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Mixed Battles
The Pantyhose Pugilist
Product Details
Бренд:
Rules for losers
Уникальный код:
B-894
Mixed boxing, 310 pictures 1920x1080 (Full HD), partially CFNM, no blood,
“Angel?” It was Simone, one of the girls from another department that Angel often had a good gossip with.
“Hi Simone, what’s up?”
“Well, there have been rumours that you and Luke had a bit of a difference [gallery 888]. But I’m not after details. What I wanted to tell you is that he’s enrolled in boxing classes. My brother goes to them, and he told me that someone from my work had just started there.”
“Thank you, that’s interesting.”
Angel had ignored Luke’s words, “I’ll get even with you, you bitch” as being those of hurt male pride, which carried no threat. Perhaps she had been wrong. Boxing, eh? She was friendly with a boxing coach, who was often to be found socially at her wrestling/judo club, and he would always spar with her for a bit of practice. She knew the basics as it was.
Sure enough, a few months later, when it was time to go home, Angel found her way blocked by a truculent Luke.
“Excuse me, Luke,” she said, pleasantly enough.
“I haven’t forgiven you for what you did to me,” he told her, still blocking her way.
“I’m not surprised, I was a bitch.”
“Oh,” he answered, taken aback. “In that case, I’ll settle for an apology.”
“Well, you’re not getting one. Now what?”
“You had the advantage over me. You were an experienced wrestler and judo student. Well now, I’ve been going to boxing classes ever since. To even things up between us, it would be only fair if I took you on where I have the advantage. With fists.
“Okay, let’s get changed.”
Luke was surprised at her behaviour. She seemed no more put out than if he had reminded her that it was her turn to get the coffee. Still, he shrugged it off and went to change, then meet her in the ring.
Because Angel wasn’t put out. Simone’s brother had fed her regular bulletins about Luke’s progress in learning to box, and Simone had relayed the information to Angel. Such is the sophisticated spy network that so many workplaces seem capable of! She learnt all about his vulnerabilities, while at the same time she had some very energetic sparring sessions with the boxing coach, who was by this time her boyfriend.
So yes, she was quietly confident as she sashayed through the gym to join Luke in the ring. She knew she looked good in her figure-hugging grey leotard and her seductive pantyhose, that accentuated the shapeliness of her legs. She was gratified to see him ogling her as she climbed through the ropes. Then, heart beating just a little faster than normal, she went to meet him in the middle, fists up and thinking to herself, “I’ll have those shorts off him soon enough.”
Luke told himself he was on home ground this time. She was the one who was going to be out of her depth. He would just try out a little jab, first … damn, missed. God, that smile of hers was annoying! Okay, try smiling after this! Blocked; and still she was smiling.
Luke wasn’t stupid. You didn’t get to be as elusive as she was with no experience in boxing. He had been “had” he realised, as a right cross of his flew over Angel’s ducked head. Changing tactics, he tried a body shot, but she bent forward and to his side. His follow through left his face dangerously exposed to Angel’s right elbow, so she sent it hurtling against his chin.
He was shocked as much as he was hurt. He sprang back, partly from the force of the blow and partly as an instinctive defensive reflex. But there’s no greater invitation to attack than seeing your enemy in retreat; and Angel sprang at him, driving her left fist hard into the pit of his stomach.
Luke stooped then stumbled – and got an almighty crack on his left cheekbone from Angel. He dropped down to one knee, and the pantyhose pugilist swept her left fist in a mighty semi-circle to attack his opposite cheekbone. It spun him in the same direction and ironically helped him to find his feet again. But, while getting up, she struck him on the temple. As the waves of pain reverberated around his skull, he crouched. Angel, fired up and relishing the combat, banged her right fist into his jaw.
Landing on his backside, Luke then found himself attacked from above. Two ladylike legs stood over his shoulders, and one female fist caught him just above the left eye. It put him on his back. With terror, Luke beheld Angel preparing her right fist for a massive strike. He put his arms up to block it, so she punched him on the jaw with her left.
