B-433 "The rude boxer"
Gallery size: 150 Full HD pictures
Mixed wrestling, Ballbusting, 150 pictures 1920x1080 (FullHD), partially CFNM, no blood.
Like a lot of young women, 18 y.o. Alena was a bit in love with Tyson – or at least the image of him. But she had more reason than most. As a promising sports student, she had become interested in all types of self-defence. It made an exciting change from the laborious round of supervising netball and rounders games in schools, for her teacher training. In her spare time she eagerly learnt the rudiments of martial arts, and looked to the professionals for inspiration.
Her favourite was Tyson, the boxer. As well as being strong, fast and exciting to watch, away from boxing he came across as a caring sort of person, which particularly appealed to impressionable young women like Alena. He campaigned for worthwhile causes, and pleaded with people to give up foreign holidays to save the planet from their carbon footprint. He condemned nuclear weapons, and strove to get his country to give up its deterrent. It's true there were a few rumours about him, and a tabloid newspaper had printed stories about him racking up scores of thousands of air miles on exotic foreign holidays himself. But these were dismissed as "right wing smears" or "jealousy" by him and his supporters.
So Alena wrote to him. She was eager to learn more about boxing, and she believed that someone so obviously kind like Tyson would reply with tips and information. He did more than that, though. She told him she was going to his next scheduled match, and he invited her to visit him "backstage" afterwards. All she had to do was to let the security guards know who she was, and they would let her through.
Alena put on her favourite dress for the match, and spent ages in front of the mirror fussing about her hair and so on, until finally she decided she could do no more to her appearance. (Apart from anything else, she would have been late.) During the match she cheered on Tyson with gusto, and was thrilled when he beat his opponent (a horrible man, she thought, who had been paid by McDonalds to advertise its unhealthy burgers).
Nervous and a little breathless, she made her way after the match to where Tyson had instructed, found the security guards, and was directed to his room. She knocked on the door. "Come in," said the voice, familiar to those like Alena who listened to his speeches.
"Hi," he greeted her. "You must be … Alena."
"That’s right," she gushed, a little surprised to find him in his underpants, even if it was a dressing room.
"Forgive me," she continued, producing a pen and booklet, "I know it’s silly, but I haven’t quite grown out of asking for autographs."
"Sure, Babe, hand them this way!"
She gave him the pen and booklet, not too happy about being called "Babe", and even less happy when he dropped them dismissively on the floor.
"Oh come on Babe," he urged her impatiently, "we both know why you’re here…"
He grabbed her shoulders and kissed her neck.
"No!" protested Alena, startled and frightened. "I meant everything in your letter. Please let me go!"
"Come on Babe," he repeated, "we can give each other a good time."
He moved her bodily into an adjoining room. It was hard work because she resisted, and he found her to be unexpectedly strong.
"Ok, if you want to put up a fight" – she screamed as he lifted her up and walked with her – "that’s fine with me. Why didn’t you tell me you like it rough?" he laughed, holding her one-handed above his head, "It’s just the way I like it!"
Alena gamely tried to fight back as he lowered her, pushing at his face, but it was ineffectual. He dragged her a short distance to where he wanted her and hurriedly pulled her dress off.
"Oh, lovely," he declared hungrily at her beautiful body displayed in her revealing leotard. "This is what I want," he told her unnecessarily, feeling the top of her thigh, and still further up. "Lovely university student’s thighs and love nest! Now, you just be a good girl while I – Ah, fuck!"
A lovely university student’s elegant, heeled boot caught him brutally in the face, before her right elbow struck him under the chin, clanging his teeth together. Tyson fell back with the blows, and Alena got up to make a run for it. With a furious roar, he gave chase. She heard him and panicked. She didn’t know where she was, and had no idea how to get out. She searched for an exit, but he was on her, grabbing her wrists.
"Now that wasn’t very friendly, was it?" he breathed into her face from behind before pushing her down on her back.
Still holding her by the wrists, he knelt across her, glaring into her face like a madman (which wasn’t far off the mark, as it happens).
"Naughty little bitch, aren’t you?" he seemed to be interrogating her, his face inches away from hers.
He turned her round, clasping her waist. She pushed his head, trying to dislodge him, before trying a different tactic. Keeping her hand on his hand, she turned the push into a caress, and smiled at him.
"Now that’s more like it!" he gloated, loosening his hold, "I was beginning to think you were unfriendly … ah, you bitch!
The sole of her boot cracked into his chin, and his teeth banged together a second time. Alena’s rising kick was perfectly aimed and timed. It rocked Tyson off balance and he fell back. Encouraged by her success, she decided on attack. She leapt on him from behind and trapped his right arm, locking it in the crook of her right arm, while seizing and imprisoning his left.
"You want it rough?" she demanded, "How about this?"
Tyson roared in pain as she turned the lock into a double arm twist, while she knelt on his neck for good measure. Her unofficial studying of martial arts was paying off in a way she had never anticipated.
She relinquished his left arm and freed his neck, opting for a headlock, but still keeping his right arm in place with her right leg. With her free hand she proceeded to do something that she had not learnt, but that instinct told her to do: she tugged down his underpants.
"What the fuck?" demanded Tyson.
"What’s the matter? I thought you wanted me to take your pants down!" Alena countered, beginning to enjoy herself now that her confidence was returning.
