The Girl With the Anhk

"Are you going to wear that?"
Jasmine glanced down at the half inch gold anhk resting on the flesh above her breasts.
"Of course I am."
"What if I punch you there? I could hurt you!'
"No, you won't." Jasmine gave Sam an appreciative smile.
"I might." Sam insisted.
"You won't punch my breasts."
Jasmine's voice sounded like she had faith in her male opponent. She had been sure of Sam since she met him a month ago.
"I will!"
"You won't."
Jasmine was right. Sam had boxed a number of women since joining the Amazonia Boxing Club. In all those fights, he never intentionally hit an opponent's tits. Standing in the ring with Jasmine, he was ready to fight but Sam was distracted by the anhk that hung from a black string against Jasmine's chocolate-brown skin.
"I know you better, Sam. You wouldn't." Sam stepped closer to Jasmine, looking at her pretty face and neck. "Sure i would, I fight that way!"
"No, you don't sweetheart, " Jasmine purred deeply. "But I do!"
Jasmine's right hooked Sam on the jaw. he didn't see the punch coming or feel its impact. One instant he was kissing Jasmine's breasts with his eyes and then he was flat on the canvas, unconscious.
"Should I even bother counting him out?" Emma the Ref asked, surveying the knocked out male slumped against the ropes between Jasmine and herself.
"No..I wouldn't..." Jasmine was pleased that yet another knock out punch had exactly the effect she calculated. "They're so cute after you punch them out!"
Jasmine was on both knees beside Sam, adoring the defeated fighter.
"What should I tell him when he wakes up?" Emma asked.
"Did you see it? The yearning in Sam's eyes, he would have fucked me right here in front of you...and I knocked him cold! Sam must be so happy right now!"
Emma rolled her eyes at Jasmine's protruding nipples.
Along with Jasmine, Emma knew a few girls from the small clique at the Amazonia known as The Roughs. The group baffled Emma. They sought out men who wanted to be beaten senseless by women in combat. What astounded Emma even more was how many solid relationships, even a few marriages, grew from this violent courtship. Emma decided that some alchemy happened when a Rough found her perfect "Gentle," as they called their male victims.
"Jasmine, are you in love?" Emma vainly tried to communicate sarcasm.
"What?" Jasmine snapped. "Tell Sam I expect a better performance at our next meeting." She handed Emma the anhk from around her neck. "Make sure he gets this."
"Okay. Should I tell Sam you two are married now?"
"No, I'll handle that."
While the women carried Sam to the recovery room, the boxer dreamed Jasmine was laying on his bed naked, her arms extended in invitation to him. Sam embraced and kissed Jasmine with gentle intent.

A few days later Jasmine checked on Sam as if it was another woman and not her who had laid him out. She'd encountered a number of Gentles and knew Sam wouldn't be angry. Jasmine figured, correctly, that Sam was in the early stages of intense erotic attachment to her. She invited Sam to her house for dinner and another try in the ring.
"I have a ring in my basement," Jasmine said. "We'll be completely alone."
Sam saw himself fucking Jasmine passionately against the ropes, Jasmine gasping "Come to mama!" in his ear.

A note for Sam was taped to the front door of Jasmine's house.
"Go in. I went to the supermarket, I'll be right back."
Pocketing the note, Sam walked into small, neat house, surrounded by freshly cut lawn. The hallway lead to a sparsely decorated living room and a smaller, efficient looking kitchen. Sam drifted to Jasmine's bedroom, the only room with the door closed. Clicking on the flash light he retrieved from the kitchen table, Sam pushed open the door and explored Jasmine's sleeping quarters.
The second bureau drawer he pulled open revealed two neat piles of Jasmine's underwear. They were a mix of silk and cotton panties that reflected yellow, pink, black and red in the narrow beam of light. when Sam lifted a pair of black silk panties, he saw a slip of paper that had the message "Look to the left, honey stick!" in female script.
Sam looked over his shoulder as a fist flashed from the darkness, pounding his face. He spun into darkness.

