The Fucking Fight Club

Author: Ramo Kye

“Rules?” Rick asked as he tore his shirt off, leaving only his blue gym shorts to hide behind. He had a thin, muscular body and his chest sprouted nearly invisible blonde hair.

“Fuck it. None.” She answered, dancing around her own shadow. She was trim, flat stomach and dancer’s legs, though her biceps could have been mistaken for a man’s. She’d tied her dark hair into a ponytail to keep it out of her face.

He tossed his shirt towards the feet of the crowd surrounding them. Turned back and stared into her eyes.

“C’mon, Rosy. Some rules, okay? I have to go to work tomorrow.”

“Wimp.” She’d been sweating a lot. Her short red t-shirt had dark stains from neck to navel. Her legs and arms glistened whenever they were touched by the makeshift lights.

“Nothing below the belt. Try not to bruise the face. How’s that?”

Rosy stopped dancing and looked disappointed. “Fuck, Rick. There goes my whole strategy.”

“Rosy…”

“Okay. Okay.” She sent out two fast punches, pummeling the air in front of her. “Don’t whine.”

An older man dressed in a dark business suit made his way through the crowd and toward the two.

“Rosy, Rick, you ready?”

“Sure,” snapped Rosy.

“I guess,” added Rick.

“House rules you two. I mean it. Ya got two minutes. Set…” He backed up until he vanished back into the crowd. “Go!”

The crowd cheered the beginning of the match. Rick liked the acknowledgement and smiled in response, leaving Rosy to send a bare-knuckled punch into the side of his jaw.

His head snapped to the side. When it straightened, he wasn’t smiling anymore. He struck a boxer’s pose and moved toward her. When near enough to reach, he punched straight out with his left, then swung hard with his right. Both missed as Rosy easily stepped to the side, ducked and sent a right-handed jab into his waist.

He grabbed at the spot she’d hit. As though he’d just been late getting there. Rosy danced backward and away. Someone in the crowd began to laugh but turned it into a cough instead.

Rick moved straight toward her. She could see a fueled temper in his eyes and there wasn’t any hint his face had ever smiled. When he neared, he faked to her left, she dodged to her right, and one of his punches landed hard on her shoulder. He moved in, aiming dead for her face. But rather than remain off-balance, she spun completely around and landed an open palm slap above his right eye.

The hit caused a small bubble of blood to pool in his brow. Ignoring it, and the thought of work the next day, Rick lowered an arm, then brought it up to strike Rosy under her right breast. She stepped back, then forward again. Rick blocked her first punch but the second smacked his cheek bone.

“Time!” The suited man was back. “Fight’s over.”

“Way to go, Rosy!” Someone shouted as the crowd cheered.

Rick, a thin bead of red trailing from above his eye and trickling down his cheek, neared his opponent and stretched out his hand. “Good fight, Rose.”

“Good fight, Ricky.” They briefly shook hands.

“Wanna lay down?”

She looked at the stained hard floor.

“No, Rick. I won. I get to be on top.”

“Fuck, Rosy, who says you won?”

“The blood on your face says.” Rosy dropped to one knee and yanked his gym shorts down to his ankles.

“Nice prick, Rick!” a woman from the crowd yelled. Several people laughed. A couple giggled. Rosy stood, grabbing his balls on the way up. His cock started getting hard.

“Lay down, Rick.” She was polite enough to whisper. Then she took her shirt by the rim and pulled it over her head. Though her breasts were large, they weren’t big enough to cover the bruise that Rick’s punch had driven into her rib cage. Rick sat his bare ass on the floor.

Leaving her sneakers on, Rosy peeled off her sweat laden shorts. Dropped the shorts along with her shirt beside them. “Lay down, Rick. All the way.” She commanded.

He grudgingly complied. The crowd was unusually quiet, and unusually still as well.

Rosy planted her right foot solid, raised her left and gently touched its sneakered toe to Rick’s chest. Then her arms shot up high above her, unclenched hands in a triumphant salute.

Tension dissipated, the crowd roared with laughter. Rick made moves like he was going to leave. But Rosy swung her foot to the other side of him and squat on his thighs, facing him and holding him in place. His bleeding had stopped, though some of the blood had caked into his hairline. He had a bruise as well, on the side of his waist, where she had struck him.

“Don’t be mad, Rick. All in fun.” She could tell he wasn’t too pissed about her showing off. His dick was growing harder. One of her hands reached out and grabbed the shaft’s base while the other found and tickled his balls. Then she moved onto her knees and hoisted her body up, so that her gash hovered over his cock.

She moved her hands away from him and used them to spread her lips. She was wet inside, and ready to take him in. Rick held his cock upward, and aimed for her as she slowly moved down. Her pussy embraced the head, dampening it as it formed to its contours.

Instinctively, Rick reached up with both hands and grabbed at her breasts. Rosy gasped as he’d accidentally brushed her bruise. He aimed higher and caught her nipples between his fingers. Rosy smiled.

She slid further down on his shaft until it was buried in her. She was surprised by how good he felt and quietly sighed. She went faster after that, delighted as his cock slipped in and out of her. The work he performed on her nipples combined with the audience’s eyes to offer her a small orgasm. It interrupted the pace a moment as her mouth opened wide and she emit a soft gasp.

Rick was proud. It showed in his face.

She recovered quickly, caught back up with the old and fast pace and hastened it. When she felt his manhood begin to throb, she raised an arm above her head. Mimicking a bull rider, she waved her hand above her as her hips bucked back and forth.

“Yeehaaa!” she screamed as Rick’s first cum shot jetted into her. Her shout covering up the fact that she was having an orgasm as well. As she took the last of his seed, her arms moved down and caught Rick by the sides.

“Ow! Shit, Rosy.” She’d grabbed his bruise.

“Sorry.” She offered as she dismounted him and collected her clothes.

“Want to go to my place?” he whispered, trying to keep the crowd from hearing.

“Sorry, Rick. You’re a good fight and a good fuck, but I have plans.” Rosy stood, dressed herself, rearranged her hair back into a neater ponytail, then challenged the audience.

“I have the floor! Who’s next?”

There were several volunteers.