Brawler (7 page)

TEN

Jaz

Day twenty-nine.

Ethan stood in the middle of my living room, wearing nothing but his boxing gloves. His cock hung heavily between his legs, not completely hard, but not soft by any stretch of the imagination. “How hard?” he asked.

I glanced down at his cock and then lifted my eyes to meet his. God, he was so fucking sexy. “Hard enough I remember it,” I responded.

I lowered my hands.

He punched me in the center of the face, knocking me off-balance and almost toppling me over. Tears ran down my cheeks. Not tears from crying, but tears caused by being hit right in the middle of my nose.

I shook my head and wished I could wipe my watering eyes, but the boxing gloves I was wearing prevented it.

“Enough?” he asked.

It wasn’t. I didn’t feel the rush of sexual emotion yet. Not like I did when Kelsey caught us in the ring. Maybe I needed to hit him. “Tighten your jaw muscles.”

He narrowed his eyes and lowered his hands.

“You sure you’re ready?”

He blinked and nodded slightly.

I swung a hard right cross, landing right on the tip of his chin. He stumbled three or four steps to the rear, eventually catching his balance and shaking his head from side to side. “Holy shit,” he exclaimed. “You hit hard as fuck.”

“Good to know,” I said. “I’ve always wondered.”

I stole a glance at his cock. It was slightly harder than before. My pussy began to tingle at the thought of fighting and fucking at the same time. I pounded my gloves against my stomach. “Give me a good three or four to the body.”

I was wearing a plaid skirt, no panties, and a sports bra. Considering the size of my boobs, the sports bra was mandatory. The plaid skirt, however, was optional. A request on Ethan’s part to fulfill some ridiculous fantasy.

A commando schoolgirl boxer.

“Are you sure?”

“Hurry up,” I demanded. “I’m getting horny as fuck.”

I extended my arms to the side, giving him a free shot at my torso. He unleashed a three-punch combo to my mid-section, pulling his punches slightly. The quick series of half-power blows knocked me back about six feet and caused the breath to shoot from my lungs.

As I fought to breathe there was no doubt in my mind that my pussy was soaked. “Put ‘em up,” I howled.

His eyes widened. He raised his gloves. I stepped toward him and as soon as I was within reach, we exchanged blows for several long seconds, me hitting him with all I had, and him returning punches that were packed with about half the power he was capable of unleashing.

Thirty seconds later, and I was covered from head to toe in sweat, and my arms felt like Jell-O. I was done with the fighting, and was ready to move on to the fucking.

I lowered my tired self to my knees. “Stick…your cock…in my…mouth,” I said between breaths.

He didn’t hesitate. In three short steps, his hips were against my face and his rather flaccid cock was in my mouth. I realized, just like Rachel predicted I would be, that I was the blowjob girl. But. I was preparing to become the boxer in the plaid skirt who fucked Ethan senseless.

I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled against his ass with my gloves, more for my benefit than his. Something about having a man’s ass in my hands while I sucked his cock made me wetter than wet. I sucked on his rapidly growing shaft until it filled my throat. Four or five good gagging fits later, and I stood up with watering eyes.

He returned a worried stare.

“Don’t worry,” I said with a grin. “I’m gonna give you the good stuff.”

I turned toward the couch and bent over. With my boobs buried in the cushion and my ass high in the air, I reached for my skirt, only to quickly remember I was wearing boxing gloves. Half a dozen unsuccessful attempts to raise my skirt over my ass later, and I surrendered the idea and glanced over my shoulder.

Completely naked with the exception of his red and white boxing gloves, Ethan stood behind me wide-eyed and rock hard.

“Just fuck me,” I demanded.

He pounded his gloves together as if preparing to begin a fight.

He lifted his bare foot and easily flipped the back of my skirt over my ass and onto the back side of my hips. His gloves squeezed my waist. With neither of us able to guide his throbbing cock into my wet and willing hole, it danced around between my legs for some time before finally landing perfectly centered between my pussy lips.

