Yes, my cousin has always had a problem asserting herself romantically with men."
"You're kidding?"
"No. All three of us are in boxing training and Rosie's the best of us. She could put you out in the ring, but get a date with a guy is like pulling her teeth! So we helped her out, scouted out nice guys like you."
"And kidnapping them!?" Simon asked.
Donna laughed giddily. "That's the fun part for me and Carly, executing the snatch!" She gave Simon a gentle, flirty punch on the shoulder. "Come on in, Rosie!"
Rosie walked in, dressed in lose gray shorts and a white T-shirt.
"Hi Simon, how do you feel?"
Rosie's voice sounded tentative. Simon looked at her, about to be angry and then felt an emotional change.
"I'm still hurting, but I'll be alright. You know how to punch!"
Rosie laughed and took Simon's hand. For an instant, she was motionless, waiting for Simon to move. Simon saw pained uncertainty in her eyes and heard Donna shut the door as she left. Tugging Rosie by her fingers, he lead her to the bed.

Simon and Rosie spent the night together. In between orgasms, Rosie explained that she made poor choices with men-men who made promises that they broke, a few who drank and one that hit her outside the boxing ring.
"So Donna and Carly watched a bunch of guys and you were one we chose!"

Donna made breakfast for Simon. He had left Rosie sleeping contentedly in her bed.
"Rosie still asleep?" Donna asked.
"Yep!"
"A good sign, she's relaxed around you," Donna suggested. "I think you're in the top three."
"Top three?"
"Yes, you're one of three guys who completely satisfied Rosie. I think she likes you, you like her?"
"Yes!" Simon heard himself say.
"Great! If Rosie chooses you, and I think she will, we'll come get you."
"Like you did before?" Simon was suddenly annoyed.
"You bet!"
POW!!
Donna's right cross put Simon out instantly. He slumped in the chair, lifeless. Donna kissed him on the cheek.

Simon woke on his own bed. On his chest was a Valentine's card, signed by Rosie, the lipstick imprint of her lips pressed below her signature.

Patrice

I don't know how long I was out cold. Emma, the ref, said Patrice had put me to sleep for five minutes. Waking up was like surfacing from being under water; all the blackness simply washed away. I was seated in my corner of the ring, Emma's reviving hands massaging blood back to my brain. Katie, Emma's friend, was asking me questions that took minutes for me to answer because I was only semi-conscious. The sensation was like floating on your back in a pool, your ears partially submerged, so that what you heard was murky.
I was also watching Patrice strutting around the wrestling ring, her hands clinched to the ceiling in victory. I could care less that I had been humiliated in front of nearly every female member of the Amazonia Boxing and Wrestling Club, most of whom were cheering my defeat. I was hooked on Patrice, the tall, athletic, full chested member of the women's team. A gorgeous black woman, she had legs that rose to a crest at her toned ass and supple hips. But it was her muscular arms she used to sleeper me, wrapped securely around my neck like iron bars. Our wrestling match lasted less than a round.
"He's still sleeping Emma," Patrice said, crouching down in front of me, smiling. Her amber eyes glittered and I savored a long glimpse of her large, flawless breasts. "You still dreaming, Will?"
I wanted to fuck her right there, looking at the tits that had been my pillows.
"No," I said vaguely, reality beginning to focus. Katie and Emma helped me up and slowly out of the ring. Patrice followed, walking in front of me, her pretty face aglow with satisfaction.
"Hey Will, before you went out..know what I asked you?" Patrice asked me.
"What?" I responded, finally taking how completely I had been conquered.
"I asked you who your momma was as you drifted away, you said 'You're my momma!'"
Patrice repeated the last three words in perfect imitation of my sleepy voice. The moment, just before I went under in Patrice's arms, resurfaced in my memory. I was tucked close to her chest, those lovely dark arms pulling tight on my throat. Patrice's breathy voice asking me that question and my answer, completely direct, ran from lips like honey and blackness poured over me.
As the girls sat me down on a recovery room bed, I realized I enjoyed the release of being knocked out by Patrice.

