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  #11  
Old 16-Aug-18, 08:43
simplyred simplyred is offline
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Default Re: How not to fight a drunk girl

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Originally Posted by james [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
Really great sort! Personally I’m not into boxing so hopefully there will be more facesitting...
Could you all shut up, once, and just let him work?
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  #12  
Old 16-Aug-18, 13:19
HermanDG HermanDG is offline
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Default Re: How not to fight a drunk girl

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Originally Posted by simplyred [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
Could you all shut up, once, and just let him work?
What he said...
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  #13  
Old 16-Aug-18, 14:33
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mksample mksample is offline
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Default Re: How not to fight a drunk girl

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Originally Posted by simplyred [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
Could you all shut up, once, and just let him work?
lmao
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Old 16-Aug-18, 19:35
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boyandy boyandy is offline
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Default Re: How not to fight a drunk girl

LOL!
You guys crack me up. I'm working on it...
You want it fast or you want it good? Apparently I can do one or the other but not both.
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Old 16-Aug-18, 19:40
Amazonia Amazonia is offline
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Default Re: How not to fight a drunk girl

Personally I'd want it as good as possible. There's no need to rush.
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Old 16-Aug-18, 20:13
scarletspider scarletspider is offline
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Default Re: How not to fight a drunk girl

wow!!!!! i missed this one but so glad decided to open the text. amazing story. part 2 can't come faster!

hope we get to see jess really beat him up with her hands like the stuff between them builds and builds until both are really going for it but he just can't take her. also would love if she's wearing a thong or other sexy clothes. or if she takes fists to her stomach. or has rock hard abs she shows off we saw her biceps this time.

keep up great work!!!
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  #17  
Old 16-Aug-18, 20:50
HermanDG HermanDG is offline
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Default Re: How not to fight a drunk girl

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Originally Posted by boyandy [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
LOL!
You guys crack me up. I'm working on it...
You want it fast or you want it good? Apparently I can do one or the other but not both.
Always say that you can do it fast or do it right

Do it right.
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Old 17-Aug-18, 05:11
psn4lf psn4lf is offline
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Default Re: How not to fight a drunk girl

My advise is simply let your creativity and imagination run, when that spirit moves you.
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Old 20-Aug-18, 15:27
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Default Re: How not to fight a drunk girl

I usually sleep in on Sunday mornings but today I nearly break my record and don't get out of bed until after noon. My head is pounding from the vodka and I'm nearly sick to my stomach remembering what Jessica did to me last night. I fumble around the condo picking up dirty dishes, clothes, and trying to handle the overwhelming feeling of shame that's threatening to ruin the entire day.

An 18-year-old girl held me down and rubbed her crotch all over my face while I struggled like a turtle on its back with my paws waving in the air. How could she do that to me? How could I let her? What the fuck!!!

I continue to fume as the day drags on, reliving what blurry memory I have of Jessica sitting on top of me and slapping me around.

I guess Dean took her back to her dorm as I haven't seen him all day. Just as well. I need to be alone to figure out how I'm going to get her back. The more I think about it the more determined I get to get my revenge. She wanted boxing - well, she's going to get boxing. She doesn't know that when I was in junior high we had a gym teacher who used to box and he took it as a personal mission to show us gangly, pimple-faced geeks the basics. Surprisingly, I actually didn't suck at it, like I did with most sports. I had decent power and a pretty good hook with which I surprised most guys because I'm left-handed. I was a little heavy-footed, but all in all I'm looking forward to demonstrating those skills to the little blonde cheerleader by making her feel some of the same pain she gave me. I don't want to hurt her - not really - but I damn sure want it to sting when I bury my fist in her taut little stomach.

Around four o'clock I get a call from a number I don't recognize and pick up as I'm studying at the kitchen table.

"Hi Justin! How are you feeling today?"

It's her. I don't say anything at first as a wave of mixed feelings washes over me.

She says, "Were you hungover a little? I know I was. Wow. We drank a shit-ton of vodka."

"I'm recuperating just fine, thank you," I say.

"What about the rest of you? Does your face hurt from when I was grinding my vagina all over it? I tried to be gentle but I guess I got carried away. I was really humping you!"

I take a deep breath. "Jessica - you're acting like a little... well, I prefer not to say what you’re acting like..."

