The Boxer: Kerry

Two things happened in the immediate aftermath of the club's first fight, where we managed to squeak out an overall club win on points. First, and most importantly, we caught the attention of local sponsors. Second, we lost about half our fighters, but picked up some new guys who were interested in boxing.

Boxing is a physically and psychologically tough sport. Training is just a preview. About half the team decided, for one reason or another, that they weren't really into a sport where, even when you win, you take a serious beating. From my point of view that was completely understandable. The next day everything hurt. Even parts of me I didn't think got hit hurt.

For me, the physical component of it was challenging. I came out of that first real fight aching all over, so the negative part of it was the pain. I had a low-grade headache. My left eye swelled nearly shut. I had a fat upper lip. My left ear hurt. My stomach hurt. My right shoulder hurt. I definitely questioned my choice of a sport.

But the psychological component more than made up for it. I was on a high. I'd won my first fight. That feeling when the boosters cheered was awesome. I walked taller just thinking of all the accolades and pats on my back. That was all tangled up with the memories of Cindy's soft mouth closing around my cock, with the memories of pinning her against the wall and pounding into her, then taking her to her knees, my hips slapping against her ass. Pleasure and pain were tangled tightly together in my immediate memories.

We had three days of rest after that Saturday and I spent it recovering and masturbating. I swear I must have masturbated five or six times a day. It was like my testosterone levels went berserk. By Wednesday most of the pain and swelling had receded and I'd cum so many times I lost count, masturbating multiple times a day, whenever I could get fifteen minutes to myself.

Wednesday night we had a club meeting. Those of us who had won our bouts got our checks and nice little bronze medals. It was a combination of prize money for individual victories and a percentage of the clubs take from the door and concessions. My check was for 175 dollars, which was impressive to me in exchange for less than nine minutes of getting punched in the head. What can I say, I was young and stupid.

A lot unfolded in that meeting though. As a club we'd picked up half a dozen sponsors. One of the local auto dealerships donated a used 12 passenger van. The local sporting goods store donated new equipment. A local franchise athletic club gave us free memberships and two of their trainers volunteered to join our coaching staff.

The business side of the club launched that night as well. The boosters were officially organized and elected officers, most of whom I knew by name alone. Frank Taylor, a local retired businessman, took the role of the club's business manager. His wife, a tall and tawny haired woman, became the president of the booster club. Half a dozen other local luminaries were selected for the board. Papers were drawn up and the club was incorporated.

There was a lot of handshaking as we were introduced to the various players or as they introduced themselves. About halfway through it someone thought to set up a reception line and so we were all lined up against one wall and we were introduced to more people than I can remember.

Cindy was there with a twinkle in her eye and a slight curve on her beautiful lips. She introduced herself as if she'd never met me, then introduced her friend Kerry. Kerry had a strong, cool handshake.

I didn't see them again until the end of the evening, after everything had wrapped up and I was walking out to my pickup in the parking lot. Most of the crowd had dispersed by then and I saw Kerry standing by a yellow Subaru, leaning in, talking to Cindy in the driver's seat. Cindy saw me, waved, and said something to Kerry. They laughed and Cindy pulled out and drove away.

Kerry waved at her and turned toward me, crossing the parking lot with long strides. Away from the crowd I got my first real look at her. She was tall, nearly as tall as me, with dark eyes and long dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail. She was wearing the universal small-town uniform, blue jeans, a t-shirt, a bomber jacket, and cowboy boots. My overall impression was athleticism. There was something in her that looked lean and sleek.

I'd opened the driver's door, preparing to get in, but stopped as she approached. She ran a hand over my shoulders as she passed me and slipped into the pickup.

"Give me a ride home." She said. It wasn't a question.

"Sure." I said as she slid across the seat to the passenger's side. I jumped into the driver's seat and started the truck.

"Where to?"

"Crooksville." She said. It was a small town about ten miles away down the state highway to the west. The community building was just off the highway, so it was just a quick left and then another quick left and we were on our way.

We made small talk as we rolled down the road. She pulled one leg up and tucked it under herself, turning to face me on the seat. In the glow of the dashboard lights, she was a vision. Her lips were curled in a half-smile when she wasn't talking to me, and I had the sense that she was measuring me. We talked about my limited experience at boxing, compared who we knew in common, and kind of laid out our personal histories to see where we overlapped.