Sam could see the blurred outline of Jasmine dressed in black boxing trunks and matching sports bra. She was lacing a boxing glove to his left hand.
"Hey sweetie," the smiling blur said. "How is my dirty boy feeling?"
In spite of the swirling in his head, Sam enjoyed hearing Jasmine talk that way. Focusing on the woman before him,Sam got to his feet. "You want to fight, Jasmine?"
As Sam banged both of his gloves together, Jasmine smirked and strutted with feline grace to her corner. Sam was enthralled with her ass and legs.
They battered each other for the first round. Josephine wondered if she shouldn't have knocked Sam out so quickly. And, as she pinned him on one of the turnbuckles, Jasmine felt the sweet rush that came from punching a male she found attractive. The feelings controlled her.
In the second round, Sam ducked a right hook from Jasmine and launched a left to her belly. Sam looked into Jasmine's eyes as she clinched her arms to her mid section in anger and pain.
His fist sliced into a space between the girl's parted gloves, detonating on her lower jaw, flipping her back. Jasmine watched the world swirl into blackness. Her eyes fluttered desperately when she hit the canvas and then closed softly.
Sam counted Jasmine out. Pulling off his gloves, Sam reached down, his hand grazing Jasmine's thighs, and scooped up the girl in his arms, carrying her back to the bedroom.
Jasmine lay still on the bed. Removing the anhk from his pocket, Sam placed the pendant between Jasmine's breasts. When she awoke a minute later, Jasmine felt the cool metal shape on chest and clasped in her hand, grinning dreamily at Sam.
"You're my good, dirty boy," she purred at him. Jasmine felt a shiver when they embraced and kissed.

Miki and Two Angry Woman

This was Miki's first time with two men at once. Ron was away for the week on a business trip, so Miki invited the guys she'd been sleeping with to a hotel to try out a three way.
Miki surveyed her sleeping lovers - Caesar flopped on the bed and Harry snoring peacefully in the bath tub - and experienced total contentment. Pulling the covers over Caesar, she kissed him on the forehead. Of the two, she liked him more, but both had more than satisfied her.
Pulling on her cloths, Miki recalled how gratifying the last few years had been for her. Her marriage to Ron was happy, she'd been promoted at work with a good raise and now not one, but two boyfriends. Caesar she met at the Amazonia Boxing Club, when he bet he couldn't defeat her in the boxing ring. Miki took him up and three rounds later she was flat on her back, out cold, enjoying languid dreams of sex with Ron and other men she knew. Miki saw the ring on Caesar's finger the first afternoon they had sex, but she was too horny to care.
Harry came along a month after the match. Miki saw him working out at Amazonia with his girlfriend and decided she could juggle two men, along with her husband.
Miki and Harry wrestled and Harry caught his opponent in a sleeper hold, as his girl, Julia, watched with intense pleasure from ringside. Julia didn't like or trust Miki from the moment she spoke to her.
Now fully clothed, Miki scribbled a note to each of her exhausted lovers, telling them when she wanted to see them again and where. Closing the hotel room door softly, Miki walked into the sun drenched parking lot. A hand clutched her shoulder and twisted Miki in a circle. Miki heard two distinct, angry voices and a fist smacked her face. Miki looked up from the section of lawn she'd landed on and saw two women standing over her, one of whom she knew was Julia.
Miki's entire being went cold.
"Get up, slut!" Julia yelled, as she and the other women, a tall, muscular brunette, seized Miki's wrists and yanked her to her feet.
"I figured it would end up being you!" snarled Julia and slugged Miki in the mid section. The Asian girl bent forward, a look of confusion on her face. The brunette swung Miki to face her. "I'm Beth Caesar's wife! He may have mentioned me!?"
WHAP!
Beth's right hook grounded Miki a second time. The world spun inside Miki's head and she reached out to stop it and whoever was about to land another shot.
"Wait..there's beee...a mistake..."
Miki's vision cleared enough to see the cold smile on each woman's lips.
"You're...confu...sing...me..."
Miki's voice was panicked.
"No, we haven't!" Beth barked and pulled Miki upright, giving her s gut shot. "Beth and I have been following our worthless men around," Julia yelled. "And they lead us to you! Finally went for the threesome last night?!"
Julia's shot to the jaw staggered Miki.
"Come here!" ordered Beth, grabbing Miki's shoulders, yanking the small girl between Julia and herself.
For thirty seconds the angry wives worked Miki over. They were methodical, slow about delivery so Miki felt every moment of pain. Miki drifted into a kayo daze and the punches became "WHOMPS," that made her twist forward and then shoot upright.
When the punching stopped, Miki was semi-conscious on wobbly legs. Her eyes opened and closed in rythum with the short moans that fell from her mouth.
Images jumbled in her mind, blending the two women in front of her with memories of her sexual activity the night before. Stars exploded in multi colored flashes before Miki's eyes.
"Now listen, bitch!" Beth started off. "Stay away from our men! If Julia or I so much as hear you breathing in their direction, we'll hospitalize you! Understand?"
Miki's head titled in a weak, up and down motion. Miki's eyes were glassy.
"She's going to dreamland." Beth commented.
"And we're not finished. How rude!" Julia dded.
Through the mental haze, Miki watched both women draw their fists back and was relieved at the impending knockout.
WHAM!!
Both fists cracked Miki's chin. Reality vanished in a moment of blinding colors. Miki lay on the patch of lawn again, out cold.