Maintaining the headlock, she pulled him down so that he was facing away from her, and ensnared him with her legs in a black widow. Her shiny left boot was wrapped over his thigh, and the toe of the boot ominously tapped his manhood, while all the time the headlock made him struggle for breath.
Joining the headlock with her other arm, Alena briefly flirted with a camel clutch before opting to kneel on her left leg, and put her prey on his back over her right leg, in a backbreaker. Tyson groaned as his spine was stretched in an increasingly grotesque angle. Then he jumped with surprise as a feminine hand cupped his balls.
"Is that nice, Tyson?" she asked softly.
"Well if you’d behaved like a real man, and we’d got to know each other, you might have got some of this. I like to give a man a treat, and make him feel good. But as you behaved like a randy ape, you’ll get – this."
Tyson yelled as Alena squeezed. The feminine hand, with the carefully polished and shaped nails, had the man screaming. She chuckled at the power it gave her. How to make a man plead and howl in a few simple moves!
"This is all very well," she said thoughtfully after a little while, "but I am leaving myself out. I know!" she concluded, instantly letting him drop, thankful and gasping, onto his front.
Alena hooked her thighs around his head, in a scissor, and dragged it using her strong legs until it could go no further, since his face was jammed against her sex. Then she lay back and luxuriated in the sensations this gave her. Meanwhile she almost suffocated Tyson in this most intimate way, before lowering his head a little and lying across him, but maintaining the scissor. She was in fact trying out moves she had learnt in theory but not put to the test until now. What a great way to apply them!
Time to try out the body scissors. But this didn’t quite go as planned. Alena was, after all, a lot lighter than Tyson, and when she went to swap holds, he saw his chance. He shoved her off him, and made to stand. This would have been disastrous for her; so as he sat up she darted her legs over his neck from behind, hooking them over his stomach, and clung on grimly.
He stood up, trying to shake her off, while she sat on his shoulders, tenaciously maintaining the hook in her legs, and steadying herself by gripping his left wrist. She swayed, trying to knock him off balance with unexpected momentum. He followed her moves, struggling to keep upright. The initiative was with her, and in tricking him with a "fake sway", she slid round him, and turned the precarious shoulder ride into a flying head scissors, this time hooking her legs behind him.
Yet again Tyson was choking and spluttering; but this time he was also staggering as he desperately sought to stay on his feet. He was certain she meant to bring him down. This seemed to be confirmed when she chose a standing sleeper hold. Yes. She meant to drain his strength so she could bring him down easily. So he was perplexed when she let go.
What was she doing? Tyson turned round – and her right knee rammed his balls, while her crossed arms thudded against his chin. This was too much. He hadn’t yet recovered from her squeezing and twisting his balls, and now that lethal leather of her boot drove him into a hell of agony. Lost in self-pity, he cursed and whimpered and hobbled.
Alena looked on, then threateningly coiled her left leg. Tyson was too self-absorbed to notice. But he noticed soon enough when she set the spring off and kicked. It struck him savagely on the side of the head, and he collapsed on his back. She sat on his middle.
"Boxing is the only part of self-defence that I haven’t yet tried," she explained, "and I hoped to get some tips from you. So let’s start, shall we? I clench my left fist like this … is that right?"
"Then I punch you under the chin. Oh, lovely! See how your jaw judders when I hit it! Let’s try it again. Bang! That was even better! Now a third … oh, yes! I can box as well now!"
She gripped his tender jaw, and enjoyed seeing him wince after the work of her fist. Then she lowered herself onto him, for a classic schoolgirl pin.
"Was this what you had in mind?" she asked. "Actually it probably wasn’t," she answered herself. "Men like you get no pleasure from the woman being in control."
"A man should always be in control," he emphasised.
"So why aren’t you, then?" she jeered, reinforcing the point with another head scissor, and a swipe at his cock.
She went to move back to face him from above, but he resisted. He fought to sit up, move her off him, and then make her pay for humiliating him. She thought he was too far gone for any opposition, and had to work to keep the initiative. They tumbled and rolled, each striving to break the other’s hold. But here, Tyson’s weight began to tell. He spun them both so that she fell underneath him. It was time to consolidate his advantage before she could use any more of her women’s wiles against him.
For the first time since she had turned the tables on him, he sensed his superiority. All he had to do was engulf her in his brawny arms and he had her! He moved over her - and she punched him in the eye, stunning him, and knocking him back. There was nothing wily or womanly about that! He’d gone the whole match that afternoon without a glove meeting his eyes, and now this girl had definitely blackened his left one! It watered and started to close over.
Alena’s boot found his balls again. She had him on his back. She lay in the opposite direction, and "felt" the way with her boot. Once again she had him howling! She was playing with him, now exerting pressure, now easing off. Then she leant over him, teasing him with her lovely breasts swinging just above his face, and fingered his balls as before.
"Tickle, tickle," she tormented him. "Men love having their balls tickled! They’re not so keen on this though …"
"Ah, please! No more!" Tyson shrieked as she grabbed, pulled and twisted. She let him go on until he was incapable of any more sound, and just lay mouthing while she probed and manipulated.
Eventually, with a sigh she left off and sat on his face, intrigued to find that he had gone erect. She ground her hips, deciding she might as well have a little treat, courtesy of his mouth. She writhed in pleasure, and shuddered to climax, whereupon Tyson grunted and went limp, unconscious.
The day may not have gone as she had originally intended, but in fact she had her first real fight, she’d blackened a boxer’s eye, and she’d played the part of a dominatrix.
And she’d enjoyed it!