It was a quick drive to Crooksville. In rural middle America ten miles means ten minutes. Once we got there, she directed me down one of the side streets to a small white frame house at the end of the road, surrounded by a neat hedge, with a single large oak tree in the front yard. Crooksville was not big. It had a main street, with a bar and a gas station, and six or seven short side streets and that was about it.

"Come in for a cup of coffee." She said. Again, I didn't get the feeling it was a question, but a command.

"Sure." I said, and followed her up the narrow sidewalk, across the small, screened front porch, and through the door. Once inside, we crossed a neat living room and entered the kitchen. I took a seat at the table while she hit the brew button on the coffee machine. She pulled two cups out of the cabinet along with the bowl of sugar. Once the coffee was ready, she filled both the cups and joined me at the table. Neither of us took sugar.

She took a sip of her coffee and carefully looked me up and down. That little smile quirked the corner of her mouth.

"So," she said, "According to Cindy you fucked her pretty good the other night."

I am pretty sure I stammered when I said. "Well, that was not what I expected."

She laughed. "I'd have said it in the truck, but I was afraid you'd crash."

She took another sip of her coffee, and I subconsciously mirrored her. She let the silence linger for a bit.

"Well, is it true?"

"You'd have to ask her." I replied.

"Good answer. Small towns are gossip mills. If you can keep your business to yourself, you'll do well. Everyone is fucking everyone else, but if you say that, you'll get cut off quick enough. Cindy is my friend and she told me all the details. She said she blew you, that you have a beautiful cock, that you fucked her against the door, and then pounded her on her hands and knees."

She took another sip of coffee. I took another sip of coffee, keeping my mouth shut and quietly sizing her up.

She took another sip of her coffee, set the cup down, got up and came over to where I was sitting. She took my cup from my hand, placed it on the tabletop, and then guided me to twist the chair around so I was facing her. She took those long legs and straddled my thighs, settling down onto my lap. She took my face in both her hands, then leaned in and kissed me, deep and soft. She was an incredible kisser. I moved my hands to her hips and kissed her back.

She pulled back slightly and traced her fingertips over the side of my face, where the faint discoloration remained. She ran a finger across my lip, still tender and slightly swollen. She leaned in and kissed me again, soft and wet, with her tongue darting into my mouth, so very gently. Again, I returned the kiss, matching her softness. We kissed for a long time, her there, straddling my lap, her body pressed against mine. My cock started to harden, and she slowly ground herself against it.

"Can you fuck?" She asked, leaning back to look at my expression.

I nodded.

"Good." She said, smiling, "That's why I brought you here. Get undressed."

She moved off my lap, drawing a few feet away.

"Right here." She said and stripped her t-shirt off over her head.

I followed her, my t-shirt following hers onto the floor. She kicked off her boots and socks. I did the same, tossing mine into the growing pile of clothes. She unbuttoned her blue jeans and shimmied them down over her hips. I unbuckled my belt and unzipped my blue jeans and then stepped out of them, kicking them aside. She was wearing a dove gray matching bra and panties. She reached behind her back and unclasped the bra, then shrugged out of it. She had beautiful breasts, round and perfectly formed, with dark areolas surrounding small hard nipples.

"Sit back down." She said. I did, still wearing my gray cotton boxer-briefs. My cock was hard and straining against them. Wearing just her panties, she moved forward and straddled my legs again, the soft heat of her thighs sliding against mine. A moment later she was pressing into my chest, her warm skin was sliding over mine, and we were kissing deeply again. I could feel the softness of her breasts pressing against me, her hard nipples, tracing lines across my chest as she slowly writhed on my lap. Our hands roamed slowly over each other's body, over the shoulders, down the arms, across the sides, up the back. I mirrored her movements, feeling her warm skin under the palm of my hands. She found my nipples and traced her fingertips over them, teasing them, then bent her head and kissed each one, flicking at it with her tongue.