Miki and an Older Man

The bout was almost over and Abby was staggering. Unable to keep her gloves completely raised, Abby kept pressing against Curtis, trying to immobilize his arms. The effort was a waste. Curtis would push her off, usually into the ropes, where he would crowd in on Abby and hammer a few devastating punches.
Miki Huang, Abby's best friend and her second for the match, yelled at Abby to keep her guard up and to stay clear of Curtis' reach. Abby, semiconscious on her feet, had stopped hearing anything said to her. Abby wanted the fight over, an outcome which Curtis was working toward steadily, with one condition: Abby had to be separated from her senses first.
A left hook to Abby's lower jaw froze her in place, flat footed, arms motionless at her sides. Curtis looked over the stunned girl one more times, savoring her lovely rack and pasted Abby on the chin with a right.
"UUUHHHH!" groaned Abby. The blow made her hop two steps and collapse backwards, landing on her ass, her head lolling on her shoulder.
Miki leaped into the ring as Curtis casually removed his black boxing gloves. "Should I count her out, Miss Huang? I think Abby will be resting comfortably for a while, don't you?"
"You prick!" Miki yelled. "Abby isn't as good a fighter as you and you fought her anyway!"
"Miss Abby here wanted to fight very badly," Curtis explained. "And anyway, a lot of girls your age like getting...overwhelmed by an older man."
Miki felt her blood speed through her veins. "You just take advantage of girls...."
"By giving them what they want," interrupted Curtis. "What do you want Miss Huang?"
"Nothing from you, jerk!"
"Sure about that?"
WHAP!!
Curtis' upper cut stretched Miki out on her toes. Then Miki's eyes shut and she fell against Curtis' bare chest.
"Sleep tight, Miss Huang," he whispered to the slumbering girl. Carefully he sat Miki next to her friend, tilting her head on Abby's open shoulder. It seemed to Curtis the smile on Miki's face was wider than the one on Abby's.
Curtis folded the hands of both girls over their pussies and took a digital photo of the conquered duo. Glancing at Miki's right hand, he saw a gold engagement ring on one of her fingers. Curtis thought about the fun he was going to have.

A week later, Curtis challenged Miki to a boxing match. She accepted immediately, disregarding the fact she was to marry her fiance Ron in less than seven days.
Curtis first heard of Miki Huang from stories his friend Mike Crane told him. Crane was on his second marriage, but he loved exchanging stories with Curtis about girlfriends and flings with younger women. Five years earlier Crane had an affair with Miki while she was getting her business degree from Mitchell University, Crane's Alma mater.
"Miki was perfect, she loved fucking and she loved boxing!" Crane would say, adding that he regretted ending things with Miki, but his wife kept mentioning her father's law firm at the breakfast table.
Curtis was pleased to see "Miki Huang" on the membership list of The Amazonia Boxing Club. Noticing Abby and Miki were sparring partners, he quickly seduced Abby, fucked her brains out and then challenged her to a match, all to get closer to Miki.