To his slight surprise, Luke didn’t feel much pain; instead, a sort of swimmy feeling came over him. Half in a dream, he noticed her right fist in the air again. She’s going to hit me again, is she? Okay then …
Still kneeling over him, Angel chuckled. What a tidy bit of work! She had knocked him out in the matter of a few minutes. Right, time to get those shorts off him, then stand and pose over him, as was her due.
Luke came round with a pantyhose-clad foot on his face. He wasn’t surprised to find himself naked, because she had done that to him before. But the foot on his face was humiliating, degrading, and he must restore a bit of pride. He stirred, so Angel stepped back a couple of paces, watching him with amusement. If that smile had been annoying earlier, it was infuriating now.
“Where did you learn to box?” asked Luke as they circled.
“I had a friend who is a boxing coach,” she explained. “I say ‘had’, because he’s now my boyfriend, and I’ll give him a treat tonight. I’ll give him a massage while I tell him how I beat you up. It’ll drive him wild!”
“Except you’re not going to beat me up,” Luke told her, firing a left cross. In a repeat of the start of the fight, it missed.
A right cross fared no better, Angel bending and moulding her elusive, flexible body out of harm’s way. Luke’s frustration was palpable as he repeatedly failed to score a hit. He was both wasting energy and becoming irrational. However, one thing he had managed to do was to put her on the ropes. Dodging yet another wild punch from Luke, she was surprised and disconcerted to feel them against her back. More importantly, it broke her concentration.
“Got you, you bitch!” Luke gloated, driving his forearm under her chin to wedge her against the ropes. Seizing her slim waist with his free hand gave him an idea, and he next grabbed her breasts with both hands through the thin material of her leotard.
“I’ve always wanted to do this!” he slobbered.
In response, Angel rammed her right knee up hard into his balls, pulling him towards her by the neck to reinforce the blow. Luke howled in pain and sank to the mat, clutching his injured manhood.
“And I’ve always wanted to do that,” she said softly. Somehow, her gentle, quiet voice was more effective for the role of dominatrix than ever a shout would have been.
“I hope you weren’t planning on another night of passion with your girlfriend,” she continued in the same tone to the writhing, moaning form on the mat. “I don’t think you’ll be able to do much now. By the way, how will you explain your black eye to her?”
“I haven’t got a black eye,” Luke sobbed into the mat.
“No, but you’ll be getting one,” she told him confidently, as she retired to a corner to fetch a drink she had brought.
She sipped her drink through a straw (naturally), watching with slight interest as Luke began to recover. Seeing her there so nonchalant enraged him. He scrambled to get up; she dropped her drink outside the ropes and steadied herself to receive the enemy. He came at her, roaring and making to grab her. She seized his outstretched right wrist and punched him on the chin at point blank range.
He stumbled back a couple of steps, surprised at the speed and ferocity of her punch. She followed and aimed a perfect kick to his stomach. One exquisitely shaped pantyhose-clad leg sailed towards him and her foot blasted his stomach. He closed his eyes with the pain - never a sensible thing to do when you’re facing someone like Angel.
She accepted the gift. With perfect use of her feet to give her just the right spring and balance, she shot her left fist into his right eye.
“There you are: one black eye, just as I promised,” she told him, smashing her right fist into his jaw.
Luke swung a desperate left hook. She felt the breeze from it as it soared past her face, and she responded with a hard left into his chest, her fist making an unpleasant hollow sound as it landed. By contrast, when she followed up with a right to his kidney, there was scarcely any sound, which belied the damage she inflicted on her target. To Luke, it felt as if she had set it on fire.
Pleased with effect of her body shots, Angel plunged her left fist low into his stomach. So low, in fact, that her fist landed in his pubic hair. Luke sighed with the searing pain of it.
Funny though, isn’t it? Angel knew that the body was where her opponent was most vulnerable, and where the quicker victory was to be gained, yet she preferred to punch him in the face. There was something about a man getting punched in the face by a woman that was more embarrassing for him than any other humiliation. So she landed a solid right on his jaw. Yes, well the effect was good enough, she observed with critical satisfaction.