"Awww... sounds like someone has his feelings hurt. Poor baby."

"What do you want?" I say through gritted teeth.

"I want to remind you about Tuesday. Did you remember our little match?"

"Oh, I remember."

"Awesome! I was afraid you might want to back out when you realize how bad I kicked your ass last night. You might get too scared or something; too afraid I might hurt you."

"I'm looking forward to it," I say, trying to keep my voice calm. "I'm not too worried about you hurting me. If anyone should be worried, it's you." What a snotty little bitch!

She laughs. "Sugar, I love the self-confidence you're showing right now. That's a lot different from how you acted when I was sitting on your chest slapping your face over and over - you looked like you were about to cry!"

"Is there a point to this call Jessica?"

"Yeah, before I forget; do you have any boxing gloves?"

Crap. I completely forgot we'd be needing those. "No, maybe the sporting goods store is open. I can go purchase some."

"Don't worry about it - I have some. I just wanted to make sure you couldn't find a reason to chicken out."

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Jessica – what is the opposite of chickening out? I am so looking forward to this Tuesday night you don't even know."

She laughs again, a musical Texas-accented sound that in other circumstances I might find charming. Now I just want to hear what she sounds like when she cries.

She says, "Well, that’s just delightful, my cute little college boy. I’ll see you then!”

She hangs up and I’m so agitated I can barely keep my mind on my book. Dean comes in later that night but goes right to his room and I give a little sigh of relief. At least the little bitch hadn’t told him what she did to me. If she had I’m sure he’d be out here rubbing my nose in how his little girlfriend beat me up. Instead he’s kind of rushed and I don’t even see him. Good. One less thing to worry about.

Monday afternoon I’m in class when a random thought hits me – why does she own boxing gloves?



I don’t see Dean at all Monday and on Tuesday night he’s gone before I get home so now I just sit and wait. It seems absurd to have to give myself a pep talk but I do. If I’m being honest the memory of how strong and fierce Jessica morphed into being makes me a little nervous. How could such a girly-looking girl be such a tiger? Did she really think she was capable of beating me up again?

To kill time I watch some YouTube videos on boxing technique, but as I do I start thinking all over again. Why am I watching videos and preparing to fight a girl? When did this suddenly seem like a good idea? Why was I so determined to exact my revenge? Would anything good arise from me punching out a girl?

Just after six the bell rings and I get up to answer. She’s right on time.

I swing the door open and she breezes in wearing UGG boots, pink patterned yoga pants and an oversize hoodie. A gym bag is slung over her shoulder and her shoulder length blonde hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail, her pretty face scrubbed of makeup except for a trace of bright red lipstick on her full, curved lips. If she wasn’t the devil I would have admired the sight.

“Why, good evening, FuckFace! How’s your day going so far? I can guarantee it’s going downhill from here.” She drops the bag onto the floor and eyes me critically. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

“Jessica – why do you have to sound so… so… trashy. That name is just wrong.”

“What - you don’t like being called FuckFace?”

“It’s just plain crass.”

“Aww…” she strokes my chin with her index ginger and laughs when I slap her hand away. “Why don’t you make me stop saying it then?”

I realize my fists are balled and if her plan is to get me so upset I can’t think straight it’s working. I spin away from her and march into the center of the living room. “Come in here and sit down for a moment. There’s something I’d like to say.”

She follows me in an plops down on the sofa, folding her arms across her chest and crossing one leg over the other, idly swinging it back and forth while I pace in front of her.

“Look Jessica,” I say, running my fingers through my hair in agitation, “I know what we said the other night about boxing, but the more I think about it, the more I think it’s not only inappropriate, but it’s just plain wrong.”

She squints at me. “I knew it! You’re chickening out!”

“I –I’m not chickening out. It’s just that – “

“BWAAK BWAAK BWAAK!”

“Stop it! I am certainly not afraid of you, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s just that –“

“Meow, meow, I’m a little pussycat…”

“Stop it! I don’t know how you were raised, but I was raised never to hit a girl. Wrestling around is one thing, but to hit a girl? Totally unacceptable. I was taught to protect girls, not to fight them. I just wouldn’t feel right if I should hurt you.”

She looks at me with her mouth hanging open. “For real? Even after what I did to you?”