The fight was private. Curtis had reserved the ring for him and Miki alone. Curtis arrived late, intentionally getting Miki angry. The ploy worked, as Curtis discovered as he climbed into the ring, while Miki glared at him. Curtis liked the way Miki had got herself in great shape for the upcoming wedding.
"We fight to a knockout," she insisted to Curtis when they faced each other.
"Yeah.. just like I did to Abby!"
Curtis' assured tone gave Miki a jolt. Miki liked attention from older men and, despite being pissed at how Abby was roughed up, she found him attractive.
"Ready?" asked Miki.
"When you are."
They touched gloves and Miki went back to her corner to set the automatic round buzzer for ten rounds. Curtis watched her cute ass as Miki bent over the timer. Curtis told himself she didn't have to bother.
When landing a punch, Curtis often ducked beneath Miki's swinging arm and then working her midsection. With increasing force, Curtis landed head and body shots in coordination, wearing Miki down thoroughly. Curtis always avoided hitting a female opponent's breasts. He thought that was cruelty.
At the start of round six, a hard right hook knocked Miki out on her feet. Curtis hammered home a jab and then planted a right square on Miki's chin.
For a few seconds Miki stood on swayed flatly, dazed, seeing stars explode in her face, hearing the bells she was so anticipating. In a warm, sensual wave, sleep consumed Miki. She struck the canvas loudly, giving Curtis powerful satisfaction.
As with the previous fight, Curtis skipped the 10 count. He easily hefted the unconscious Miki over his shoulder, finding her to be the lightweight Mike Crane said she was.

A few minutes slipped by as Miki gathered her senses. She had regained consciousness in her own bed. Curtis had rifled Miki's purse, found her address on her drivers license and drove Miki home. reality moved dreamily, as if Miki had just experienced a potent orgasm. Miki felt a giddy openness with Curtis, as if she were a new person after the knock out. While she rested, Miki told Curtis she was looking forward to spending the rest of her life with Ron alone. Curtis believed that Miki believed that statement.
Curtis and Miki fucked all night.
Miki was consumed by Curtis' strength, how his arms held and controlled her from one pulsing orgasm to the next.
When she woke the next morning, Curtis was getting dressed.
"Hey sweetheart," she purred. stretching out on the bed. Miki pulled on her underwear and walked slowly to Curtis at the front of the bed. They shared a long kiss.
"You know I'll be back from our honeymoon in two weeks," Miki said. "We should get together when I come back."
Curtis nodded his head. "I'm in Europe on business for the next two months."
Miki's head fell on Curtis' shoulder in disappointment. "But I can give you my wedding present right now."
"You can?"
"Sure. And everyone will be talking about it when they see it."
"What?"
Curtis' fist hit Miki directly in the face. Stars shot everywhere and Miki grunted softly as she tilted into darkness.

Miki walked down the church aisle with a vibrant, purple bruise around her right eye. A lot of people thought Ron had given it to her. The shiner contrasted perfectly with Miki's white wedding gown and Ron thought it looked very sexy.

The Reluctant Victor

Teruko possessed smooth, silk-black hair that stopped at her waist. Ross thought Teruko was posing her body-builder body in the ring just for him, moving so he could study her intensely developed thighs and 38DD chest, clothed in tight black trunks and a tank top. Teruko noticed Ross's desire for her even before they fought, as she saw it in many of the men she boxed. Ross's open face looked friendly to Teruko, a quality often crowded out by aggression and lust in her challengers.
The knock out punch, landed directly on Ross' chin, rolled his eyes up in their sockets. Teruko felt that rush, the sensual joy of sending a male to the canvas, totaly unconscious. Pleasure surged through Teruko and she recovered, slouching on a folding chair in her corner as Emma the Ref administered the 10 count to Teruko's victim.
Elbows resting where the middle ropes joined the turnbuckle, Teruko allowed the fog of rapture to slowly dissipate as she watched her opponent on the canvas. Knowing sexual desire drove these men to matches with her, Teruko felt a little guilt about sending them to the canvas knocked cold.
She knew almost immediately Ross was attracted to her, partially because she was a beautiful Japanese woman. Ross wasn't the first fetishist Teruko had ever encountered, but she still felt unhappy about punching him out so deliberately.
For the five minutes he was unconscious, Ross dreamed of sex with Teruko and few other women he was thinking of lately. Ross knew he was now deeply in love with Teruko. He felt a warm delight seep through his body as he slept.
After Emma declared "You're out!' to Ross, she and Teruko carried him to the recovery room.
When his eyes blinked open, Ross smiled at Teruko and said dreamily "I know you!"
Teruko, now alone with her victim, took his trunks off.

