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Mixed Battles
Phillip’s Conversion
Product Details
Бренд:
Rules for losers
Уникальный код:
F-859
Mixed fighting freestyle, 330 pictures 1920x1080 (Full HD), completely CFNM, no blood.
Alaska was a proud descendant of the once-feared Sioux Red Indian tribe. (She rather scorned the fashionable term, “Native American”.) She was even named after a territory that the Sioux used to covet.
The Sioux had a reputation for breeding formidable warriors and strong, beautiful women, and Alaska was no exception. Her favourite leotard that she wore in the gym, white, with delicate spindly branches and blossoms, showed off her glorious, full curves, dark skin and large, beautiful breasts. (A generous opening in the front of the leotard provided a most distracting view.)
Like many proud people, Alaska was very conservative, and she was impatient with the “woke” notions that we are bombarded with daily. So when she saw two naked men, Matt and Phillip, fooling around in the ring she was outraged.
“Hey, you two!” she called out to them, “put some clothes on! This is a public gym and it’s unacceptable to have two naked men in it.”
“It’s LGBTQ plus day,” retorted Matt. “No cis women allowed.”
“I am a WOMAN, not a cis woman!” she thundered back at him, climbing into the ring, and making them both take a nervous step back.
“But you should sympathise with us,” Matt suggested. “Coming from a minority yourself. You have protected status as well, guaranteed by the government.”
“I need no government to protect me!” she stormed at them. “I am a direct descendant of Crazy Horse, the man who defeated General Custer at the Battle of Little Bighorn.
“The what?” asked Matt, and he and Phillip collapsed into giggles.
“Don’t you know anything?” she demanded. The Bighorn and Little Bighorn rivers flow into the Missouri, and that’s where the battle took place. Although in your cases,” she glanced dismissively at them, “It should be Littlehorn and Littlehorn.”
Matt gave her a shove, and she shoved him right back. He pushed her again, saying, “If you were a man, I would fight you.”
“If you were a man,” she retorted disdainfully, “I would fight you.”
That was the point of no return. Matt instructed his friend to “film me beating this chick up” and the two of them squared up. It was obvious that Matt wasn’t used to this – an amateur trying to copy the way the professionals did it – and the intense look on his face made Alaska laugh. Angry, he jabbed with his left. It was also obvious that Alaska was used to this, as a result of her warrior upbringing, and she dodged his attempt effortlessly, smiling.
He tried a hook, but she simply wasn’t there for it. He fired a right cross, but she batted it away with her left arm. He was getting tired, grunting with the effort, while she wove in and out, guessing his next move and ready for it before he executed it. He started to pant and sweat – and worse for him, he now had Alaska’s left fist in his eye.
From his position, Phillip noted her easy smile as she fought, and the way her full breasts bounced and shook under the extremely tight material of her leotard when she threw the punch. He sighed, thinking it was a pity that he wasn’t straight. Still, he could capture it all on his phone: he might even make some money out of it.
Matt cried out with Alaska’s next punch. Her right fist made a sort of ugly hollow sound, which made Phillip wince, as it landed very hard on Matt’s chest. Seeing him recoil with the pain, she taunted him, inviting him to hit her. He responded, furiously hitting out with his left, but she danced to the side of it, laughing. Then she sent a beamer into exactly the same spot she had just struck on his chest. Even Phillip felt sick, never mind Matt.
He doubled up with the pain, incapable of any reply, so she helped herself to his chin with her right fist, angled down, to catch him as he stooped. It seemed to paralyse him. He was just a target now, and Alaska helped herself. The great, great, great granddaughter of Crazy Horse flung her left fist spectacularly upwards. It cracked into Matt’s chin, then soared expansively into the air, beautifully captured on Phillip’s phone. (He also captured his friend on his backside, feeling his chin and shaking his head mournfully.)
“Get up and fight me,” Alaska called out to him, frustrated at this halt to the fight. What could Matt do, with his friend watching? He’d wanted the fight, after all, so he got up and adopted a fighting stance, praying that Alaska would make a mistake.
She didn’t, though, and her left fist homed into his right eye for a second time, at least doubling the injury she had already caused. Phillip gulped as Matt’s eye turned black and purple.
Then he began to shake as Alaska’s trim, neat white boot crashed into Matt’s chin. He tried to keep his phone still when she brought her right knee up into Matt’s ribcage. He was gaping, awe-struck at the girl’s furious strength. Plus, the fact that she appeared to ENJOY fighting.
Because back came the smile when she let rip with her right fist. It bulldozed into Matt’s jaw, and he recoiled from his waist upwards. It tilted him to the side, setting him up nicely for Alaska’s left fist. She accepted the invitation enthusiastically and hammered his chin with pleasure. Standing behind her this time, Phillip may not have been aroused by the sight of her bottom swinging, swaying and wobbling as she punched her male opponent, but he knew it would fetch hundreds as a video. Then again, it – and she - started to hold a certain fascination for him. He had to admit it to himself.
Phillip’s heartbeat went into orbit when Alaska put Matt down with a right cross. He wiped his brow as he watched the proud young woman destroy his friend, launching him into the air and then landing him on his back.
Alaska was straight on him. Contemptuously batting away his attempts at defence, she next grabbed his hair in her left hand and menaced him with her right fist, demanding to know if he wanted more. He didn’t, imploring her not to hit him again and pleading his submission.
“Film my next move,” Alaska ordered Phillip, and she sat on Matt’s face while she gripped both his wrists.