I leaned back and moaned as she worked my nipples, kissing them, caressing them, sliding her wet and hot tongue across them, then pulling them into her mouth and sucking at them. I just soaked it up, lost in the sensation. After a few minutes, she leaned back slightly and I leaned in and kissed her breasts, lavishing them with attention as she had done with mine. I couldn't tell you how long we made out, her straddling my lap, grinding softly against me, as we kissed and caressed each other.

Finally, she pulled back and stepped off me. Her eyes were bright with lust. She pushed my legs apart and knelt between them, then pulled my hips forward so I was just at the edge of the chair, leaning back. She ran her nails down my chest, lightly grazing. She smiled broadly and slid her hand over my hard cock, caressing it through the boxer-briefs. She looked down at it as she traced its length and shape with her fingernail. She repeated the trace, pressing harder, drawing a moan from me as my cock twitched in response.

"Beautiful."

She kissed it through the cotton, running a trail of kisses up and down the shaft, from the base to the tip. When she reached the tip, she sucked the head into her mouth, drawing strongly. It strained against the fabric, pressing upwards, and she was able to get the cotton covered head into her mouth. She sucked on it, tongued it, nipped at it. I couldn't do anything as she sucked, licked, and kissed my cock until the boxer-briefs were soaking wet.

She pulled back and admired her work. My cock was perfectly outlined, straining hard against the wet fabric. She stood up long enough to slip out of her panties and toss them aside. Then, she reached out and took the waistline of my wet underwear and I lifted my hips so she could pull them down and toss them aside as well. Free, my cock leapt straight up, laying against my abdomen. Pre-cum was oozing from the tip.

"Well, Cindy was right about that. You have a beautiful cock. Simply gorgeous."

I didn't know what to make of that. All I knew was that it was fully erect, head darkening, veins pulsing along the side of the shaft. No one had ever called my cock beautiful before, so I actually looked at it to see if I could see what she saw. It did look impressive, wet with her saliva, with the pre-cum, and hard as I had ever seen it.

She reached over and wrapped her hand around my cock, giving it a slight squeeze as she did so. Then, using my cock as a handle, she adjusted my position again, pulled my hips forward until they rested on just the edge of the kitchen chair. A look of concentration crossed her face, and she stroked up and down, squeezing and releasing.

"Fuck." She murmured.

She let go of my cock, then she moved forward and straddled my legs again. This time she placed the hard shaft again the lips of her pussy and rotated her hips, sliding up and down along the thickness. She ground her pussy against the hard shaft for several minutes. Then, she rose slightly, placed the head against her, making small adjustments until the head slipped inside of her.

"Put your hands here." she said, guiding them onto her hips. "No matter what happens, don't let me fall off."

Her hands came up to my shoulders and she slowly eased herself down. She was wet and hot and I slid easily into her, gasping at the sensation. She dropped all the way down, taking the hard length deep inside of her.

"God damn." She murmured again.

She started to work her hips in small, tight, circles, barely moving. The look on her face was pure concentration as she slowly ground herself on my lap. She kept this up for several minutes, just the slow, steady, rotating grind, my cock stirring around inside of her. I could feel her juices running out, smearing across my groin. Her breathing got deeper and slower.

"Ready?" She asked.

I nodded, not entirely sure what she was asking, but pretty damn sure I was ready for whatever it was.

I wasn't. She tightened her muscles and it felt as if a velvet hand grabbed my cock, squeezing down on the entire length of it. She slowly drew herself upward, her cunt tightly grasping the length of my cock as it eased out of her.

It was my turn to gasp, "Oh fuck!". I nearly came right then and there but managed to hold that sudden orgasm back.

She slid upward until just the swollen head was trapped in her tightness, then held it there, squeezing it even tighter. Then, suddenly, she released her grip and dropped back down on the shaft. I was gasping for air.

"Easy," she said, "easy, hold on, don't cum."

I nodded and she repeated the move again. The sudden tight grip of her cunt, the long slow slide up until just the head was trapped, the hesitation, the release, and the sudden plunge back into her. It took all my will power not to pump her full of cum.

"Fuck me." I said out loud, part wonder, part request, and part command. A smile curled her lips as she locked eyes with me. She repeated the move again and it was pure delicious torture, the way she tightened around me, locking me in her sheath, then the slow, agonizing feeling as she slowly squeezed and rode upward on my cock. I broke eye contact and looked down. The walls of her vagina were tightly gripping the shaft and extending outward as she rose.