Tracie

I saw Tracie the first time while she was jumping rope, as I half stumbled my way to morning class. Asking a few of my dorm mates, I found out Tracie ran track and played on the volleyball team.
This was great news!
My attraction to athletic girls had just gone into overdrive, so Tracie was burned instantly into my memory. In high school, I was stupid enough to think girls who played sports didn't care about sex. In college I learned the truth. I got to know girls who played basketball, volleyball, lacrosse and soccer. They were very interested in men. Except the soccer players.
I started noticing Tracie everywhere. She turned out to a friend of a lot of my friends. Tracie also transferred into my English composition class, impressing everyone with an essay about growing up with a white father and black mother in Venice, Italy. I'd walk with Tracie to her next class after English, trying to get some idea of her relationship status.
When Tracie showed up alone for the girl's lacrosse team fundraiser party, I thought that was a very good or very bad development.
When I finally caught up with her, Tracie was a little buzzed, as was I and everyone else present. She was having an animated debate with a few of the 800 pound gorillas that comprised our football team about the possibility of woman defeating a man in combat.
Tracie was holding her own, having just beaten one of the blockheads in arm wrestling. The guys loudly claimed Tracie was lucky.
"Luck? Shit! That's strength!" Tracie declared and flexed her bicep. Her brown skin bulged noticeably as her muscle tensed.
"You couldn't fight a guy and win!"
The voice belonged to Holly, the blond girlfriend of an undetermined number of football team members.
Tracie stared back sharply at Holly.
"I could."
The expressionless certainty of Tracie's answer silenced the jocks. A grin went across Tracie's face. "I could fight any one of you simples..." Tracie swigged the remains of her beer and brought the bottle down on the table with a hollow "clank."
"..right now!"
Awed silence engulfed the room before the blond elbowed the guy next to her.
"No way!" he blurted, not even facing the blond. "I don't fight women."
He glanced at the idiot next to him, as if to ask "and you?" triggering a panicked chain reaction of glances and grunts that ended with the place kicker.
"What about him?" the kicker asked, pointing at me.
"What about you, Jeff?" asked Tracie, stepping toward me; a cue to the others to clear out the furniture. "Would you fight a girl?"
I looked at Tracie's sleek legs and smooth, muscular arms as my hands slowly drew into fists.
"Yeah, I would..." which was in total contradiction of how I'd been acting all my life.
"I can't fight these jackasses, Jeff. I could hurt them!"
Tracie's voice was lower, soothing almost affectionate. "But you can fight me and we can have some fun!"
That was all I needed. I had my hands raised in the best imitation of a boxing stance I could conjure. Tracie stifled a laugh and put up her fists.
I made the opening shots at Tracie. She shrugged them off and took her time responding.
"I'm going to put on a show for the guys before I knock you out," Tracie whispered. Then she opened up on me.
Fists landed all over me, concentrating on my mid section and chest, trying to wear me down. I began fading quickly and when Tracie saw me starting to slip, her punches became more precise.
With no training or experience in boxing, I did what came natural: the stupid thing. I went after Tracie, landing a few more punches. Her responses were swift and precise, dodging two of my swingers and then slugging me on the jaw.
Before I recognized what Tracie was doing she had forced me into a corner. The jocks and the blond gathered around me, cheering Tracie on.
All I saw were Tracie's fists hammering away. A hard right cross tagged my chin and I felt myself sag downward. How did I get in this? was one of my last coherent thoughts and even that one was fuzzy.
Tracie delivered a gut shot and heard her say something but my drifting mind never captured it. I thought much I loved strong girls.
A punch came at me. Reality was shut off.
I slide to the floor, dipping into the relief of darkness.

I was out cold for five minutes. The blond gave me the ten count and then she and Tracie carried me to the nearby couch. Tracie stayed with me until I completely recovered.
Tracie and I dated for the next two years, until she went home to Venice to see her ailing parents. I never saw Tracie again.

Missy and Evie

Evie had a slim, flexible body. Her small, roundish face seemed almost feline to her boyfriend, Larry. They had been a couple for the last two years and Larry was content. Evie loved sex and that was half of what Larry needed from a woman. The rest was fidelity.
"I just have to lay back and get laid," he told his male friends at the gym where Larry trained to box.
Despite that remark, Larry was never smug with Evie or took for granted their relationship. Bitter experience taught Larry never to assume a woman would always be there.
But more than that, Larry saw a searching look to Evie, like a person scanning for the final piece of an internal jig saw puzzle.
Evie had gone to the gym a few times to see Larry spar. She was impressed with her boyfriend's physical grace, but Evie found the atmosphere stifling. Evie left before Larry was finished with his session on her third visit. She sat in the nearby grean and open park, with the au pairs and new mothers.
Later that night, as they lay in Larry's bed, Evie admitted she would never go back to the gym.
"There's no air in that place," she added.
Caressing Evie's bare belly as they talked, loving the smoothness of her skin, Larry realized Evie had no male friends besides himself.