Before we got started, I needed to make sure we were on the same page, sexually speaking. “I want it rough.”

His cock still hovered in mid-air, tickling my pussy with each breath he took. He cleared his throat. “Rough?”

“Rough as fuck,” I assured him.

With one hard shove, he filled me with cock and forced the air from my lungs.

I grunted like I’d been gut-punched.

Holy fuck. That’s a lot of cock.

“Are you alright?”

I raised my right glove high in the air and waved it. “I’m good,” I lied.

I felt like I was being fucked by an arm. I knew his cock was big, but I didn’t realize just how large it actually was. With it shoved balls-deep inside of me, I was quickly reminded that it had been a long time since I’d had sex. Furthermore, I had a newfound awareness that my ability to comparatively measure a cock based on memory alone wasn’t a strength I possessed.

I bit into my bottom lip and mentally prepared for the sexual beating I’d been hoping for.

Ethan didn’t disappoint.

I felt like I was losing my virginity – again – and I loved it.

Blazing a brand new path down a previously traveled road, he thrust his way deep into my memory bank. Leaving a permanent mental impression with each savage thrust, he pounded every inch of himself into me without reservation.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

We were just getting started, and absolutely nothing or no one prior to him mattered. Ethan had bought and paid for my pussy in the first few strokes, and with each additional thrust he was paying his rent well into the future.

Two minutes into our sexual adventure, and he owned me.

Owned. Me.

His cock now fit me like a glove. His hips slapped against my ass with precision. I no longer felt like I was being ripped apart. I was only being fucked. And fucked good. It was the kind of sex that a girl thinks about for a lifetime. The one sexual adventure that all future sex would be compared to.

Each stroke brought an entire mind full of sexual emotion, and it all seemed new to me. While I attempted to process just what it was I was feeling, he would withdraw himself, taking away all of the feelings I was trying desperately to identify. Immediately, he would shove me full once more, bringing another dose of sensual overload.

He pounded himself into me deeply. The small living room smelled like sweat, sex, and testosterone.

Whatever had happened to me in the past wasn’t sex. This? This was sex. This was what songs were written about, movies were produced in an effort to replicate, and books were written about in an attempt to explain.

“Hit me,” I bellowed.

“What?”

“Hit me.”

I wanted to talk dirty to him, explaining what I felt and what I wanted, but I couldn’t. He had fucked me into a reduced state of mental being, and I was no longer capable of reasoning. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be vocal during our sexual encounter, I was simply incapable of using my mind for much more than my feeble attempts to identify what I was feeling.

“Where?” he asked.

It took me a minute to realize just what he was asking me. Only after clearing my mind of the blissful thoughts that filled it did I remember that I’d all but demanded that he hit me.

“Anywhere,” I responded.

He playfully tapped the side of my head with the inside of his right glove. The smell of leather filled my nostrils. It reminded me of the gym, fighting, and our little living room brawl. It was exactly what I had hoped for, but I wanted more.

“Harder. Ass. Face. I don’t care,” I growled. “Just hit me. Hit me and fuck me.”

He continued to fuck me rhythmically, his hands lightly bouncing off the sides of my face and the back of my ass while he did so.

I was about to reach climax.

“Harder,” I grunted.

His gloves began to rain down on me, one after the other, while he continued to fuck me. His balls banged against my pussy. His hands banged against the side of my face. And, his cock banged against spots inside of me I was unaware even existed.

My mind escaped me and my legs began to shake.

I arched my back and cried out. “Holy fuuuuuck!”

I felt his cock swell, and he did the same.

“Aaaarrrghhh,” he growled.

The orgasm worked its way from my toes to my temples. Simultaneously, a tingling from deep inside my pussy seemed to burst well within me, leaving me in an almost confused state of being. I buried my face into the couch cushion and screamed. It was an orgasm unlike anything I had felt in the past, and I was certain – at least at that moment – that I would never live to feel another like it again.

A few seconds into my sexual release, and I realized he wasn’t done fucking me. Still groaning into the now silent room, his cock burst inside of me, causing me to reach climax again, in a different fashion altogether.