“Yes, Jessica. I know I was angry the other night, but I have to live with myself. I can’t do it. It goes against every fiber of my being.”

She places her hand over heart and sticks out her lower lip. “Awww… that might be the sweetest thing any boy has ever said to me.” She uncrosses her legs and slaps her hands on her thighs. “Now let’s get going. I’m going to beat you like a rented mule.”

“But I just told you –“

“Blah blah blah. That’s sweet and all, but this ain’t about what you want. It’s about what I want. And I want to knock you down and fuck your face again. Now, are you going to put up a fight or not? It’s a lot more fun if you do.”

A film of red flashes in my head and I grimly nod, “Okay then, let’s get this over with. The sooner I put you in your place the sooner I can send you packing.”

“Don’t be in such a hurry. I want to make this memorable. I already have such lasting memories from Saturday night – enough to last a lifetime.” She gives a fake sigh and bats her eyelashes at me.

“I was drunk,” I say curtly.

“Not too drunk to remember, I hope! I recall with precise clarity the expression on your face when you realized I could do anything I wanted to you. It was a combination of fear, amazement, and I don’t know what all… It makes me feel kinda tingly just thinking about it.”

“Whatever. Enough talk.” Her arrogance is both astounding and infuriating.

She rummages through her bag and pulls out some gloves. “I have a little present for you. They’re slightly used but they should do nicely, I think. Pink is my color you know, and now it’s yours too! Isn’t that excitin’?”

I look at the gloves she handed me in bewilderment. They’re little more than padded work gloves with the fingers cut off. “What the hell is this?”

“My gloves, silly.” She pulls hers on snugly and taps her fists together.

“These aren’t boxing gloves!”

“Why, they most certainly are! All the UFC fighters use them.”

“UFC?! Who said anything about UFC?”

She puts her hands on her hips and gives a cute frown, shaking her head. “You silly boy. Did you think I meant that old Floyd Mayweather kind of boxing?”

“Well… well…” I realize I’m sputtering but I feel like she’s already sucker-punched me.

She taps her foot impatiently. “There’s more than one kind of boxing, you know. I myself happen to be a big fan of cage fights. I watch it all the time.”

“But… I didn’t expect this…”

She addresses me like an out-of-line child. “Now Justin, we talked about this. I don’t want to hear any kind of excuse comin’ out of that mouth of yours – that mouth I’m going to be sitting on in a little bit. You just put on those gloves or I’ll start beating on you right damn now. Got it?”

Man, she could push my buttons! “You asked for it,” I say grimly, pulling on the gloves. They’re a little tight but she has large hands for a girl her size so I make it work. Then we stand facing each other in the middle of the room.
I can’t believe how weird this feels. Getting ready to fight a teenage girl and having butterflies in my stomach. I’m bigger, heavier, older, and stronger. This should be a breeze!

She kicks off her UGGs to go barefoot and pulls off her hoodie, then hooks her thumbs in the waistband of her Yoga pants and starts to pull them down.

“Hey! Hey!” I protest, What do you think you’re doing?”

She looks at me as though I were slow-witted. “These are my favorite leggings. I don’t want to stain them when I cum on your face.” She wiggles her ass as the leggings come down and stands facing me in skimpy white panties, a blue sports bra and starts bouncing a little on the balls of her feet.

My brain freezes for a moment as I look at her stomach – she has a fucking six-pack! An honest-to-god ridge of rippled muscles down her front! As I look at her, the way her round butt flexes when she moves and the solid slab of her thigh muscles shift as she shadow boxes a little I realize that although she maybe not that big, her core is rock-solid. I have a flat stomach and decent muscle definition, but she is cut.

“Quit starin’,” she says, “I told you cheerleaders had muscle.”

I slip out of my T-shirt and tell myself to get ready. Her boobs are jiggling like mad but I can’t let that distract me. She extends her arms and we do a fist bump then slowly begin to circle each other in the middle of the carpet. It’s go time.

“Ain’t this fun?” she giggles.

I make the first move and shoot out a quick jab she easily blocks. Then another and another with the same result. Okay, I see she’s quick. That was just a feeler. I’m setting myself up to deliver one of my left hooks to the body as soon as I see an opening, watching her warily as she skips around me.