Missy had listened to Evie describe Larry in the ring. Missy figured her friend was exaggerating because she was still in love with Larry. Then Missy went to the gym herself and saw Evie wasn't embellishing. Larry moved fast and hit hard and Missy found that interesting.
When she was alone with Larry, Missy would probe him with boxing questions. Did he know how dangerous the sport could be? Was it right that women were fighting now? Would he box a woman?
Larry dropped the benign reserve he kept with all of Evie's friends when Missy brought up boxing and always gave a fervent response to every question. When Evie entered the room, Missy was discussing something else.
Missy knew Evie well and long enough to give Evie advice on what to do and not to do. Evie called Larry after their second date and stayed with him after she began to think he was a little dull, all at Missy's urging and was happy with her choices.
When Evie explained that she was looking for more in life than Larry and work, Missy suggested boxing.
"I told you I hate that place," Evie replied. "I could never be a boxer."
"Larry doesn't seem to have trouble with it."
"Larry is in his natural habitat in the ring, he moves like a tiger."
Missy raised the palms of her hands between Evie and her. "You could be a tigress! Go ahead, take some shots!"
Evie first shook her head, but then her fists smacked Missy's hands. Evie began to laugh and she struck her targets harder. Missy was laughing, too, Evie noticed. Punching is fun, Evie decided.

Evie threw punches in the air in front of of Larry, who was looking at his girlfriend in confusion.
In the past few weeks Larry had noticed how the minimal fat on Evie had vanished after she started working out. He had complimented her, saying Evie hadn't looked so good in a long while. But Larry was startled by Evie in a sports bra and tight gym shorts, pitching her fists as she kept her guard up.
"I want to fight, Larry" Evie said, with a sly, half smile.
"You want to box?" asked Larry. "You, who hated the gym, want to box?"
"I've been training."
"With who?" A number of situations, involving some of his male friends, none of them ending happily, raced through Larry's mind.
"Me." interjected Missy.
"You? Missy, when did you learn to box?"
"Just recently. Evie and I got some training manuals and DVDs out of the library," Missy explained with a perverse simplicity.
"And now Evie can box?"
"Yes!" Evie stated. She punched her boyfriend in the chest. Hard.

"I'll referee," Missy volunteered and when Larry reappeared dressed in T-shirt and sweats, pulling on his boxing gloves. Evie, already dressed for combat, paced like a she-cat around her corner of the living room, now cleared of furniture. Only thick blankets and pillows covered the carpeted floor.
"Let's go, Evie," Larry said, impressed at the solid stance Evie was using as they both circled each other. They threw punches carefully; Evie wanting to provoke Larry into action, while he waited to see what Evie had as a fighter. Standing as close as possible to the fighters, Missy was delighted to see that neither hesitated to hit the person they loved.
Larry let Evie chase him a little before hooking Evie into a clinch. He worked her mid section with a few punches, most of which she blocked. The few that connected caused Evie to "OOOOOHH!" or "OOOFFFF!" The winded Evie back peddled from from Larry's fists, creating an opening between them.
WHAP!!
Larry uppercuted his lover on the button of her chin.
Evie frooze in place, suddenly staring far away beyond Larry and wall behind him. The voices of Larry and Missy gently struck her body and melted, leaving behind blurred words.
Evie's eyes sank shut and she went to sleep. She fell forward to the floor, two pillows partially breaking her fall as she landed face down.
"Shit!" Larry barked, his voice verging on panic.
Missy was already counting her friend out.
"Wake her up!" yelled Larry as Missy reached "SIX!"
Missy glared up at Larry, her eyes shining with pleasure. "Okay, grab her legs!"
Clutching Evie by her bent knees, Larry lifted the unconscious girl they had just turned over on her back. Missy waited a moment, still looking at the slumbering girl and grabbed Evie's under arms.
Evie came around a few seconds after they settled her on Larry's bed. Groggy, she didn't speak for a minute, but sat up slowly and stared at Missy and Larry.
"Larry, give us a minute," Missy asked. "She'll be fine."
Larry protested, but Missy and then Evie looked at him blankly. A feeling of unwelcome came over Larry and exited the bedroom. Missy closed the door behind him gently.