Remembering how a previous punch to the chin had driven him back several paces, she hit him there crisply with her left. Oh yes, see how he skips back like a girl, trying to stay on his feet! Lovely!
Squatting slightly, she came in at the jaw she had only recently hit from underneath. “Create a weakness, then exploit it,” Ben, her boyfriend, had told her when they sparred. How right he was! She was moving him to her will all around the ring.
One other thing about face punches was that they tended to hurt your knuckles, so she returned to the soft target of his stomach. Luke groaned and coughed as her left fist worked more damage, his face a grimace of suffering.
Angel let him retreat a step, but only so she could give herself room to unleash a missile of a right cross, smack against the high cheekbone that she had hit earlier.
“I could quite get into this boxing,” she thought to herself, noting with satisfaction her male opponent’s wail of pain and his agonised expression. She was still observing the results of her work with a critical eye, like a craftsman taking a sober, restrained pleasure in the obvious progress of his task.
But it was time to revisit more old ground (and skin), so she zoomed a textbook left hook into Luke’s jaw before he could launch the cross he was lumbering up to deliver. That was the key: she had slowed him down with her barrage already, and she could react speedily to whatever he was preparing. His punch was comical as she rocked him off his perch, as it were, and he had to hop to his side to stay on his feet.
When he stopped hopping, her right fist went clanging noisily into his ear. For Luke, it was worse than the hollow sound her punch to his chest had made earlier. It was initially deafening; but its longer-term effect was to make everything sound foggy. It also impaired his balance. Indeed, it very nearly had him over.
Time to return to those body shots. She’d got him low in the stomach, then extremely low already, plus in the chest. So she banged one in mid-stomach this time. He crumpled around her fist, vainly trying to absorb the pain.
Not far from tears, and bitterly resenting his shapely opponent in her shimmering pantyhose, Luke clenched his left fist. But once again, Angel got there first with a right uppercut, angled in at his jaw and chin.
What’s it like getting punched around the ring by a woman, Luke? That was the thought that must have gone through his head, because with a hysterical but indecipherable shout of some sort of defiance, he fired a desperate lunge with his right. She batted it away with her right arm and dug her left fist low into his stomach. Shit, that hurt! Should he give up? Say he’d had enough? Never!
Anyway, she decided the issue for him. As soon as she had hit him, she zipped round 180 degrees and grabbed his right arm, still outstretched from his hopeless attempt at a punch. Boxing was all very well, Angel thought, but her first love would always be judo. With deft use of those versatile legs of hers, she created a momentum that send Luke sailing over her back, before plunging down to the mat in an ungainly sprawl on his back.
“Best throw I’ve ever done!” she thought happily, before punching the stricken male on his mouth and nose from above.
For the second time, Luke was mildly surprised that it scarcely seemed to hurt. He looked up dreamily to notice her right leg heading towards his face. “What lovely legs she has!” was his thought as he was assaulted by pantyhose.
Victory was sweet. Angel allowed herself a little self-indulgence and sat on his face. Fighting tended to excite her sexually, especially seeing a man go crashing to the mat after successfully throwing him, as she had just done. It wasn’t long before she climaxed (and Luke lost consciousness). With all sexual tension sated, she stood up, gave Luke one last glance – the craftsman again, looking with satisfaction at a job well done – and left the ring.
*****
Luke regained consciousness and made an effort to sit up. He put his head in his hands in despair. This was appalling. He had been beaten by a woman, twice. The first time, he might just about have saved some pride in that she was a skilled wrestler and judo artist, whereas he knew nothing about them. But the second time? Never. The story would get out and he’d be met with sniggers wherever he went. He would have to move to another town and change job …
“Ahem.” It was Angel, back in the ring in her office clothes, and looking down at him, with the slight, gently mocking smile of a woman who has beaten a man at something. “They’re going to lock the building up in a few minutes. You need to get dressed and leave.”
“Yeah, all right,” Luke glumly consented. He shook his head to himself at the swish of Angel’s skirt, as she turned and left the ring, her elegant high heels clicking towards the exit.
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