I see her make her first mistake – she stops circling and her lead foot is planted at an awkward 45-degree angle away from her body. She won’t be able to deliver much of a punch like that, but as I lean in to take advantage she tilts back, torques her torso, and her back leg whips around with blinding speed, her shin whapping into my ribcage with stunning force as I stagger backwards gasping for breath, pain stabbing at my lungs.

I hold up a hand as she starts to follow up. “You kicked me!” I gasp.

She pauses and gives an amused smirk. “It’s called kickboxing. So yeah, I did.”

“There’s no kicking allowed!”

“Ha Ha Ha! Oh Justin honey, you are too much! Of course kicking is allowed. In fact – I’m going to kick the livin’ daylights out of you!”

I scramble to marshal my thoughts. This calls for a different game plan and I don’t have one. The force with which she kicked felt like a body punch from a heavyweight and I cannot let that happen again. Priority one is now to play defense until I find an opening.

She advances and I circle away from her feeling like a cornered mouse. I take a couple of wild swings, one of which grazes her cheek, but she is so much lighter on her feet I realize I need to get in close if I want to do any damage.

As she closes in on me I watch her feet, looking for that awkward angle again.
I don’t see that, but what I do see is her approach sideways, then bring her back foot in tight next to her front foot. Before I can figure out what that’s about she leans back sideways, pulls her knee up suddenly and her front foot lashes out like a torpedo and slams into my belly.

I go down this time, stunned by the force of that kick. She hops forward and I think she’s about to jump on top of me but instead she pauses again as I scramble back on my elbows huffing for air.

“College boy, you’re not putting up much of a fight here. Can’t you do any better? You know I like it when you fight back.”

“Screw you, you little psycho” I manage to get out as I pull myself upright by grabbing onto the arm of the sofa.

She shakes her head in disapproval. “Saying mean things to me isn’t much of a defense. If you’re not careful I’ll get mad – then you’ll REALLY be in trouble.”

She is giving me time to recover and I plan to make her pay for it. It’s now or never, I realize. There’s no way I can keep allowing her to dance around and kick the shit out of me. The only real advantage I have over her is my size, and the only way to utilize it is to get in close, so with an angry roar I make a charge.

She doesn’t flinch as I launch myself at her, hands held loosely in the ready position. Then when I get in close she raises one knee and shoots out her lead foot, her heel crashing into my front leg right above the knee and I go down in a crumpled heap feeling like a hammer just crushed my quad.

This time she doesn’t give me time to recover and leaps on me like a coyote on a wiener dog, straddling me on her knees and her fists begin pummeling me with arms firing like pistons.

I manage to brunt most of the damage by folding my arms over my face but her strikes to my chest, neck, and side of the head are rapidly taking effect. The big-titted teen is remorseless. At this rate she’s going to knock me cold in a matter of minutes.

Summoning every reserve I have I buck her off before she does too much damage and roll away from her. I’m scrambling to my feet when she lands on my back, wraps her legs around my waist and locks her ankles. Her strong, tanned arm snakes around my neck and clamps onto her other bicep in a strangling choke. I feel her back arch and suddenly I am yanked backwards on top of her, her arms throttling me and her heels digging into my crotch. The pain is excruciating as she says in my ear, “This is called a rear naked choke. Sexy-sounding, isn’t it?”

“Stop! Stop! You win! I give up!” I yelp.

“Really? Already? I’m just getting started!”

I raise my hands and surrender all pride. “Jesus H Christ! I thought you’d never been in a fight before!”

She makes a face. “What makes you think that? I’ve been in lots of fights.”

“But the other night you said – “

“Oh – I see where the confusion is. I said I’d never fought a guy before. I fought lots of girls.”

Flat on my back I turn my head sideways and look at her in confusion. She releases her choke and scissors, slides out from underneath me and straddles me again. Although it’s only been a few minutes, they were a lightning fast few minutes and we both have a film of perspiration coating us. As I watch, a drop of sweat rolls down her chest and disappears into the valley between her breasts. Even though she just beat the crap out of me I can’t help but get turned on by her sweaty, athletic beauty.

“Why did you fight girls?” I ask, hoping for a little breather by getting her to talk about herself.