Facing Phillip, she now flexed with her victim in the same position underneath her. Then she set out to enjoy herself. Matt was her trophy, and she could use and abuse him as she chose. She pulled his head so that his face was held fast against her sex, until she eventually reached a blissful climax. Then it was time for victory poses.
Fighting definitely excited her, Phillip noted, and that in itself excited him. So when she challenged him, he eagerly accepted, stressing that he wanted to box. (“You must be mad,” thought Matt, relieved to take over with the phone.)
They met in the middle and bowed. Despite himself, Phillip couldn’t help glancing furtively at Alaska’s breasts. There was something frightening about them; at the same time, something alluring. He had this weird (to him) impulse to touch them. He had even managed a sly, off-camera, look at her backside, undulating slightly as she walked back to her corner to wait for him. What was happening to him?
More to the point, he must concentrate, otherwise she would obliterate him. (But even that thought was stimulating.) As for her, she was in her element. She enjoyed defeating men, and it was a case of one down, one to go. Grinning, smiling, dancing on her toes like the seasoned fighter she was, she couldn’t wait to get started.
When she did, it was straight in at her favourite target – her opponent’s eye. Her left glove made its mark literally. Alaska nearly burst out laughing at the sights of Matt, all forlorn with his phone, sporting a black eye; and now Phillip, startled having received his first ever punch from a woman, also wearing one.
On the other hand, she could do her laughing later. For now, she had a fight to win. She made a football-style sliding tackle move, distracting both Phillip and Matt, while she sent her left glove in again at Phillip’s mouth. He gave a muffled cry, because his mouth was full of glove.
She now got him low, low down in the stomach. Nasty. Her right glove plunged into Phillip’s soft underbelly and sent waves of intense aches far beyond where her glove had landed. She repeated the strike with her left, but lower still. In fact it would have had the Marquess of Queensberry crying “Foul!”
Phillip retreated, clutching his stomach. Instead of pursuing him, Alaska gave him a few moments and enjoyed a chuckle at his discomfort. Riled by this (which was what she intended) he fired a right cross, and she leant back out of harm’s way. Following through, he perched forward, exposing a vulnerable left flank. Alaska’s knee shot straight into it, catching him in the ribcage. It would hurt for weeks, if not months.
Pleased with the result, Alaska pivoted on her right foot and level-kicked him high on the chest. It had him in disarray. There was no time for chuckles now. She had him in trouble, and it was time to hammer home her advantage. Showing superb footwork, she launched her left fist upwards against his fragile high cheekbone. (“I don’t know what you’re pointing your arse at me for,” Matt thought, “it’s not my style.)
Phillip staggered. Bludgeoned senseless, he provided Alaska with more time than she needed for her next strike. She tore into him with a right hook and despatched him gloriously to the mat. Her attack had been devastating. Phillip lay where he was, grateful for a bit of peace at last.
“Can you get up, bitch?” Alaska demanded, noticing him appear to get comfortable where he was. However, she thought, “Stay there, then” and went over to pose in front of Matt’s phone.
At last Phillip got up. Alaska came out of her corner where she had retired to after providing enough footage for the camera, and met him in the middle, all smiles. But the fight-happy girl was smiling at the prospect of further combat, as Phillip immediately found out when she punched him on the nose. Bang. Straight in with the left.
She increased the tempo, and swung in with a right hook, catching the hapless Phillip on the jaw. Ummm, that was lovely, she thought. Now try the same with the left. Oh, yes! You had him spinning half-circle with that one – just delightful! Now try an uppercut …
Her right glove thundered into his jaw, angled inwards. She was in control of the fight – had total command of it in fact – and she was punching away with abandon. But Phillip couldn’t last much longer, she knew that. She threw a consecutive uppercut, straight under the chin, and he shot away from it before landing once more on his back, unconscious.
Alaska placed her feet either side of his head and looked down, hands on hips, at her defeated male foe. She was every inch the triumphant warrior queen. Then she went and posed for Matt’s camera and asked him if it brought back memories of their fight.
But she wanted the fun of counting Phillip out while he still was “out”. At 4, she told him, “You suck”. At 9, it was, “You lose”. At 10, she declared he was “OUT” and placed her foot on his chest. It brought him round, so that her previous counting had been for her benefit alone. (Matt was unmoved by it all, but automatically continued filming.)
She made Phillip get on all fours, then put him in a standing head scissor, ordering him to “admit defeat”. He did so readily, eagerly; so much so that he seemed to enjoy it, Matt noted with distaste. Was the full “Yes, Alaska defeated me” strictly necessary? She wallowed in it, though.
Eventually she released the hold and Phillip flopped down onto his front. She pulled him up to his knees and made him kiss her backside. There was more posing from Alaska, both over him and then in front of Matt’s camera, before she returned to the supine Phillip and sat on his face. She turned round to face down his body and punched him in the stomach.
Next, still sitting on his face, she took his cock in her gloved hand and began to stroke it, asking him if he had enjoyed their fight. He answered, rather oddly, “I beg for mercy,” and promptly came. Alaska took that as a “Yes”.
She stood up, hands on hips, and asked, all flirty: “Would you like a rematch?” If he hadn’t fallen into an exhausted sleep, his answer would have been a full-throated “YES!” Fighting her had done the strangest things to him. For the first time, he had appreciated, enjoyed, then delighted in, the wonderful figure of a beautiful woman. For the first time, too, a woman had made him cum. Never mind that he had missed her final posing over him, and her triumphant exit of the ring. He’d had quite a day!
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