He held his cock in place and continued to groan. My body shook and shuddered, exhausted from the fighting, the sex, and the two-hour workout that led to it all.

My upper body collapsed onto the couch. He flopped down beside me. I felt his cum run down my inner thigh.

I didn’t care.

We turned our heads to face one another.

“That was fucking hot,” he said.

“Uh huh,” I murmured. “Your cock. It’s--”

“Too big?”

I was going to say huge.

“No,” I said. “It’s perfect.”

“Good, because there for a while I was afraid it wasn’t going to fit in your tight little pussy.”

You’re not the only one.

“You like it?”

He blinked his eyes and sighed. “Yeah.”

“Good,” I said. “Because now it’s ruined.”

He blinked and stared. “What do you mean?”

Believe me, you’d never understand.

“Nothing,” I lied. “I think I’m delirious.”

And that, at least, was true.

ELEVEN

Jaz

Day thirty-three.

“Oh my God, already?” she asked.

I finished wiping off the table and sat down. “What do you mean
already
?” I moved the condiment caddy back to the center of the table and waited for her to respond.

“Well,” she said. “You just sucked his cock the other night.”

“And on the first night that we talked about him you accused me of acting like I was fifteen. And you told me not to be the blowjob girl. How long do most
adults
wait to fuck?”

She shrugged. “I just go for it.”

“Yeah,” I said with a sarcastic grin. “Me too.”

She placed her hands on her hips and shot me a look. “So?”

I wanted to tell her all the sordid details, but decided to make her beg for them. “What?”

“Does he have a nice dick?”

Yeah, if he was a fucking horse.

I shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Was he any good?”

Any good? He fucked me into a state of mental retardation.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, huh? Just yeah?”

I felt giddy about it all, and I couldn’t wait to tell someone, and she was the only
someone
I had. “His body is solid muscle, his cock is the size of my arm, and he’s got the stamina of a true porn star. He fucked me until I couldn’t talk, think, or even fucking see straight. And that’s the truth.”

She stood with her mouth agape and stared. “Really?”

I nodded. “Uh huh.”

“You got any pics of his dick?”

“Seriously? No. I was too busy moaning and having orgasms to take any pics.”

“He hasn’t sent you one single pic of his dick?”

“Sent me one?”

“Yeah. Sent you one.”

“No,” I said. It seemed like a ridiculous question on her part, so I had to ask. “Do guys actually do that?”

She looked at me with crazy eyes. “Really?”

I shrugged. “Yeah.”

“They do it all the time. You know, to try and get you interested.”

And therein lied the only explanation I needed. The fact it never happened to me made perfect sense. I typically gave up the pussy pretty quickly, hence the lack of need for guys to coerce me with pics of their dicks.

“Huh,” I said. “Maybe they do it here, but not in Nebraska. Not where I’m from.”

“Oh, I forgot you were from the sticks.”

I chuckled. “No dick pics in the sticks.”

“So he’s got a big dick, huh?”

I inhaled a deep breath and let half of it out, responding as I exhaled. “Massive.”

She sat down, tossed her towel on the table in front of her, and cleared her throat. “I had this guy I was fucking when I was in high school. His name was Steve. Steve Cooley. His dick was huge. I was a senior and he was like, I don’t know, maybe twenty-two years old. My parents acted like he was forty. Anyway. So we were out on a date and I thought I needed to suck his dick to keep him interested, so I offered. And he whipped it out. I just stared. I’d only seen a few dicks at the time, and they were both high school dicks, so my dumb ass was convinced all older guys had great big dicks. Like they grew a few more inches when they got out of school.”

I laughed. “They don’t?”

“I don’t think so. They don’t grow like that. Do they?”

I was joking, initially. Now she had me wondering. I spoke my way through my thought process. “Well, at some point they do, or babies would have great big dicks. I used to baby sit, and I can assure you babies don’t have ‘em. So, maybe it’s like arms and legs, and cocks quit growing when the other stuff quits.”