She wipes her forehead with the back of her wrist and shrugs. “When I got to high school I was pretty much the same size I am now, you know, with these – “ cupping her breasts with her gloved hands, “and man, those girls were so jealous, especially the older ones. They even gave me a mean old nickname; they called me Rabbit. I did not like being compared to some bucktoothed rodent and I let ‘em know it. From then on it was Fist City, baby. I got my ass kicked so much by those senior girls I started going to a gym to learn self-defense. By the end of my sophomore year nobody said that name anymore. At least not to my face.”

“They called you Rabbit, like in Jessica Rabbit?”

She shrugs. “I suppose. How do I know what they meant?”

The sofa was arm’s length away and I tilt my head towards where my phone sits on the cushion. “Can you hand me my phone for a minute? I want to show you something.”

Grudgingly she complies, saying, “This better not be some kind of trick, like you calling 911, or the Marines or something.”

“No,” I say, doing a quick Google search, then turning the screen so she could see. “See that?”

She squints and leans forward, “What – that cartoon?”

“That is Jessica Rabbit, from the movie ‘Who Killed Roger Rabbit’. She’s famous for being super sexy.”

Her mouth drops a little and I can see the wheels spinning. After a few seconds she slowly says, “So all those girls were saying I was like her – a sexpot or somethin’?” She squints at the screen. “Damn – look at those hooters!”

I nod. “That’s my guess. They probably were jealous, but that nickname is also a kind of compliment, if you think about it.”

“Huh!…” Her face squints in thought.

“Cruel nicknames are mean,” I say, “I agree with you one-hundred percent on that.”

She pats me on the cheek, still very much in command, sitting easily on top of me. “That’s sweet.”

“So, can you not call me FuckFace anymore?”

Her eyes widen and she covers her mouth to hide a huge smile. “Damn! You’re right! That makes me sound kinda mean!”

“You think?”

Now she leans over me, planting her hands on either side of my head. She brings her face close to mine so our noses almost touch. Softly, she says “But just because I stop calling you that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop doing that. You know what’s coming, right?”

“C’mon now…”

“This time we’re gonna try something a little different.” In what looks like a practiced move, she raises up and swings her legs around so they’re extended straight out in front of her and grabs my head with two hands, pulling it tight into her crotch.

Taken by surprise I grab at her solid thighs as they tighten around my head, engulfing most of my face. I try to protest but all that comes out is, “MMMMFFF…”

After securing my head in between her legs she seizes my right arm with both hands and rolls her body sideways to my left, trapping that arm underneath her.

I’m kicking desperately but she is in complete control, laying on her side and while maintaining a firm grip on my arm right above the elbow with one hand and using her other hand to bring pull on the back of my head and bury my face into direct contact with her slightly damp vagina, nearly suffocating me with warmth and pressure.

Then it begins.

She starts rocking her hips back and forth, rubbing the lips of her vulva firmly against my face from chin to nose, separated only by a rapidly-moistening thin layer of panties. Although my ears are covered by her inner thighs I can hear her crooning what sound like “Rock-A-Bye-Baby”. Then I make out the words;

“Here is my pussy, here is your face
This means I own you
This is your place…”


I can’t even process the humiliation I feel right now – her domination is so utterly complete it’s all I can do keep breathing. She humps me faster and faster until I hear her gasp, a familiar sound, as she climaxes in waves and her thighs spasm around my head as her body is wracked with an orgasm. As I claw at her leg with my free hand it seems to go on and on…

Eventually she releases me and we both roll over onto our backs, chests heaving. Side by side we are staring up at the ceiling and I feel like a wrung-out rag.

“Sugar, that is the best feeling EVER…” she says, turning her head to look at me. “Was it good for you, too?”

I can’t even meet her eyes. I am the lowest of the low, letting a girl do that to me. But even as I wallow in shame I feel movement in my groin and she’s nudging me with her foot. As inconceivable as it seems, I have an erection.

A sly smile plays across her lips. “Must notta been too bad…”

I turn my head and slowly roll away from her, rising to my feet and stumbling towards my bedroom, another walk of shame.

She doesn’t try to stop me but calls out when I reach my door, “I’m gonna be over about six tomorrow.”

I whip my head around and glare at her. “What for?”

She’s all wide-eyed innocence as she says, “Didn’t Dean tell you? He’s moving out and I’m moving in!”
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  #20  
Old 20-Aug-18, 16:33
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Default Re: How not to fight a drunk girl

We have a budding romance in the making. Great job with part 2.
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