I stared as she repeated it again and again and again, slowly, tantalizingly. Each rise and fall, each grip and release, that tight upstroke, the easy plunge back inside. I wanted to explode. Deep breathing kept me focused and kept me from cumming. She began to groan on each upstroke, a deep, earthy sound. Her scent filled the room, engulfing us. That wonderful scent of an aroused woman, intoxicating and maddening.

"Look at me." She said, "Look at me. Don't let me fall." I nodded mutely and tightened my grip on her hips in response. She nodded once and then let out a long slow breath.

She closed her eyes and leaned back. I took a firm grasp on her hips. She took one hand off my shoulder and reached down between us, running her fingers over my groin until they glistened with her juice. She put her fingers to my lips.

"Suck them." She said, "Get them wet."

I obeyed, tasting her for the first time. When her fingers were glistening, she slid her hand down her belly, extending her fingers in a sort of peace sign, the tips on each side of her clit. Through it all she was riding up and down on me, grip, release, grip, release. She started to slowly press into each side of her clit, a slow rotation in time with her rise and fall. I held onto her and watched the inner walls of her cunt extending on each upstroke, then the length of my shaft sliding back into her.

She was groaning almost continuously now, a deep, guttural groan. She slowed down, imperceptibly at first, then slower and slower until each stroke was taking a good ten seconds from the base of my cock to the tip. She leaned further back, until her weight was entirely in my hands, the muscles in my arms cording from the strain, my fingers dug deeply into her sweat slicked skin.

While her stroke slowed down, her rubbing increased in speed until it was almost frantic, the hard nub of her clit trapped between two rapidly stroking and pressing fingers. The angle of my cock made each upstroke even more intense, pushing the swollen head into the upper wall of her cunt, the angle increasing the sense of pressure.

She opened her eyes and looked at me, wide and wild. Then her eyes rolled back, the iris nearly disappearing beneath her lids, and she came with an animalistic cry. Her whole body started to shake. Her cunt clamped down on the shaft of my cock so tightly it was pinned within her. The walls of her cunt started to pulse along the shaft of my cock, a tight, rippling, grip.

"Ahhhhhhhhh..."

Her cry was continuous, an anguished, moaning, whimper that echoed through the quiet house. Her body started to ripple and jerk back and forth and she nearly fell from my grasp, her skin slick with sweat. Her nipples, arched toward the ceiling, were dark and hard. She twisted, jerked, and slammed into my lap, the muscles of her abdomen tightening and releasing, her six pack taut.

I held on and her orgasm shook and trembled through her for several minutes. Eventually the shudders slowed and then stilled. She was nearly dangling backwards off my lap, her head hanging down, her mouth open, held in place only by my iron grip and my cock deep inside her. I'd swear she was unconscious, or at least insensible, for several minutes. Then she began to stir, looking around the kitchen like she was trying to figure out where she was. She tried to sit up, fell backwards and then tried again.

This time I slid my hands under her sweat slicked back and pulled her up until she fell forward into my embrace. With my arms wrapped around her I held her there, stroking her back slowly, and letting her recover. She was crying into my shoulder, so I just murmured soft sounds and held her tightly, in awe at the power and passion of her orgasm. Her chest pressed tightly against mine and our deep breaths synched up, a steady rise and fall.

Without warning I came. My own orgasm rushed through me, quick and hard, my body shuddering as I poured into her, my cock pulsing. She made a soft sound.

"Ohhhhhhh."

She clenched her muscles, pulling each pulse from me. I came for a long time, fast at first, then slow, steady pulses that tapered off and died. She matched each pulse with a contraction of her cunt, milking the cum from me. I clung to her tightly, neither of us moving, just breathing together. How long we held each other like that I don't know. Long, intimate minutes until, gradually, her cunt relaxed, and I was absolutely drained.

Eventually, she moved, leaned back, and pulled away from me, out of the embrace of my arms, and stood up on shaky legs. As she slid off my cock, her cunt opened and thick, white cum poured out of her, across my lap and onto the floor. She reached between her legs, slid two fingers into herself, between her lips, then spread them apart, opening her pussy up. More cum poured out onto my thigh.