I know I'm not the only one with this fetish: there are a number of celebrities, singers and actresses, I want to climb in the ring with.
In most of my fantasies, I lose by a knockout to these women, laying on my back, stretched out on the canvas, dreaming erotically of the girl that put me there. In a few cases, I am the one who sends my opponent to dreamland.
All these fanyasies are psyhic reactions to the sexuality projected by these women and the level of aggression or passavicity they display as part of their image.
There are more than a few women who I want to knock me out in combat. Aomng them are Kerry Washington, Pamela Anderson, Janet Jackson, Samantha Fox, Paris Hilton and Beyonce Knowles. But my biggest thrill comes from a match with Madonna.
I never really paid much attention to Madonna when she first appeared, except when the media, television espeicially, forced her on us. I didn't then and do not now think she is a very talented singer and most of her movies in range in quality from acceptable to horrible.
But when the 2000s arrived, she started seeming more attractive to me. Her new, atheletic appearance was one that I have always liked on women and she also did a series of retro boxing and wrestling pictures I loved. Madonna had changed into a suburban PTA mom.
Boxing is what Madonna and I would do most of the time, but sometimes we wrestle. In both cases, it all concludes with me unconscious either from a sleeper hold or a knockout punch.
The wrestling scenarios are usually brief. Almost instantly Madonna slaps a standing sleeper hold on me. I struggle to pull her arms from my neck, but it's useless. When she sees I am starting to fade, knees buckling and arms flopping at my sides, Madonna eases me into a sitting position.
"Hey lover boy, what's wrong?! " she whispers tauntingly in my ear. "Getting sleepy? Eyes getting heavy?"
I make one more futile pull at her arms coiled around my throat and then give in. The ring, the gym we're in and reality itself starts getting dark around the edges.
"My tits are gonna be your pillows in a second, lover!" Madonna says with mocking affection. "Anything to tell me before you go to sleep?"
I moan softly, nearly out of it.
"Okay then, say 'Night-Night' !"
Madonna's bicepts clinch tighter and my lights go out.
She deposits me on the canvas,pining me for a three count. After declaring "You're Out!" she leaves a loving kiss on my lips and struts out of the ring.
The boxing story is more ritualized. I am challenging Madonna for her title as Intergender Boxing World Champion. All her previous opponents have gone down to KO defeats and Madonna has promised I will be no different.
In front of a cheering crowd of all female spectators, Madonna and I go at it. Early on I hold my own, landing some good punches. But Madonna takes all I hand out. She is a confident, disciplined and skilled fighter waiting for the right moment.
The right moment arrives in round four. Madonna has been asserting herself, wearing me down, pounding away at me. And I'm starting to fall in love with her because I'm turned on by a strong, buff woman in boxing gear.
In the next round, the audience and Madonna can see I'm ready to go. The crowd is urging her to finish me off, to knock me out.
"Ready to go to bed, little boy?" Madonna asks me between punches. "Get ready to say good night!"
With each punch I take, I can feel the knockout coming closer and closer.
Then the beating stops. I stand in the center of the ring, seeing stars, horny for Madonna. She smiles, kisses the glove and pulls it back behind her head.
"Sweet dreams, lover!" Madonna whispers seductively.
I see her glove hurtling in my face.
BAM!!
Stars are everywhere and I'm out cold for the ten count.
As in the wrestling match, Madonna kisses me lovingly after my defeat is declared and then struts around the ring in triumph.
Two beautiful Asian women in bikinis enter the ring, load me onto a gurney and carry me out of the ring, a circus tent pitched in the front of my truncks.
No comments:
Post a Comment