“So, when a guy reaches full height, and he’s not growing any more, his dick is at full size?”

“I suppose so,” I said.

“Well, my younger brother kept getting taller until he was like twenty-one. His junior year in college, he finally stopped. Six foot four. So, is it just a height thing?”

I shrugged.

“When guys get thicker, when they fill out, do their cocks get thicker?” she asked.

It was a good question. Ethan was lean and muscular, and his cock was as fat as my wrist. I couldn’t imagine it getting any thicker. Hopefully he wouldn’t ever gain weight, and I wouldn’t have to worry about it.

“You know,” she said. “When guys gain weight, they get thick all over. Arms, legs, waist, neck. All of it. You know?”

She had a great point. I tried to imagine Ethan slightly overweight, and grew sick at the thought of it.

“So this Steve guy. Did you ever fuck him?” I asked.

“Oh, hell yes. We fucked like rabbits. Until my dad found out.”

“Was he the biggest you’ve ever had?”

“Yeah. Biggest ever.”

“Was it different? You know, was there a difference between his and everyone else’s? I mean, I know there was in size, but was there a difference in what it felt like?”

Before she answered, I felt a need to correct myself. “Did it make you
feel
different? You know, was the sex different?”

She gazed beyond me, inhaled a deep breath, and exhaled without ever focusing on me. “Best sex ever.”

“Were the orgasms different than with the other guys?”

“Oh, hell yes. Orgasms with him? I can still remember ‘em. Once, I had one so hard that I couldn’t get my legs to work. I couldn’t fucking walk. I’m serious. I had to sleep it off. I couldn’t even get up to go to the bathroom.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah. The orgasms I had with him made my legs shake, and they made me act dumb sometimes. You’ve heard people say ‘fuck your brains out?’ Well, that’s true. Kind of. He’d fuck me and there were times I’d look around his room like I’d never seen it before. Like everything was new. Then, ten minutes later, I’d be okay. Oh, and before him? One orgasm, and that was it. When
he
fucked me? I’d have six or seven. It was crazy.”

“So what happened with your dad?”

“Oh. Yeah. It was a bad deal. I’d missed my period, and I thought I was pregnant. I was scared, and I told my mom. So, we went and got a test, and I wasn’t. But what did she do? Told my dad. And then he went to Steve’s house and threatened him. I got grounded. After that, it was all over. He moved away right after that.”

“You got grounded for thinking you were pregnant?”

She shook her head and laughed. “No. I got grounded for dating a guy my dad prohibited me from dating.”

Most parental decisions fascinated me. My father never gave two shits what I did or who I saw, he hated me regardless. A parent attempting to protect their child from harm didn’t seem like a bad thing at all. I acted shocked for the sheer sake of conversation. “He forbid you?”

“Yeah. He did shit like that all the time. House parties? God. Every weekend he’d threaten me.”

“Did you go?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you?”

I pretty much did whatever I wanted without fear of
additional
repercussion. “Sure.”

“Back to the big cock thing,” I said. “So since then, have you had the six or seven orgasm thing again?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

“No big cocks since?”

“Not like Steve’s,” she said with a laugh. “Probably never will be.”

“That sucks.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Do you miss it?” I asked.

“Only every time I have sex.”

I wondered what my sex life would be like if Ethan never fucked me again. I sat silently and stared out into the parking lot, questioning if it would be better to stop, or truly have him ruin me forever by fucking me for a few weeks or a month and then deciding he wanted to stop.

“So do you think Steve’s cock ruined you?”

“What do you mean?”

I hated to rub salt into an open wound, so to speak, but I really wanted to know. “Did it make it hard for you to be truly satisfied with whoever you’re fucking now?”

Her eyes dropped to the floor and she shrugged. After a moment’s thought, she looked up. “Kind of. It’s just, now? Now I always think about what it would be like if the guy I’m fucking had Steve’s dick.”

And that was what I was afraid of.

It may have been premature by some people’s standards, but it was time Ethan and I had a talk.

About his cock.