"I hope you're not mad about the ko on Wednesday?"
Patrice's apology sounded more like flirting.
"If bigger guys than me got clobbered, I should have expected it," I answered.
Patrice had had seven mixed ko wrestling matches in the last two months. All her opponents were carried out of the ring.
Running her hand on my shoulder, Patrice wondered if she made me look bad in the ring.
"Only in front of most of the women in the club, a few of whom I've slept with."
"Those were the ones cheering!" Patrice suggested. She pulled her arm away slightly when I stared at her. "Let me buy you a drink," asked Patrice. "To make it up to you..."

By the end of our fourth beer, Patrice and I were making out in the parking lot of the bar. I hadn't done that since college, but I got the same thrill putting my hands down her pants, caressing her firm ass.
By ten we were back at my townhouse and making love in my bedroom. I don't know when in the night I fell for Patrice. We had orgasm after orgasm, screaming as each one climaxed. When I woke from exhausted but pleasant sleep, Patrice was dressing.
"Don't leave now!" I begged, laughing.
"Why not?"
"I'll make breakfast. It's Saturday morning, we don't have to work."
Patrice looked at me coyly. "You want more, Will?"
"Of course!"
"I like you Will and I like you even more this morning. You're a nice guy, but..." Patrice's expression went from apologetic to comprehension. "If you can knock me out like I did to you, Will, I think we can have something. Okay?"
We embraced in a long kiss near my bed. "Okay?"
Yeah, fine with me, I told myself.
Patrice stopped my right in mid air, our forearms crossing against each other. I saw her free arm swing up and then I was flat on the bed, looking at Patrice through a hazy field of stars.
"Will, I expected more brains from you," Patrice said with good humored disappointment. "'Like I beat you' I said..in the ring Will!"
Lights began to fade. Patrice was vanishing. "See you there, Will!" was all I heard before I blacked out.

Like any woman on a date, Patrice made me stand around five minutes, waiting for our bout to start. When i challenged her to another ko wrestling match, Patrice's body language told me she was hungry for another victory, even as she verbally debated if I was worth taking on again. She agreed with one stipulation: we grapple alone in one of the club's private rings.
"After all, honey stick, when you wake up, you'll be by yourself! I'll be gone!" Patrice hummed in my ear.
Patrice finally strutted into the ring, wearing the same silver one piece bathing suit she wore at our first meeting. For a few seconds we moved in a closing circle, our arms grasping at each other. I seized Patrice's wrist and spun her toward me, her entire body bending around my extended fist.
Seeing Patrice's face convulse with agony, I swung her outward, bouncing her off the ropes. An elbow welcomed the oncoming chin, knocking the mocha beauty groggy on her feet. Leaping behind Patrice, I snaked my arms around the dazed girl's throat.
"Rock-a-bye-baby..." I started singing in her ear. Patrice discovered what I was about to do and tore at my encircled arms.
Elbows hammered my torso, but I held onto Patrice, telling her she was a good Amazon for resisting me, but the lights had to go out.
"You...bast...ard!..." The anger in her voice was arousing.
Patrice went on fighting as I constricted my hold. A stream of short grunts flowed as Patrice's wide eyes fought to stay focused. I could feel her body relax, the tension of her struggle against my sleeper draining from her limbs.
The grunts became softer. Patrice's grasp on my arms became tenuous, fingers sliding on and off my biceps. Her eyes fluttered, filling with glassy dreaminess.
Patric murmured, "No..I..."
"Yes, Patrice!" I whispered endearingly in her ear. I got a rush watching the labored writhing of her long, silky legs. I could hear Patrice's respiration slow. Words barely formed on her lips, before evaporating on her breath.
"Gon...na...nock...me...awt..." Patrice sounded like a sleepy young girl.
"Going to knock you out cold!" I told her. "Sleep tight, Patrice."
A delicate "ooohhhh" seeped from Patrice's inert lips and she slumped against me, hands resting on her thighs.
Releasing my grip, I cradled the sleeping girl in my arms, counting to ten aloud. Patrice was lovely, knocked out and dreaming. After saying "Ten" in her ear, I kissed Patrice on the cheek.
Carefully, I eased Patrice to the canvas, resting her head on a folded up towel. I was going to leave her on the canvas to wake up alone, like she said I would, but I found I liked Patrice.
"Come on, Patrice, rise and shine!" I said rubbing her firm thighs and then gently slapping her face. Patrice's eyes opened, brimming with confused fascination.