Larry had a beer down the street and watched a few innings of a Mets game. He spent another hour in the local bookstore, where he carefully flirted with the blond behind the counter. She had praised his purchase of detective novel.
Returning to his apartment and entering his bedroom, he saw Missy naked, sleeping on the bed. Larry admired her breasts and thighs even as he felt twinges of hate for the personality lurking behind the lovely face.
Leaning against the bathroom door, he heard the shower running, knowing it was Evie. He had lost track of the times he had simply walked into the shower while Evie was using it and made love with her. Larry turned away and waited in the kitchen.
Evie appeared a few minutes later, wearing her soft white bath robe. Kissing Larry on the back of the ear, she slipped her arms across his neck and down his chest, hugging him.
"I still love you Larry," she whispered. "I just needed this, needed this to happen."
Larry tenderly touched her arm and then kissed it. He knew she was telling the truth and told himself he was only going to get half his needs from Evie.

Desiree's First

Sam knocked Desiree out in the third round of their bout. Desiree was unconscious for five minutes and had to be carried to the gym's recovery room.
While she slept off the effects of her first knock out provided by Sam's power right hook, Desiree dreamt of Grace.
The pair had been working out together, with Grace, a little older than Desiree, the recent high school graduate, giving some pointers about boxing. Desiree was a little in love with her training partner.
In the dream, Desiree and Grace stood in the boxing ring, sparring, playfully talking trash, each telling the other how they planned to defeat their opponent. All the time coyly smiling at each other, especially Grace, who flirting-teasingly punched at Desiree.
When the buzzer sounded, Desiree began throwing punches in earnest, that Grace blocked. Then Grace caught Desiree's face in the palm of her left boxing glove. Desiree, school girl laughter echoing through the dream, continued to swing at Grace.
"Hey! Not fair!" Desiree declared between giggles.
The match felt like a giddy, coltish playground game to Desiree. Sensations from girlhood welled up and tingled in Desiree as Grace continued to restrain her.
WHAM!!
Grace's idle boxing glove slammed down on Desiree's head.
"I love you, Desiree!" Grace cooed as shinny silver stars crowded Desiree's dream. Desiree loved Grace, also, but she couldn't say the words. The lights were going out in Desiree's head just when the canvas was rushing up to greet her.
Desiree lay out cold at the feet of her beloved.

Desiree was a few days recovering from her first ring defeat. She had decided she needed a trainer. That weekend she invited Sam to have a drink with her and they spent the night together.
Desiree found that paternal men like Sam were always ready for sex with her and she believed that she would eventually settle down with someone like Sam. She also got Sam to admit, after fucking him most of the night, that he was turned on by seeing a female boxer unconscious on the canvas.
"You looked particularly satisfying," Sam added. "One leg straight out and the other bent up."
"Like this?"
Desiree lay back, imitating her unconscious self, arms flung out, eyes closed, mouth slack, her left leg flat on the bed, her right knee pointed up.
"Exactly!" Sam said, slowly climbing over Desiree.
Desiree cried "Oh yes!" and was stirred by Sam's penetration, revived like Sleeping Beauty.

Desiree and Grace discussed a trainer named Peter she knew who would get Desiree ready for her next fight. They also talked about the bout with Sam as they finished a bottle of white wine Desiree had in the refrigerator.
Grace had fought Sam twice in the past and respected him as person and a fighter.
"But he hammered you, Dez! You were completely knocked out!"
Grace felt a good boxer with potential shouldn't take a knock out so early as Desiree did.
"How did I look?"
Grace let out a sharp laugh. "You were on your back, out!" Grace imitated the ref's sweeping hand motion when Desiree was declared out. "You were fast asleep! Don't you remember?"
"No." Desiree sat closer to Grace. "I barely knew anything, just that I felt so relaxed and....exposed..."
When Grace said nothing, Desiree pressed forward, allowing her nose to softly brush Grace's. Their lips touched and then pressed into each other. Desiree chased Grace's tongue around her mouth as she unbuttoned her friend's jeans. Just as quickly, Grace removed Desiree's skirt and threw Desiree's panties on the floor.